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A few years ago, author and editor Michael Ventrella approached me with an idea for a short story anthology that he asked me to contribute to. The idea (and the anthology title) was Three Time Travelers Walk Into...
I was intrigued but had no idea where to start, however I had my hand and helpful Story Engine decks and pulled some cards for inspiration. The prompt from the cards was that my characters “want to reveal the dangers of a destructive archive threatened by a panic-inducing beast, but it will cost their reputation.”
From that random collection of ideas, I created this logline: Three time-traveling librarians must defeat a monstrous creature devastating the library. For my three time travelers, I chose Black and brown women from history who fascinate me: Makeda, the queen of Sheba; Zora Neale Hurston, and Tituba from the Salem witch trials.
The completed story which appears in the anthology, “The Eternal Library” was alway meant to be a part one, I just never got around to writing part two. Over the holidays, I re-read it, and I’m hoping to carve out some time this year to write part two. But I realized it would make a good example for the Scene Study, where I compare first and final drafts.
So here you go, my totally unedited fast draft of the first scene of this ~6k short story, with only the most egregious typos corrected.
Original First Fast Draft - Opening Scene
The incongruous sound of bells tinkling merrily accompanied Makeda’s exit from the portal, but the scene playing out in front of her was anything but joyous.
All around her was fire, the city was burning. Stone pillars, intricately constructed square houses that she’d admired each time she came to this time were on fire. The cobbled street on which she stood was empty, but Babylon’s famous shining city was well on its way to burning to the ground. She shrugged the melancholy that such things used to inspire aside and turned away from the blaze, stepping between the folds of reality, through what a few thousand years in the future would be called dark matter, and into the stacks.
The collection in this section of the library held some of the greatest mysteries lost to humankind. When she’d been elevated to librarian after her mortal death, she’d spent years here, many hundreds of years, learning all the things that she’d longed to in life. It was paradise. But now something was wrong.
The bells sounded again and she braced for an intrusion onto the peace. Sure enough Zora peeked her head into the veil of dark space, splitting reality to step into the stacks this time held.
The woman eyed Makeda with a raised brow, expecting her snark. Makeda crossed her arms. “Did you need something?”
“Not from you.” A deep and breathy chuckle sounded and she held up a volume. “This was mis-shelved in Sumeria 1500BC, you know how I hate when folk don’t put thinks back in the right place.” She stomped off down the aisle to find the proper shelf then set the tome upon it in the gap that was like a missing tooth.
“Who was even given permission to check out any of the volumes here?”
“Damend if I know,” Zora answered, straightening her hat. She was still dressed and looked like she had in the 1930s AD while most of the librarians preferred a more time-neutral wardrobe of cloaked shadow, Zora always made hers look like sturdy pants and a crisp white shirt.
She opened her mouth to say something to her fellow librarian when a shudder went through the shelves that surrounded her. “What was that?” the two women said at the same time.
Makeda whipped her head around, her long braids embedded with jewels—her main form of vanity—clinked together.
Zora held up a hand her body stiffened. She was not just a librarian, she was a guardian, unlike Makeda who had taken on a more administrative role when she’d been recruited.
Zora shifted into her warrior form, an armored plated version of her self with thick, tough skin, about a foot more height, and a sword made of ephemeral energy that blazed bright in the dark stacks.
“It came from over there.” Her voice was richer and deeper, everything enhanced in this form. Makeda could let her handle this, she’d been trained in something more than budgeting and ordering supplies, but she curious. Something nagged at her that she needed to be present for this and so she followed behind the woman’s hulking form as she crept down the aisel on silent feet.
The shelves spread out into infinity on either side. Literal infinity, as you could access the entire library from here, if you had eons. The portals were like elevators that allowed you to skip floors instead of trudging up and down the stairs in a traditional material building.
Still, she sensed no one else here as she extended her perception. No researchers in this section and no one should be, this was under her purview after all.
Still the sound roared again and the shelves shook. Volums slipped down from them and Makeda just barely held herself back from picking them up gain. There would be time to tidy the shelves later, for now they had to figure this out.
They turned a corner to find a the source of the noise. It was… a book worm?
Only the largest book worm she’d ever seen. It was the size of a bus at least—one fo the double long ones from the twentieth century AD. Its massive height and breath could not disguise that it had destroyed large sections of shelving and seemed to be munching on the rest.
Heedless of caution Makeda screamed, “Noooo!”
All of that knowledge lost, damaged forever. The Megaanuum Library was the last repository of the history of humankind. Once something was gone from here, it was gone forever. No future researcher or visitor from another realm would be able to partake in the knowledge. She looked around for the call numbers to see where she was. The monster had just erased the memories of early humans all knowledge of spices and creating shoes was gone.
Zora was already on the case, her sword glowing in the darkness. Then the beast opened its jaws displaying row after row of spiky sharp teeth.
“We have to warn the others!” Makeda said even as Zora charged forward.
The beast rose up ahead and she saw its true size for the first time. Not a bus then, not even an aeroplane. This thing was as large as an upright twentieth century space shuttle and Zora would stand no chance against it.
She didn’t know the meaning of the words “back down” though and so she ran forward still.
“Zora!” Makeda shouted as sharp jaws descended.
Final Draft - Opening Scene
Makeda’s skin rippled with unease as the sound of bells receded. The melodic ringing had once accompanied her every movement. From the tiny chimes that had encircled her ankles, to the decorative baubles threaded into her hair, to the hand bells rung by royal attendants announcing her passage through the palace hallways. Every step she’d taken during her life as a queen had been done in harmony. Now, the high-pitched jingling surrounding her as she stepped through a portal of golden light only reminded her that she walked alone.
The gilded glow retreated when the portal closed, swathing her in the arms of the night. Solitude was her only companion now. She had been deposited upon a low, grassy hill overlooking what was once a magnificent city. However, the grand seat of empires was currently in flames.
The nearest stone gate was being smashed in, its thick walls crumbling as soldiers poured through, taking their orders to sack and destroy everything they could reach to heart. Every time Makeda watched Babylon be demolished she clucked her tongue at the waste of it all.
Once she would have turned to Senteu, who rarely left her side, and commiserate about the destructive acts of mankind. But she was alone and her heart was a harder, colder thing than it once had been. She had little emotion to spare and even less time. Fleeing refugees would soon make their way to this hill, and she had work to do.
She turned away from the city and traced the marks etched into her skin with a finger. One whirling pattern had called the portal through which she’d arrived, another was for entering the library. Instead of bells and golden light, this passageway was all darkness. Makeda stepped through the folds of reality into the stacks.
The Megaannum Library existed across space and time. It lay tucked into what twentieth century AD scientists would call “dark matter”—built alongside what humans could perceive but hidden from them. The particular collection housed in 7th century BC Babylon concerned agriculture and seed technology for early human communities. Tome after tome was filled with knowledge and recollections taken from the interviews each human had with researchers upon their deaths. As a lover of learning in life, Makeda took her afterlife job quite seriously and these stacks were part of her domain as administrative librarian. She’d received a report from one of the visiting scholars that repairs were needed to the shelving. Unfortunately, it was disappointingly vague as to the exact location and nature of the problem. The library was literally infinite—and expanding all the time—and all she’d been given was a year, 689 BC, so she turned her attention to locating the shelf in question somewhere in this time.
The faint jangling of bells sounded again, and she braced for an intrusion into the peaceful atmosphere. Sure enough, a swirl of dark fog announced the entrance of another. Zora materialized through the fold, splitting reality to step into the stacks.
The woman eyed Makeda with a raised brow but remained silent. Makeda crossed her arms, irritation seeping in. “Did you need something?”
Zora let out a deep, throaty chuckle and held up the volume in her hand. “Not from you, Your Majesty. This was mis-shelved in Sumeria, 16th century BC. You know how I hate when folk don’t put things back in the right place.” They all hated that, but Makeda didn’t get the chance to respond before Zora stomped off down the aisle of one of the towering shelves.
The woman knew exactly where she was headed, belying her familiarity with this place. Of course, librarian was an after-lifetime commitment. And a few million years—myr for the uninitiated—was plenty of time to know where to shelve a book. Still, Makeda followed, partly out of curiosity and partly to ensure the task was done correctly. It’s not that she didn’t trust her co-worker… but these days trusting anyone was difficult.
They stopped partway down an aisle where high above their heads the gap in the spines of the books stood out like a missing tooth. Zora traced one of the patterns etched into the back of her hand and rose into the air to replace the bound manuscript.
“Who was even given permission to check out anything in this section?” Makeda’s irritation flared anew.
“Damned if I know,” Zora answered, floating back to the ground and straightening her hat. She’d chosen a physical appearance to mimic that of herself in her mid-forties, and while Makeda, like most of the librarians, preferred a more time-neutral wardrobe, Zora’s cream-colored dress, wide belt, and heeled shoes spoke of the 1930s AD.
A bit guilty for the impulse to micromanage, Makeda opened her mouth to thank the woman for going out of her way—this wasn’t her assigned section and shelving was most definitely not in her job description—when a shudder rippled across the floor.
“What was that?” both women said in unison.
Makeda whipped her head around, her long, beaded braids clinking together. Zora traced the largest pattern on her hand, blocky and simple unlike the complex swirls Makeda bore. Between the blinks of an eye, the woman’s wardrobe changed, and she shifted into her warrior form.
Charged with the Megaannum’s protection, along with the enforcement of its many rules, guardian librarians were fearsome fighters equipped with armor—a dark gray plating that could withstand just about any material attack—and other gifts. Like the ability to grow the way Zora was doing now, gaining over a foot in height, her skin thickening and toughening, becoming a nearly impenetrable hide. A sword made of auric energy appeared in her grip, blazing bright gold in the darkened stacks.
“It came from over there,” she said, her voice richer and deeper, everything enhanced in this form. Makeda could stand back and let the trained warrior investigate, but this was her section. True, her job entailed mostly requisitioning supplies, allocating resources, and budgeting her team’s allotment of aurium—the “dark matter” which the library and all its contents were made of—but she reasoned that as the admin, she needed firsthand knowledge of everything happening in her domain. Zora had often called this inclination mere nosiness. As if she was known for minding her own business. Regardless, the compunction made her follow the guardian’s hulking form and creep down the aisles on silent feet.
Bookcases spread out into eternity on either side—you could access the entire library from here if you had a few million myr to spend and preferred not to use the portals. Makeda traced a small pattern for perception that allowed her senses to expand—but there was no one in this section. No other librarians and no patrons. This area was open to researchers, but they had to check in and would be perceivable by her.
Just as she was beginning to think that whatever happened had been an aberration, another quake rocked the ground, followed by a roar. Volumes slipped from the shelves and Makeda just barely held herself back from picking them up again. There would be time to tidy later, now something was very wrong.
Zora sped her pace, with Makeda following. The guardian was fast, but Makeda kept up, spurred on not by any special energy or skill but rather pure outrage that someone or something would dare disturb her domain.
They turned a corner, then skidded to a stop almost comically. Eyes wide, her fear was secondary to disbelief as she looked up at the source of the sound. It was… a bookworm?
She knew there wasn’t any such creature as a bookworm, and certainly not one that could survive in a realm with no natural plant or animal life, but it was the best descriptor she had. The insect was the size of a bus—one of the double long vehicles popular in large cities from the twentieth century AD. It was silvery gray in color, with two antennae taller than Zora’s current height poking out of its head and an uncountable number of legs. The creature had wedged it massive bulk in the aisle as it munched on one of the shelves with immense jaws.
Shaking off the shock of its existence, she screamed, “Noooo!”
Disappearing down the giant maw went volume after volume of completely irreplaceable knowledge. The Megaanuum Library was the last repository of the history and accumulated scholarship of humankind. Once something was gone from here, it was gone forever. No future researcher or scholar from another realm would be able to partake in the knowledge. That’s why they took theft so seriously—thwarting thieves was the main role of the guardians.
Makeda scanned the call numbers on the nearest shelf. Two hundred millennia of food gathering techniques from Homo bodoensis of the Middle Pleistocene age had disappeared right into this beast’s belly. Pure vexation motivated her to get them back. The books were all crafted from aurium and even the giant creature’s stomach acid shouldn’t be able to destroy them. Zora would just have to defeat this thing and use that sword of hers to cut into its belly to retrieve the tomes. A messy job, to be sure, but a necessary one.
Using her enhanced perception, Makeda reached out to sense the books. She stretched and strained but couldn’t find them. Connected as she was to everything under her administrative domain, she should have been able to perceive them only a few dozen feet before her, even inside an impossible insect’s digestive tract, but they were gone as surely as if a thief had spirited them off to another dimension.
Zora’s war cry was the embodiment of everything Makeda felt inside. The guardian’s glowing sword shone through the dim lighting of the stacks. The monster opened its jaws wider, bellowing its own battle sound and displaying row after row of spiky teeth.
Makeda retreated as Zora advanced. As an immortal librarian, she hadn’t felt true fear in more myr than she could count. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. She’d been heartbroken when Senteu left, afraid she’d never be whole again, but that wasn’t the kind of panic she was experiencing at the moment.
“Zora, be careful!” she shouted. “The creature must have anti-auric properties. It may be able to seriously harm you.” Its ability to crunch through the shelves and disappear the books meant it likely could bite through guardian armor and pierce otherwise indestructible flesh. An anti-auric weapon could undo the life-giving properties of the library and send an immortal to a true death.
Zora merely snarled and raced forward, sword blazing. In response, the beast rose, displaying its true size. Not a bus then, not even an aeroplane. This thing was as gigantic as a thirty-fourth century AD space ferry. Even with her guardian gifts, Zora would stand no chance against it. However, the woman didn’t know the meaning of the words “back down” and ran forward anyway, heedless of the danger.
“Zora, no!” Makeda screamed as the guardian leapt a few dozen feet into the air. Her sword struck, glancing off the behemoth hide, not even scratching it.
Black, beady eyes the size of satellite dishes seemed to sharpen as the creature focused on the tiny annoyance attacking it. The thing turned its massive head and snapped its jaws. Zora barely avoided the bite.
Makeda made an executive decision. One guardian alone would not be able to defeat the beast. And Zora would die before admitting as much. So Makeda traced the patterns inked under the knuckles of her four fingers, initiating an administrative override. Cloaked in her most potent ability, she began a mandatory evacuation.
“We’re retreating. Now!” she called out, but Zora, locked in a battle haze, either didn’t hear or ignored her. As the guardian geared up to attack again, Makeda coiled the woman in auric energy and physically towed her away, pulling her thrashing form through the air to beat a hasty retreat.
The giant roared with earsplitting volume and fixed its eye on Makeda. Only one was visible due to the angle of its head and from this distance its black lens was glassy and reflective, like the surface of a still, dark lake. Every bone in her body began to hum with a subtle vibration. Her muscles stiffened and her heartbeat increased. Her pace slowed, legs struggling like she was walking through mud. She forced herself to continue moving backward, certain that if she stopped, her feet would be locked in place. But it was as if the creature’s gaze was slowly turning her to stone. What’s worse—she was somehow unable to look away from it.
Finally, the corner of a bookshelf blocked her view. No longer in visual contact with the impossible animal, she was released from its unnerving spell. She inhaled a jagged breath, unsure of what had just happened.
The foul words spewing from Zora’s mouth burned her ears. The woman demanded to be released and allowed to return and fight, but Makeda didn’t relent. It was management’s responsibility to ensure the well-being of their employees and while she wasn’t Zora’s supervisor, she certainly wasn’t going to watch the woman face true death from pure stubbornness. She hauled her through the fold in reality, right through a portal, and back to headquarters.
(Substack doesn’t let me open comments to non-paying subscribers for partially paid posts, but if you have a comment, hit me up in the Notes!)
