The Invitation
Never Go To The Library
It was just a card , standard postcard size , but very high quality.
The card was an invite , there was an address in a high class expensive part of the city, and an offer of substantial financial remuneration for an hour of his time. A two way conversation would be expected and would be held in the library.
The money would come in very useful , there were bills to pay. There was also a time to arrive and dress was expected to be formal, suit and tie. Tomorrow night at seven o’ clock. He would have to walk , but that would be fine , it was on a private road and that would be difficult for a taxi.
So here he was walking up the street , it was foggy and he was fifteen minutes early , but in plenty of time. At the bottom of the stone steps he walked up, he couldn’t see any lights on but sounded the brass knocker which seemed to be inordinately loud.
He waited
Five minutes later he was shown into a dimly lit hallway. The person indicated for him to give him his overcoat then he led him into what he assumed was the library.
Again this was dimly lit , three walls of books stacked tightly in their cases to the ceiling with very few gaps, and one of those contained the entry door with books above the stone lintel. The fourth wall contained two smaller bookcases and a window looking out onto a park.
He was shown to a leather chesterfield chair and was opposite another , his host he assumed with a walnut table in between them. The library was dimly lit , his host seemed almost featureless , but welcomed him, but his eyes were drawn to the books in the room , every one seemed to be in a grey leather binding , unusual to a library to have all the book sin a uniform binding , and in the dim light he couldn’t see any titles just maybe a dark image at the top of each book spine.
Would you prefer tea , coffee , or wine ?
Tea is fine , white no sugar.
Tea arrived in a pot , with a small jug of milk, tea was served and he drank.
The conversation was an almost hypnotic question and answer session and the longer it went on , the more he felt he was being watched or at least observed. He was questioned , he answered , but became increasingly disturbed but realised that he was unable to move .
He felt a dragging pain like nothing he had ever felt before, like his whole being was being ripped from his body.
He hadn’t noticed the book on his host's lap.
The pain was worse , it hurt , he was in excruciating pain , then nothing.
He opened his eyes , or he thought he was opening his eyes , because the angle was so odd. He was looking across the table at his own immobile body, his face a rictus of pain and fear. He was looking at himself . Then he was being raised up and placed onto a bookshelf.
His soul was in the book and he was looking down on his body, he knew what those darknesses were at the top of the spines , they were faces and here to watch the next unsuspecting person to have their soul torn out and placed in this library of stolen souls.
We do really need to make some room , the shelves are getting full , everyone heard. But there was nothing they could do. They could not move or speak , they could only watch and listen, and no doubt eventually go completely insane.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
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Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Comments (1)
I liked this one a lot! It was riveting in a dream-like way. Reminding me that everyone has a story. GREAT job!