Hyacinth In Spring Glade
When the bell rang, I closed my eyes for a moment to contain my excitement.
My bookstore was ancient and well known in the community, yet very few people visit it these days, no thanks to advanced tech.
Perhaps it was ennui, I couldn't tell but seeing my next customer, I wanted to play. Or toy with destiny, as my late twin used to tease.
I smirked as the candles gracing the top shelves flickered about, announcing my new arrival. A young blonde, petite with blue eyes sparkling in the light.
The scent of innocence and naiveté wafted from her, teasing my nostrils. I nearly missed the fire beneath—the scent was fading as though smothered by self doubt or perhaps self loathing.
My kind of person. Soft and pliable.
“Hi. Can you point me to your thriller/mystery section?” She asked with a shy smile as she approached my desk.
“Welcome. Do you enjoy thrillers and mysteries?” I said, letting a hint of doubt cloud my expression.
She chuckled nervously. “I enjoy mysteries more.”
“Really. How about I recommend a book and you give me your feedback after reading it?”
“Oh. That would be nice.”
“Follow me, dear.”
I watched her from the corner of my eyes, noting the confusion on her face. Moving to the innermost shelf where I kept my special tome collection, I pulled out a book bound with a gleaming silver spine.
She gasped in wonder. “The cover is dashing. What is it? A thriller?”
I arched an eyebrow to hide my mischief. This naive girl had no idea what was in store for her. Once in a while, I pick them from amongst other customers, loan them a book which they read and eventually get lost in its world. Literally.
“No, dear. It's a fantasy. You'll love it.”
“I'm not sure.” She shifted on her feet, frowning.
I gently touched her shoulder, my thoughts pushing through into hers in persuasion. “You must take this book, it's a bestseller with high reviews. I'd love to add yours to the list.”
Her eyes lit up at that. “Oh, I'd love to read this book then. Give me two days and I'll be back with my review. My name is—”
“Hyacinth Wolf. I know,” I said with a grin.
“How did you know?”
“Let's say I'm good at guessing names. Your scent reminds me of the flower. See you in two days.”
I watched her brows knit in uncertainty as she left my bookstore. She flipped the book back and forth, wrestling with her decision but it was all in vain. She would read the book like others before her and join other nymphs in Spring Glade.
* * * * *
A week later, squinting against errant drops of rain, I jogged towards my bookstore when a flier pasted to the wall beside a public bin made me pause mid-stride.
Hyacinth Wolf looked younger and more delicate in the picture. She was reported missing with a handsome reward for concrete information about her whereabouts.
Tut, tut. How sad.
Image credit: Geralt via Pixabay