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Like dark gods, the tall Ionic columns loomed over me in disapproval. I tried to blame my trembling on the icy breeze which whipped across the path, and not the sinister shadows which seemed to watch me from somewhere just beyond my sight. A waning sliver of argent moon hung in the sky which on this night resembled a cosmic leer. It smiled knowingly down from the heavens. I strode quickly up the steps, wincing as the tap of my boots on stone broke the misty silence of the night.
Out of the corner of my vision, I saw a shape move. It’s just a shadow, it’s just a shadow, it’s just a shadow, I frantically told myself as prickles raced up my spine. It’s just a shadow, it’s just…
I caught the briefest glimpse of an eye, flickering in the pale moonlight. It shone in the moonlight, slit-pupiled and tawny yellow. I gulped. Certainly not a human eye.
Quickening my pace, I scurried up the steps and gently pushed open the ornate doors, grateful that the hinges were well-oiled. I glanced behind me but could see nothing but the unnaturally silent street. I was happy to put the choking fog behind me as I stole into the darkened Mitchell Vestibule.
In books lies the soul of the whole past time - the articulate, audible voice of the past when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream. The haunting inscription was the first thing my eyes fell upon and it chilled me to the bone. One day, I too would vanish like a dream, and that day felt closer and closer as I came closer and closer to the heart of this library. I shivered, turning my gaze away from the words and taking in the grand room around me. More columns once again glared at me as I slowly entered the Reading Room.
I sank down into a wooden chair. This seemed as good a place as any to finally plot my course of action. I didn’t need the eldritch tugging in my gut to tell me that this was the place I needed to go - the notes had done that already. But I did need to know how to find the sender - furtive sneaking seemed more comfortable than strutting through the halls, but if I was caught-
“Hello.”
I spun around, shocked. The voice had a purring quality to it, almost languid. My own heart was racing - surely anyone I met in the library at this hour would be just as shocked as me. Surely it wasn’t a regular occurrence for people to be prowling these halls in the dead of night.
“Who are you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I glanced frantically around the dim room, searching for the source of the voice.
“I have had many names,” replied the dry voice. “My current one is Grimalkin.” And then, the speaker stepped into the patch of silver thrown by the skylight and smiled with a face that was decidedly not human.
Out of the corner of my vision, I saw a shape move. It’s just a shadow, it’s just a shadow, it’s just a shadow, I frantically told myself as prickles raced up my spine. It’s just a shadow, it’s just…
I caught the briefest glimpse of an eye, flickering in the pale moonlight. It shone in the moonlight, slit-pupiled and tawny yellow. I gulped. Certainly not a human eye.
Quickening my pace, I scurried up the steps and gently pushed open the ornate doors, grateful that the hinges were well-oiled. I glanced behind me but could see nothing but the unnaturally silent street. I was happy to put the choking fog behind me as I stole into the darkened Mitchell Vestibule.
In books lies the soul of the whole past time - the articulate, audible voice of the past when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream. The haunting inscription was the first thing my eyes fell upon and it chilled me to the bone. One day, I too would vanish like a dream, and that day felt closer and closer as I came closer and closer to the heart of this library. I shivered, turning my gaze away from the words and taking in the grand room around me. More columns once again glared at me as I slowly entered the Reading Room.
I sank down into a wooden chair. This seemed as good a place as any to finally plot my course of action. I didn’t need the eldritch tugging in my gut to tell me that this was the place I needed to go - the notes had done that already. But I did need to know how to find the sender - furtive sneaking seemed more comfortable than strutting through the halls, but if I was caught-
“Hello.”
I spun around, shocked. The voice had a purring quality to it, almost languid. My own heart was racing - surely anyone I met in the library at this hour would be just as shocked as me. Surely it wasn’t a regular occurrence for people to be prowling these halls in the dead of night.
“Who are you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I glanced frantically around the dim room, searching for the source of the voice.
“I have had many names,” replied the dry voice. “My current one is Grimalkin.” And then, the speaker stepped into the patch of silver thrown by the skylight and smiled with a face that was decidedly not human.