The Last Writer Adriane Leigh (story reading TXT) 📖

with a stolen child’s journal and a million questions.

After I’d left the weird impromptu morning class Yara had taught, I’d headed back to my room to finish Lilies in the Cellar, but found Zara’s small red journal from inside the tin instead.

And now here I sat, hours later and bouncing between the pocket-sized journal and the final haunting chapters of Lilies in the Cellar.

A haunted library, a makeshift orphanage, and a governess with sinister intentions revealed itself through the chapters. What had started out like a typical young adult novel had turned twisted and upside down, leading me down a path of horrific intentions as I imagined what the governess might be doing to the children she took under her care.

The writing was engaging, the plot thick with red herrings and cliffhanger moments as the narrative came together in a near-blinding crash of emotions. My heart hammered as young Yara and Yarrow were forced to work until their fingers bled in the lily cellar that gave the book its name. Soon, the governess added more children, until one by one, they began to disappear.

Finally, with only five short chapters remaining, I’d been forced to close it after a stomach-twisting scene between a young Yara and her first crush, a wayward teenager named Nathaniel. I’d fallen a little in love with them, and then was crushed later when I realized he’d disappeared. The governess had explained away his disappearance as a runaway, but Yara, and I, suspected far worse.

I swallowed a painful ball of emotion in my throat as I tucked the volume between the edges of the chair and looked up to the cloudy blue fresco painted onto the ceiling of the reading room. The outer edges were framed with brilliant gold rosettes and filigree, the reflective flecks of the paint highlighting the dimension of the engravings. Cherubs in curls with flutes flanked the corners, as if singing their praise into the clouds of Heaven.

I let my eyes linger along the artistry, soaking it up one meter at a time and wishing I could get a close-up view of the more intricate scrollwork.

I sighed, letting my eyes fall closed as I thought in fear of Yara’s odd request for an essay. I still hadn’t written a word, hadn’t even thought about what I would write. I mostly thought it was such an absurd request that I was tempted to not turn anything in, just to see what would happen, but the fear of getting kicked out of my only chance at literary success loomed heavy.

I flipped the tiny child’s journal in my hands, the red fabric edges faded to frayed pink. I slipped a finger between the soft cream pages, smiling as I traced the capitalized letters of the name Zara.

“Who are you and where did you go?” I hummed out loud.

“I’m right here.” I jumped out of my chair when Thax ducked over my shoulder, taunting me with a childish laugh. “Have you been here all day?”

“Yes.” I snatched the copy of Lilies in the Cellar he’d given me and shoveled it at his chest. “The apartments give me weird vibes so I’m sticking to the public library spaces. I started at the rotunda, then sat with a man in a suit jacket that smelled like cigars in the rare books room as he flipped through a stack of Horatio Alger hardbacks, and then found myself here.” I nodded up at the vividly-painted clouds that adorned the ceiling. “This room has the best view so far.”

His grin widened. “So,” he waved the book, “you finished it then?”

“I can’t.” I plopped back into the chair. “It’s too messed up.”

“I told you!” He pulled a chair from one of the tables behind him and sat backwards in it. “How far did you get?”

“Nathaniel just disappeared.”

Thax frowned. “Who?”

I rolled my eyes. “Kids die in this book; you should have warned me.”

“Didn’t realize you were such a lightweight, it’s only fiction, geez.”

I didn’t answer as I realized I’d grown so attached it felt like all of it was real.

“So, what’d you write about for that fear thing?”

“I haven’t written anything. I’m too busy being terrified by this book.”

“Well, that’s the point. You're welcome for the inspiration.”

I suppressed a sarcastic retort in favor of sticking my tongue out at him like a child.

His laugh echoed through the library and caused the librarian to shoot an angry glare our way.

“Ssh, you’re going to get us kicked out of here, then we’ll be homeless.” I pressed a finger to my lips.

Thax chuckled again, the librarian’s annoyed gaze still lingering on us.

“I’ve been kicked out of classier places.”

“Than this?” I laughed. “Do tell.”

“Which borough of the city should we start with?” His eyes twinkled when he teased, I hadn’t noticed that before.

“Rebel,” I said.

“I’m not a rebel, a guaranteed roof over my head for the next hundred days was too good to pass up.”

I worked over his words in my head, before finally asking what was on my mind. “Do you have an apartment to go home to after this stint at the library?”

“Nope.” His grin widened.

“Is that normal for you?”

“What—freedom? I make it a priority. Why be locked down with an apartment where the rates start going up the minute you sign the lease? I’m a loner, I rent hotel rooms and visit friends and family and do a lot of traveling. I stay warm.”

“What a life,” I huffed.

“It is, you should try it.”

“Did you grow up in the city?”

“Yup.”

“Do your adopted parents still live here?”

“My parents do, but my dad isn’t happy that I’m here, so we haven't spoken in a few weeks.”

“He didn’t want you to find your birth mom?”

Thax regarded me thoughtfully for a while, as if deciding exactly how much to tell me. He pressed his lips together, eyes glancing down to the book in his hands before replying, “I don’t think he trusts me.”

“Why?” I blurted, surprised by his revelation.

He sucked in a breath before continuing. “I don’t think he trusts