The smell of dusty old books filled my senses. It was eerily quiet and empty, just as it always was. The poor little library never welcomed anyone in through its doors anymore.

I kicked back in my chair, grabbing a random book off a pile. Under the layer of dust the cover is crisp, new stock almost untouched.

In bold red letters read “**Redline Run**” against a black background.

The description on the back was vague. Mentioning cars, racing and thugs. It seemed boring and basic, but I opened it regardless.

As I did, the pages unweaved before me. Words pulling me in as I consumed them.

The library around me faded away. To the sound of engines, rain-slicked city streets and sirens. I became a young man, driven by greed and pain. The road his savior, the rumble of machines his soul.

The scum ridden city of Requiem, an endless river of shit and crime. The roads constantly filled with illegal races and smoke covered accidents. Allys and slums hiding clandestine gatherings under the cloak of darkness.

There was no money in honest work. That was the only thing you could trust.

Tires screeched as his hands gripped the steering wheel and his foot slammed on the gas. Off he launched, his car skidded across the pavement. Almost hitting another racer before gripping road and speeding off. Red and blue lights began to flash as powered up cop cars joined the race. They rammed against racers, pitting their cars. He sped around a corner, drifting against the road. A cop car got closer, aiming for his rear tire-

The bell chimed as someone walked in. Awakening me from my trace of words. I blinked a few times, my vision almost fogged.

I looked down at the book, gone was the night lit by headlights. Gone was the smell of burning rubber.

“We’re closed.” I muttered to the rude interrupter. My vision focused back on the words as the world around me slowly drifted away.

The asphalt calls to those who listen. And awaits those who dare.