Aquatic Konquest's Oneshot Treasury

[Aquatic Konquest]

Hi there SBC, and welcome to my Oneshot Treasury!

What is this? Well, I've been thinking of dipping a toe into the world of Spin-Offs & Lits for a while now, especially since I do enjoy writing my own fics and stuff. Although one thing that has been holding me back personally is that I've never been quite sure what to do here. But now, I'm here ready to share stuff!

So this is the Oneshot Treasury, where I plan on writing simple, short-ish, self-contained stories that can be based on anything. From specific things to even the most trivial of subject matter. Anything I can think of writing a story around will have a story written around it! Simple as, no?  One genre that might be dominantly represented in my entries is romance since that is the genre I'm known for writing around when it comes to my works on AO3 (plus I am most comfortable with the genre)

Also, this'll be fun for me as I actually do have bigger projects in mind already. To be precise, I have two projects that you may only know as Project Royalty and Project Imagination. The former is a passion project I'm trying to build up properly before even attempting to write it, and the latter is more of a revival of a long-abandoned fanfiction concept of mine. How this relates to this Treasury is that hopefully, this will get my writing kick off so that I can get into these projects head-on. I'm also better known on both FF.net and AO3 as a one-shot writer, so it seems like a good place to start. Not that I haven't had any multi-chapter experience, though!

So, uh...yeah. Do stay tuned if this sounds like something you're into! 

That's all I have to say for now, and I'll post my first one-shot whenever I can; I can tell you at least that it'll be within the next twelve hours if I can remember when I wake up.

[Rebel the Wolfgirl]

Can't wait to see what you'll come up with.

[Aquatic Konquest]

Here's my first one-shot within twelve hours of my OP, as promised!
This is actually a piece I comprised quite a while ago for some English Language coursework, where I wrote a romantic piece inspired by the narrative style of Call Me By Your Name, a book I'd gotten into around the same time. I'm really proud of his piece personally.

Oneshot #1: A New Day

The park. For many, an opportunity to unwind and forget about the turmoil that is everyday life. But for me, such a location only places emphasis on my emptiness, proving my heart to be as hollow as the trees that shy away from the sunlight. I do not know why I have decided to venture through this place of torment; the blue sky has already begun to resign as it allows the warm hue of beige to take its place. The atmosphere does not change, however, and I remain indifferent to the change, my lips still pursed with a light frown.

The wind stays tranquil, only sending a light breeze my way. It irritates me only just, as I lightly graze over the flipped pages of my novel and turn back to where I had been so rudely interrupted. But Mother Nature doesn’t give up. The wind protests to me passing through the barren gates, scouring through more pages than I could ever hope to read in one sitting. I make myself known to those in the park as I claim a spot on the cool grass between two trees creating an area devoid of sunlight. I sit on the ground and sigh with only slight satisfaction. This reminds me of my apartment.

Only then did I remember why I decided to come outside.

I needed this change of scenery, contrary to my own voice of protest. It has been several weeks since I have gone outside; so many in fact, I cannot seem to recall the exact number. Regardless, I had told myself I would venture outside, primarily for my health rather than emotional wellbeing. It has been so long - longer than I have been inside, in fact – since I have engaged with others. My friends have all but deserted me in favour of their respective occupations, not that I am one to judge, and my family, as lovely as they are, continue to berate me over my lack of a significant other.

No, no. I promised myself I would put that all behind me. At least for one day.

I turn gratefully to the pages of my book, sighing once I recall that I am not on the right page. I look at the book despairingly and toss it aside. I see no point in returning to that damned thing now that nature is having its way with me. This is a sign, no doubt. A sign that I was better suited to stay secluded in my apartment. The outside does not want me there. And Mother Nature agrees, as my surroundings suddenly feel cooler than they ever had been today. I curse under my breath again once I feel the air graze my exposed arms and legs at first, before launching a mild attack that my body was ill-prepared for.

I curse once again once I sense someone approaching me.

I first I give them no regard, with the intent of dismissing them. That does not work apparently, for they continue to approach, as if they took my s­­­­tance as one beckoning their attention. I feel my head look up once their feet stop before me to see a man of my age. His eyes glisten in the evening hue as he extends a hand my way; even though I do not take it immediately, I can already feel warmth emitting from his skin.

He utters no words, and neither do I. He continues to stare down at me expectantly, and I return the look with one of mild confusion. What could he possibly want from me? The exchange continues for a few seconds, and the wind begins to hiss, so seeing no other way out I take the hand. Once my flesh touches his I feel at once the warmth of his hand on my own. His fingers curl around mine, and as if instinctual, mine begin to return the sentiment. The cold world around me becomes all but a distant memory once his eyes withhold my attention. I can’t look away from his eternal gaze, lost in his ocean blue eyes like a stranded sailor. With little protest from me, he guides me to a nearby park bench. My face refuses to turn away from his while on the short voyage, but then I feel my precariousness slipping away at the seams. He says nothing, and neither do I.

We just sit there. Together. In silent bliss.

[Rebel the Wolfgirl]

Awwwwww, this is adorable! I love it! Keep up the good work.

[SpongeOddFan]

looks great so far, keep it up.

[Aquatic Konquest]

Here's my second oneshot for the Treasury, and also the first not to be written prior to the topic's conception. The idea came to me soon after publishing the first piece, and I've technically had it around for a little over a week but only just finished it today because I've been occupied in other matters and what have you.
Also gave the protagonist's friends some names because pretty quickly I got sick of having to find ways to refer to each individual friend. I plan on using the names in future oneshots too if I can find a good reason for their inclusion so consider these kinds of oneshots to involve the same characters but in alternate universes or something of the sort.

Oneshot #2 - Nightclub

How my friends even convinced me to join them at the nightclub is beyond me.

I cannot say I care all too much for the atmosphere of such an establishment. It’s too crowded, too hot, and everyone seems to be fixated on getting intoxicated. At least, from what I have seen in movies; there was no way I was actually going to go to one myself based on the representations I’d seen of them. And yet here I am, being pulled at the wrist by Abigail as our little group paces its way through the crowded streets to what is apparently the most “acclaimed” nightclub within our local area.

I can hear the murmurs of apologies escape my lips as if robotically each time I feel myself being forcibly thrashed against someone’s arm or even torso in some cases. I can sense the glares of disapproval from their eyes even when I’ve long since past them. The kind of gaze from those much wiser with age passing judgment upon the youth of today. And yet, I have always felt some sort of disconnect with my own generation and would much rather be curled up at home watching a movie than sauntering through town for a night from which my ears will never recover.

I collapse on the ground once Abigail loosens her grasp on my wrist, and while I can almost immediately feel the pain of my scraped knees kicking in, I feel almost a sense of relief over the fact that my previous torment has come to an end. Joseph takes the lead as he instructs Peter and Susie of us in the group to pick me up on the floor, but I brush them off with a wave of the hand, preferring to instead compose myself as I lift myself begrudgingly from the concrete and allow myself to be guided inside, without any hassle on my part this time; perhaps it is evident now that I will not win should I dare object at this point. I’m here now, so I might as well get it over with.

Peter says something once the five of us stand still once we’re properly in the “heart” of the nightclub, but I’m not paying too much attention; rather, I’m taking in the environment before me and admittedly I am a little surprised to find out how subverted my expectations are now. I see some sense of order in the form of booths lined up around the edges of the large room, with a set of stairs in a corner. The center of the room is dominated by a great bar, which I suppose I should have expected from a place like this. The only noise that I can hear is the sound of popular music playing faintly in the background, competing with the level of rapport also happening in the room.

I then return to the ongoing conversation amongst my friends before me and manage to catch Peter asking me if I think if I’m going to have fun tonight now that I’ve seen the place. I can’t tell if he had noticed my gaze when I was looking around, but I answer him with a guffaw that has Abigail rolling her eyes. I heed no attention to the response and walk on, feeling somewhat compelled to learn more about this place, with my thoughts turning to the stairs. My shoes click on the tiled ground beneath me with each step.

But before I can even lead the way downstairs, Joseph brushes past me until he’s standing on the first step. He wobbles a bit due to almost falling down them at the speed in which he ran to overtake me, but manages to regain himself and smiles a toothy grin at me. Typical Joseph. I roll my eyes at him until he makes his way down and I follow him alongside everyone else, who seem to insist on pushing me down as I feel their bodies almost attempt to pierce through mine.

Once we’re on the bottom floor of the nightclub, the music ever-so-deafening now, my friends still insist we travel in a huddle, and I find myself almost lifted from the ground as I’m forcibly walked every which way, much like my experience in getting here. But once the others stop and give me some space, I realize what is going on here.

It’s a dance floor.

Looking down, I see vivid lights of blindingly luminescent colors flickering almost rhythmically at our feet. And looking up, I can spot dozens upon dozens of people moving in all sorts of directions from their places on the dance floor, whilst the five of us stand here, in the middle. My legs freeze in place, and at once my feet go numb; there is no way I am going to dance. I simply have little or no prowess in the field of dance.

But before I can turn myself around and storm my way back up the stairs to safety, Susie hooks her arm around mine and reels me back to the spot I intended on leaving behind. She tells me to loosen up and just “let the dance get to you” but I have no idea what on earth she’s talking about; I’d even go as far to argue that she’s already had a drink or two prior to us coming here and I’m only just noticing. I close my eyes and huff as I straighten my shirt, but not without ensuring I have a drink in my hand soon after because I know I am going to need it.

Finding my way to a nearby table, I lower my drink and make more of an effort to take in the atmosphere. I find myself particularly focusing my gaze in a particular corner of the room, where I notice a rather dashing man perhaps around my own age dancing quite well, not with anyone else by the looks of it. I admire the man, for how he dances with such grace and coolness without a care in the world; without the worries of what the majority of the people around you may think of how you move to the rhythm. Of course, I would argue he has nary a thing to worry about with the way he moves, so perfectly…

He looks up from the floor and opens his eyes, and the two of us end up locked in each other’s gaze for but only a single moment before I cower my head to the side, my cheeks faintly turning pink. Thankfully, the loud ambiance and lack of proper lighting make me think little of how I must look right now. I steal a quick look to my side and notice the man performing a new dance, that captures my attention cheekily; he seems to be inching his way closer to me with each step he takes. I try to find my way out of this predicament, but the several people blocking my way out of it seem to have me boxed in a metaphorical corner.

Once the two of us are mere inches away from each other, I can see his eyes glisten even within this darkened atmosphere. He doesn’t seem to say anything, but the sound of a smirk escapes his lips as they curve upward. Looking down, I notice he has his hand raised, ready to take mine in. I look at him again, trying to politely excuse myself from taking him up on his offer through this new form of language we’ve seemingly established, but instead of taking the hint he instead inches closer, and takes both of my hands in his. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest before he pulls back, taking my hands with him. My body resigns as it allows itself to be dragged along to the dancefloor, and my mind feels so flustered I’m practically walking on air.

I’m back in the center of the dancefloor, and I can see my friends watching me from a distance with smiles on their faces. I feel one of my hands jerk in one direction, and I turn my attention back to my admirer, who seems to be leading me into some sort of dance. Now, I don’t quite know why, but I find myself to be very safe in his arms, and I allow him to continue parading me on the dancefloor alongside him, and eventually he spins me so vigorously we slip out of each other’s grasp and I’m left spinning on my own, although I know that his attention is still on me.

I find my feet moving on the dancefloor, miles ahead of my mind and soon the rest of my body picks up the pace and follows along. I feel like a completely different person. A free person. I shut my eyes and let a goofy grin of satisfaction overtake my face. I dance like there’s no tomorrow. I dance like I’m the only one aware of it.

And then I feel two hands wrap around my waist slowly, and I dance alongside him like we’re the only two people on the dancefloor.

The song comes to an end, and I feel hot and fatigued. I’m panting slightly, the fingers on my right hand still intertwined with his left hand’s fingers, as I lay my head on his shoulder. Once I’m able to compose myself and get my breath back, I look back at him and smile with another goofy grin. He chuckles and gives me a peck on my lips.

“You dance good.”

His voice is low and gets me chuckling myself. He takes my hand and begins pulling me away from the dancefloor, and back upstairs. As we pass my friends, I can just tell that Joseph has an agape expression on his face, which puts a smirk on mine.

I ought to thank them for taking me out to this nightclub at some point.

[Thanos]

Good, but needs more Thanos.

[Aquatic Konquest]

I...have not uploaded anything here for a while, have I? Well, now that I'm done with most of my university stuff having finished my first year and with only two assignments to just think about, I'll have a bit more time to get to writing oneshots and maybe expanding upon some of my passion projects.
Decided to try something a bit less happy and up-beat for a change. I've written a story or two like this before, and oddly enough, I find it to be a refreshing break from my usual style.

Oneshot #3 - Phone Call

A phone call.

Apparently, that’s all it takes. All it takes for you to be expressing guilt for what you have done despite your flash of rage just minutes ago. As you continue to berate yourself time and time again I excuse my attention away from your voice and allow my eyes to trail across my living room, a list of things to clear up instantaneously coming together in my head. To call it a “living room”, now that I think about it, would be incorrect. At this point, I am unable to decipher anything I used to own in this room, your flurry of rage having made quick work of clearing out any sort of life that come have emitted from it.

I turn towards my desk, which shockingly survived, and gingerly place my phone on its scratched surface. Your voice continues to dominate the space, but I feel immediate relief from not having to hear it as if you were practically cooing into my ear, standing right beside me. I kneel down as I acknowledge all of the paper scattered aimlessly across the living room floor. I reach for a sheet, recognizing its contents; my gift to you on our Anniversary, a story I’d written inspired by you, with a character drawn from your likeness. I can even spot the sketch of the protagonist on the couch. He’s crinkled and crooked, but he shouldn’t be.

My heart pounds, but I ensure I collect as much of my project as I can. I can tell I don’t have all the pages by the time I end up clearing all those that I could see, but for now, I put my own findings on the desk and look away.  My eyes turn towards the shelves, along with a scratch on the wall from where they once stood, and my body follows them there. I dare not to touch the surface, in fear of pricking a finger, and I know I’ll have to call someone in to repair this; I’m in no mood to do such a task now.

Your voice continues to intrude my scattered thoughts, and it draws me to a picture I keep clipped to the mirror on the wall. I take the picture from its position and examine it; I can remember it perfectly. We had both met at a popular café across the street from where I work, where I’d ordered a salad, but didn’t have a place to sit, but you invited me to your table, and so we ate together. I remember the chuckles you made as you snatched up the tomatoes I had discarded from the salad as you claimed them for your burger.

But now, as I look at this picture, I no longer hear that chuckle. A snarl permeates on the picture, and I watch as a teardrop from my cheek finds itself a home between our faces of bliss. I look away from the photo and finally take note of the crack that lies across the surface of the mirror. Some pieces of the mirror were unlucky despite remaining mostly intact, scattering on the floor by my feet, but enough of it remains to finally bring my face to my attention.

A reddened cheek, a cut on the same cheek and another on my neck. The photo slips from my grasp as I bring my hand up to my face, daintily touching at each blemish as if my face were the very glass I am seeing it through. It stings. Everything stings. My fingers recoil at the pain.

I didn’t expect it.

I can’t even begin to process it. I still don’t understand what I could have done, or how you could have thought to have treated me like that. It was a new side of you I hadn’t seen before, but not one that I would like to know more.

Yet again, I find myself distracted from your voice, and as I focus again on it, I note your tone is one that I’ve definitely heard before. But now, I can tell that your voice cracks frequently as your apologies leave your lips; there is no pity or sorrow in your words. Instead, I am just a possession you have come to lose, and you care little of it other than the fact that you want it back for the sake of claiming it.

I decide enough is enough, and pick up the phone again. The caller ID blares at me the moment my phone tells I’m now holding it, and I feel a dagger twisting at my heart once again. But no tears fall. I let you utter a few more soulless pleas for forgiveness as I end the call – and the agony – for good.

Cleaning up the room can wait. I pick up my headphones, put on a song, and grab my coat. I need to clear my head.

[Aquatic Konquest]

Another one after quite a long while! Yay!

I've based this one on a storyboard I made for a Storytelling project where we had to do a treatment for an animation idea we would theoretically propose to make. The storyboard followed the story of two boys who meet at three different life stages, where one falls for the other but never sees him again outside of the three instances shown on-screen but retains memories of him which fuel his infatuation. For this oneshot, I've adapted the second life stage - where both boys are teenagers - significantly, due to the fact that my intentions with my idea were that this would be a silent piece akin to Paperman.

Technically speaking, this is a part one, and plan on writing a little more on these two in the future, so their story isn't finished when this oneshot is! (Which...I guess goes against the point of a oneshot, but work with me here ) The next - and final - part (which may or may not be immediately written after this, so don't expect it to be the next one I post here for sure) will not be based on my storyboard, but will derive from that plot in order to accommodate the new dynamics at play in written form.

Oh, and their names are Ben and Alex, and this is from Ben's point of view.

Oneshot #4 – Ben and Alex - Bowling

Focus, I tell myself, you’ve got this.

In front of me, ten bowling pins, standing in ignorant bliss as I await the excitement that is seeing them cower upon contact with the bowling ball I thrust in their direction. I lock my eyes on these pins, and I see nothing else but my lane and those pins. This is my last turn, and so, I’ve got to make it count. With ease I raise my bowling ball and begin to swing it steadily, making sure not to go overboard nor go too soft with my aim.

Then I let go. I watch as the ball whizzes down the lane without a care in the world, ready to take out its opposition with a swift blow. And once it begins, it succeeds in hitting all ten pins upon initial contact, and I couldn’t be more pleased with myself. I skid backward and crane my neck upward to glance at the monitor, where I am greeted with my score, an ever-so-modest 212. I’m about to lose myself in ecstatic joy, but I remember where I am and immediately put my arms back at my sides, trying to play it cool. If I had been playing with anyone else, I would perhaps be a little more comfortable in expressing how proud I am of my score., but for now…aw, to hell with it; I shrug my doubts off and shake my fists giddily.

Then I hear a clap. Followed by a few more.

I’m brought out of my zone of victory and pride and immediately turn myself in the direction of the sound, and then I realize I recognize that look from anywhere, with his lucky purple cap (complete with his initial sewn in) worn backward and a shirt to match.

Alex Lansbry.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Alex outside of high school, nor do I even think he is even aware of who I am or what my name is. We have no shared classes in school, but I often steal a couple glances in his direction whenever I see him in the cafeteria or the library with his friends; sometimes I have to be careful just so he and his friends don’t notice me staring at him in bewilderment. I know so much more of him than he does of me, but I suppose that’s what’s to be expected when he’s one of the popular kids whilst I’m just off that radar. I have no complaints with my position though, contrary to what many would think of such a predicament.

Alex keeps clapping, and I’m starting to feel a little awkward. I feel a twitch in my leg, trying to tell me to find a way out of this situation and just to make a run for it, but when I look into his calm, blue eyes and notice a playful glint bouncing within it calms me slightly, and puts me at ease. He’s not here to harm me, I tell myself, even if I know he wouldn’t anyway. Alex is never one to belittle those often considered to be “below” him, and I don’t see how I would be any different.

My anxiety bubbles up beneath my skin again as I notice that Alex is making his way towards me now, his clapping having now ceased as a result. My pull my right leg up slightly and hover it just behind the rest of my body, in a lazy attempt to keep some distance between us, but I don’t go through with this and he continues to walk in my direction until there is only a meter between us.

“Nicholson.” He says, smoothly.

He knows my last name. Alex Lansbry knows my last name. But more importantly, Alex Lansbry clearly knows something about me, that had him feel inclined to come and talk to me upon seeing me here. A moment of silence is then cast between us, and I feel like it is as if Alex is intentionally waiting for me to greet him back, but no words are forming in my head, and I’m trying my damnedest to keep a blush from spreading onto my cheeks. I offer a toothy grin instead.

Alex seems unfazed by my lack of response and bends down, callously lifting up one of the heavier bowling balls with ease and raising a brow at me with a smirk on his face.

“You up for a game?” he asks.

Oh. My. God. This is happening. This is actually happening. Alex Lansbry legitimately wants to spend time with me. Me, of all people from high school. In addition to this feeling of happiness, I’m overcome with the sense of relief, for I had planned on playing another round of bowling all by my lonesome, but now that I have company, it’ll be a lot more fun.

“You’re on!” I exclaim with glee.

Alex tucks the ball under his arm, “Hey, why don’t we make this a little more interesting?”

“Sure, I guess...”

“Loser has to buy lunch for the winner.”

I extend a hand, “Deal.” I say with confidence.

“Well alright then, Nicholson!” Alex encloses my hand with his and shakes them mildly;  it feels tender and soft. I practically don’t even want to let go, but I force myself to not give in to the temptation. “Keep your wallet on hand!”

---

Go figure. Alex won. Of course he did.

Alex and I are both looking up at the scoreboard, our scores finally displayed a short moment after Alex played his last turn. I managed to accumulate 247 points – a personal best I am proud of even if I didn’t win with such a score – whist Lansbry managed to top me with 9 more points, giving him a grand total of 256. Truthfully, I know I was little behind Alex, because I had felt distracted throughout the game. I zoned out quite a bit with each of Alex’s turns, my eyes gazed only upon his form with each swing he performed. And I cannot say for sure, but I felt his eyes similarly locked down on me when it was my turn to bowl.

Alex slings an arm across my shoulder and pulls me a little closer to him, and my mind stops. “Good game, Nicholson!” he says, without a tinge of boastfulness in his words. “You really did put up a good show.”

“Oh!” I mutter aloud, suddenly, turning my neck to the side once his arm slips from my body, “T-thanks, I had fun too!”

“You know what that means, don’t ya?”

I turn to him and meet his prideful expression with a knowing look.

“I get a free lunch!” he continues. “Come on, let’s get going! Their burgers here are pretty good and the fact that I’m not paying makes it even better!”

He takes me by the hand and starts walking me enthusiastically to the eating area across the way. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice me getting flustered in his grip, and I try my best to keep up the pace as I walk alongside him. He orders himself a hefty Bacon-‘n’-Beef burger while I settle for a large cheeseburger meal. I hand the cashier the cash as Alex looks on excitedly before we find ourselves a table overlooking the door. Alex dibs himself the booth side of the table facing the door, and I just have to roll my eyes as I take my remaining option of the chair opposite. I place the tray down on the table and Alex doesn’t even hesitate to snatch his burger from it and obliterate it with his teeth. I can’t help myself chuckling at the sight before my eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, looking up from his food and into my eyes, catching me off-guard.

“Nothing!” I say quickly, and Alex is already back to devouring his meal.

“You know…that was one hell of a game, Nicholson. One of the best games I’ve ever had with someone.”

I perk up, lowering my burger. “Really?”

He nods. “Yeah, normally when I play with people they’re way behind me, but it’s nice to play with someone that can actually challenge me enough and make it interesting, you know?”

I’m pretty sure I’m lost in his eyes, and I feel a smile slowly but surely crawling upon my lips to the point it’s visible, but I give him a hum in agreement. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and I continue eating my food in our moment of silence, aware of his gaze on me. It’s strange, for I don’t feel uncomfortable with him watching me eat. It’s…somewhat pleasant, actually.

He laughs to himself, “We definitely need to play another game! See if I can keep up with you a second time!”

“I doubt you’ll have to try very hard,” I say, but as I look back at him I notice his gaze is focused on the door as it opens.

I turn around to follow his line of sight, and I recognize the two guys at the door as his friends, Conner Baxley, and Jeremy Withers. The two give Alex a wave before acknowledging my presence. I don’t quite hear what Conner whispers to Jeremy, but it ends with the two snickering amongst themselves. They approach our table, and I turn back to Alex, who’s looking at me like a deer in the headlights.

“Hey, Lansbry!” Conner speaks first, and slaps Alex on the back in what I guess is supposed to be a friendly way, “You comin’ to hang?”

Alex looks between me and the others and looks as if he’s about to speak up before Jeremy chimes in.

“What’re you doing here with this sucker anyway?” he says, approaching me on our other side before turning around so I’m facing his back, and Conner also does the same thing. “I thought you didn’t even like bowling.”

“Let’s go, dude, we have better things planned,” Conner says, and he and Jeremy start making their way back to the door.

Alex looks between me and the door as if he’s trying to make a decision, and a few seconds later he sighs as he gets up from the booth and dashes over to the door. My mind goes blank as I turn around and watch the door shut behind the three of them as they leave the building. I turn back and slouch sadly in the chair, casting a look at Alex’s abandoned burger.

Of course, he wouldn’t choose me. Surely I couldnt count on that. It was dumb of me to assume that we could’ve been friends, at the very least, or even mere acquaintances. I raise from my seat and gather myself to head out the door.

I think I’m done with bowling for today.

[Aquatic Konquest]

Wow, it really has been a while.

Well here's a new entry. I actually started writing this on a day in which I played hooky on a class I could've attended late, but arrived so close to the end I just didn't bother. So I found a nice spot on my university's campus to sit myself down, took in the scenery before my eyes, and opened my laptop, feeling in the mood to write a oneshot.

Nothing really specific about this one. Really wanted to write about a protagonist who's unsatisfied with their little town life and ends up falling for a stranger from beyond that stumbles upon them. I don't know 

Oneshot #5 - Library

It was in a small seaside town, long neglected by the rest of the country, but still maintained a sense of beauty that only seemed to amplify with the increasing tranquillity. My days in this town were rarely ever captivating. Clockwork routines were a curse bestowed upon every citizen that wandered the shrinking neighbourhoods.

I had but a simple role in this provincial town, as a librarian. For many years, the books of which I had custody were all I could classify as my own personal ‘travels’ into other, more wondrous worlds. And yet, even then, my literary passport had a tight boundary of its own. Of course, the world I’d come to immerse myself in was severely limited in both quality and quantity.

Oh, how I yearned to explore the world beyond the seaside town. Not only did the coast embrace a majority of our shores, but my darling library was lacking the passion it so desperately needed from its community. I’d spend many a day in my lonesome, attempting to make the best of such a dreary routine. Of course, I would have tried to restore my livelihood to its rightful glory, but alas, there was only so much one can do.

But then, one day – a day that that started much like its predecessors – as I was escaping to a world I could only be a part of in fantasy, the bells by the door chimed an unfamiliar chime. My eyes were quick to look up at the rare appearance of a customer in my cavern of wonder, as if they’d acquired a mind of their own.

This man before my eyes was a complete stranger. One who willingly came across our charming little town and decided to investigate for ourselves. Perhaps it was just due to how my perception of my home had soured over time, but I couldn’t help but question why he would seem to be so interested in this speck of a town.

I could see it in his eyes, a glistening unlike no other, comparable to no other tourist that dared to spend only a brief moment or two in what they considered to be an idyllic paradise (and oh, how lucky for them to indeed have the option!). He wouldn’t stop casting an endless array of gazes upon my humble collection of books.

From how he was dressed, I could tell he was a man from the city. A place where one felt at home alongside an endless cacophony of noises that breathed life into every corner. A place of culture, where the world was at one’s fingertips, ready for them to explore if they so desired.

But it was when he approached me, with a smile so warm I could have melted into the pages below me and become one with my book. A gleam of joy and curiosity flashed across his features, and instantaneously I could feel myself blushing in his presence. I couldn’t believe myself…flustered over a stranger! But in my defence, it wasn’t something of a common occurrence in this town!

And if his features were enough to have me swooning, the second I could hear his voice I knew he’d successfully melted me. It was a brief moment. An interrogative, asking where a gentlemen such as himself would be able to find a good detective story. Of course, he would be interested in such a thing, I had mused to myself in amusement as I lifted a hand to wave to my right, his left.

Truthfully, that particular section of my library was an embarrassment…that is, if one would even be able to call it a “section” at all; this town was very scarce on novels of mystery and such related grandeur, the locals disinterested with the idea of exploring such complexities in fiction. And so, I never made an attempt to expand upon what very little I had accumulated when I was most hopeful in my early days.

And yet, here was this gentleman, finding a haven out of my little nook of mystery.

And there he stayed, for hours. I had carried about my day as per usual, but as my library was considered a blemish to much of this town, it had not been like I was on my feet at all. Instead, I had mostly kept myself close to my desk, six books deep into fantasy, cheering for the princes and princesses as they stepped out of their castles and embraced a world of dragons, trolls, witches and the sort.

I had only needed to leave my desk a few times for personal needs, but truth be told, I used the excuse as a means of passing by the gentleman, treating my eyes with the acknowledgement of his constant presence. The skip in my step I’m sure ended up catching his attention each time, but if he had looked back at me, I definitely felt it.

Once nightfall began to grace our town, I looked up from the final pages to find his eyes closed, and his grip on a particular favorite book of mine loosening. Gingerly, I approached him and let a finger lay on his cheek, nudging just slightly in a gentle attempt to wake him up. He found my gaze, though his eyelids still drooped lazily. With my assistance, he had managed to rise from his little sanctuary and buried his head into my neck as the two of us strolled out in unison.

I was reluctant to pull myself away from his embrace, but once we heard the click of the lock on the door, he pulled me back closer to him and said, in a whisper, if I had dreamt of a world beyond my books. I let myself unwind as I revealed to him my deepest passions to escape the world that, to that very day when he’d come in, had left me in the dust. He listened attentively to my dreams, and held out a warm, welcoming hand. The proposal was sealed with a smile that was keen to see me enjoy a new life beyond this quaint little town.

I took my hand in his, and he led me to his car. He was still indeed a mystery, but I from that moment I knew, that I was going to love every minute I had to uncover more about this man.