I See Him

She held a finger up to her lips. I responded and ceased whispering to her. We were crouched behind a bookshelf, as we had decided to hide in the library until nighttime. We had hoped to explore the vast expanse of shelves. A glance at my watch showed me that it was approaching midnight. The realization sent a chill up my spine. The last librarian should have left at least three hours ago. However, not even ten minutes ago, we heard footsteps echoing throughout the library. I grabbed her hand, and as her eyes flew open, I shoved my wrist in her face. As she read the clock, I felt her grip my hand tight. Both of our hearts have sped up, now in pace with our minds. I grasped her other hand in mine and pulled her close to me. I whispered in her ear, “I need to look.” 

As I pulled away, she shook her head. I could feel the fear radiating from her, but the desire to find out who, or what, was out there was much more tenacious. I peered out through the bookshelf, but the books were too tall and thick for me to see. Taking a deep breath to sober myself, I began to creep along the bookshelf and peek around the corner. At first, I couldn’t see anything, it was difficult due to the all-consuming darkness, and my eyes have never been very dependable. My ears strained, desperate to hear something, but there was nothing except for the sound of my breathing. I decided to risk coming out from the protection of the shelf. I stood tall, trying to ignore the trembling of my hands. Despite the protests in my head, I called out. “Who’s there?” I received no answer.

I looked over my shoulder, back at my dear companion, but I was shaken when she wasn’t there. I mentally slapped myself on the wrist. How could I have been so stupid? Whatever’s out there can’t be friendly. Shaking my head, I thought about how ironic this all was. We had stayed behind in a land of stories only to be thrown headfirst into one ourselves! I dug my nails into my palms, wincing at the slight pain. I needed to find her, and fast. It appears we’ve overstayed our welcome at the library.

Starting by walking through the isles of shelves, I searched for her. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just books organized using the Dewey Decimal system. I walked past a cart overflowing with recently returned books and couldn’t help but stop. Why are these still here? Someone should’ve put them away before the library closed. It wasn’t my job, nor what I needed to be focusing on at the moment, but I decided I might as well reshelve the books during my exploration of the library.

As I was putting the books away, I heard another clamor somewhere in the library. It startled me, and I jumped, dropping one of the books on the floor. It fell spine-up, and when I knelt to pick it up, turning it over, a sentence caught my eye. I’ve always despised trespassers, so inconsiderate of others. The sentence struck me as odd. I turned it over again to read the title, The Journal of a -----. I couldn’t read the last word. It was scratched out with a sharp object. Upon inspecting the book further, I realized it wasn’t a library book at all. There was no: author, code, label, or anything to show the book belonged to the library. How strange? Forgetting about the books on the cart, I sat down and began to read:

I’ve always despised trespassers, so inconsiderate of others. I’ve tried to scare them away, noises, cobwebs, anything I can think of. They don’t listen, too wrapped up in whatever book they’ve got their

head stuck in. I need to warn them. Unlike me, they cannot see him.

At that sentence, I closed the book. Who is he? Who wrote this book? What have we gotten ourselves into? 

I felt sick. Panic was settling over my entire body. My breathing quickened, and I began sobbing. I’ve always been easily overwhelmed, and I was confused at the moment. I took slow, deep breaths and tried to calm myself down. Once I felt stable enough to stand, I climbed back up onto my feet. I needed to get out of here, preferably with her. I took a step forward before realizing how dizzy I was, and I passed out on the floor. 

When I came to, I was in a closet, presumably in the library. I looked around, but there was very little in the room besides library card applications and labels. My head hurt. I must have hit it when I passed out. I noticed cobwebs everywhere in the room and I could hear strange noises. Whoever wrote that journal must be here. “Hello? Please is anyone there?” I cried. Then, she stepped out of the shadows.

Her clothes were different than they had been earlier, gone were her sneaker and jeans, replaced with just a thin, white dress. She was so pale, I could’ve sworn I saw every single one of her veins through her skin. I rushed to hug her, relief consuming me, but as I closed my arms around her they passed right through her. I screamed, horrified at what had happened. She just stood there, silent, watching me.

I pressed myself against the wall, “What’s going on? Why can’t I touch you?” I paused to breathe before continuing, “Who is he?” At that, she finally moves, raising her arm slowly, pointing directly behind me. My breath hitched, and I go to turn around. Stiffly, I turned. I heard a gasp and wondered where it came from. It was me, I had gasped. I could see him.

He was terrifying. A simple mass of what appeared to be flesh. It was covered in thick and slimy mucus. He had eyes that made me feel so cold my teeth began to clack together. He opened his mouth and spoke in a deep, growling voice, “You can finally see me. It’s always so annoying to have to kill them before we can speak, but thankfully you went quickly.”