Synopsis :
In the city of Blackwood, an old library hidden in a narrow alley holds more than just books. It stores words that have been lost to the world words that have been forgotten, silenced, or deliberately erased. Aira Puspita, an editor facing a creative crisis after her work was stolen and altered without permission, stumbles upon this library by accident. As she begins to restore lost words to their rightful places, she realizes that every word returned comes with a price to pay, and someone has gone to great lengths to ensure certain words remain lost forever.
****
Blackwood City, Autumn 1987.
The air in Millbrook Alley was thick with the smell of rotting leaves and decaying wood. Aira Puspita patted the old, leather-bound book in her hands and blamed herself for being stuck there, it was all because she wanted to find the original manuscript of her work, which had been stolen by a colleague who had since become famous under the same title though the words had been altered beyond recognition. She had spent three weeks searching for any trace of her original writing, visiting every small bookstore and library in Blackwood. But she found nothing except growing frustration.
As she turned to head back to her cramped boarding room, a faint light caught her eye from deeper in the alley. A dark wooden door with hand-burned lettering above it read, "The Library of Lost Words." The letters seemed to emerge from the wood itself, curving and mysterious, like an unfinished sentence.
Without hesitation, Aira twisted the rusted iron handle. The door swung open with a piercing hiss,revealing a narrow passageway leading inward. Oil lamps hanging on the walls illuminated the slick stone floors and the tall wooden shelves lining the walls, which stretched up to a lost to sight ceiling. Instead of ordinary books, each shelf held small pine boxes, each labeled with just a single word.
"Welcome, Aira Puspita."
The voice came from behind her, soft yet firm, like a whisper she had been waiting years to hear. Aira turned to see an elderly woman with snow-white hair and deep purple eyes that seemed to see farther than possible. The woman wore a long black gown with black lace trailing from her sleeves. Around her neck hung a necklace with an X-shaped pendant.
"I am the Keeper," she said, moving closer with soundless steps on the stone floor. "Guardian of all words lost to this world. Words forgotten by time, silenced by power, or erased by those who fear their meaning."
Aira stared wide-eyed at the boxes on the shelves. Nearby, she saw a box labeled "Honesty" that looked as if it had just been opened. Another box, marked "Love," was dull and neglected, covered in a thick layer of dust.
“How do you know my name?” Aira asked, her voice trembling slightly.
The Keeper gave only a small smile. "We recognize those who have lost their own words. I see you are searching for something taken from you—your original words, altered and stolen by another."
Aira felt a sharp ache in her chest. "Can you help me?"
Your lost words are here," the Keeper replied, gesturing toward the deeper shelves with her hand. "But remember—every word returned to the world requires a sacrifice. We cannot simply take what has been stored here without giving something of equal worth."
Without considering the consequences, Aira followed the Keeper through the darkening aisles of shelves. The air grew colder, and she could feel a gentle vibration emanating from each box, as if the words inside were trying to escape and return home.
The Keeper stopped in front of a small shelf tucked away in the deepest corner of the library. In the center of the shelf sat a small stack of wooden boxes with labels that made Aira’s heart ache: "Dream," "Sincerity," "Self-Worth," and "Image." All of these were key words from her original manuscript that had been replaced by her colleague with shallower, more commercial language.
"These are your words," the Keeper said. "To return them to the stolen manuscript, you must open each box and speak the word with complete conviction. But every word you release from here will take something away from the world around you. For example, if you open the 'Sincerity' box, one person in Blackwood will lose the ability to feel or show sincerity forever."
Aira fell silent. She had fought for months to prove that the work was hers and to restore her meaningful words to their rightful place. But was she willing to make others suffer for it?
"I have no choice," she whispered at last. "Without those words, I’m nobody. I’ve spent my whole life finding the right words, and now they’ve been taken from me."
The Keeper nodded slowly. "Choose wisely."
Aira picked up the box labeled "Dream." The wood was cold in her hands, and she could feel its vibration growing stronger as she held it. She took a deep breath and lifted the lid. A thin golden light spilled out, swirling in the air before drifting toward the window and vanishing into the night. As it did so, Aira felt a ripple far away, as if someone in Blackwood had just woken from a beautiful dream and forgotten what they had seen.
She moved on to the "Sincerity" box. A pale blue light emerged, and this time, Aira could hear faint sobbing outside the library. A small child who had just picked flowers to give to their mother suddenly felt uneasy and tossed them to the ground, unable to explain why the gesture suddenly felt insincere.
Every word she released carried clear consequences. When she opened the "Self-Worth" box, a woman standing before a mirror, ready to apply for her dream job, suddenly looked at herself differently. She felt unworthy and tore up the carefully crafted application letter she had prepared.
With each returned word, Aira felt the lost parts of herself begin to heal. She envisioned her manuscript being restored to its original form, her meaningful words replacing the shallow, empty ones. She grew stronger and more confident.
Only one box remained: "Image"—the word at the heart of her work that described how a person could develop a true sense of self without conforming to others’ expectations.
As she reached to open it, a loud voice froze her in place.
"That’s enough, Aira."
A tall man in a black suit, his face shadowed, stepped into the aisle. He walked with confident strides, and each step made the boxes on the shelves shake violently.
"You cannot keep doing this," the man said in a deep, menacing voice. "Every word you release disrupts the balance we’ve built over the years. We need lost words to keep the world in check. If all words were in their place, people would start thinking for themselves and challenging the status quo."
"Who are you?" Aira asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.
"I am the Discarder," the man replied with a cruel smile. “The one responsible for ensuring unwanted words stay lost. You’ve interfered with my plans by taking back your words.”
The Keeper stepped forward and faced the Discarder. "Words belong to those who create them, not to you to hide away."
"You've always been too soft, Keeper," the Discarder said, raising his hand. Immediately, the boxes on the shelves began to open on their own and lost words poured out in great numbers—words like "Revolution," "Justice," "Freedom," and "Truth." Unlike the words Aira had released, however, these came surging out with terrifying force, shaking the walls and causing dust to rain down from the ceiling.
“If you can’t keep these words in check,” the Discarder said, “then I’ll make sure they’re lost forever—even from this library.”
Aira realized she had made a terrible mistake. She had only thought of herself and reclaiming what was hers without considering the broader impact of her actions. The words stored in this library didn’t belong just to individuals; they belonged to the world as a whole. Each word held the power to change everything.
Without another thought, Aira grabbed the "Image" box and slammed it shut. She felt a sharp pain as the part of herself that had just healed began to fade away again. Then, she ran toward another shelf and started closing the boxes the Discarder had opened. She spoke each word aloud, hoping she could return them to their places before it was too late.
With each box she closed, she felt a small but distinct sense of relief. The words returned to their containers, and the terrifying vibrations in the library subsided. The Discarder tried to stop her, but the Keeper stood between them and used her power to hold him in place.
"At last, you understand," the Keeper said to Aira as she closed the final box. "Words hold great power. They can build up or tear down, save or destroy. That is why they must be kept carefully—not hidden away forever, but given to the world at the right time."
The Discarder glared at them with a face full of fury before vanishing into the shadows, leaving behind a threatening whisper. "This isn’t over, Aira Puspita. We’ll meet again when you try to take what you cannot have."
When the library grew quiet once more, Aira sank to her knees, feeling tired and drained. The Keeper approached and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You did the right thing," the Keeper said. "Though you had to sacrifice your own words, you saved many that matter greatly to the world."
“Will I ever get my words back?” Aira asked in a weak voice.
“Your words are not lost forever,” the Keeper replied. "They're simply waiting for the right moment to return. Sometimes, we must learn to live without certain words so that we can appreciate their meaning when they finally return."
The Keeper guided Aira out of the library and softly closed the door behind her. When Aira turned around, Millbrook Alley was empty and silent not a trace remained of the library.
When she returned to her room at the boarding house, she found her stolen manuscript open on the table. Her original words were still missing, but she noticed something new: words written in her own hand slowly appearing on the blank pages. They were different words, yet just as powerful. They were born from the experience she had just lived through.
She realized that, although she couldn’t get her old words back, she could create new, even better ones. Deep within her, she felt that one day she would return to the library to retrieve her lost words when the time was right and ensure that other important words were given to the world at the proper moment.
In Millbrook Alley, deep inside the invisible library, the boxes bearing Aira Puspita’s name remained on the shelves, waiting for the opportunity to return to the outside world. There, too, a new box had appeared, labeled "Sacrifice," with a soft, warm light glowing from within.
***
Four years later, the town of Blackwood, spring of 1991.
Aira Puspita had become a well-known editor at a small publishing house in downtown Blackwood. The books she edited always had deep meanings and touched readers’ hearts, as if she knew how to draw significance from every letter she arranged. However, she never forgot the hidden library in Millbrook Alley. Each night, she dreamed of the tall wooden shelves and boxes full of words waiting to come alive.
One evening, as she was finishing edits on a manuscript about a young writer's struggle to find their voice, a letter without an address suddenly appeared on her desk. The envelope was made of aged, yellow paper, and it contained only one sentence: "The time has come."
Without a second thought, Aira grabbed her coat and ran toward Millbrook Alley. This time, the library door swung wide on its own, greeting her with warm light spilling out from within.
As she stepped into the familiar aisle of shelves, she found the Keeper sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by glowing boxes. The elderly woman’s hair looked thinner than before, and her deep purple eyes appeared tired yet full of hope.
"Aira," the Keeper said faintly.
"You’ve come just in time. The Discarder has returned, and this time he is not alone."
Before Aira could ask anything, a rumbling sound echoed through the library. The shelves began to shake, and boxes opened with greater force than ever before. From the shadows emerged a group of people in black suits, their faces shrouded in darkness. They were the Discarder’s allies.
“We have waited a long time for this,” the Discarder’s voice rang out from the center of the group. "Today, we will take all the words here and ensure they are lost forever. The world does not need words that make people think—they only need to follow."
Aira looked around and realized that this library was not just a storage place for words. It was the soul of every person who had ever created or searched for lost words. If the Discarder succeeded in taking them all, the world would become an empty, meaningless place.
"I won't let you do this," Aira said firmly.
She stepped forward and faced the Discarder and his allies. "Words are not yours to take. They belong to everyone who has ever felt unheard and everyone who has ever needed the right words to express their feelings."
The Discarder laughed with a piercing sound. "What can you do alone, Aira? You didn’t even dare take back your own words!"
In that moment, Aira felt something shift inside her—the same power she had sensed when she first opened the boxes in the library. She looked at the shelves behind her where the boxes bearing her name still sat. This time, she felt no fear. She knew sacrifice was not just about giving up something precious but also about using what you have to protect something greater than yourself.
She walked toward the shelf and picked up the "Image" box. As she opened it, a golden light brighter than before poured out and spread through the entire library. This time, there were no sounds of crying or loss. Instead, laughter and shouts of joy could be heard from outside, as if the people of Blackwood had just discovered their true sense of self.
Next, she took the "Self-Worth" box. Pale blue light flowed out and merged with the light from the "Image" box. The resulting flash made the Discarder’s allies step back. A woman who had felt unworthy for years looked at herself with new eyes. She put on a business suit and walked confidently toward the office where she would apply for her dream job.
Aira moved on to the "Sincerity" and "Dream" boxes. Each word she released brought new light and power to the library. Words that had been lost for years emerged from their boxes on their own: "Revolution," "Justice," "Freedom," and "Truth" all glowed with strong, meaningful light.
The Discarder’s allies began to vanish into the shadows, unable to withstand the power of the released words. Only the Discarder remained, his face full of rage and despair.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” he shouted.
"By releasing all these words, you’ll cause chaos. People will start fighting each other over their differences."
“No,” Aira said calmly.
They’ll start talking to each other. Words aren't the source of conflict, it's the confusion and stagnation that arise from a lack of words that cause problems."
As soon as she spoke those words, the Discarder began to fade away slowly, like smoke blown by the wind. Before disappearing completely, she left one final message: "Words can save, but they can also destroy. Remember that, Aira Puspita."
When the library grew quiet again, the Keeper stood and moved toward Aira. Light from the released words shone on her face, making her look younger and full of life.
"You have done what is right," the Keeper said. "You have shown that words should not be hidden or controlled. They must be given to the world so they can do their work."
“Will this library remain?” Aira asked.
"The library will always exist," the Keeper replied. "But now, it will no longer only store lost words. It will become a place where new words are created a place where people can come to find the words they need to change the world."
The Keeper took Aira's hand and guided her toward the exit. "Now, you must return to the outside world, Aira. You have work to do to help others find their own words and unsure that no word is lost without just cause."
As Aira stepped out of Millbrook Alley, she saw the town of Blackwood in a new light. The streetlights that had always seemed dull now glowed with a warm light. She could hear people talking to one another with passion and meaning. The words released from the library had begun their work, they were filling the gaps that had existed for years and making the world a richer, more vibrant place.
In her no longer cramped boarding room, she found her original manuscript, missing for years, open on the table. Her original words were still there, but they had changed—becoming stronger, deeper, and filled with new meaning. At the end of the final page, a new sentence had appeared:
"Words are never truly lost. They are only waiting for someone brave enough to find them and bring them back to where they belong."
Aira picked up a pen and started writing. This time, she wasn't writing to prove something to others or reclaim what was lost. She wrote because she knew her words had the power to touch people’s hearts and minds and change the world, one little step at a time.
Deep within Millbrook Alley, the library stood strong hidden yet not forgotten ready to welcome anyone searching for lost words or wishing to create new ones that would shape the world’s future.
****
The End
