Summary: A midnight trip to the library turns into a descent into shadows, secrets, and a book that knows her too well.
A/N: Hello! This is my first oficial writing post here! I just wanted to say this was written last year for a fiction class I had to take! It may seem different then what I will post regularly but, again, it is a little older!
Content/Trigger Warnings: Psychological horror elements, Mentions of death and morality, Unsettling imagery, Dissociation/loss of reality, Intense fear and paranoia, Blood/unspecified body horror, Screaming/mental breakdown.
The library was empty when she stepped in, softly closing the door behind her. It was midnight, far past when anyone should be in the library. She glanced around before walking further in. The shelves towered above her, filled with books for both pleasure and study across the various degrees the university offered. She had spent a lot of her time here. That was probably why the letter had sent her here, she knew it better than most.
She gripped that letter in her hand now. Well, “letter” was an overstatement. It was an aging piece of parchment that looked like it had been ripped from a larger sheet. The edges curled, and it felt as though it might wither away in her hands. She reread it before continuing on. The twelfth row in a place furthest from candlelight. That would be the far-left corner of the library, where a little alcove existed, known to no one. No one but her and the letter’s author.
The alcove was darker than usual tonight, the shadows shifting like figures moving at the edge of her vision. It made her wonder what this letter could possibly lead her to. An interesting book? A hidden part of the library? A prank? Maybe she should have told Diana, but her roommate would only nag about following a mysterious letter left in her locker. She was alone, but she was persistent.
The twelfth row loomed closer. It was made of dark oak, with a gold tag engraved with the number 12. She took a deep breath, then slowly peered her head around the shelf.
There was nothing, or at least nothing she could see. The shelves seemed to stretch taller than normal in the low candlelight as she stepped into the row. The sixth shelf to the left. The hand holding the letter shook, her knuckles turning white with the pressure of her grip. She glanced at some of the titles as she passed: The Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey and Trilby by George du Maurier. Books that depicted death. Her whole body had started shaking now. She quickened her pace.
“...3...4...5...” she whispered.
The sixth shelf. A normal shelf. With normal books. But the letter didn’t stop there. Third shelf. Her eyes landed on it, and she froze. The books were all blank. No covers, no titles, no authors. Blank. She lifted the letter to read its final line: Twenty-third book from the left. From your dearest friend.
The only friend she had managed to make at this university was Diana, and even that was tenuous. Who could have possibly written this? She forced herself not to dwell. She had reached the end of this hunt, now it was time to see what she had been sent to find. She traced her finger over the spines of the books, counting. Twenty-three. An oddly specific number. She was to be twenty-three this year. The thought flickered across her mind, then vanished. Her finger landed on the book.
She slowly removed it from the shelf, turning it every which way before opening it, searching for some clue. Nothing. She opened to the first page. Mors Vincit Omnia. Death conquers all. She sucked in a sharp breath. She knew this phrase. Knew it far too well. It had been carved into her very being for the past twenty-three years. Beneath it was a date: May 21, 1991 – ???
She froze, staring at the date. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed, hitting the ground hard. Her eyes stayed locked on the page. A trembling hand turned it. Blank. She stopped, took a breath, and laughed. It was grossly hysterical, a laugh that spoke of unknown fears and the madness that lingered beneath. She laughed until it broke into giggles, then into ragged breaths. She raised her hand and turned another page.
Her heart stopped. She began to shake. Her hands clamped the book’s edges. They wouldn’t stop trembling. Stop. Stop. Stop.
“Stop!” She screamed, dropping the book and covering her face. The word spilled from her lips again and again. Her face felt wet. She pulled her hands back. What she saw wasn’t the water of her tears, no, it was something far worse. Her shaking intensified, and an earth-shattering scream tore through the library for the last time.
Thank you so much for reading my first piece on here! If you want to like, comment, and/or reblog it would make my day!
