© Copyright Cupideros, Friday, August 14, 2016

BOOK 1, CHAPTER 4-6

THE QUESTIONING BOOK StoryTime by Cupideros

CHAPTER FOUR: THE SLOWDOWN BETWEEN

The second question came faster.

WHAT DO YOU FEEL WHEN YOU READ THESE WORDS: “THE DOOR CLOSED BEHIND HER, AND SHE WAS ALONE”?

Elara read the sentence.

Then she read it again.

Her instinct was to skip ahead. To find out what happened next. She wanted to get to the action. That was what she always did. Get to the end. Get to the finish. Don’t stop.

But the scary Questioning Book wasn’t asking what happened next.

It was asking what she felt.

She stopped.

She looked at the words again.

The door closed behind her.

That meant she couldn’t go back. The way forward was the only way. Whatever she left behind meant she had to face whatever lingered ahead, what coming in alone meant.

And she was alone. She sat down cross-legged on the cold, hard floor.

That meant no one was coming to help. No friends. No family. No Milo to save the day. Why didn’t Milo stop her from coming into this random-appearing ancient scary library then? Elara stopped herself from going over and over her situation. This was not the time to overthink things. That never helped. She and her girlfriends did that forever and never solved their problems. That’s why she hung out with Milo. He took action or did not take action to solve the problem. Milo provided clarity and solutions to the situation. He did not come in. He left her alone in an ancient, random-appearing library with a scary, two-jagged-toothed, massive book sporting snake-like amber eyes. At least she knew where she stood with Milo. She was in the scary, disappearing, reappearing, maybe ancient library now. She must deal with that fact.

“I feel scared,” Elara said. “And sad. And a little bit… excited? Because now she has to figure it out by herself. She can’t rely on anyone else. The responsibility is all hers. It’s all on her.”

The scary Questioning Book’s eyes softened.

“The slowdown between,” said The Talking Book of Horrors. “That Think-It-Through moment. The most important information lives in the spaces between words. The slowdown. The comma. The dash (although rare these days). The period. You read fast because you are afraid of what you might feel if you stopped.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You just said you felt scared.”

“For the character,” defended Elara. “Not for me.”

“Is there a difference?”

Elara opened her mouth to argue.

Then she closed it.

Because she realized the scary Questioning Book was right.

She read fast so she wouldn’t have to feel anything. If she finished the book quickly, she could move on to the next one. No slowdowns. No feelings. Just words, words, words, like a conveyor belt of letters.

“That’s why I don’t remember how the books made me feel,” she said quietly. “Because I never let them. I never stopped. I just… ran through them. But the unabridged dictionary—I could never finish that tome.”

The Questioning Book said nothing.

It didn’t need to.

Elara looked at the sentence again. The door closed behind her, and she was alone.

She read it slowly this time. One word at a time. Letting each word stick the landing like a gymnast.

The. Door. Closed. Behind. Her. And. She. Was. Alone.

Her chest tightened.

She felt it.

The loneliness. The fear. The small spark of excitement.

“Oh,” she whispered. “That’s me!”

“Yes,” the Questioning Book said. “Oh!”

CHAPTER FIVE: THE SECOND LAYER

The questions continued.

Each one asked her not just to answer but to feel.

A BOY FINDS A WOUNDED BIRD. HE NURSES IT BACK TO HEALTH. WHEN IT’S TIME TO LET IT GO, HE CRIES. WHAT IS THE SECOND LAYER OF THIS STORY?

Elara read the paragraph once.

Then she slowed down. She noticed the sconces up high in the infinite space of the mysterious library.

Then she read it again, slower. Letting each word sit.

Boy. Finds. Wounded. Bird. Nurses. Health. Time. Let. Go. Cries.

“First layer,” she said, “the boy is sad because the bird is leaving.”

“And the second layer—The Theme?”

Elara thought about it.

The answer wasn’t in the words. The answer was in the silence between them. In the space after the cries. In the breath after “go.”

“He’s not crying because the bird is leaving,” Elara said slowly. “He’s crying because he learned he can love something he can’t keep.”

The Questioning Book’s pages rustled softly.

“Yes. That is the second layer,” it said. “What happens is the first layer. The first layer equals plot. What it means is the second layer. The second layer equals theme. Most people stop at the first layer. They see what happens and they move on. The ones who notice patterns go deeper.”

“What kind of patterns?”

“Word patterns. Feeling patterns. The patterns of your own heart.” The Questioning Book leaned closer. Its amber split eyes were very bright. “You read fast because you are afraid of what you might find in the second layer. But that first level is where one level of truth lives. NOT THE TRUTH THAT DEPENDS ON THE TRUTH—that is a very advanced truth and involves both levels of plot and theme. But you can find yourself in the first level of Truth.”

Elara sat with that.

For a long time.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She just sat there, on the cold stone floor, letting the words land. Self-awareness came to her mind, but she did not have the word “self-awareness” that was lost somewhere in the giant unabridged dictionary she refused to read or use!

The floor was hard. Her legs were falling asleep. But she didn’t shift. She didn’t fidget. She just sat and focused.

For the first time in her reading life, she slowed down to think it through.

And the slowdown did not hurt.

It felt like breathing.

CHAPTER SIX: MORE WORD SCHOOL QUESTIONS

The scary Questioning Book asked more questions.

It asked them slowly, giving her time to slow down between each question.

WHAT HAS A HEART THAT DOESN’T BEAT?

Elara thought about it. She almost answered “a robot,” but that wasn’t right. A robot’s heart was a metaphor. The answer was something real.

Elara pulled her pink beret to the left side. It was a habit. “An artichoke,” she said.

“Correct,” answered The Questioning Book. “And also disturbing that you knew that.”

WHAT HAS WORDS BUT NEVER SPEAKS?

“Normally, a book,” Elara said. She almost laughed. “This secondary, smaller questioning book I am reading.”

“Correct. Do not get clever,” the baritone voice of the Scary Questioning Book replied.

WHAT CAN YOU CATCH BUT NOT THROW?

“A cold,” Elara said.

“Correct.”

WHAT GETS WETTER THE MORE IT DRIES?

Elara slowed down. The curiosity grew on her face. She thought about the dark spot on the floor near the lectern. The place where water had been. Where something spilled had been drying.

“A towel,” she said.

“Correct.”

WHAT HAS KEYS BUT NO LOCKS?

“A piano,” Elara said.

“Correct. You are improving.”

Elara grinned. “You sound surprised.”

“I am ancient. Surprise is rare. Enjoy it.”

WHAT HAS A FACE AND TWO HANDS BUT NO ARMS OR LEGS?

“A clock,” Elara said. Her face radiated that cute look that disarmed the boys and held her ‘Cool Girl’ status because it also hid all emotions.

WHAT HAS A THUMB AND FOUR FINGERS BUT IS NOT ALIVE?

“A glove,” Elara said. With each question, Elara’s feeling of curiosity was rewarded and grew stronger.

WHAT HAS A RING BUT NO FINGER?

“A telephone,” Elara said.

I HAVE CITIES BUT NO HOUSES. FORESTS BUT NO TREES. RIVERS BUT NO WATER. WHAT AM I?

Elara’s brain stuttered for a moment. She slowed down. She felt the weight of the question in that moment. Cities have no houses. Forests have no trees. Rivers have no water.

“A map!” she said.

The Questioning Book’s eyes sparkled.

“Nine in a row. You are either learning or guessing.” The scary Questioning Book paused. “You get to read nine pages now.”

“Both? Learning to slow down and make better guesses.” Elara adjusted the lantern further away from The Questioning Book’s edge. She reached out. The pages were emitting a golden wisp of smoke. All the candles’ flames bent toward Elara like she was mystically magnetic and on to something special. She turned the first page.

Page 1: “If you can recognize a pattern more than three times, and especially if nine times, you’ve internalized a pattern recognition. You are unlikely to forget that pattern. For example, you’ve repeated plots from books more than nine times. You’re good at remembering plots.”

Page 2: A wisp of golden smoke rose from the page. The redwood scent wafted and filled the library more and more. “Patterns come in many forms, but most patterns start with ‘words.’”

Page 3: “You read fast and skip feeling or the theme; hence, you do not enjoy reading like you could. Reading is a chore to get done as quickly as possible. That’s not good, Elara.”

Page 4: “You want to say the word ‘self-awareness,’ but you don’t have the vocabulary ‘self-aware.’ I now give you the word ‘self-aware,’ which means you are aware of something about yourself, some patterns you do. It is now in your lexicon.”

Fear slowly spread across Elara’s face. She’d have to ask a question, and sometimes, asking a question made you look stupid in class. She took a big breath, held it, and breathed out. “Questioning Book, what is a lexicon?”

“Well, well, you are braver than you look,” both mouths replied in their baritone voices. The word echoed slightly as the upper jagged-toothed mouth spoke a second before the lower jagged-toothed mouth. “‘Lexicon’ means ‘vocabulary.’ I’m sure you’ve heard that word, but it also means knowledge, or noesis.”

Cute Elara let out a giggle. “I read that scary word in the unabridged dictionary.” She giggled again. “But I read it as nose—is. I knew where my nose was, so why was the unabridged dictionary telling me where my nose is?”

Both jagged-toothed mouths smiled, or rather the lower jagged-toothed mouth tried to smile. “Sometimes, slowing down is not the right method, Reader Ninety-Six. Phonics is best, but phonics can be confusing too.”

Page 5: “Elara, you are reading faster and faster; have you noticed that?” The audible words came from the top jagged-toothed mouth.

Elara slowed down. She took a deep breath. “Remember to slow down and get the theme. The nose is!” Then her cute face flashed at the not-so-scary The Questioning Book.

Page 6: “The words you read are not going to disappear. You can slow down and think-It-Through. Think-It-Through means to ponder the several lines of path a word, phrase, sentence, or paragraph is telling you.”

Page 7: “Pattern recognition is a form of seeing. Seeing is what the “words” on the page tell you. Spot had a ball. Spot’s ball was not in the yard. Spot did not have the ball to kick around and play with.”

Page 8: “Words link together with other words so you get the big picture message. Milo is waiting outside. Versus, Milo is waiting—outside.”

Elara startled. “How long have I been in here?” She looked at her watch. No hour or minute hands on the watch!

The Scary Questioning Book almost laughed. “Words take time to fully grasp. The clock can wait. Milo can wait!”

Page 9: “Imagine a string of sentences that is incorrect. For example, does Spot really kick the ball to play? Or does someone throw the spot the ball to play?”

Elara put her hand on her heart. “I really thought something was wrong with that example. I just read over it so fast. Spot needs a human being or another dog to play?”

“Well,” said the questioning scary book. “You do seem to be progressing beyond guessing and fully entering the world sphere of learning, seeing, and feeling! Congratulations!”

Elara sat up straighter.

She was seeing. She was proving she was braver than she looked!

The answers were in the room. In the silence. In the space between the words.

She was learning to think it through.