Random stories for when I am bored

Ink

Phil paced the room in shock, muttering under his breath as he crossed from one end of the apartment back to the other, over and over again. Minerva watched him curiously, unable to understand what he was muttering and not being able to place which language it was either. The rest of the apartment was a mess, ransacked by the thieves who had come in sometime during the day. She was not worried about them, but Phil obviously was. 

"They didn't take anything" Minerva said, watching from behind the half wall that divided the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. "You don't need to worry" 

"They were looking for something" Phil said agitated. He kept walking, back and forth. She started to worry he'd leave a path into the floor with all the pacing and stomping he was doing. 

"They didn't find it though" She replied calmly. "And they wont. I have it on me at all times, just like you said to"

"That wont stop them" Phil replied. He stopped and looked at her, his green eyes lighting up as a plan bloomed.  "Give it to me" he said strictly. 

Minerva placed a hand over her satchel where the black book resided. It was his link, the thing keeping him on earth. And it held the one things that made him who he was. The written pages, all in ink, kept him how he was. Added to over time by the many other who possessed the book before her, but each saying the same warning at the end. Do not give it to him, or risk destruction. 

"I can't do that" She said quietly, watching him warily. 

"You have to" he said, taking a step closer "They'll go after you next if you don't. I don't know how I'd live-"

"Without me?" Suddenly, her worry disappeared and was replaced with anger. "You don't know how you'd live without me?" She snorted and shook her head. "You know exactly what will happen without me. The book will be passed on, and you'll be under the care of someone else. I am nothing to you. A speck in your immortal life" there was hurt in her voice as she looked at him. 

He glared at her in return. 

"That's not true" He said. She watched him carefully, unsure what he would do next. He looked angry, and she quickly stood up in case she needed to run. 

"That's not true at all" He said again, turning away. He swiped a hand in front of him blindly, and knocked a vase off the shelf. It shattered on the ground. 

"I would never forget you!" He shouted. Minerva stared in shock at the pain in his voice. She knew he was a good actor, but she wasn't sure how good yet. She'd only known about him for a month as it was. 

"Wouldn't you?" She asked, surprised at herself for the question. She didn't know where it came from, nor did it sound like her. Something in her own voice- felt off.

"No, I never would" Phil replied, sitting down finally. His back was still to her, and his next words were faint enough she wasn't sure she even heard them at first.

"I'd never forget you, Crystal" He mumbled, staring at the floor in defeat.

Minerva stared at him shocked and confused. The name, it sounded familiar to her, but she couldn't place where. But the look on his face. The slump of his shoulders. Something wasn't right. 

"Who's Crystal?" She asked cautiously. 

Phil froze mid-step. The lights around him flickered for a moment, and then he was gone. Minerva sighed and made her way around the apartment, picking up this and that in a futile attempt to clean up. It was late, she was tired, and she knew she wouldn't be able to get this all cleaned up that night. She gave up after finding the fish tank broken on the ground, bleeding the ink out of a magazine it had landed on. 

She made her way to her room, picking her way carefully over broken picture frames and scattered books with pages torn out. Pity rose in her throat like bile as she looked at the mess. All her books, some too old to truly date, ruined and scattered around like kindling. 

Carefully, she sat on her bed and put her satchel next to her. The top flipped open as it fell on it's side and a black book slid out next to her. It's cover was blank, nothing written or stamped into it's leather hide. Unlike the rest, the pages mixed between old, soft pages, and new, crisp white ones. Some pages were dated, others blank. 

Minerva gently picked it up and set it on the table next to her bed, which was it's usual residence, before starting the clean up of her own room. Most of it was covered in the remains of more books, which had been taken off the large bookshelf now tipped over on the floor. 

It took two hours to get it cleaned up enough for her to walk to her closet, door, and bed without stepping on books or broken glass. She took a look around and nodded to herself at her good work. A glance at the clock told her it was just past midnight, so, with a sigh, she slid under the covers of her bed and started to drift off. 

---

Light streamed in through the open window at the other end of her room by the time she woke up. She stretched, rubbed her eyes, and blinked lazily as she looked around her now spotless room. It took her a moment to realize what was different. 

She took another look around the room, shocked at the sight. The books that were ruined last night were now back on the book shelf which leaned against the wall like it usually did. They looked brand new, leather covers shining brightly in the late morning sun. 

Slowly, Minerva slid out of bed and peaked down the hall. The shattered pictures that hung on the wall were back in their places. The faces of her friends and family smiled at her from their pristine frames. 

She took a step out into the hall, looking around shocked. Making her way towards the living room, she passed the bathroom. Last night, the mirror had been shattered, the tiles around the tub broken and turned to shards of clay. Both faucets from the sink and shower were torn out and lazily sputtering water. Now, it was as if it had just been done. Everything was back in order. 

"Phil?" Minerva called out cautiously. She quickened her pace and burst into the living room. 

Sitting on the couch, reading the news paper and eating a doughnut, was a man she had never seen before. A cup of tea sat on the coffee table in front of him. He didn't look up as she came in, and she jumped with a start when she noticed the cup he was using was the one her younger cousin had made her. The ceramic owl stared at her in it's mismatched colors. She remembered accidentally breaking it a week ago, and putting it in the junk drawer until she could fix it.

Now the stranger took a sip out of it, and she couldn't see a crack in it. 

"Hello Minerva" The man said. He didn't look up from the news in front of him. "We need to have a talk" He looked up at her with bright, purple eyes. They were speckled with gold.