The Library

The Library

By Jason Dilan

My grandfather used to tell me stories all the time and I loved him so much. Whenever I would come to visit I would spend hours going through all of grandpa’s belongings. When you get to be 80 you acquire many treasures and trinkets. Grandpa’s home to me was a museum hidden with treasures and stories. Every time I discovered a treasure I would bring it to grandpa and ask him to tell me the story behind that treasure. Grandpa's stories were always fascinating to me and I would hang on his every word. Now that he is gone I remember his stories and try my best to write them down as they were told to me. I hope one day to leave his stories to my own grandkids.

Whenever grandpa would get ready to tell me a story I would sit in front of him with such a big full smile. Grandpa would take a sip of his favorite brown juice I now know was Jack Daniels and his features would light up as he told me the story. This tradition went on for years until one day when I was eight I came to him with a brown paper wrapped package. It looked like a present but boring. Unlike other times when I came before grandpa with a newly discovered treasure there was no smile on his face this time. In fact the color had drained from grandpa's face and for a moment he was silent as if he was debating inside to tell this story or not. I never considered for a moment that those treasures could hold painful memories for him and I was about to say I could find something else when grandpa asked me to sit next to him instead.

Grandpa filled his cup with his favorite drink and instead of taking a sip he downed the glass and refilled it once more. Then he began his story with a warning. Grandpa's stories never had warning before and that is why I remember this story more clearly than any other.

“Beatrix honey I have never denied you any of my past stories and if you are brave enough to hear this story I will tell it but know that it is one of the memories I tried to hide and forget for a long time”

I told grandpa that I was brave and strong and if he could tell me the story I would listen and never forget it. At those words he chuckled and for a moment my grandpa was back. Then he took the old brown wrapped package out of my hands. Without unwrapping the package grandpa told me that inside this package were three items. First there was my old library card, an I.D card and a single rusty old Victorian style key that once must have been bright and shiny like gold but now was covered in dark spots of rust. I asked grandpa how he knew what was inside in the package if it was still closed. He told me that it would all make sense by the end.

My story takes place many years ago when I was a young man. In my early 20’s I lived during a time when a virus ran loose on the world. Many people got sick with Covid-19.

“What's a covit grandpa?”

Covid-19 was the name of the virus honey. People got sick and many went away.

“You mean like grandma did?”

Yes sweetie just like grandma. At first no one thought the virus was real. Everyone kept saying it was a bad joke or that it would go away quickly but it didn’t go away quickly and the smart people told us all to stay inside our homes for a long time.

“You must have been very bored grandpa”.

O yes sweetie I was very very bored. I was also very foolish and didn’t learn from the smart people as best as I should. One day after six months of staying in quarantine I couldn’t take it anymore. Each day I would wake up, turn on my computer, browse the same websites and slowly fall asleep at the keyboard until it was time to sleep for real then I would repeat the day. It got so overwhelmingly numb that sometimes I couldn't keep track of what day it was. Finally, when I couldn’t handle the isolation any more, a friend of mine called Roger texted me and said that we should go out for night walks and that he knew the perfect place to go where we couldn’t get in trouble.

Later that night I breathed my first real burst of fresh air after six months of staying indoors and it felt liberating. I was still scared of the virus but my need to be outside was greater than my fear and I figured that as long as I went out late for a stroll with Roger there was very little chance of us running into anyone else. It was important for me not to be caught because there was a curfew and all people who didn’t have super important jobs like doctors, police and people who make food were supposed to stay inside. I could have been arrested by police and gotten in trouble.

Around 2am the cool night air felt fresh against my face and arms. I looked up into the moon and took a deep breath which filled my lungs like it was the very first time. So powerful and refreshing this moment was that I knew I would need to venture forth nightly to enjoy this freedom. I was enjoying that freedom very much and was so distracted that Roger and I almost got caught by a slow moving police car that was coming up the block. Just before we were noticed we hid behind some garbage cans and waited.

“Were you scared grandpa ? “

Yes sweetie I was for a moment scared but your grandpa was brave and that night I explored my city and it was wonderful. For the first time I was able to walk around and really pay attention to the buildings around me and the ones that I would pass by during the day without ever really looking. On one building, an old church, I noticed that when you looked up there were gargoyles near all the windows. Stone winged monsters that were once used to keep evil spirits away.

The church was not our destination according to Roger but in fact it was an old library. A library that I had passed many times but it always seemed closed and ready for repairs or demolition. Roger walked up to the old door of the library and using a very old Victorian key he unlocked the door and we went inside. The library was still fully stocked with books and even though we only had flashlights to see it, it was wonderful to be here at night. The rows of books were creepy and seemed to hide shadows and mysteries in every corner. This was an exciting time but I worried that we would be caught by some night time guard or janitor. Roger assured me that this library was indeed closed and was meant to be demolished but Covid put a stop to all work and the library was just left closed and unattended. Armed with this extra bit of knowledge I told Roger that I was heading for the special area in the back to check out the rare books. Roger gave me a head nod and went towards the science fiction racks that he loved so much.

Steeping behind the counter I found a door that was labeled rare staff only. As I opened the door I noticed that it led down towards a basement beneath the common library and here I started to cough immediately. Unlike above, this room was full of dust and age and my mind just wondered if any of these books were worth millions of dollars. I was enjoying the hunt for a rare book that could be a prize when I was startled by a quick dashing movement that I only caught by the corner of my eyes. My heart started to beat fast as I was terrified of rats. I pointed my flashlight in that direction but the filthy thing was gone. I continued down the isles when again I heard movement behind me. I turned quickly but again the light only revealed my foot prints as I walked on the dusty floor. I was starting to consider getting out when a book fell off a shelf. The sound of the book hitting the ground in that silent place was like a gunshot. The noise I heard next was even worse. The high pitch squeak of a rat made my skin scrawl and there on the shelf where the book had rested looked back two little red beady eyes. I slowly started to back up when the darkness started to give way to a sea of red that began to appear all around me. Eyes, red eyes of an unknowable amount of rats were all around me. My body froze as I imagined what so many rats could do to me if they all attacked. How long would it take for me to die from so many small bites? Would there be anything left of me? Would anyone ever find me? All of these thoughts circled my mind and then I heard Roger yell that he found some great sci-fi books. The yelling, his voice, they were attracted to it and in a second the eyes all blinked out and I could feel and hear the movement of an army of rats . I closed my eyes and waited for death or to feel their bodies against mine but none came. I only opened my eyes when I heard Roger scream in pain. I forgot my fear and ran as fast as I could up the stairs. I yelled Rogers name over and over again but I heard no more screams and no response from him. When I arrived at the sci-fi rack of books there was only a pool of blood and drag marks. The drag marks led to vents and there was nothing left but smears of blood and flesh.

I don’t remember how I got home. I only remember waking up on my sofa thinking it was all a nasty dream. Then there was a knock at the door and when I opened the door there was a brown paper wrapped package with my name but no return address or postage stamp. I had a sick feeling inside my gut when I picked up the mysterious package. I opened it and found the rusty old key Roger had shown me, his id and my library card were in the package. I couldn’t believe the night was real and I tossed the whole package in the trash. The next day the brown mysterious package was once again at my door.

Grandpa told me the story and he was crying. I wasn’t sure what I felt at the time but he gave the package back to me and said open it. Inside were the key, the id and library card just like grandpa said it would be. For years his story just stood with me as the most powerful story in his collection and a part of me really thought it was all just a story with a creative prop he made to convince me but today in my mailbox I received a brown paper wrapped package with my name on it and no return address. I am terrified to open the box but also very curious. When I shook the box it sounded like there was a key inside.