The door is cerulean, a bright and vibrant blue, but really it is the color of my sudden uneasiness. The feeling creeps up me slowly, jumps out at me dauntingly, and I am frozen in it. If the door were a mirror – and how I wish it were as innocent as a mirror – I would see my face reflected back to me, and it would tell me to run.
I’m not sure what’s more jarring: the fact that this door is a clashing contrast to the rest of the library décor, or the fact that I’ve never noticed the path we took to get here before. I suppose there are better things to do freshmen year than look for the oddities and notice the details inside the university library.
Or maybe it’s the subtle shift in his gaze that is so jarring, the way his grip on me transforms, and the way his voice now suddenly holds something heavy, concealed behind his hardened whispers.
It seems impossible to retreat now, and even if I had the courage to, to turn and run away, following my screaming gut all the way down the stairs and out the library doors, there is still a part of me that is curious; hopeful; lustful.
Wasn’t dating a professor supposed to feel dangerous?
Wasn’t that how it felt just moments ago when he’d pressed me up against the wall of shelved books downstairs and kissed me, and I thought to myself, is there anything more thrilling than this?
Wasn’t it that same exciting feeling that I felt when he’d whispered into my neck that he had a secret to show me, and I eagerly followed him up the stairs?
I had thought it was thrilling before, when we were nothing but flirty eyes and lingering bodies inside an empty lecture hall room, neither of us willing to be the first to say goodbye. He’d chipped away at his desk with his nails, while I’d fingered it, tracing circles and pathways across the dark mahogany wood, each stroke a question: what would your skin think of this? Meanwhile, our mouths said frivolous things, silly words about the weather and hometowns and restaurants off campus, things that had nothing to do with anthropology assignments. Between those words, our silences begged the other to stay just a little longer, so we could eventually – maybe – use our mouths for other things.
We were testing the waters then, seeing how far we would swim out before turning back. It turned out this professor could swim all the way out to my dorm room – somewhere I’d never seen another professor go.
Let me take you to the library tonight, he’d whispered. I can get us in after it’s closed. His voice had been desperate and demanding, like I could break him if I said no.
I wanted to savor the power I had over him in that moment, like licking the peanut butter off of a spoon. But there was no chance I would say no. I would have given him my heart on a silver platter right then. I was breathless when I said, What time?
Hours later, under a hazy orange street lamp, I’d watched his fingers unlock the double doors like a jungle cat eyeing its prey. I wanted to lunge at them, feel them unlocking my body, but even then, just moments ago, I still hadn’t been sure, that dangerous, thrilling ripple somewhere within me undulating like a wave. There is nothing illegal about doing the things we both wanted to do, just a school policy that both of us treated like nothing but a suggestion.
When the doors pulled open, the scent of the library engulfed me. I read somewhere that the smell of old books is actually the smell of organic matter reacting to light and heat, a decomposition of wood pulp, but really it is the scent of my body on fire. When I told him, he only smiled, running his finger across the spines as he guided me down one of the aisles.
All of these stories dying beneath our fingertips, and we get to live a whole other life just by splitting them open…
When I’d heard those words, I thought he was a sexy young, anthropologic, literary genius, and I couldn’t believe he’d chosen me. In that moment, I was certain I’d let him split me open and read me like one of those books.
But now, there is an edginess to this thrill, a sense of danger that hadn’t surfaced yet, a creature rising from the midnight zone. Hairs standing up on the back of my neck – or is that his breath? – I feel my bones run cold, like I am standing on a precipice, and if I open that door, I might freefall right into the sky.
I’ve never showed anyone this before, he lies, but I barely register his words, my mind lost in a tumbleweed of disregarded warnings; from my mother; from friends; from school advisories; the university campus newspaper: THREE FRESHMEN GIRLS STILL MISSING.
He wraps his arms around my waist, like we are comfortable lovers now, like the one kiss we shared downstairs turned our student-teacher relationship into something more intimate. I lean into it, still playing the part of the brave girl. I thought I wanted that. I followed him up those stairs wanting just that. There is still a part of me that does. Fear has stolen many of these experiences from me, and I’d promised this year would be different, didn’t I?
I shouldn’t take hold of the door knob, but I do, and I hear him giggle behind me. It sounds like victory. It sounds like, good girl.
There’s no creak when I turn it. The handle glides smoothly, and I hear it unlatch.
In another life, I push the door open, and there is a room with a small round table sitting in the middle. It is adorned with a white cloth and candles, and there is a violinist playing a soft, soothing song. From somewhere, a perfectly prepared steak meal is delivered, and we slice it slowly with our knives while drinking wine and slurring out delectable secrets. In that life, we make love above a thousand love stories bound in leather and spend years happily together. After I graduate, we get married and have two children, Olive and Iris. We grow old together, and tonight becomes a treasured story about the romantic night when we fell in love, a story that belongs in one of those books downstairs.
In another life, I open the door, and there is a boring room with a game of chess set up for us on a table in the corner. We play a few rounds, him winning twice before he finally lets me win once. I pretend to love it, and we date in secret for a few months before things fizzle out. Maybe there’s a dramatic ending, and I spend a summer lovesick and cursing his name, knowing I’ll never forget the year I dated my college professor.
In another life, I let the door handle go and sprint down the stairs, running faster than I ever have all the way back to my dorm room. I tell my roommate all about it, and wonder if I let my fear make a fool out of myself again.
In this life, I push the door open, and there is a room that has no table, no white cloth, and no chess board. There is a room with four walls, ones I wish had mirrors on them so I could see my reflection. The realization settling in my eyes would tell me there's a shark in the water, to swim fast, even though I know it's too late. They would tell me the truth: that I might never see the color cerulean again.
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157 comments
Ohhh so clever, and sinister. Very creepy, and spooky. Great ending with the repetition of "in another life." Love that it came back to that cerulean colour. Congrats on your win.
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Thanks so much Anne!
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This is compelling because there are so many possibilities. The lecturer really could turn out to be a monster. On the other hand, he may simply be a lustful professor. Underneath all the excitement, there are misgivings about what the MC is doing. At the back of her mind is the knowledge about the three girls. I like the way you describe the smell of the library. Here it takes on a creepy edge and the books become organic matter decaying. There’s something about power here too and its potential abuse. If he really cares for her, he would...
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I was thinking much the same thing, when one party has a position of authority, this behaviour is predatory no matter how flattered the other party feels about it. Excellent detail, the plot thickening at the just the right moment.
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Ugh, this is a lovely comment, Helen! Thank you! The decaying matter was a really fun section to write and once I realized what this professor was up to, it felt like a great foreshadowing moment. I'm glad it made you think, and I am just so grateful for your support! I hope to make it to your story soon!
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AnneMarie!! Freakin' LOVE this! You lured me in from the get-go with your clever fingers! "Wasn't dating a professor supposed to feel dangerous?" 🔥🔥🔥 I thought I wasn't a fan of horror but I'd read yours over and over. The details!! And the details within the details!!!! (I'm screaming on the inside) 😱🤯 Love the subtly at the end because it's actually a powerful punch! 💥 Congrats on the well-deserved win!
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Thanks so much Jenni! Horror is probably one of my favorite genres but this was a little different approach. I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment :)
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AnnMarie, you are a wonderful Writer. You have such skill in metaphor which has deep and sometimes multiple meaning that's not obvious, but lies there enriching the story. 'To see how far we could swim out before turning back. (Such a powerful physical image). 'Running his fingers across the spines' (of the books, but of the character's spine too). The whole paragraph beginning, 'When the doors pulled open. The scent of the decaying library, the relationship between the library and the character's awareness of losing her virginity. My abso...
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You are so so sweet! Thank you for reading my story and leaving such kind words. I love metaphors :)
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Hi, AnneMarie, Congatulations on your win! Of your story's many strengths, I particularly enjoyed the pace of it. Question: Did you by any chance have Poe's The Cask of Amontillado giving you the touch of an inspiring hand here and there? Maybe not, of course, but your story made me think of Poe's--not bad, right, that that should be so?! And I liked the honesty in your getting into the character's head. Well done! Altogether, very nicely done! Paul
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Hi Paul! Thank you for your kind words. I did not have Poe on my mind. Actually not sure if I've read that one by him... I was thinking of some close calls I've had, some tricky moments where things could have gone south really quickly, and how powerful our intuition can be (as long as it's not delayed or distracted). But what a compliment that is. Thanks so much for reading!
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Congratulations and about dang time!!! What a beautiful story to win on as well. So happy for you, AnneMarie.
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Thanks so much Kevin! I'm feeling the "about dang time" too 😂 was really starting to question my craftsmanship. Appreciate your support!
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ANNEMARIE. Yay <3 This was on my list to catch up on since I missed last week. I'll circle back to read it. I'm so happy for you!
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Thank you so much, Danie! I've been so behind on reading this week, too. Appreciate all your support, friend!
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Just chills. AnneMarie. Reading this while at my daughters cheer competition and there was intense music playing for two girls doing their dance on one of the teams. And the music mixed with your words took this to such a deep place for me. I don’t even know how to describe it. In the “in another life” part while I was reading the music was a beautiful instrumental piano around me and it was so satisfying. This is excellent writing. I love the opportunity to read your stories each week. This was a well earned win!!!! 💜
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Aw. Music is such an incredible enhancer. Thanks for remembering to circle back and read this! It's been so wonderful reading your work, too, Danie! I've got high hopes for your story from last week. ❤️
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Congrats on the win!🥳🥳🥳 So well deserved.
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Thank you so much, Mary!
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Wow! Awesome story! I LOVE the ending where you contrast the possibilities of other lives with this life. First person can be tricky, but that was amazing. Great job pulling the reader directly into your story.
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Thanks for reading Joelle! I find first person to be my go-to. Though I'd love to work more with third person. I appreciate your time and thoughts!
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Great story! You had me hooked from the start. Congratulations on the win.
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Thanks so much Keith!
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Well deserved win! Congratulations. I only just got on reedsy to check things out so apologies for only now seeing this fine story. You have masterfully captured the wierd push pull of the more juvenile female mind - one that naturally wants a certain experience yet doesn't understand it. Extremely well captured with mounting tension leading to what is, probably, inevitable. I love that you delivered the goods with such precision, and knew where to end it.
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Thanks so much, Laurel! That means a lot coming from you!! You're so right on point when you say the "push pull of the more juvenile female mind." Absolutely! Those first years of freedom in college are still full of naivete. You can really only learn through experience but in this instance, she learned way too late. Thanks for reading!
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Really outstanding story. I will check out your other stories - much I can learn from your writing style Kudos!
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Thanks Wade! I appreciate you taking the time to read my work!
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Amazing writing, so many really great lines and I love how you build the atmosphere and sense of dread toward the ending. The taboo of the relationship between professor and student works really well to instantly create an unease in the story and also uncertainty, as to if he is really dangerous or not. Love the little hint you dropped with the missing students and how it was done in a subtle way but still marked a turning point in the story. Congrats on the win!
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Thanks for reading, Kelsey! It means a lot coming from such a talented writer. This was definitely a little different approach than I normally go for so I am very happy with the results :) thanks again.
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Great ending. The detail about the three missing girls is crucial, but leaving the fate of the MC to the imagination of the reader is brilliant. Congrats on the win. I’m so happy for you!
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Thanks so much Jarrel!
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Whether he's just a lusty man taking advantage of his position over a mentee or a serial killer she's clearly in over her head. I'm sure it's a big temptation for guys in positions like that to indulge their fantasies with younger women but there's a reason those student teacher relationships are forbidden by guidelines at universities and are grounds for being fired in schools. The power dynamic is way off for them and I think it's too easy for people to be drawn into a relationship that could ruin both of their lives. It's a mute point if ...
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I agree. I am very skeptical and suspicious of any relationships that border on unethical. This guy gave me the creeps from the beginning which is why I chose to cast him as such a monster. Thanks for reading, Graham!
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What inspired this? A news story?
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Nothing really. I'm pretty obsessed with serial killer-types. I studied psychology in college and abnormal psych was always the most fascinating. That coupled with personal experiences of being on that danger precipice. A few times I found myself in situations that could have quickly taken a turn for the worse and I am always grateful they didn't. Unfortunately, that means all my characters end up exploring the alternative options.
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We like what we like. Abnormal psych does sound interesting. Seems like the kind of thing that should be taught at high school. Might keep a lot of girls from ending up in relationships with psychos that they think are ‘bad boys’.
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I totally agree! That, and encouraging young people to listen to their intuitive feelings. If something feels off, it probably is.
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I am obsessed with the last line of the first paragraph!! So well written.
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Thanks for reading, Noa! I love that line too.
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I am a rather young writer but I just must say that, this being my first day of using this website, your story was the first piece of inspiration I got! The suspense and reused line just added more builds to it. It indeed does remind me of one of my favorite books and, when reading it, I just felt linked in to the style of writing and I'm so glad I found this story! It inspired me so much and I feel completely drawn in! I can easily see how you won, mark my words, EASILY!!! Keep writing because I will definitely keep reading!
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Thanks for the kind words, Zoe. Glad you found some inspiration in my story. And I'm glad you are writing! I grew up writing stories, and I have never stopped. It's the only way to learn, so I hope you always continue. Since you are a young writer, be careful what you read on here. Not all of it is appropriate for young people. Most stories have warnings on them so look out for those. (Sorry, the mom in me can't help but offer my caution!) Welcome to Reedsy, Zoe!
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Congratulations on the win, Anne Marie, of course, and the likes. You got a lot of people to read and like this story, that alone is a notable achievement, considering how long this story takes to really get going. You set us up sedately at the very beginning, also, one of the tags is horror, so, you know something bad is in the offing. The writing is excellent though, and the structure of the story leads us along like a car on a roller coaster ride. We know what’s going to happen before it happens, in fact, you make us wish, for some mira...
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This comment made me smile, Ken, thank you. And of course, criticism is always welcome, regardless. Probably even more on a winning story. This is certainly only a final draft on Reedsy, but I've read this obsessively over the days since it was approved and find myself cringing at some sections that cannot be altered on this platform anymore. I'm certainly grateful that the judges and many readers were able to overlook those "gimmicky" sections and awkward sentence/paragraph structures. But equally grateful for your honest thoughts on it. I'...
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Well you are a very good sport Anne Marie, as most of my criticism was tongue in cheek. But you don't know anything about me and my inability to write three serious sentences in a row, so how would you know that? (People say, 'Ken, you ought to write comedy.' and I say, 'You're joking.' And they say, 'Why no, I was serious.) I rest my case. Most people don't even get half my jokes. So, yes, I was teasing you a little, because this has a familiar formula, but this story is creative, innovative, suspenseful and entertaining. And it exposes j...
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Congrats on the win, AnneMarie! Well deserved. Loved your writing in this piece, and all the possibilities of the ending.
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Francois! Long time, no see around here :) thanks for reading! Hope all is well in life and writing!
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Yes, it has been a while, hasn't it? I've been wrestling with other writing projects, but I'm thinking of coming back on here soon-ish. Your story is most definitely helping inspire me to do that.
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I am glad to hear you have been writing outside of Reedsy! Sometimes a break is necessary from here. I can find I get a little consumed by it. But I suppose there are worse vices. I hope to see a new story by you soon!
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Hi AnneMarie, Loved the frequent juxtaposition of contrasting words (subtle/jarring, edginess/danger/giggle, etc) that reflect the MC’s innocence + “screaming gut” intuition that all is not as it seems. It builds the suspense so well. Congratulations on the win!
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Thanks for reading Jill! Happy to hear the build up worked :)
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