Vision in Red by Sajjad Rasool - HTML preview

Children of Olive

Click. Step. Click. Step.

It was calm. Measured. It wasn't running; it was stalking.

"Amal!" Yasmin's voice echoed from the other side of the room. "I found the section! 48-B!"

"Get the box!" Amal shouted.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

The sound of the Librarian cut her off. It was louder this time. Closer.

Amal turned a corner into Aisle 1982.

She skidded to a stop.

The aisle was blocked.

Not by a wall. By paper.

The files on the shelves were moving. They were vibrating, shaking in their cardboard coffins. And then, they burst open.

Thousands of sheets of paper flew into the air. They swirled like a tornado, a blizzard of white A4 sheets.

Tax forms. Land deeds. ID cards.

They formed a wall. A physical barrier of bureaucracy.

Amal turned around.

The Librarian was standing at the other end of the aisle. The only exit.

It raised a hand.

The paper tornado surged toward Amal.

She ducked, covering her head. The paper hit her like razor blades. The edges sliced at her blazer, her hijab, her hands.

Paper cuts. Hundreds of them. Tiny, stinging lines of pain.

"I am Is," Amal gritted out, huddled on the floor. "I am Is."

She saw a gap in the bottom shelf. A crawl space.

She dropped to her stomach and scrambled under the shelving unit.

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