Curiosity Just Might Kill Me
Curiosity has always been Zane’s undoing. For years, her penchant for digging up secrets has come with the worst of luck. Lost jobs, ruined relationships, and today in the basement of the university’s library she suspects that this bout of curiosity will end up with her being expelled. She couldn’t even remember what compelled her to go through with her halfcocked plan. One moment she had been jotting down due dates for her linguistics courses in her planner at her usual haunt, the mom-and-pop diner three blocks away from her university campus, and the next she was eavesdropping on a group of seniors as they tried to convince some impressionable freshmen to join in on their yearly ritual. Ole Years Night.
“I swear on my mother’s grave, I am telling you the truth.” Said the dark-haired upperclassman around a mouthful of burger. He reached for his soda cup and drank deeply before chewing twice and swallowed. “Legend has it, that on Ole Years Night the veil between worlds thins, granting all kinds of spirits and creatures to pass through.”
His friends, at least she assumed they were all friends due to their identical dress style. Each man wore a dark coloured graphic t-shirt, worn jeans, sneakers, and a team ball cap perched backwards atop their heads. Glancing to her left, at their table, she noted the rapt attention their younger companions gave him. Three freshmen sat crammed, rather uncomfortably she noted, in one side of the booth seats. Soaking up every word. From left to right there was lanky, dreamy, and puffy. She had nicknamed them based on their appearances since she hadn’t been paying attention when they exchanged names.
“Legend says, on this auspicious night, only the brave travel down to the basement in the Brathwaite Hall library. There’s an inscription written on the wall, if you recite it twice and leave three gifts then the spirits that live beneath the campus grant you what ever you wish. But on one condition, you have to be willing to part with your most prized possessions.”
Jeez these kids are stupid! She thought. Parting with a sentimental item and performing a ritual all for a wish? One she doubted would even come true. Couldn’t be real. It’s a wish for god’s sake! And as if on queue that small inquisitive voice in the back of her mind said but what if it isn’t? She screwed her eyes shut, hoping to dispel the foolish thought before it could take hold. Before she could convince herself to follow some stupid myth which would no doubt lead her to trouble…again.
Despite her musings she found her attention back on the group’s leader, she even feigned taking something out of her back pocket as a cover for why she suddenly slid closer. It definitely wasn’t so she could hear them better. Absolutely not!
“But how do you know if it worked? Like really worked” this came from a tall slender kid on the verge of becoming one with the wall partition to his left.
The dark upperclassman leaned back in his seat, placed his arms on the back of the booth and grinned. He knew he had them.
“I know…” he paused, stretching out the dramatics “because I’ve done it three years in a row, tonight will be my fourth.”
A scoff came from the kid at the end of the bench. He had on a dark hoodie pulled up over a mop of blonde curls. His face barely visible underneath his cascade of hair and above the hood, which he had pulled tight. Images of a childhood cartoon character from Ed, Edd, and Eddy came to mind.
“Your word? We’d essentially be breaking and entering, risking expulsion, and not to mention criminal charges all for a supposed wish.”
At the kid’s dismissive tone their storyteller stiffened briefly before once again adopting his nonchalant pose.
“Well in that case, I guess we won’t be seeing you there tonight.” His large hand reached out and snagged a few fries from plate in the center of the table before popping them in his mouth. His gaze swept over the other two freshmen, waiting for them to voice their agreement.
“Look, if you don’t believe us at least come for the fun of it. What else were you planning to do? Sit in your dorm and prep for classes? If anything, it’s apart of the college experience. Live a little” he coaxed. And it was working, she could tell.
Zane had stayed in her booth long enough to get the details before she placed a twenty under her coffee mug, packed up her things and left the diner. Three and a half hours later, she was sneaking towards a window in the east wing of the library. Students had been skulking about searching for a way into the library. But she had paid them no mind. She knew this particular window would be open. Obviously, since you purposely left it open before closing!
Her voice of reason often chastised her while she performed daring acts. One day she would analyze why it was always during and not before she did something stupid. Locating the ajar window, she cautiously pushed it up. Giving herself enough room to toss her knapsack onto the floor before sitting on the sill and swinging her legs over and down. She landed with a soft thud; the thick carpet cushioned much of the noise. Turning, she repositioned the window till it was two inches from being closed. Deciding it was best to move with haste, Zane picked up her back, crouched down and scampered to the far right of the vast library. There she could clearly make out the entrance to the basement.
Zane wasn’t usually one to believe in folk tales but this one was just too good to pass up. Yeah, right! She thought to herself. The myth is clearly why you’re doing this. She remarked sarcastically herself. Her stomach twisted with nerves as she carefully opened the heavy metal door to the archives level. Dutifully she ignored the sign with big block letters and advised this area was for “RESTRICTED PERSONNEL ONLY!” Hinges creaked loudly causing her to pause. Ducking a bit lower she waited, listened to see if anyone was coming to stop her. After a count of ten Mississippi’s, she decided no one had heard her intrusion and pulled the door open further. Her heart pounded as the hinges voiced their protest to being moved, halting her progression she looked at the space she had to fit through. There was just enough room for you to squeeze through, which consequently is exactly what Zane did. Once again leading with her removed backpack, she shuffled a bit awkwardly into the quiet hallway. Careful, so as not to make any other noises, she kept her back to the cold metal and eased it shut. It wasn’t till the heavy door thunked back into place that air rushed into her lungs, she hadn’t held her breath consciously.
Zane took a moment to grab the flashlight from her bag and looked around. The hallway was wide, about fifteen feet long and hosted five rooms. Two on the left and three on the right. From what the diner patrons said tonight, the passage to the basement was on the right, third door. With no time to waste Zane got to her feet and jogged a short while till she stood before the pale grey door. There was nothing to indicate it was locked so she reached for the knob and turned. Without resistance it gave, the door swinging open. Slowly she descended the creaky old steps, she made it down ten steps before having to turn to the right. Glancing over the railing Zane noted the staircase made two more descending right turns leading into pitch black emptiness. Sucking in a deep breath, one she regretted two seconds later, she continued down, down, down. The deeper she went the colder it got, the frozen air assaulting her chest like sharp icicles. She nearly thought she could see the fog from her breath as she made her way farther down.
As her nerves ratcheted up, creating a knot in her belly she found herself humming the chorus of Florence + the Machine’s ‘Shake it Out’. It might not stop her from being expelled or murdered but it definitely helped some of her jitters. Finally, she reached to bottom step, her sneaker made a wet squishing sound as she found her footing. Sweeping the flashlight around the room she took in her surroundings. She rubbed one hand against her arm, now pebbled with gooseflesh. She didn’t think she could stay long, the temperature seemed to drop with every minute she spent down here.
The room was cold and wet, with damp stains seeping down the walls glistening against the bright light shone upon them. Mold, old textbooks, and dust all clogged her nose. She sneezed twice before moving deeper into the room. It was quite large, she noted with surprise. Approximately 1,200 square feet, she followed the narrow walkway through rows and rows of materials. Zane noted several wrapped canvases all leaning against the wall to her left, cattycorner to those canvases’ crates were stacked to the ceiling. A faint scratching noise emanating from them. She really hoped that wasn’t where the etchings were. Boxes were stacked along the remaining walls, the material soggy and bubbled from the moisture in the air. It was a standard room, stuffed full of forgotten items. Each wall boasted stacks of boxes or crates their valuable treasures once safely ensconced within. The center of the room could be aptly described as a test between the lines of chaos and organization. Tables in neat rows were laden with various books, manuscripts, charts, and documents. Using her flashlight, she searched for the writing. Examining the faded spines of haphazardly stacked books along the way.
Once she was within sight of the walls to the right of the vast room, she bathed it in light and hoped to see anything etched into its aged face. She was about to give up when dark red writing peeked from behind a stack of boxes. Steeling herself she walked over and nudged the box, it refused to budge. The pile stopped just at her stomach. More than ever, Zane felt grateful for her additional height. Nudging a foot behind the stack, she grabbed the exposed right side and shoved the pile away from the wall. She must have used too much force because the first two boxes crumbled, spilling their contents all over the floor.
Sighing she leaned down to pick up a few books, the floor would soak right through them if she didn’t. She had stacked a few books in her arms before the leathery cover on a sealed tube caught her eye. She examined it closer, a thick layer of dust and filth obscured most of her view, so she stood up, stepping over the remaining books, and walked towards the nearest table. There wasn’t much room left to put the books down, but she figured no one would notice if they were out of place anyways.
Once her arms were free Zane plucked up the interesting volume. She tried blowing the dust off the seal but that only resulted in a dust cloud choking her up. Coughing, she resigned herself to ruining her black yoga pants. Wiping the parchment tube across her pant leg she noted that it had a reddish hue to the leather. She followed the symbols as they twisted round the long cannister. Turning the tube, the glyphs stamped along the tight material almost danced with the movement. The tube was about twelve inches long; a melted seal like a hard wax covered the opening. She observed the symbols once more, finding that they were similar to the Greek alphabet. She couldn’t place most of the glyphs, but she was certain it was Greek, or an older version of it. Giddy at this discovery she hastily shucked off her bag, ripping it open to search for her lighter. Once she felt the cool plastic of her Bic lighter, she pulled it out. Shaking, numb fingers tried again and again to get the light to work. Zane let out a small growl of frustration as she tucked the tube under one arm. She put the light between her two hands and blew moderately warm air on her fingers. After four attempts, she tried once more to spark a flame. With a metallic clink the flame ignited. She was tempted to jump with joy but figured it was best not to wave the flame out. Stiffly she rolled the tube from beneath her arm and grasped it in her left hand. Careful not to place the lighter too close to the tubing she watched as the wax melted.
Red wax dripped down the sides and onto the floor, the quickly growing puddle resembled crimson drops of blood she noted. All the while, Zane hopped from one foot to the other in an effort to keep herself warm. Here in the deepest part of this room it was freezing. When she couldn’t wait any longer Zane shoved the lighter in the waist ban of her pants and reached for the mostly melted seal. She hesitated briefly, wondering if she should do this, there’s a chance the damp air could dissolve this paper, ruining it forever. As much as she wished she could say she stopped herself, once again – her curiosity got the better of her. A voice, this one not like her usual musings encouraged her, open it, you must see what’s inside it begged. In hindsight, the change of her inner voice should have made her pause, but her greed for information, for something exciting, won out.
Zane placed the bottom of the tube between bet legs and hunched over it to twist the seal away. At the first rotation the air in the room seemed to tense with its own apprehension. A slight breeze glanced across the back of her neck and she froze briefly. Her heart sped up, but she chalked it up to her imagination. The quiet of the room pressed in on her as she twisted once more. Distantly she noted that the scuttling noises from the crates on the other side of the room stopped completely. With one final yank she pulled the seal from the tube. A great gush of dust rushed into her face, without thinking she gasped. Inhaling the filth floating in the air. Zane let out deep coughs in an effort to dislodge the grit from her throat. Instead, it felt like icy fingers gripped her throat preventing air from entering her lungs. She sputtered and wheezed till she collapsed to her knees; her bones protested as they collided with the damp floor.
Her eyes watered as she struggled to breathe. Her hands desperately clawed at her throat hoping to convince one smooth inhale of cold air down to her too tight lungs. Desperately she ripped the neck of her jacket and shirt away. Her now exposed neck did nothing to expel the thing choking her, seemingly blocking her airways. She thrashed till she lay on her stomach, great hacking coughs racking her chest. She felt the urge to throw up and welcomed it. She was sick then; fluid splashed her hand as she dispelled what ever had nearly choked her to death. Distantly, Zane was aware of her finer nails cracking as her hand fiercely grappled along the stone floor. Heaving twice more before she was able to take a full, searing breathes of air. she sucked greedily once, twice, her chest heaving at the welcomed gulps filling her.
Slowly she sat up, the flashlight had rolled beneath the table and lay an arms length away. The backsplash illuminated her surroundings, separating the dark room from her bubble of light. The sudden plunge just beyond seemed eerily sinister. As if a creature could jump out at you at any moment. The thought made her chuckle, paranoid much. She thought. Coughing a few more times, her eyes swept up to what started all of this, the writing on the wall. Literally. Now that the boxes no longer obscured her view, she could clearly see the passage written there. Ink the same colour as the wax on the tube was scrawled elegantly on the wall. Her hand crept to her throat as fear slowly crept back in, freezing her in place. Trembling, the cloying smell of her own mistakes now joined the previously stagnant odour of the room. As the red letters, much like the ones along the case rearranged themselves. No longer did she see unintelligible glyphs but clear English. Spelling out a warning.
“Beware of the marid, for no wish is worth their wrath. Never promise, bargain, nor plead with the beast. The cost of their magic will always be what you cannot freely give. Remove the seal and he will be free. Pray, that you survive it.”
Zane blinked at the message, perplexed at its meaning. That was, until she felt the hair by her right hear shift with the rank hot breath of someone behind her. The solid mass of something, no, someone crouched at her back. And with its deep chuckle, the light guttered out.
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