Chapter 2: Complimentary World-Class Travel!

If there was a signal in the universe that pointed to the existence of a higher order it would be the continued persistence of Shop 93A on Acre Road, Erbentile.

The shop had survived three wars, two hostage situations, eight counts of robbery and theft, a mistaken drug raid, and several untold counts of vandalism.

It was a miracle the shop looked the way it did.

For you see, no matter what happened on the doorstep or within Shop 93A, the shop would continue being there in a pristine state. Sure it would be in ruins from time to time, but the very next day, as if by magic, the shop would be back to normal.

There was an air of mystery around the shop, and though many have initially tried to damage or cause trouble within 93A, none have survived the tale.

Literally.

You see all thefts and assailants were eventually caught and died of exceedingly incidental causes.

A heart attack.

Motorcycle accident.

House fire.

Drug overdose.

And if you ask me, it was no coincidence that the Great War stopped just a few days after a wayward bomb had flattened the poor store.

So if one were to visit the quiet and stately premises of Shop 93A on Acre Road, Erbentile, one should be cautious not to offend the shop… or the shopkeeper.

You could never be too sure which one.

The only thing the shop lacked was a sign, so no one was quite sure what it was called. Most just refer to it as Shop 93A, some refer to it as the ‘Eternal Library’, despite the fact that you could not read any book for free.

In any case, the store was frequented by patrons that the shopkeeper were well-acquainted with. This individual in particular that stood nervously in front of a pile of books heaped upon the counter was such a regular occurrence, he would give the sun a run for its money.

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at the books spread out in front of him. The shopkeeper was a gentleman dressed in fine flowing silk of serious blacks and muted blues. He, like the rest of his establishment, looked more a part of the 19th Century than a modern-day bookstore.

With a smooth practiced motion, the shopkeeper pulled out a faded pocket watch, swinging it around and placing it in his hand. He glanced at the display for a few seconds and then placed it back in his vest with a faint smile.

His smile, however, was marred by wrinkled brows.

“I’m glad that you stop by every now and then, Layton,” he began by way of greeting, “but are you not engaged this evening? Were you not going to go out someplace?”

Layton’s hands paused over his wallet. He gave a very forced smile and shrugged. “I like reading.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up as he regarded the youth. “Sure you do. We all do. That’s why you come to this store so often… but sometimes it’s nice to share with someone else. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Layton nodded mechanically, but didn’t reply.

“Come now, Layton, surely you want something more than just a pile of books to read this afternoon? Don’t you want to do something else with your life? You’re young! Be ambitious! Sometimes you have to make a decision and stick with it, ride it out and make something of yourself!” Bradley poked his chest with a stern finger. “All you need is the courage to do so.”

Layton hunched his shoulders self-consciously. Observing his discomposure, the shopkeeper drew back sheepishly.

“Ah, well, I’m sorry that I pushed you. Never mind the mutterings of an old man.” He packed the books away in a brown paper bag and handed it to Layton with a dry chuckle. Then clapped his hands softly and smiled. “It’s great to see a young man captivated by the imagination crafted by aspiring authors. You sure you’re not going to be a writer? Not going to quit being a… what was it? An engineer, right?”

Layton hesitated, but then shook his head.

“A shame. You have such an active imagination, the only thing you lack is the will. Are you really sure?”

“Yes, Mr. Henderson,” Layton gripped the desk, “I like what I’m studying too.”

Mr. Henderson glanced down with chagrin. He brought out his pocket watch and checked the time. “We’re both adults, Layton. Call me Bradley, my friends all do.”

Layton chuckled. “That would be rude, Mr. Henderson.”

“Son, I can take a bit of informality. Plus, I’ve seen you in here when you were just a wee boy. Call me Bradley.”

“Yes, Mr. Bradley.”

Bradley threw up his hands helplessly. “What’ll I do with such excessive modesty?” He tapped his chin. “A polite young man like you should grasp his goals. Go explore, have an adventure, see the world while it’s still there! Old timers like me should be the ones frequenting these musty stores. Ambition will take you far. You’ll go places! Speaking of places…” Bradley scratched his ear thoughtfully and ducked his head behind the desk. “Hmm… now where was that blasted…? Ahah!”

Whilst smiling triumphantly, the shopkeeper pulled out a palm-sized book.

“Here, boy, how about a little freebie?”

Before Layton could refuse, Bradley tossed the book over to him. Layton fumbled the catch, but managed to save it from toppling to the ground with some awkward manoeuvring. He huffed at Bradley’s amused grin, but rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the book in spite of himself.

From first glance, it appeared old and dusty. Frowning slightly, his fingers ran over the cover.

The dust is printed? But it looks so real…

The cover, as if tired of its duties, bore a faint gilded script that Layton could just barely make out.

“The Almathea?” he murmured to himself. It sounded familiar. “Is this something for the store, like a promotion or something? Huh? Bradley?”

Layton glanced around but he wasn’t at the desk anymore.

“Bradley?” He craned his neck around but couldn’t find him.

Layton shrugged. The old man must’ve popped out back. He tucked the book into his bag and called out his thanks while exiting the store. An antiquated bell rang out solemnly in his wake.

A brisk wind bit into his neck sending shivers down his neck as he stepped out. Layton turned up the collar of his coat as he breathed in, feeling it burn on the way down. The fresh air carried a hint of the scent of autumn, with the earthy musk of decaying leaves gently fading away to the biting cold of winter.

Taking another refreshing breath, Layton trekked it to the bus stop with a slight smile on his face. Although the act of waiting for the bus seemed mundane, he was struck with a strange sense of contentment. After all, despite what Mr. Bradley had said about friends, he really did enjoy collecting and reading books.

An adventure? Courage? All I need is the world contained within my head.

The bus driver nodded at Layton as he got on. Too shy to even greet the bus driver, Layton wore a meek smile/grimace and scooted down the aisle as the driver closed the doors. Sitting at the back of the bus, in his usual seat, the young student perused through each of his books with a satisfied smile.

This will last me a little while, he thought whilst sorting through some of the titles.

A flash of gold reflecting the remnants of the sunset caught his attention. The gilded letters of The Almathea glowed in response, as if to beckon him. Curiously, he turned over the book in his hands and stared at it.

The book felt heavy in his hands. It had a surprising amount of heft to a seemingly small piece of literature. He opened up to the first page. Crisp pages rustled and the spine of the book creaked, but there was nothing written in the contents except…

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, there was a human named Layton…

Layton felt his lips arch into an amused smile. He recognised the elegant cursive writing of Mr. Bradley. Layton eagerly flipped through the rest of the notebook but found the rest of the pages blank.

Huh, a notebook?

It looked useful, so he tucked it away in his backpack to use later. Rummaging through, Layton’s heart began to beat faster as he pulled out one of the books he was looking forward to reading the most.

The Many Myriad Mythical and Mystical Monsters of the Mainland: A Manual by Professor Alicat Alimony

The author’s name was a pseudonym, but Layton hadn’t been able to find out much in regards to this author. As far as the world knew, this author didn’t exist. When Layton was young, he found the book’s predecessor: ‘A Bizarre Book of Beastly Brethren: A Believable Bestiary’. It was a book found strangely in the ‘non-fiction’ section.

Initially bored, and very curious, he found it contained very vivid accounts of fantastical creatures from the perspective of the author, ‘Professor Alicat Alimony’. It contained creature descriptions and summaries in between journal entries. It was as if the author had been scribing their adventures onto paper in between episodes of actually experiencing it.

The book ended on a very peculiar note where Professor Alicat had been exploring the ruins of a deep underground cave. Professor Alicat had been about to uncover an extraordinary new creature but then…

Nothing. The book ended there!

Despite that, it remained as one of Layton’s favourite books. Worn pages and frayed edges adorned the well-loved tome. However, much to his dismay, he lost the book during one of his many moves. He couldn’t find it online or anywhere else. Even other books in the series didn’t seem to exist. The book didn’t seem popular enough to warrant anyone keeping stock. Losing his only copy was one of Layton’s biggest regrets.

Still, being able to find the successor to that book in Mr. Bradley’s shop was a stroke of luck! Layton could hardly believe his eyes as he brought the book up to his eyes.

Finally!

Finally he could see what happened next to Professor Alicat and what new creatures would be found!

He opened the book.

The pages were blank.

What?

Why were they blank?

Layton felt sick to his stomach.

That’s weird, am I that upset?

But his stomach wasn’t upset because of the book, it was upset at something else…

Something much more fundamental.

His stomach was upset because reality was wrong.

Layton lurched from his seat whilst clutching his abdomen and noticed all-too-late that the bus was unnaturally still. Usually there would be rumbling or the sound of cars or even the current of air around him. No. There was nothing. Everything was still.

Quiet.

Like the silence of death.

Layton tried to take a step to the right.

But it was wrong.

His body tried to step left because it was always destined to step left.

Reality disagreed. It felt like he should step right.

After all, it was written right there that Layton should step right—

yes

no

yes

no

—he will step right.

It was the only choice left.

But it was not the right choice.

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right.

Rip.

Reality got fed up with how stubborn Layton was being and tore itself apart trying to convince him to turn right. In this strange moment, a stranger thing happened. Layton separated into two. His first body turned right, as per the amendment, and toppled down onto the floor, soulless.

That body died instantly.

His second body stepped to the left.

It fell through a hole in reality.

The rippling effects of this would eventually cascade through all realities and draw the attention of the superior beings, but for now, Layton saw an octopus.

Or was it a squid?

Whatever it was, he was certain that it was hungry.

Slithering tentacles paused as a bulbous eye swivelled around and locked with his own. Then the tentacles shot forward to embrace and crush him…

With a snap, the octopus was another afterimage as Layton snapped out of existence.

Layton drifted, stretched thin across the multiverses in a fuzzy wave of probability. He was in Time and away from it. Existent and non-existent. True and false.

He was left and right.

Layton saw things no human should ever have seen.

He saw the birth of the universe.

He saw a planet implode.

He saw a circle of amorphous blobs congregated around a book.

He thought he saw his own birth.

When Layton was starting to comprehend the nature of existence, life and getting dangerously close to the Truth, reality finally gave up on him and dumped him into the last place he saw.

Which happened to be next to a lush green mass of land… floating several thousand metres up in the air.

Layton’s frail heart almost stopped when seeing this fantastical view. How did he end up so high? What in the world was that floating landmass? Why was he not moving?

Then gravity suddenly noticed him and hastily pulled him down.

Losing the feeling of weightlessness, Layton plummeted towards the unforgiving ground with a pitiful scream.