Vane C.
03-18-2010, 05:17 PM
Jess was overburdened by homework, and this evening, a particularly stormy one, she sat in the cold school library trying to finish a dull history essay. Her last class ended short on two hours ago, and she was probably the last student left, but she knew she had to finish the paper unless she wanted to be flunked the following morning.
Outside the rain kept pounding at the windows so loudly Jess could barely concentrate. She reasoned she needed a short break before the final spurt, so she rose from the swivel chair and set about strolling back and forth humming some melody silently, while eyeing the empty wing in search for something which could amuse her for a while. In the far end of the big room she saw the librarian at her desk, huckle-backed and ancient.
A muffled thud interrupted Jess’ thoughts, and in alarm she spun around trying to find the source of the sound. Immediately her eyes fell upon a lone book lying in the middle of an aisle. Trying to convince her heart to stop pounding so clamorously, she cautiously approached the tome.
It fell down from the shelf, moron, no need to completely freak out!
She felt calm again.
But how does a book fall by itself?
A shiver cold as ice ran the length of her spine, as she knelt down to pick up the volume.
The Librarian
– the red, flourish caption read.
There was nothing else on its cover, not a single word on neither back nor front.
So Jess opened the book.
The upper part of the first page had been crudely ripped away, and only a small part of the downer bit was left unscathed.
... had now been there for many hours. Oddly, the librarian had not moved an inch during this time. But as the girl now peeked out from the aisle, the librarian was gone from her desk and otherwise nowhere to be found. In all likelihood, the old hag was just waltzing around amidst the swarm of bookshelves. So the girl seized the opportunity and ripped half the page clean off, the page which she needed to complete her work. Then she unceremoniously let the book fall to the floor and set off towards the exit.
Suddenly a looming shadow fell upon her. She wheeled around, and but a meter behind her the wrinkly, wart-ridden and altogether hideous librarian stood glowering at her with a stare so intense it made the girl utter a feeble whimper. To the shock of the little girl, the old woman held a quite sharp-looking letter-opener in her bony hand.
”What in the name of... are you gonna pay for that, you foul little brat!?” she screeched, while waving the opener ferociously back and forth. ”ARE YOU? OR AM I GONNA HAVE TO MAKE YOU?”
– Jess reached the end of the page. Her eyes were wide open, and unblinkingly she skimmed through it a second time. Unsure whether to be confused or anxious, she slowly craned her neck as to see above the shelf. To her shocking alarm, the old lady was not at her desk. Panicking, she swung around, but to her relief she was still alone in the aisle. She set off in a brisk stride towards the exit, leaving her unfinished essay at the table. She also let go of the book, and by mistake, the page she had been reading was torn off. Barely had the book fallen to the ground before the threatening darkness of a shadow appeared in front of her. She let out a shrill cry as she swung around – and there the librarian stood, her ill-natured features ever so intimidating.
And from this point on, Jess remembers nothing. She only recalls an instant blackness covering her eyes – perhaps she fainted, perhaps she repressed the memory – but the next thing she remembers is waking up in a foreign bed in some bright, sterile room surrounded by the familiar, although worried, faces of friends and family alike. She remembers how someone asked her to explain why she did it. And she remembers the police man standing at the door, and finally seeing the picture of the dead and gruesomely mutilated librarian, sitting in the chair at her desk from where she never moved an inch at all, with a letter-opener driven half-way through her skull.
Outside the rain kept pounding at the windows so loudly Jess could barely concentrate. She reasoned she needed a short break before the final spurt, so she rose from the swivel chair and set about strolling back and forth humming some melody silently, while eyeing the empty wing in search for something which could amuse her for a while. In the far end of the big room she saw the librarian at her desk, huckle-backed and ancient.
A muffled thud interrupted Jess’ thoughts, and in alarm she spun around trying to find the source of the sound. Immediately her eyes fell upon a lone book lying in the middle of an aisle. Trying to convince her heart to stop pounding so clamorously, she cautiously approached the tome.
It fell down from the shelf, moron, no need to completely freak out!
She felt calm again.
But how does a book fall by itself?
A shiver cold as ice ran the length of her spine, as she knelt down to pick up the volume.
The Librarian
– the red, flourish caption read.
There was nothing else on its cover, not a single word on neither back nor front.
So Jess opened the book.
The upper part of the first page had been crudely ripped away, and only a small part of the downer bit was left unscathed.
... had now been there for many hours. Oddly, the librarian had not moved an inch during this time. But as the girl now peeked out from the aisle, the librarian was gone from her desk and otherwise nowhere to be found. In all likelihood, the old hag was just waltzing around amidst the swarm of bookshelves. So the girl seized the opportunity and ripped half the page clean off, the page which she needed to complete her work. Then she unceremoniously let the book fall to the floor and set off towards the exit.
Suddenly a looming shadow fell upon her. She wheeled around, and but a meter behind her the wrinkly, wart-ridden and altogether hideous librarian stood glowering at her with a stare so intense it made the girl utter a feeble whimper. To the shock of the little girl, the old woman held a quite sharp-looking letter-opener in her bony hand.
”What in the name of... are you gonna pay for that, you foul little brat!?” she screeched, while waving the opener ferociously back and forth. ”ARE YOU? OR AM I GONNA HAVE TO MAKE YOU?”
– Jess reached the end of the page. Her eyes were wide open, and unblinkingly she skimmed through it a second time. Unsure whether to be confused or anxious, she slowly craned her neck as to see above the shelf. To her shocking alarm, the old lady was not at her desk. Panicking, she swung around, but to her relief she was still alone in the aisle. She set off in a brisk stride towards the exit, leaving her unfinished essay at the table. She also let go of the book, and by mistake, the page she had been reading was torn off. Barely had the book fallen to the ground before the threatening darkness of a shadow appeared in front of her. She let out a shrill cry as she swung around – and there the librarian stood, her ill-natured features ever so intimidating.
And from this point on, Jess remembers nothing. She only recalls an instant blackness covering her eyes – perhaps she fainted, perhaps she repressed the memory – but the next thing she remembers is waking up in a foreign bed in some bright, sterile room surrounded by the familiar, although worried, faces of friends and family alike. She remembers how someone asked her to explain why she did it. And she remembers the police man standing at the door, and finally seeing the picture of the dead and gruesomely mutilated librarian, sitting in the chair at her desk from where she never moved an inch at all, with a letter-opener driven half-way through her skull.