Part Two: Frustrated

I was getting more worried every moment. I couldn't find the book. I'd tried Googling the title, the author; I searched archives of books old and new; I even tried variations - maybe that employee had been right, and I really hadn't had the title and author correct.

Nothing.

So either it was a dream, or I was going insane. Neither option really appealed to me, though the first was considerably better than the other. But how could that happen? I'd read the book. I had held it, flipped through it, read half of it, and then had run off to class with the firm idea of coming back when I had time and money to buy it and finish it. It had been a rather good book, too; fantasy, but not cliché; there was originality put in to the magic system, the characters, the plot. Thank heavens that was becoming a slightly more common occurrence on the fantasy shelves.

And the writing had been good, too. Not amateur as some books seemed to be, not outright bad as a certain couple of series that Must Not Be Named were, just good writing with original ideas and great characters and...

Blast! I really needed a new book to read, and I wanted to finish this one! I had left at a good part, just when the main character was about to start this master plan of his.

Oh, well. Back to the bookstore. Perhaps I would find something else. I mean, the place was full of books; surely I'd be able to find one to interest me? A part of me grumbled about never finding the ending of the other, but I tried to ignore it. Never mind that I'd never been able to leave a book alone, even one that Must Not Be Named, until I knew how it ended. Never mind how loose ends and as-yet-unobtained goals haunted my mind.

I winced at entering the bookstore - there were, as had there been for months now, entire displays dedicated to the few books of the Must Not Be Named variety. How could these monstrosities take up all this space when better books were stuffed spine-out on out-of-the-way shelves? They should be ashamed, books, authors, and book shelvers alike.

I idly wondered if the non-existent book I wanted had somehow voluntarily disappeared, unwilling to share the same space with those that Must Not Be Named.

I made my way to the fantasy shelves, as usual, taking care to avoid the information desk and any employees. Salespeople frighten me, especially when they want to sell me something I desperately want to buy. Once to the shelves I put on my 'absorbed' face, which usually kept people from talking to me, and scanned for something good. Something great.

There were a few that looked interesting. I pulled one out and glanced at the cover.

Wait a minute... I thought this book didn't exist!

Part One: Existing
Part Three: Wondering
Part Four: Writer
Part Five: Names