Jessica the Librarian

Jessica the Librarian

By Ralph Barhydt

Jessica was such a beautiful, warm, well-meaning young woman. If I had been a lot younger and if she weren’t engaged, I might have asked her out. What I did ask her to do is find this ancient text of witchcraft that focused on spells. I had solid evidence that it was resting in this particular library. Of course, with a book like this there is always talk that “oh, ooh, ah, the book is alive.” Right. Makes it a lot more interesting.

“Jessica, I am looking for an old book, maybe ancient actually, called “Spells for Witches. I know, I know, it sounds silly and probably is. But, I have researched it and it is real. Well, at least several knowledgeable people and institutions believe it’s real. And. Many of them believe it some how gets around. Furthermore, they believe that it is resting in this library. What do you think?”

“Wait. What do I think? Sounds crazy to me. But, we have lots of books on witchcraft. I just have not seen that one. I have heard of it but doubt its existence.  Still, it would be exciting if I found it; so, I will take on the search.”

“Thank you Jessica. Very kind. You should know that I have also looked on the shelves where your witchcraft books live and could not find it.  If it’s alive, as some people say, maybe it’s hiding. Of course, maybe it is not here. I have no idea what makes people think it is here. Having said that, I do recognize that your collection of witchcraft books is phenomenal, best in the country.”

“Well, thank you sir. Very kind. I happily accept the challenge but I don’t hold out much hope for success. I really do know our collection well. But, hey…” She gave Greg a big smile which he returned. Great. My name is Greg Hanson and I am from Oxford. You may, or may not, have hear of me. But, thank you. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I was an expert in the occult. I had been looking for “Spells for Witches” for many years. It had kind of become my “raison d’etre.” I thought about the exchange with Jessica and the two times when I felt a strange tingling during the conversation. I could think of no other explanation than that the book was there and knew I was in the building. Irrational to be sure, but I was positive. “Well, wait and see. I could tell that Jessica really will look for and I will come back tomorrow,” I thought as I got back to my hotel room.

The room was elegant and bright but a complete mess. I had books, papers, scrolls and odd objects spread all over the floor and the bed. I laughed as I looked at the bed. “Gonna take me awhile just to get in bed, and lord knows I am tired.” I stood at the window and looked out over the nearby river. It was flowing gently by, serene and beautiful A dark shadow formed over the river facing my hotel. It resembled a human form but wasn’t quite. Softly, slowly a cackling laugh grew in my ears. I shook my head and stuck my fingers in my ears like cleaning out some ear wax. The sound got louder and louder until I thought I was getting a headache. Abruptly it quit. Then, very quietly, a voice whispered “Jessica.”

“Oh God!” I ran to the door, out to hall, and since I was on only the second floor, as fast as I could down the stairs. Out onto the street where I quickly found a cab, jumped and yelled “Linden library as fast as you can.” I was so nervous and upset I could hardly sit still. I sent thoughts to the driver, “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”

By that time, it was early evening and when we arrived, the library was closed. I went to the front door and pounded on the heavy glass. If anyone heard me, they ignored me. I ran to the side door. Pounding loudly, as loudly as I could, nothing happened.

“Oh God,” I uttered again. A warm breeze had sprung up. It was sharp at first, then it turned into a howling wind. The most forlorn sound I had ever heard rode wildly in the air. I ran to the back. There was a form by a Dempsey dumpster. It was the janitor, an older man emptying trash cans. I ran to him. The man jumped about a foot in surprise. “What…”

“Sir, sir, please listen. Do you know Jessica, one of the librarians here?”

“Of course I do. Let go of my arm. Who are you?”

“I am a professor from the University of Oxford in England. My name is Dr. Greg Hanson. Please, please let’s get inside and try to find her. My special field is witchcraft and you have the most extensive collection in American here. Jessica is looking for something for me and I know that she is in trouble.”

“You aren’t crazy are you? I can see it in your eyes. My god, c’mon, I’ll take you inside. Don’t be messin’ with me now. We have two night guards inside. We all are very fond of Jessica so I am taking a risk.”

“That’s great! Thank you, “ I exhaled.

We ran through the old, squeaky door into a cavernous room with more books than Greg even thought existed. Racks and stacks. Just books and books and books. There was an older man just inside with a guard uniform on. “Hey Oscar. How are you? And who is this?” He was looking at me and talking to the janitor.

“Dan, I am not entirely sure who this is. He says he is a professor from Oxford—you know, in England. Says he is a doctor. I don’t know whether to believe him or not but he also says that somehow Jessica Barnes is in real trouble right now. So, I am concerned. Maybe you can help.”

I was standing stock still, transfixed.  “Welcome, Greg.” A soft, scornful voice followed by a long, long laugh. Only I heard it and it terrified me. When the laughing stopped, I resumed breathing and looked around. “Here, she is here, somewhere,” I said fearfully. “We must find her quickly or we will lose her.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Dan. “Lose her? What do you mean, ‘lose her?’ Just who are you anyway? What do you have to do with Jessica?”

Oscar spoke, “Dan, no time for that now. This guy has convinced me that we must find Jessica and find her now. Let’s get to it.”

“Good thinking,” I said. “I am so sorry that I sound crazy, but I am not. Jessica is somewhere in this enormous room. I am sure of it, I just don’t know where. Do you know if the books in this area are categorized like they might be on the shelves?? Are there various sections like Science, Math, Biographies, etc.?”

“Ha!” Dan laughed and turned to Oscar. “So, this is the right man to help you there. We guards know the building pretty well, but, Oscar? Oscar knows every nook and cranny, especially of this giant storage room. He hangs here and he simply explores and reads all the time—even when he should be working. Right, Oscar?”

“Well…”

A low, aching moan poured out from the books. Then a muffled scream. “Good grief,” exclaimed Oscar, “that was Jessica.” They all started running down an aisle towards the direction of the sound. We came to a crossing aisle. Across that aisle were more rows of both shelves and stacks of books. To the right of the aisle we were in were aisles of shelves and to the left were aisles of stacks and stacks of books. Greg noticed that the space had an overwhelming smell of old, dusty books. The other two were used to it and didn’t notice it at all.

“Oooooh,” an elongated moan from somewhere to the left.

“Split up,” said the guard. I’ll take the third aisle, Doctor, you take the second aisle and Dan, you do the first. Let’s go.”

I turned down the second aisle. I didn’t know whether to run or walk; so, I sort of trotted along. I crossed another row and then saw it. I had to rub his eyes, shake my head and yell, “Hey, here! Quickly.” Down the aisle I saw two legs ending in high heel shoes sticking out from the books about five feet off the floor. “Oh no,” I screamed running to the legs. Both Oscar and Dan came right behind me.

We reached the legs that were hanging down at the knee caps, but the thighs were somehow buried in the pages of a book and the edge of a skirt was just showing at about mid thigh. It was obvious that the body was on its back. Oscar fainted, slumped to the floor. Dan let out some strange undefinable sound and I grabbed a thigh, the right one. “C’mon, Dan, no time. Help me!” I actually had a grip on both thighs and was pulling without much success. Dan grabbed the left thigh with both hands and I got both of my hands on the right thigh. They both were pulling hard and more of the skirt started to appear. The body was coming out. As it came out it started angling down toward the floor and both of us had to move our grips to the hips and mid-section of the body. We both felt very awkward as we knew the body was Jessica’s. We kept pulling. Two hands appeared followed by wrists. We kept pulling. We saw a waistline, then we had strong grip on the arms and then elbows appeared. A modest, small bodice covered by the top of the dress which ended closed around the neck. Shoulders. We grabbed her shoulders. Dan was sweating with a terrified look on his face. Oscar was trying to get to his feet. I was so intense, my face looked and felt like it was frozen. Then, Jessica’s head popped out and her body almost fell to the floor, but Dan and I held her up. She was limp and her eyes were closed. Oscar was staring out with a wide open mouth.

I looked quickly at the book. It disappeared. The stack of books that were on top of it fell down to the book below. “That book must have been two feet thick. It was enormous. Was it the book of spells? “Yes,” moaned Jessica. “I found it.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she started laughing hysterically. Dan slapped her face hard. The laughing changed to crying. Tears were pouring down Jessica’s face. Then, like the book, she disappeared, vanished. Dan and I found ourselves staring at each other. Oscar simply went hysterical.

A strange cackling filled the room. Then, we heard Jessica’s voice, “Thank you, Greg, this is where I belong. You should know, it will bother you the rest of your life, for I am Baba Yaga and you have led me home.”

The three men sat on the floor and stared at each other. Oscar had calmed down but was still quietly sobbing. Dan and I were just in shock. Finally, Dan spoke up. “You know, we have to report this to the police, but what are we going to tell them? They will never believe any of it and we will be charged with murder.”

Dan was partially right. We bravely called the police who came quickly and started questioning us rather roughly. The head librarian had been called and had hurried to the library. When the questioning officer explained the situation to Agnes Bolden, the head librarian, she looked me straight in the eye and said, “I don’t understand. We do not have an employee named Jessica. Are you men drunk?”