Chapter 5: The wrong corridor
1434 Words
Iris’s POV
I should have gone home. Maeve asked me to call when the dinner was over, ava told me not to disappear into a building full of famous writers, Gabriel had warned me to be careful but Instead I followed Eric Belmont anywhere he took me to. The main hall was louder than before. people had relaxed after the speeches and conversations floated through the room like music. laughter echoed beneath the high ceilings, glasses clinked, there was someone arguing passionately about poetry in the corner, I had never been surrounded by so many people who loved words
Some of them had written books I had seen in bookshops, some had probably edited books I have read, a few were talking about literature as if it were a living person standing in the room with us. I felt small though not in a painful way but in the way you feel when you enter a cathedral for the first time and suddenly understand how little you know. Eric walked calmly beside me
“Is everyone here a writer?” I asked
“Not everyone, some are but most are simply people who enjoy deciding which stories deserve to exist”
“That sounds a little wicked”
“It is”
We moved through a corridor lined with portraits
I recognized a few names from my classes
“You’re very quiet" he said
“I’m trying not to sound stupid”
“That’s a waste of not wasting energy”
I looked at him
“You ask interesting questions”
“You’ve known me for less than an hour”
“I knew that in Camden”
I smiled though I tried to hide it but he noticed
“You see? You’re more comfortable than when you arrived”
“A little”
“That’s progress”
We entered a smaller room filled with bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling
“This is the foundation library”
“It’s beautiful”
“Most people say intimidating”
“I like intimidating libraries”
“Alright I’ll write that down”
The room smelled of old paper, leather and wood polish. Tall ladders rested against the shelves and soft yellow lamps made the whole place feel warmer than the rest of the building. He pulled a book from a shelf and handed it to me.
It was a first edition
“I’m afraid to touch it”
“Books are meant to be touched”
“That sounds like something a careless writer would say”
“Well I never said I was careful”
I laughed
He leaned against one of the shelves
“So tell me iris”
“Tell you what?”
“What do you write?”
“Nothing”
“I don’t believe that”
“ I…. I write fragments”
“Fragments of what?”
“Sentences ideas, characters that never become stories”
He nodded as if I had given the correct answer
“That’s where most stories begin”
“I don’t think mine begin anywhere”
“They do”
“You’re just expecting them to arrive fully formed”
“I’m waiting for something worth writing”
He looked at me for a long moment
“Be careful”
I thought he was talking about the book
“I’m so sorry I’ll put it back”
“No love I mean be careful with believing extraordinary stories announce themselves, the most important ones usually begin with something ordinary”
After he said those words, the words I found to be as beautiful as the first light of dawn, gentle enough to mistake for darkness giving way, though I would never admit it. I thought about Camden about the rain that day about the stranger helping me pick up books, he smiled slightly.
“You’re thinking”
“You notice everything”
“I try to”
Someone called Eric’s name from the main hall he glanced towards the doorway
“I have to speak to someone for a few minutes stay here if you’d like”
“I won’t get lost”
“I hope not”
He smiled and walked away. I stayed in the library. At first I looked through the shelves but after a while the room felt too quiet. I traced the spine of an old novel and wondered who had owned it before it came here then a strange thought crossed my mind every book in this room had survived someone, the thought made me think of my journal
“You’re right in time”Then the invitation “I’ll see you next Friday”
I suddenly wanted fresh air so I stepped into the corridor. This part of the building seemed different from the main hall, the music was faint and the laughter almost disappeared. I walked slowly expecting to find my way back easily but I took a wrong turn. The corridor became narrower, the lights were dimmer, the portraits disappeared, replaced by plain cream walls and dark wooden doors. At the end of the hallway was a door with a small brass sign
“Records and preservation department” Beneath it was another sign “Authorized access only”
I stopped I should have turned around I knew that but the door was not fully closed I noticed a folder resting on a chair inside the doorway just before I heard voices and one of the tabs sticking out from the side of the folder was file labeled mentorship schedule I looked away almost immediately, the voices came from deeper inside the room
“these files were changed” A man’s voice, calm but angry. Another voice answered quietly it was a woman’s voice
“You’re looking at copies”
“I’ve seen the originals” After that there was Silence then the man spoke again
“You can’t keep rewriting history” My chest tightened then the other voice answered
“You think I’m the one rewriting it?”
“Then tell me who is” A long pause followed then Finally almost in a whisper the woman said
“History is written by the people who survive”
The sentence hit me harder than it should have. I had heard something almost identical in my Shakespeare lecture earlier that week for a strange moment I felt as if the city was repeating itself. I leaned a little closer, my shoulder brushed against a metal cart standing beside the wall. It rolled a few inches with a sharp screech. The voices stopped immediately
A chair scraped across the floor inside the room, footsteps someone was coming towards the door I froze the handle began to turn
“Iris”
I spun around in fear eric was standing behind me his expression was calm but his eyes were searching my face
“There you are I’ve been looking for you” he said gently
“I got lost”
“I figured as much”
He glanced briefly at the door behind me then back at me
“This part of the building is easy to wander into by mistake”
The door opened a woman in a dark suit stepped out first followed by a tall man with dark hair beginning to turn gray the woman looked surprised only for a moment before her expression became polite eric turned to me
“Iris this is Eleanor voss she’s the head of records and preservation here at the foundation and she’s also my executive secretary”
Eleanor smiled warmly
“It’s nice to meet you miss calloway”
“It’s Nice to meet you too”
Eric then nodded towards the man beside her
“And this is detective victor hale from the metropolitan police”
Victor gave a short nod
“Miss Calloway”
I returned the nod feeling strangely nervous. Eleanor adjusted the folder in her hands and offered a small smile
“Detective Hale is just helping us with security arrangements for tonight, events like this always need a little extra attention”
Victor said nothing he simply looked at me for a second longer than strangers usually do then he turned to Eleanor
“We’ll continue this another time”
Eleanor nodded, Victor walked past us and disappeared down the corridor Eric placed a light hand on my shoulder
“Come there’s someone I want you to meet”
I looked back
Eleanor was still standing in the doorway she watched Eric and I leave then she slowly closed the door.
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