Midterms, Mayhem, and... Magic?

By Alexandriana Davis

Why does it feel like the fate of my entire bloodline is on the line?  Why do I feel like I need to release a “humbug” at the sound of anything irritating my peace?

I’m sure you guessed it!  It's midterm season.  I have been stuck in the library for what feels like the last decade, trying to study for my upcoming Art History exam.  I fear there may be no end to this agony.

I turn the jazz music off that is playing in my headphones.  My mind is spinning from all the different paintings floating around in my head, and I need a break to prevent my headache from getting any worse.  

I take a sip of water before leaning back to stare at the ceiling.  Brilliant bright lights shine onto my face.  I calmly take some deep breaths, trying to keep my mind off the stress that has consumed every fiber of my being.

While I stare at the ceiling, I begin to notice how plain it is.  It uses off-white textured tile that looks to be in dire need of some color.  I suddenly have a longing to break out my painting supplies and fill the ceiling with the vibrant hues of adventure, love, and sorrow.  I can visualize the images as if they were right in front of me.  I think to myself, if only I had the time.

In my zoned-out state, I feel something brush up against my leg.  I look down, startled, and notice a small calico cat looking up at me.  The cat meows, showing its friendliness.  I smile back. 

We stare into each other's eyes for a moment before the cat brushes up against my leg once more, purring, and starts to walk off.  I watch it go, swishing its tail.  

Before I can turn back to my work, the cat runs back and meows again.  They move their head in the direction they were originally headed, as if trying to usher me to go with them.  

I gaze at the cat out of curiosity.  This is such a strange occurrence; it must mean something.  Looking back on my flashcards, I decide a short time away won’t do me any harm.  I stand up and follow.

Once I begin walking, the cat's pace quickens.  The cat, who twists and turns around the many bookshelves, seems to have an intent in mind.  I soon realize that they are making their way to the library staircase, and a small ache of fear grows in my stomach.  I notice that the cat continues looking back to make sure I am following, though, so it seems there is no escape. As I scurry after the cat and down the stairs, I enter the basement of the library, a place I had never dared to explore before.  

The basement has an ominous, isolated feeling that keeps students away.  After my first step into the room, I look around and notice that the lights are flickering dimly, adding to the growing pit of fear in my stomach.  I can smell the dust radiating off these ancient bookshelves as a sign I shouldn’t be down here.

After rushing to their destination, the cat finally stops at a small, walnut wood door.  It looks as if the door hasn’t been touched in ages.

I begin to feel as if I am wasting time and should go back to studying.  I hesitantly glance back at the staircase where light shines in from the upper floor.  My impatience and fear are destroying this spontaneous adventure.

As I turn in the direction of the stairs to go back, I hear the cat meow at me once more.  The cat stretches its neck out towards the door.  There is something they want me to see, and I have the feeling they won’t let me go until I see it.

I reluctantly decide that studying can wait; if not for me, for the cat. Shoving my fear aside, I put a hand on the metal door handle and turn.  

I watch in awe as this mysterious gateway creaks open.  My eyes visibly widen when I see what lies beyond.  

I could never have imagined that this little cat beside me would lead me to my wildest dreams.