The library in Oak Bay City stood tall, filled with books dating back to the 18th century and beyond. Lately, it had been rather empty; most of Oak Bay's residents were drawn to digital Booktabs – special tablets connecting them to any book for purchase or rental. Only a few still cherished physical literature. Among them was Mariana Augustine.
Twenty-two years old, with black hair secured by a plastic black butterfly hair pin, Mariana wore glasses with transparent frames, prescribed by her optometrist. Her green sweater featured butterfly patterns. She sat on the library's highest floor beside a large window, absorbed in a scrapbook page. It showed a picture of a "wooden boy." She read the accompanying handwriting silently:
"'See these little things that glow, these are diamonds, not the ones painted with the blue handmade, those diamonds are fake, it's a wooden rock in blue paint Colby, can't you see these things, in the fading of time? These things are diamonds.' Victor Lane said with hands stretching far wide into the skies, in the lost forest."
Mariana paused, muttering "hmm" under her breath. She gazed out the large window to her right for a moment. Her black backpack sat beside her. She unzipped it quickly, rummaged inside, and pulled out a black digital camera.
Standing up, she observed the bustling scene outside the tall, gleaming window. A street musician played Maxine Nightingale's "Right Back Where We Started From." A couple passed him, each handing him five dollars. Ten dollars, Mariana thought, and she giggled. Click. Just then, a stray black cat with green eyes brushed against the musician's leg, weaving calmly through the pedestrians' feet. Mariana pressed her fists against the window, lips slightly parted, her gaze locked on the cat as it encountered a child – an 8-year-old girl with long brown hair, wearing a yellow coat and big red boots. The girl let go of her mother's hand and chased the cat. It darted away with a ferocious meow. They raced past the lamppost – the one in Oak Bay that stayed lit 24 hours. Click.
Mariana looked above the lamppost. A pigeon perched there, a red tie visible around its left wing. It seemed to be waiting. Below, a man in a black hat covering his face and a long black coat, his polished black boots reflecting the light drizzle, held posters. As he prepared to hang one up, he noticed the pigeon. Startled, he dropped his posters. He formed his right hand into an L-shape and whistled. The pigeon immediately flew down and landed on him, as if it knew the man. They seemed to converse as the man walked across the city. Click.
Four teens walked past the man, their eyes glued to identical screens, appearing lifeless. Click. Nearby, steam rose from a manhole. Click. Two children in raincoats jumped over the steamy hole. A third child, chasing the same black cat, fell in! The cat tumbled in too. The mother screamed her child's name. Mariana's eyebrow tilted. The other two children called for help. Mumbles spread through the crowd as older construction workers rushed to get the child and the cat out. Click.
A street vendor walked by the commotion, shouting, "Get your saucy hot dogs! Get your saucy hot dogs!" Click. He passed another shopfront also selling hot dogs. The two vendors locked eyes aggressively. Mariana took another picture. Click.
A cyclist sped past the staring vendors. He seemed to pass a wanted poster nailed to a wall: "Help me find my lost pigeon please, call 01-2999 for a small reward if you do." – featuring a pigeon with a red tie around its wing. Mariana was about to click when the man in the long black coat and polished boots, the pigeon still on his shoulder, walked up. He tore down the wanted poster and tossed it into a nearby trash can, which already held several others. Click.
Mariana looked up at the building behind the man. Laundry was spread on ropes, waving gently in the wind under gray clouds: a red longsleeve sweater, a black coat, a blue blouse, and a black skirt. Click. Suddenly, the red longsleeve sweater detached from its hanger and flew away. "Oh no," Mariana whispered. It drifted near a bakery. The same 8-year-old girl in the yellow coat and red boots emerged, holding the black cat in her left arm and a cupcake in her right hand. She offered the cupcake to the cat, which naturally refused. She walked over to her mother and took her hand. Click.
Mother, daughter, and cat walked near a busker juggling red rubber balls before a small, cheering crowd. The street musician stood beside him, playing his amplified cover of "Right Back Where We Started From," complementing the juggling act. They seemed like a team now, full of life. Click. Mariana spotted the two hot dog vendors within the crowd, laughing together, and the four teens also cheering among the others. The busker juggled 20 balls... now 40... now 60! How is that humanly possible?! Click, click, click!
The girl's mother decided they'd seen enough. As they walked away, the girl holding the cat, they passed graffiti on a wall: "Oak Bay City." Click.A woman then hurried past the graffiti, clutching the red longsleeve sweater, looking rather annoyed. Mariana giggled a little. Click.
She lowered her camera and sat down, looking at the open scrapbook on the table for a moment. A thought seemed to strike her. She hurriedly shelved the book: *The Wooden Boy: Victor and Colby in the Lost Forest's Elf Home, A Scrapbook Adventure. She rushed home.
The scrapbook's final words swept the wind: "Okay Victor, I do see it now, the soft movements of the trees to the wind, the lost forest's squirrels, and birds, and...and the butterflies Victor, these are the real diamonds." Colby Ausburey said staring deep into the forest's Elf path, and let out a faint smile.
— MJ