She stood up slowly in disbelief,
trying to separate herself from the magic of the beckoning bookshelves.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the wise man in the colorful robe told her.
Confused, dumbfounded, Nadia stood, frozen.
So that was her name.
But how had she awoken in such a majestic place
filled with stories that could fill her heart for a lifetime?
“These are all yours…” the man said, waving his hand across the rainbow-colored spines.
But she couldn’t understand this unfamiliar predicament.
Unspoken beauty filled the walls with thousands of books from many lifetimes.
Each one reaching out,
speaking to her soul
that literally touched every part of her heart.
I don’t understand,” Nadia finally replied.
The wise man with long wiry hair as white as snow
and eyes as gentle as a kitten smiled warmly at her,
and softly rested his wrinkled hand upon her shoulder.
Nadia noticed a semi-precious stone resembling the shape of a moon upon his finger.
“Ahhh, amnesia again, sweet Nadia?
This happens every time we are blessed with your presence.
I am afraid your gift of story-telling gets you carried away.
Your natural talent,
Your magical gift…
Your sweet soul gets so attached to each divine story that you tell.
It’s only natural that you forget …”
“Come, Nadia, let’s reintroduce you again.
With time, your mind won’t feel so lost,
and then, we must get to work….”
As they begun to walk away from the shelves,
Nadia felt a painful tug in her heart,
it was like she was being ripped away from a small child,
each book, beckoning its story to her.
Nearby, a tall shimmering glass mirror hung from a tall large white pillar.
Nadia caught a glimpse of her reflection,
not recognizing the Greek goddess staring back at her
who was dressed in a cascading gold and white princess-style gown
and dark wavy brunette hair that danced down her mid-back.
Green emerald eyes stood out, shocked and confused.
Who was she?
Where was she?
And then, Nadia too, saw, that she was also wearing
the same semi-precious stone, in the shape, of a moon upon her finger.
Her heart ached for the stories in the other room,
Somehow they were a part of her soul,
and the words upon the pages, literally beat
in tune to her heart.
She longed to be a part of them,
and they longed to be with her.
Ariana R. Cherry 2016