The Archivist by V S Nelson

Author:V S Nelson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Dark fantasy
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2022-04-22T00:00:00+00:00

She’s been researching archivists since she was twenty and, by our third cup, she’s admitted to being sixty-seven. The death of archivists isn’t the only clock she’s fighting.

By cup number five, and increasingly frequent breaks for the toilet, Antoinette has tidied up her books and put away her laptop. Taking this as my cue to leave, I stand.

‘Sit.’ She walks over to a part of the room hidden by an alcove and returns with a photograph. ‘You didn’t come here to listen to me talk about my research, but I thank you for the opportunity – sometimes hearing it out loud helps. Here.’

I take the photograph she offers me and recognise him instantly. He’s younger, maybe twelve, sitting with someone on the sofa I’m sat on right now. Several pillows form a wall between them, but despite the physical separation there’s a sense of closeness about the pair that secretly wills for that wall to be torn down.

She looks to be the same age as him, has dark hair that falls over her shoulders in those big curls only European girls get. Big eyes too, round with a border of white that surrounds her iris; not like mine, which are partly lost to my eyelids even when I look surprised.

‘Martina De Luca,’ Antoinette says. ‘The only true friend I’ve ever known him have. Her father was interested in the church. He used to have a great uncle who was an archivist and he would drag Martina along when he wanted to spend time in the library or just sit and swap theories. One day, the Archivist was here too, helping to organise my research. I watched Martina as she came in, curious as to what she’d make of him. It was the only time I’ve seen the exact moment a person falls in love.’

‘He had a girlfriend?’ I blurt, more to myself than Antoinette.

‘I doubt he saw it that way. Despite how he may appear to you, he was still a young boy and careless with feelings, as young boys often are. But they were close in a way I struggled not to envy. She would sit with him and sometimes they would talk and sometimes they would read and sometimes all they wanted to do was sit in silence.’

‘Martina, she’s…’

‘Yes. She’s dead. I suspect he’s not mentioned her.’

‘Never.’

‘There are few moments that truly define a person. Moments that change someone so profoundly that that change can never be reversed. For the Archivist, the death of Martina De Luca was that moment. Though he never spoke it, not even to me, he loved her. Profoundly. I doubt he will make that mistake a second time.’

Antoinette sighs, looks at our empty cups and decides against number six. I don’t think she considers it to be late. I search the wall for more pictures of the Archivist and Martina, struggling to believe that he could have ever been in love and feeling guilty for even knowing. If he wanted to tell me

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