Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-17739056-20140704170557

When I was in middle school, there was a rule that you must always close the door to the school library. If you were going inside the room, you had to remember to shut the door behind you. If you were leaving the room, again, it was a rule to close the door. I had always assumed it was so anyone working quietly or reading wouldn’t be disturbed, and I didn’t find anything unusual about it.

Of course, having the library door always closed (often without a teacher to monitor the students), gave kids the chance to skip class. Sometimes I got pulled along with them and just kind of listened to the talking, joking, and gossiping of the immature seventh and eighth graders. If I went in and there weren’t people avoiding school, there were people actually using the library.

One day, however, I went to the library to catch up on some homework. As I closed the door behind me, I saw that I was alone in the room. I sat down at a table and began to work.

You may think that a room full of books wouldn’t be an uncomfortable place to spend your time by yourself, would you? I didn’t think that it would be, either. Books are some of my favourite things, and I have many times spent my time in peace and quiet surrounded by them, and I had always felt calm and content. Not today. Not this library. There was just an odd feeling hanging in the air. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I swear I could hear a voice. I couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded cold and eerie, and I couldn’t stand it. It made my entire body shake.

I knew I had a big imagination and it was typical of me to think that there was a ghostly presence in the room, so I tried to relax by telling myself nothing was there, that it wasn’t real. The whispering only seemed to get louder and harsher, so I gathered my work and exited the library to go work in the resource room instead.

Three weeks later, My Literacy teacher, Mrs. Woods, came into the classroom looking terrified and disturbed.

“J-just r-r-remember to always cl-close the l-li-library door at all t-times.” she stammered. I raised my hand.

“Yes, M-Mary?”

“I don’t quite understand. What happened?”

“S-someone at th-this s-s-school for-forgot to close th-the d-door.” She took a seat at her desk and wept.

I still didn’t know what could have happened to whatever student or staff member didn’t close that door. What was the big deal with that door? Why would my teacher cry over someone forgetting to close it?

That was before I found out.

It was only a couple of days later when my friend Nate asked me if I wanted to pick out some books with him from the library.

We entered the library, and it astonished me how normal it was. I thought of Mrs. Woods, crying about the door. I was still perplexed as to what could be the problem, and even more so now that I was reminded of how ordinary and welcoming the library was. There was no weird feeling in the air, no muffled voices. There never was. There never could be, I had been hallucinating. Such things were foolish, childish thoughts, it was all unrealistic thinking of a sometimes overly imaginative seventh grade girl. Applying those thoughts to this library was particularly absurd, because, as I said, it was far too normal.

We headed over to the graphic novel section, and just as Nate was pulling out a book, we heard a shrill voice behind us say, “Hey! Someone forgot to close the door to the school library!”

We spun around, and both of us couldn’t help but scream. Standing before us was a monstrous creature that had the posture and size of a man but was covered head to toe in matted brown fur, blood, and dirt. It had a rat-like head, black eyes with bright green pupils, and a wide grin lined with razor-sharp teeth. Blood dripped from its eyes and mouth, and it held a large, zig-zag sword.

For a few seconds, we stood staring, not believing what we saw, paralyzed by fear. As it came closer, we could do nothing but run in random directions, try to dodge the demonic beast’s gigantic blade, and most importantly, try to get to the door.

Just when we were only about four feet away from the doorway, the creature was towering over us. We both managed to escape, but as we were making for the exit, the monster swung its weapon and detached Nate’s arm from his body. He wailed in agony as blood splashed the floor and his dead limb fell as if it were a rubber Halloween decoration. Despite Nate’s pain and both of our shock, the sight of a blood-coated arm on the ground was enough to fill us with even more terror, and so we darted out the door.

We dashed down the hallway shouting for help, Nate still bleeding buckets of blood, leaving a trail as we ran. Soon he collapsed in the middle of the corridor, and I fell with him. I am haunted by the events in the library for the rest of my life, I knew it even back then.

A teacher found us and called an ambulance, and before I knew it Nate was being carried into the vehicle. Both of our parents were notified, and while Nate’s parents accompanied him to the hospital, I went home with mine, crying helplessly. I discovered what had caused Mrs.Woods so much distress. Apparently one of the students forgot to close the library door and was, unfortunately, not as lucky as Nate and I.

I never found out what exactly was in the library, how it was even possible. It was obviously some sort of demon, and it awakes and attempts (and probably almost always succeeds) to kill you when you don’t close the library door. But why was it there? How did it get there? Why does it wake and try to murder you when you don’t shut the door? Why were there voices when I was alone in there, but never any other time? All these questions will forever remain unanswered. Because that’s how some things are in life, a mystery that can never be solved. 