Eternal Love

Labyrinth of Lies

Claudette gingerly opened the creaky wooden door of Bertram's Books, her favorite haunt. The old bookshop was cramped but cozy, with shelves overflowing with leather-bound tomes reaching up to the ceiling.

"Good morning, Claudette!" called Bertram cheerily from behind the front counter.

"More 19th-century romantic poetry today?"

"You know me well," Claudette smiled.

She inhaled the comforting scent of yellowing pages as she made her way to the back corner with her favorite anthologies.

She settled into the plush burgundy armchair nestled between the bookcases and cracked open a collection of John Keats' works, soon losing herself in verse about star-crossed lovers and odes celebrating the splendors of nature.

After an hour passed blissfully by, Claudette was interrupted from her reverie by Bertram appearing at her side.

"Care for a spot of tea while you read?" he asked, eyes glinting oddly behind his spectacles in the dim light.

"I just put the kettle on. It's on the house,"

Claudette hesitated briefly, then smiled up at the elderly shopkeeper she'd known for years.

"That sounds lovely, thank you, Bertram."

As he shuffled away, she returned to the final stanzas of Keats' poem "Endymion" with its lyrical language pouring over her, transporting her to mythological landscapes populated by ethereal goddesses.

The steaming cup of tea Bertram soon delivered filled the air with aromatic notes of spice and citrus.

"What do you think of the poem?" he inquired while Claudette carefully took her first sip, wary of burning her tongue on the hot liquid.

"It's so rich and vivid," Claudette mused after swallowing the bold, almost bittersweet flavor.

"I can't even begin to fathom how a mind conjures such tantalizing imagery and weaves it into dimensional worlds brimming with magic and romance. To me, that's a true genius."

Bertram gazed at her intently.

"I couldn't agree more. There are entire worlds contained within these very pages if only one knows how to access them."

Claudette released a small, almost mournful laugh.

"Wouldn't that be lovely? I fear I must content myself to catch fleeting glimpses in verse rather than to fully inhabit the realms these visionaries fabricated."

She lifted the cup once more to her lips, but before she drank Bertram abruptly clasped his wrinkled hand over hers. Startled, she met his eyes and was taken aback to see cold calculation lurking in those ice-blue depths instead of his usual affable warmth.

"On the contrary, darling, your passion for books may soon be delightfully rewarded," he murmured, clamping down harder as she instinctively tried to pull away.

"Did you think this was merely tea?"

Horrified realization began to dawn as the room started spinning. Claudette opened her mouth to scream but all that emerged was a strangled gurgle. As her vision began to cloud, the last thing she saw before slumping over was Bertram's lined face splitting into a skeletal grin.

Claudette gradually awoke to the earthy scent of aged paper and soft flickering light. Disoriented, she blinked open bleary eyes and cautiously lifted her head. She appeared to be tucked into a dim cavernous space with shadowy bookcases extending into the gloom all around.

Where am I? The last thing I remember... A chill of fear jolted through Claudette. The tea...it must have been drugged! Has Bertram abducted me?

Holding her breath, she anxiously scanned the area but saw no signs indicating where the demented bookseller had gone.

Easing slowly upright, she crept toward a gap between shelves nearest to her makeshift bed, floral dresses, and petticoats pooled on the rough stone floor. She craned her neck around the corner and gasped—instead of the familiar comforts of Bertram's shop there were only more dimly lit bookshelves receding endlessly under intricately carved Gothic arched ceilings.

Heart pounding, Claudette stumbled forward into the cavernous space. sinuous walkways wound dizzyingly through mountains of books under the straining shelves. She wandered wretchedly past alcoves stuffed full of cracked, mildewing tomes and niches where arcane scientific equipment glinted ominously until she was thoroughly lost in the labyrinth.

Finally, Claudette sank and buried her face in her hands, ragged sobs tearing from her throat. What is this madness?

Was anything she knew true, or had insidious deception lurked unseen this whole time behind Bertram's grandfatherly veneer?

She didn't know how much time passed before she heard shuffling, uneven footsteps slowly approaching and then halting nearby.

"Ah, I see you have awakened, darling."

Bertram's familiar kindly tone cut through the gloom, sending her pulse rocketing. She whipped her head up to see him studying her with a grotesque grin twisting his lips, the flickering light casting his face into demonic relief.

"W-why have you brought me here?" Claudette whispered through bloodless lips.

Bertram cackled. "You always were such an innocent! I have dwelt here under the shop for decades, luring hopeless romantics like you desperate to escape into fantasy. With my concoctions, I can make that yearning literal!"

His smile turned wolfish, bearing neat rows of tiny pointed teeth.

Claudette recoiled, bile rising in her throat as the severe truth slammed into her—this was no benevolent booklover, but a predatory monster who had played on her imagination to trap her in his lair.

Cackling with mad delight at her devastation, Bertram turned and hobbled back into the gloom. As his cracked laughter faded, his final taunt lingered, echoing through the endless halls...

"Never trust a fairy tale, they are worse than reality."