My entire childhood was filled with a love for books. I didn’t have many friends, so books became my friends. Keeping myself locked in my room for hours at a time, I didn’t really develop social skills. This unfortunately, has carried into my adult life, but I’m oddly okay with that. I work from home, ironically as a writer, hoping to become successful. I’ve published three books in the past year, none of which have really taken off. I have a small, very small in fact, fan base who I know will always buy what I publish, but I think that’s just because it has my name on the front, not for my content. If you search my name online, you’ll find my fan chat room. It’s a rather bizarre place that I wouldn’t suggest for anyone to visit unless one if looking for peculiar, almost fan fiction-like conversation. At least once a week, I find myself wandering into my local bookstore just to see what is trending with the young people and to find inspiration for my current work. Every week is basically the same. My face is abused by the smell of coffee and some form of fancy pastry that I’ll never have enough money to try. People brush past me like I’m the average person that no one really cares about. This irritates me every time it happens. “I’m a published author!” I want to scream at these twats. “I’m better than you in every way possible. When’s the last time you published anything?” But I don’t. I go on my “merry” way, wishing to see someone holding one of my books. This has never happened.

I’m making my way to the back of the store when a rather depressing looking man stumbles into me. “Sir! Watch where you’re going for crying out loud.” He never speaks, but I can tell by his eyes that something has deeply affected this gentleman; I immediately regret my harsh words. “Ethan! Wait! Ethan!” I hear a woman screaming for whoever this Ethan is, but I know no Ethan. The only Ethan I have ever known was a boy a couple of grades below me in high school, but the guy died last week. I scan the room for the mysterious woman, but I can’t find her. I manage to forget about her, even though her loud racket is shattering my eardrums. I’m looking at the newest Tom Clancy book when the screamer flies down my aisle. I don’t have enough time to move aside before she slams right into me, sending the book into the air. People clearly don’t know how to behave in public these days. “I’m so sorry. Let me help.

“It’s okay. I’m fine, really.” I stand up, clearly disgruntled.

“I’m really sorry, mister. I’m just looking for someone.”

“Let me guess. Ethan?”

“Actually, yes. How do you know that?”

“How would I not know that? You’ve been screaming in a business for at least the last ten minutes. It’s quite rude of you, really.”

“I know it is. I’m just really concerned about him. Ethan has been known to fly off the wall since I’m sort of his mistress, kind of. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I’m causing him to cheat, but I know he has feelings for me. Well, last night, I told him I didn’t want to be in this relationship anymore if he wouldn’t leave his wife; there’s no real point. I’m sorry. That’s a lot to tell a stranger.”

“You’re right; that is a lot to tell a stranger. That’s okay though. Do you think Ethan is okay?”

“I’m not really sure. He was threatening suicide before he jumped out of the book.”

“Wait. Jumped out of the book?”

“This is going to sound rather bizarre, so you’re just going to have to believe me when I tell you this.”

“I can’t guarantee that I’ll believe you, but give it a shot.” Surely this girl has to be off her rocker. There’s no way that anyone can jump out of a book.

“Ethan and I, well, we’re characters from Edith Wharton’s Ethan Frome.”

“So you’re telling me that you are the Maddie from that wretched book?”

“I wouldn’t say that my life is wretched, but yes, yes I am.”

“Well, I’ve read your life as you call it, so I know how it ends. We better go find Ethan.”

Maddie leads the way, and I follow close behind. There’s no way these two people could be from Ethan Frome. Maddie continues to scream Ethan’s name as we waltz our way through the horror section. It’s a quite fitting section for this, really. Ethan Frome really should be considered a horror, train wreck of a book. Our search takes us through nearly every aisle when this man comes up to me asking if I’ve seen a woman named Janie. I don’t know any woman named Janie. Why do people keep asking me for lost people? Don’t they know there is a front desk where they could have an announcement made? I’m not an employee of this fine establishment, although I really should submit an application for how often I’m here. “Can you help me find my Janie? She ran away from me because she met another man who promised her love that she didn’t find in me. I really need her to come back to me. I need her.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m already helping this woman find someone named Ethan. I think searching for two people would be too difficult.”

“I really shouldn’t tell you this, but she jumped out of the book and ran off with Joe Starks. I really can’t be without my wife, especially not with her going to that trash of a man. He won’t treat her the way she deserves.

“Wait a minute. She jumped out of the book and went with Joe Starks?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what happened.”

“You mean like in Their Eyes Were Watching God?”

“How do you know about that? Who are you?”

“My name is Jake Peterson. I’m no one special; I’m just a writer. I just happen to be a fan of Zora Neale Hurston’s work.”

“So I’m assuming you’ve read our life?”

“Why do you people call books your lives? I have actually. It’s one of my personal favorites.”

“Why do you call my life a book? A book is written by someone else. My life is my life, real and authentic.”

“I guess you’re right. Anyway, you should come along. Maybe we’ll find Janie while we’re looking for Ethan.”

“Oh, thank you so much. I just can’t be without my Janie.”

Walking along with these two very familiar strangers made for an interesting afternoon. We searched the bookstore for what seemed like hours without the vaguest trace of either Ethan or Janie. All of a sudden there was a startling shake throughout the entire store. It wasn’t anything unusual as living in California has accustomed me to these random Earth shakes typically known as earthquakes. What happened after the earthquake, however, wasn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination. This particular earthquake must have been more violent than the other ones I’ve experienced. Every shelf in the entire bookstore had been knocked to the floor, spilling the contents all over the place. I brushed some dust off my face, clearing my vision. When I looked up, there were six people I didn’t know staring at me. “Do you think he’s okay, Ethan?”

“Wait. Your name’s Ethan. Maddie is looking for you. She should be..uh here somewhere. She was just right next to me before the earthquake.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to see her. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“No, no! That’s not true at all! She wants you for herself. That’s the only reason she wants you to leave your wife. She wants to be able to marry you and have children with you. It’s out of love, I can assure you that.”

“Great. She went and told some stranger all about my love triangle. I just need for that to get out.”

“Really, it’s okay. You can trust me. I don’t have any friends, so I won’t tell a soul.”

“I don’t think we should trust him, Janie. I really don’t.”

“Janie! Oh, some man named Logan is looking for you!”

“Logan? You led him here? How I wish you hadn’t!”

“Why’s that? He seems like a perfectly nice guy.”

“He is. That’s why I don’t want him here. I’m not going to tell you my whole life. You’re a stranger.”

Two other people were standing behind them looking rather frightened. “Guys, you really have nothing to worry about. I’ve talked to Janie, and she’s told me everything. I know you all are from novels. Ethan, you’re from Ethan Frome. You really should talk to Maddie. She’s really concerned that you’re going to kill yourself. Janie, you’re from Their Eyes Were Watching God. Logan is so worried about you. He clearly loves you, and he wants the best life there is for you. That’s why he’s looking for you. I don’t know who you two are, but I’m sure you’re from novels too! Wait a minute. Your name tag says Henry Kitteridge, and I’m assuming you’re Olive. I can’t believe I’m meeting the actual Olive Kitteridge in person. I loved your story for so many years, and I have always wanted to meet you. I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“Now, hold your horses, young man. Why do you know my name is Olive?”

“You’re from Olive Kitteridge, aren’t you? You were a teacher, and you’re married to Henry who is a pharmacist. You have one son, Christopher, who you haven’t had the best of relationship with, but you want to fix that.”

“Why do you know so much about our lives, boy?”

“Now, Henry, calm down. Your life is written about on paper, and I’ve read it. The amazing Elizabeth Stout wrote your life. It’s amazing. I would say you should read it sometime, but I guess you know everything that happens since you’ve lived it."

Everyone I had read about in the past four months was now alive in front of my face, and somehow I had made all of them angry at me. This isn’t what I expected this moment to be like. Well, for that matter, I never expected this to happen as these are fictional characters. I have no idea how they came to live, but I don’t find myself questioning it really. These are eight wonderfully and intricately written characters that have somehow come to life. I most definitely am not complaining about being trapped inside this bookstore. The earthquake has caused the only exit to be blocked off, so I’m stuck inside until we are somehow broken free.