The Library
As I entered through a crack in the hammered planks of battered and rotted lumber that was presumably the door, a mystic tingle vibrated through me. The whole room was deadly quiet; not that it wasn’t supposed to, but an eerie stillness felt ever most unpleasant. Cobwebs ran through the ceiling like a liquid oozing out, but not satisfyingly. Unexpected creaks from the floorboards squeaked like a mouse crying out in pain. Constantly swaying to one side, the roof always seemed like it would collapse at some random moment. A faint whistle of the wild gale outside seemed minimal if it was dwarfed by the unearthliness of the place. At least it wasn’t bitter cold in here. Suddenly, I noticed plops of tan-coloured liquid dripping spasmodically from the roof, terminating me from the nightmare of my disgust at the entire place. It was coming from a grotesque and lumpy fungus, lazily stuck to the ceiling. Perhaps it was purposely installed by the architects as a joke during the construction of the whole place. Narrowly missing the repulsive drool of the fungus as it slept, oblivious, I manoeuvred past and regained my focus on the unkempt, so-called library.
As I was reluctantly dragged closer to the core of the library out of curiosity and away from the door, a pungent freshness wafted through the room. As it hit me, my nostrils flared unconvincingly. It was not the scent of sulfur or one of the unbearable gases that you simply detested. No, it was the crisp relief of fine, sharp air. Like slicing my throat with a thousand fine knives that would slice so perfectly delicate, it had that spicy tang that just didn’t seem right and didn’t quite match the theme of the whole place. The aisles of shelves were neat, however, with books well-organised, and some desks with reading lamps had been set up near the far eastern wall. Logically speaking, it would all seem bizarre, but a warm glow from it had detached me from the real moment. I didn’t realise a flicker from the main light until a blinding throb in my head awoke me. There was a book calling me; a silvery and smooth voice, captivating and luring me. I scanned through the aisles and finally took notice of the fact that all the books were about some portal of peril. Suddenly, a hot, white sensation burst out from a wafer-thin book. It had no title, but when I reached for it, I immediately stopped myself. My hand hovered beside it as I tried to logically evaluate the predicament, but my instincts got the better of me. I hastily grabbed it and turned the cover to reveal one page, one paragraph, one line, and one sentence.
“There is no escape.”
Then I was absorbed by it. Not by the words, figuratively, but by the book, literally. I felt the environment shatter like delicate shards of glass, and then all was black.
Peace ✌️