In Lily’s Garden.

The Records of Lily’s Transparent Bookshelf

I bring one of the unfolding pages closer and open it wide, as if watching a scene on a large movie theater screen. A man’s back is visible, seated before a wall covered with papers. He appears to be working through some kind of problem. Tired from thinking about a complex issue, he runs his hand through his hair and leans back in his chair.

Another scene unfolds. He throws the papers from the wall into a burning pile of logs, laughing with relief alongside his colleagues, as if finally free from the problem.

In yet another scene, under a clear sky, an older man runs his fingers along inscriptions on a pillar of a massive ancient temple. This man, dressed in old-fashioned clothing, seems to be from another era his face is aged and solemn, lost in deep thought. The letters on the pillar come into view. “Know thyself.” Someone seems to call out to the older man from behind, prompting him to turn around.

Did our eyes meet?

But that can’t be.

I am simply watching this scene unfold from the attic, so he can’t see me. And yet…what is this feeling? It really felt like we locked eyes. Another scene begins.

This time, the man is on an airplane, seemingly threatening the woman seated next to him for some unknown reason. The pages turn quickly now. It’s the same man from before his face now more aged and thin, with a cigar in his mouth, dressed in a suit, surrounded by a crowd of people.

Another scene unfolds, this time showing the man walking through a large, ornate bathhouse. The camera focuses on his legs as he steps into a bath, where only his face and upper body are visible, his arms resting on the edges, expressionless as he seems to take a moment of respite. The scene then pulls back, revealing the bathhouse in full lavishly decorated in gold, with small waterfalls cascading from both walls, vanishing before they touch the floor.

The man, now in a luxurious black robe, walks through a hallway and into a large library. He sits down at the desk in the center and begins typing on an old typewriter, picking up from where he left off in his manuscript. Someone enters the library quietly, the hem of her dress trailing behind her. Her long hair falls down, and her black robe, similar to the man’s, flows like a gown. She selects a book from the shelf, looking satisfied as she places it on the desk where the man had been. But now, he is gone, and the typewriter has vanished. She, too, disappears shortly after placing the book.

Only the curtains behind the desk, rustling in the breeze, remain.

The moon shining through the window seems strange.

As I keep watching, someone reaches out and grabs the moon, turning it into a diamond and placing it around their neck as a necklace. I can’t see the person’s face, but I know instinctively it’s the woman. Only she could do something like that.

The pages continue to turn, and a new scene reveals a man in a beautiful garden, gazing at an apple tree. Suddenly, I feel an urge to reach into that scene, to reach out and grasp an apple, just like that woman did. Strangely, an apple falls, capturing the gaze of the man looking at the tree. Time seems to pass, and now there’s a boy in a wheelchair in the same garden, but this time, it looks like a movie set. The gaze of the man wearing glasses is unforgettable. I remember seeing this actor playing a different role a wizard from England. But where did I watch that film?

I pull one of the unfolding pages closer and open it wide, as if watching scenes on a giant movie screen. I see a young child in a red cloak, resembling Lily, gazing at a vast film-like screen stretched across space. The scenes flicker by, almost like a rapid succession of memories. The child’s face is hidden beneath the red cloak, and only shadows within the cloak reflect the scenes on the screen. Among these scenes are records from the transparent bookshelf, like the beautiful apple tree in the garden and the actor stumbling down the stairs.

The child, seated on a black paper airplane as large as a spaceship, reaches out to the wing. Water-like ink flows from the wing, from which she pulls a book, writes something on it, and flies off somewhere.

Next, a young girl in an orange cloak writes on a column I’ve seen before. Behind her is a bright, refreshing beach, and a pumpkin-shaped boat anchored nearby. Could it be that this young girl is the one who inscribed the words the older man once read?

But something seems strange.

Though she wrote something, no words appear.

Is her ink gone?

Before I can finish this thought, everything goes dark.

The screen gradually returns, revealing a child in a yellow cloak, riding a yellow hot-air balloon with a black lantern, near a large black sphere. The child appears to be talking, perhaps to themselves, then reaches out to ignite a black flame in the lantern. The balloon is pulled into the black sphere and disappears.

A heavy, textured wind stirs the scene, and I see a child in a green cloak, riding a large leaf, wielding a pen slightly taller than themselves. The pen has three small clocks attached, each surrounded by glowing letters. As the child moves the pen, green ink spills out, forming something in the air.

I watch the scene for a long time until it shifts again, revealing a child in a blue cloak, seated within a bubble, gazing at Earth. Mesmerized by the beautiful rivers below, the child looks lost in thought before seeming to make a firm decision. The child, holding a thin, paper like screen similar to the page I’m viewing, writes something on it before vanishing.

I search the attic for a pen like those the children used, but there’s none here. Even Lily’s pen disappeared when she did. It must have been precious to her if she took it with her.

Then, it happens.

A sound disrupts my focus, and several books tumble from the bookshelf. Their titles read Bella’s Halloween Red, Bella’s Halloween Orange, Bella’s Halloween Yellow, Bella’s Halloween Green, and Bella’s Halloween Blue. I quickly read through them, sensing there may be more Halloween series books yet to be discovered.

But the transparent bookshelf offers me no further pages.

Eager to keep reading, I ignore the stacks of folded paper planes that carry Lily’s news. I no longer even think about finding her. Instead, I rummage through the bookshelf, captivated by the stories within it.

After a while, I find a large black feathered pen near the corner where the books had fallen. Picking it up, I decide to continue the Halloween series myself. Following the previous titles, I name them Bella’s Halloween Navy, Bella’s Halloween Purple, Bella’s Halloween Gray, and Bella’s Halloween Black.

As I write the titles, the pen begins to move on its own, crafting stories to match each title. Writing the books becomes effortless, and I hurry to read through them. Then, something strange happens. Just as Lily’s emotions had been recorded in the transparent bookshelf, I sense that my own emotions are now being captured there as well.

At that moment, a paper plane flies in, continuing the story.

A girl in a navy cloak sits within an iron sphere. Her atmosphere differs from that of the other children. Gazing through a crack in the sphere, she seems to notice me and gives a slight smile. My heart drops. Just as I see her, could she also be seeing me?

In the next scene, amid a glowing purple backdrop, a girl in a purple cloak appears, riding a cloud like cotton candy. She has long black hair tied back. Because I wanted to see the faces beneath these cloaks, I avoided writing “hidden under a cloak” when writing Bella’s Halloween Purple.

As the girl passes, the vast, empty blackness of space behind her fills with stars and turns purple.

Then a girl in a gray cloak appears, adorned with a shimmering, transparent butterfly brooch and carrying a scythe. As she runs, the scythe seems to transform, revealing a pen nib at its tip. It must be her pen. Details I hadn’t thought of myself are appearing in the story as if the pen is filling in the gaps.

The child in the black cloak does not appear. The scene in the paper plane ends abruptly.

Of course.

I’m the one wearing the black cloak.

I decide to enter the world within the transparent bookshelf, letting the pen guide me just as it had guided Lily when she vanished. I recall the child in the blue cloak holding a page similar to mine and wonder if I can replicate it. Taking my drawn pages along with the black cloak I created, I prepare to step into a world I’ve never experienced before. Realizing I might not be able to return, I leave a note in the attic and step into the bookshelf.