Fiona Bardhoshi 10/11/10

Ashes to Ashes

Walking down the hallway towards the classic novels section of the local Ashville

Library gives me the same feelings some girls might have when they come home from a terrible

day knowing that their mother will listen and make them feel better. In this case the authors of

literature classics, Jane Austen, Margaret Mitchell, and Charlotte Bronte are my mothers.

As I started to flip through the pages of what may seem like a rusty old book to some

people, I heard hushed but demanding voices coming from the checkout desk.

“If I look in the Book Locator and see that the book I am searching for is marked down

as IN at the moment, and I locate the specific shelf where it is supposed to be, it should be

there!” I couldn’t see over the book shelf I was eavesdropping behind very well but I could make

out the short little bald man who looked strangely familiar to Grumpy from Snow White and

the Seven Dwarfs.

He was red in the face and I could see that Ms. Z, the librarian, was biting her lip to

keep from laughing.

“Sir, it is out of my hands if a selfish reader comes into this library and walks out with a

book without checking it out. This happens all the time. I’m sure it was just a very popular

book and some teenager didn’t think twice before walking out with it.” Ms. Z replied.

“Actually miss, this novel was a classic. It may be popular to a person like me who

treasures old literature, but certainly not popular to anyone else. I’ve been anxious to start

reading this book. It would have been particularly old, dusty, and the words inside would be

fainted. It’s an original copy, and your library is one of the few which have it,” the little bald

man said.

I looked down at the book in my hands. It was old. Particularly dusty. And I as I flipped

through the pages again, I could see that the words were hard to read because ink had fainted.
I waited to see if the little bald man would mention the name of the book he was looking for. He

did.

“The title is Jane Eyre! Does that ring a bell Mrs. Librarian?”

My hand swept over the book cover that was sheeted in dust, and I saw, in large, faint

gold letters the front of this little, blue hardcover book it said Jane Eyre.

The little bald man continued to go on and on about how if this was a respectable

library we would find books in a matter of seconds and so on and so on. Ms. Z didn’t seem

fazed by this at all; she just stood politely nodding her head every few seconds so the man

would think she was listening.

Finally, when the bald man stopped his ranting to take a breath, I stepped out from

behind the book shelf.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry but I heard your little argument and this would probably go on

all day so, I thought I should tell you that I took the book you’re looking for off the shelf. I was

just reading it over there on the window sill.” I said.

The little bald man looked at me like I was joking.

“Little girl you must have those two books confused. This book I’m looking for contains

words you can’t even sound out. Thank you for trying though.” I’m almost positive that this

little, 5’3 tall man lifted his chin just a little too far up as he turned away from me and scoffed.

“Actually, the content of this classic novel you are searching for is perfectly suitable for

me. I have embraced the words of this novel many a time. I did not realize I contained the book

in my hands until I overheard your dwarf-like, demanding voice shouting at this poor librarian

here because you probably could not reach the shelf which this book was perched on.” I replied

smartly. I used big words just to prove my point.

and turned around without saying anything else and leaving the little bald man there still

trying to figure out what I just said.

*** ***

I took the stairs down to the basement of the library, what I really needed was to just

lay in my bed and a take a nap. I took the hallway that lead to the little “apartment” me and my

dad lived in. While I was fumbling to turn the key, my dad opened the door from the inside.

“Hey Mags,” he said as he walked back inside toward his toolbox, “Find a good book

upstairs?”

“Nah, just a bunch of grumpy little bald men up there.” I said smiling.

“Snow White?” My dad said.

“Yea, you could say that. So, whatcha fixing this time?” I said as I fell onto the couch,

“A broken bookshelf? Or, are you repainting those little tables kids sit at?”

Those were two of the many jobs my dad does around the library. I usually help him

when I’m not studying or reading. Or napping.

“No, Maggie, today I have to fix the fax machine at the checkout desk.” Dad replied.

He has to do these jobs every day. It’s either that or we pack up and live on the streets,

or worse, with my Uncle Burt. He’s a real keeper. I’ve lived in this library for about 7 years now,

ever since I was 6 years old. I don’t really remember living anywhere else, or with anyone else.

The library has always been my home. It’s actually pretty cool; most people would think it’s

extremely boring.

Every night, at our little dinner table for two, my dad tells me a secret about the library

that no one but him, and sometimes Ms. Z, knows. It seems a little childish but it’s tradition.
Last night, I found out that someone had left an old, gold key in the pages of an old book. My

dad gave me the key when I asked for it, and I went around to every door in the library trying

to find out if it belonged to any one of them. It didn’t.

While my dad headed back upstairs to fix the fax machine, I grabbed his copy of The

Scarlet Letter and started reading it, again. It’s my favorite book, there’s just something about it

that draws me to it. As I flipped through the pages, I slowly started to drift off to sleep, cuddled

with a blanket under my chin and the book on my chest.

*** ***

Something strange woke me, the smell of smoke. At first it seemed like nothing to me,

the thought crossed my mind that dad was making grilled cheese again and forgot to take the

plastic covers off of the individual slices of cheese. But the smoke never stopped. It came

stronger and as I inhaled it, it tugged at my throat, making it hard to breathe. I was finally fully

awakened and there was nothing o see except puffs of gray, ashy smoke surrounding my entire

body. I could see nothing.

Practically spraining my ankle on the small wooden table next to me, I sprang from the

couch, book still in hand, and ran to the hallway where I wasn’t surprised to see an endless

supply of smoke. My sight was awful. But my hearing was great. The sound of 15 to 20 smoke

detectors and a fire alarm spilled into my ears. Everything was becoming confusing. Each way I

turned, I saw the same thing, smoke, and still had the noises burned into my brain.

I got down on my knees and started crawling on all fours. Reaching in my pocket for the

old compass my dad had found in the library a week ago, I tried to remember which direction I

had to crawl to so I could reach the emergency exit in the basement. East. Everything inside of

me was panicking; I crawled toward the exit faster than I usually run. Once I got there, I

jumped to my feet and ran outside. Still breathing in smoke coming from the windows of the

library on the floors above me.

saw was red. Sirens, fire trucks, hoses, and fire itself. I lunged toward the front entrance but

was stopped immediately by a man who wasn’t even a firefighter, just some under paid security

guard.

“You have to let me in!” I screamed in his face as tears ran down mine, “My dad is in

there!”

“Young lady, I am not letting you anywhere near that building. It’s way too dangerous

for you.” I was dumbfounded at the fact that he said this which such calmness, as if a father

being inside a burning library was an everyday situation for him.

“Move out of my way.” I said rudely, as I pushed the guard down, with all my force, to

the pavement.

My only goal was to get my dad. At that point the fact that there were hundreds, maybe

thousands, of books in there burning to a crisp feeding into the fire, never crossed my mind.

The wooden door at the front was crowded by at least 6 huge firefighters. I had to find another

way in. Running to the side of the library, I jumped up on the ledge of the old building and

ducked my head when I opened the side window, in case all the oxygen made the fire burst into

my face.

Once it was safe, I pushed myself through the window onto the library carpets, which

were covered in black ash; I started to run down the aisles toward the checkout counter, where

dad was working on the fax machine. Reaching the checkout counter, coughing, I stopped in

my tracks. Black. That’s all I could see. Black smoke, black ash, and…black body bag. Being

wheeled outside by firefighters, just passing me by, while the zipper stopped at the neck. I saw

his face. His cold, pale face, looking as if he were desperate to show emotion. Desperate to cry

for me while I stood still as stone, not moving, barely breathing, and my world falling apart all
around me. My mind spinning in circles, with no one to hold on to, and nothing to see. Just

ashes to ashes.

Chapter 2:

I was carried out of the burning library by two large firefighters, which I’ve always

wished for since reading the romance section, but at the time, I couldn’t care less. My father

was dead. And I found out later that Ms. Z had passed away right along with him. I had nobody

left. No dad, no Ms. Z, and although I’ve known this for a while it really hit home at the

moment, I had no mother.

When the ambulance came to help anyone who needed it, they gave me something so I

could breathe oxygen more easily.

“It’s ok, you’ll be fine, we’re just going to take you to the hospital to make absolute sure

you’re ok,” said one of the nice ladies in the back of the ambulance before they had started

driving.

I may have been a little dizzy from all the smoke, but I wasn’t about to go to the

hospital, they’d realize that my mother had abandoned me and that my dad was dead and then

they’d send me off to some foster home with a bunch of strangers who think they’ve all of a

sudden become my best friend. I knew I had to get out of there. Once the nice paramedic

turned around to grab something, I quickly lifted the oxygen mask off of my face and hopped

off the ambulance. Running away from the ambulance, and away from the place I grew up in.

*** ***

I ran 19 blocks without stopping. Hearing my panting breath the whole way, some from

the smoke, some from the run. I stopped when I saw a bicycle shop at the corner of the street.

Now, under no circumstances am I a thief, but, this was an emergency. I certainly couldn’t run
all day. I thought about it, then about a foster home with mice running around all over the

place. I decided to take the bike. I would come back someday, and then I’d return it.

There weren’t any major threats of eye witnesses. So I started to walk around, looking

at all the bikes, trying to calculate which one would be best. I decided on a midnight blue

colored one, my favorite color, which was also good for the road. I ripped off the tags and

stickers as I knelt down. And started to crawl/walk the bike to the back of the shop. Once

reaching the door, I jumped on, pedaling insanely fast until the shouts of “Thief! Bring that

back here!” started to faint in the distance.

Biking another mile or two, taking breaks in between, I realized I had entered a new

neighborhood. I kept riding until I saw what I had been looking for, a library. I locked my bike

up on the rack using the lock I grabbed as I exited the bike shop a while ago. Going inside, I

had to blink back stubborn tears. It all looked so familiar. Calmly, I started walking towards a

work table, I needed to sit down and think. The only one close to being unoccupied was a table

where a young boy, about my age, was sitting at. He was reading The Hunger Games. I sat

down at the other end of the table, looking at him as I sat down. I saw that the book he was

reading wasn’t a library book, there was no code bar to scan, or letters on the spine to make

sure it was put back in its organized place. Why had someone brought a book to a library?

After about 5 minutes, as any normal person would, the buy looked up from his book

and stared right back at me.

“What? You’ve been staring at me the whole time you’ve sat down. What’s your issue?”

He said in more of an interested voice, rather than annoyed.

“Oh, sorry, I was just curious as to why you brought your own book to a library. I’m

sure they have that book somewhere in here.” I replied.

“Well, I had already started this at home, and I just wanted to get away to a quiet place,

so I came here,” when speaking, he hesitated before saying the word home.
 “Actually, I did the same.” I said, shyly pulling out the crisp copy of The Scarlet Letter

out of my messenger bag, the one I had grabbed when rushing out of the basement.

When he saw my book, he smiled. Standing up and grabbing his own bag, he moved

over to my side of the table and sat across from me.

“So…Scarlet. Do you live around here? I’ve never seen you in this library before.” He

asked.

“Scarlet?” I replied confused at the new nickname.

We both looked down at the cover of my book, understanding where the name had come

from.

“It’s actually Maggie,” I said laughing, “So should I call you Suzanne Collins, or do you

go by something else?”

He smiled at me again. “Funny. Although Suzanne is a lovely name, I prefer to go by

Nick, Nicholas if you want to get all proper.”

I didn’t really know what to say after that because he was still giving me that goofy, but

cute, smile. Trying to avoid talking, but still keep the conversation going, I smirked at him then

started to devote my attention back to my book. I could still feel him staring at me.

“So, you never answered my question, are you from around here?” He said, trying to

make discussion.

“No, not really, I just needed time away from…home.” I know that was a lie but I sort of

did need time away, or else I’d be there.

Nick noticed the hesitation in my voice when I used the word home; he had said it the

same way himself earlier.

part with a sigh.

Next thing I knew, I was telling Nick all about the fire, and how obviously the first place

I would come to is a library. And he told me about how a few years ago his parents died in an

airplane crash. We talked until the library closed and we had to leave. As we walked out Nick

looked at me with some concern.

“I don’t exactly have the best living conditions in a foster home, but at least I have

somewhere to sleep. Where are you going to go? You can’t wonder the streets at night by

yourself.” He said worried.

I hadn’t thought of this. “I guess I could just…” I looked down the street where a block

or two away, I saw a church, “People who don’t have anywhere to sleep are allowed to sleep in

the churches right?! I can sleep there I guess.” I said trying to sound confident when I knew my

voice was filled with uncertainty.

“Well, if you’re going than I’m coming with you.” Nick said protectively.

I didn’t deny the offer of company in a strange church, so we got our bikes and walked

towards the church. People inside didn’t seem to mind making room for two more people,

especially kids.

Once all the lights were out, both of us stared at the ceiling not saying anything.

Nick turned on his side. “Where are you planning to go? You can’t do this every night.”

He said very interested in the answer.

I thought for a second, and realized that if I didn’t want to end up with a group of

strangers and be put up for adoption, there was only one thing I could try, and it might not

work.
 “I am going to find my mother.” I said, not believing the words coming out of my mouth.

I laid there thinking about the sentence for a while until I finally fell asleep.

Chapter 3:

The next morning, Nick and I went back to library and started researching the location

of the closest living women named Elizabeth Payne; she hadn’t decided to change back to her

maiden name. We found 3 of them, once opening all the pictures, we saw that the first one was

way too old; the second was actually a transvestite. But when opening the picture of the third

Elizabeth Payne, Nick looked back and forth from the screen to my face.

“We’ve definitely got a match, you have her eyes.” He said sweetly.

I couldn’t believe that all this time, finding my mother was as simple as this. I had

never thought of actually looking for her. And she lived closer than I thought. Only about 15

miles from the library me and dad used to live in.

After processing it all, we wrote down her current address, and walked outside, ready to

begin our journey.

“One question. How are we supposed to get money?” Nick asked, “I don’t think we can

travel 13 miles on bikes without at least a few bucks in our pockets.”

I pulled out the old gold key dad had found in the pages of a book, just a few days ago,

the memory of him still made tears come to my eyes, and said “Any pawn shops around here?”

I was willing to sell it. I knew that this was the last thing my father would ever give me,

but it was the only thing valuable enough to get us enough money. Either way, I still had the

book. I still had The Scarlet Letter.

*** ***
At the pawn shop, another 6 miles away that we had to ride, I admit, it was hard to give away

the key, but I did it. Afterwards, the man behind the counter gave me a nice wad of money, so

that helped, a little.

I was so glad to have Nick next to me; it was great to have someone there who wasn’t as

scared as I was. He was really good at comforting me at the church when I started to cry in the

middle of the night. Talking to me until I fell asleep peacefully again.

I started to walk out of the shop, Nick behind me. Or so I thought. I came outside and

started to say something to him, but realized he wasn’t behind me.

“Nick?! C’mon, our bikes our going to get stolen soon!” I yelled, walking around looking

for him.

Where is he? I went back into the shop, but he wasn’t in there. I started to walk around

the block yelling his name. I never got an answer.

“Nick? This isn’t funny! Come on!” I whined, “We’re so close to where my mom should

be! Seriously, come out of hiding. I can’t finish this without you!” I said out loud. Although, I

had a feeling no one was listening.

I couldn’t find him. I sank onto the street curb. What happened? Everything was going

fine, why did he leave? I always had Nick there to comfort me. But he was gone. I couldn’t

believe it. I started to cry. A lot. My whole world was falling apart right in front of me and there

was nothing I could do about it. I was stuck here by myself. I can’t finish this without him.

After sobbing for about 5 minutes, I wiped my tears and stood up. ‘Maybe I could start

heading back to Ashville. There would be someone willing to give me directions. Maybe.’ I

thought.
 I checked my pockets to see exactly how much money I had gotten from the shop

keeper for that gold key. Seventy five bucks. This money should cover the costs for a taxi to

take me the rest of the way to my mother’s house.

I went over to the bike rack on the other street and walked it along the sidewalk. When I

saw a cab, it was white; I threw my hands in the air getting the driver’s attention. Once he

stopped I put my bike onto the bike rack and got into the backseat.

“Um…3451 Ledding St.” I said to the driver after I took out the slip of paper I had

written the address on.

The driver, who according to his license was named Rudy, turned to face me and looked

at me suspiciously.

“You got enough money for 7 miles kid?” He said in a grouchy voice.

I pulled out the wad of bills and waved in his face. “Yea, I do. Can you speed it up a bit?

It’s getting dark.”

Once seeing the money, Rudy would’ve taken me anywhere. In a 7 mile perimeter, of

course. I fell asleep in the back for a few minutes because there was a little traffic. After about

13 minutes, Rudy pulled up to a house that looked just like the one I saw when I looked the

address up on Google at the library computer.

“Thanks!” I said as I paid Rudy and started getting out of the cab.

I got my bike off the rack and watched Rudy drive away. I turned toward the house.

This was it. My mother was in that house. If she wanted me now, or if she even knew who I

was, was a mystery to me.

I slowly walked myself and my bike up the pathway leading to the petite house. For a

quick second I thought about turning back. I stopped myself. This was my mother. Of course

she’ll remember me. A woman can’t forget labor; I read it was counted as the most painful
thing to do in life. Well, that and passing a kidney stone. Anyway, a mother never forgets her

daughter, right?

I left my bike and the bottom of the steps and slowly started climbing them one at a

time. Once I got to the top, I opened the screen door. I held my breath as I slowly lifted the

antique knocker on the door. As I let it go, a flood of things raced into my mind. What’s she

like? I’ve been asking questions about her since I started this trip. What if she never answers?

*** ***

I had been waiting on the steps for what seemed like an eternity, and one answered. I

couldn’t believe that she was probably never going to open the door. No one was. Ready to

start riding back to Ashville, I began to descend the steps, when I heard behind me, a creak as

the door opened.

I turned around. There, facing me, the only thing between us being a screen door, was a

little bald man…who looked strangely familiar to Grumpy, from The Seven Dwarfs

Chapter 4:

He conveyed the same facial expression as I did, a mixture of shock and confusion as to

why he was answering the door to be greeted by the smart mouth “little girl” who had told him

off at the library the other day. I didn’t know what to say to him. Somehow my throat was

refusing to speak. Part of me was happy that at least someone opened the door, rather than

having to stand on those steps waiting forever. But, another part of me wanted to exactly what

was going on, why was the rude dwarf guy answering the door instead of my mom?

After a minute or two of shared silence, the little bald man spoke up. “Well, I imagine

you’re here to apologize for your rude behavior at the neighborhood library the other day.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. I did not come 15 miles, to meet a great friend then to have

him run off without me, spend my money on a cab ride, and then to knock on the door that
was supposed to be opened by my welcoming, cheery faced mother, but instead was opened by

the rude miniature version of a man who is now expecting an apology?

“Actually, I came here thinking you would get over your shortness and apologize to me.”

I threw right back at him, even though that wasn’t the purpose of this trip, I was way too upset

to be my usual, charming self. Although, I did feel sort of bad that this guy was always getting

the bad side of me.

He gave me one those famous scoffs of his. “If you’re looking for an apology young lady,

you’ve definitely come to the wrong place.” Now he was the one looking at me like I was joking.

“Well, fine then, I didn’t come to hear an apology from you, or give one. The person I’m

looking for obviously isn’t here. Sorry I wasted your time.” I replied, fed up with all of these

disappointments.

I started to descend the steps for the second time, heartbroken. Wondering why my

mother didn’t answer the door. Was I at the wrong place? Did she move from this house? Was

she…dead?

“Wait. Exactly who are you looking for?” The bald man called after me.

“Elizabeth Payne,” I muttered as I turned back round to face him, it hurt to even say

her name.

The color of his face drained, and for the first time, he really looked at me. A creepy

feeling went down my spine, something didn’t feel right.

“I don’t understand. I can’t believe I missed it before.” He breathed.

*** ***

Being kind enough to make sure I don’t freeze to death, the little bald man, whose name

I still don’t know, let me inside his house. Usually, going into strangers’ homes isn’t number
one on my list of things to do, but he obviously knew something about my mother, so I decided

to hear him out.

“Well…this is it,” he coughed, “You can take a seat and we can discuss your, um,

mother, Elizabe—“ He stopped mid-sentence and froze.

I followed his gaze to a frame on the wall, of a young girl who looked exactly like me.

“Is that…my mom?!” I asked incredulously. Why did this freak have a picture of my

mother, as a young girl?

“Um…well, that’s why I wanted you to come inside. I can explain more after you see

something upstairs.” He said with that look of disbelief in his eyes.

The only way I was going upstairs with a possible serial killer who has a picture of my

mother on his wall is if all hell freezes over.

“I think I’ll pass…” I still didn’t know his name or what he was had to “show me”, but

what can I say? My curiosity got the best of me.

I followed him upstairs, hesitantly, and then walked down a hallway with many more

framed pictures on the walls of what seemed to be family gatherings.

He stopped at a closed door and turned to me. “Why were you looking for your mother

anyway?”

“I wanted to find her because…I didn’t want to be some orphan on the side of the

street.” I broke my own heart as I said those words, reminding me of the fire in the library.

For the second time today the color in his face left. “Your father passed away?” He

didn’t look so good as he asked this.

“Yes,” I said quietly. I could tell from his expression that the dwarf-man knew my dad

well enough to care that he was dead, “Do you know my family in some way, sir?”
 He opened the door behind him and said “I think for now, you can sleep here, in your

mother’s old bedroom. Oh…and Maggie?”

“Yes?” I didn’t question the fact that he knew my name or the fact that he just opened

the door to my mother’s old room, I could barely say more than one word, and I was shocked.

“No more “sir”, call me Grandpa.” He had a happy, yet cocky look in his eyes. Because

now, he was the one walking away leaving me speechless.