I was a normal librarian, a 30-year-old librarian. But it was fun. I have a great relationship with books, especially novels. I had dyslexia when I was very young, and somehow, I don't know why, reading novels and imagining the story in my head, I overcame my dyslexia. I was so passionate about novels that I would start writing my own stories, but they were all written before. Maybe because I used to read a lot of novels, I couldn't form anything new in my head.
I am a kleptomaniac too. I used to steal the best food from my colleagues. Once I got someone suspended from the library because he lashed out at me for eating his sandwich. He was a good fellow but very short-tempered. What was his name? Rass? I don't remember.
Maybe this is karma. That day I ate someone's pudding, and maybe they had laced it with very strong diarrhea-causing medication.
Rest you guys know. Now back to where we left off.
________________________________________________________________________________
Ding dong!
"Mike, go and open the door. Maybe it's your father," my mom said.
I, who was still shocked, looking at my hands, instinctively got off the chair and ran towards the door. Who would want a slap from Mom just because he didn't do what she asked him to do?
"This should be impossible... Is transmigration possible? Does that mean I am a character in a novel? No, that's not possible... It can't be... Don't tell me I am in a fanfic or something and it's written by a newbie writer... Nononononono... Please, let him be someone who has written something good before..." I thought.
I opened the door. There he was.
A burly black man with a salt and pepper beard. Kind and gentle eyes. He has a suitcase in his right hand and a book in his left hand.
Terry Owen, married to my mom Janet Owen. Though he was my step-dad, I always considered him my own dad because I had never seen my real dad. He spoiled me a lot and treated me as his own kid.
When Terry looked at me, a huge smile came on his face.
"Hey champ, how have you been?" said Dad.
"All good... what about you?" I said even thought I wanted to scream. I had keep my emotions straight.
After opening the door I went straight to my room.
In my room, there were no posters, no figurines, no nothing. The only thing that was there was this big metal bookshelf. It had a collection of Dad's and mine, even though I haven't bought anything. I still consider some of them as mine because they were gifts. Terry was a big reader and is very successful in the publication space. Yes, he works at Random House. He's a manager or something; I never asked him properly.
Of course there was my reading table,closet,my bed but the most important thing was that bookshelf.
"Huh! So I have been transmigrated. Well, there is no reason for me to be transmigrated. I never had any problems in my life, and I was happy. How old am I? 19? That means...its 2020!! What about covid? It is parallel world or something? Eh! Too much thinking, I can't figure it out. I would think about it tomorrow. Whatever, let's just read some Stephen King before sleeping," I thought.
Then, going closer to my bookshelf, I started finding the books I wanted to read.
"That's strange. I can't find anything related to Stephen King or my other books. What are these? *The Merchant of Venice*? *Othello*? These were never in my collection. Did Dad take the books somewhere else? I have to ask him," I thought.