The chill of the night air brushed against her bare arms, causing a shiver to course down her spine. She stirred in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking away the remnants of sleep. She looked around. “Oh, no. Did I fall asleep in here again?” There was no one else there, so she quickly decided she should leave too. She got up from her desk and started collecting her stuff. Her pencil case suddenly fell from her hand to the floor.
The dim light in the library barely illuminated the space, the single bulb hanging above her head casting weak, flickering shadows. Though it was night, the feeble glow struggled to reach the floor, making it difficult for her to see even her own feet. She bent down to pick up her pencil case, straining her eyes in the darkness. After a moment, she finally grasped it. As she was about to stand up, she felt a tingling sensation on her arms, as if something or someone had touched her softly.
Glancing around, she saw no one. She got up quickly but, as she zipped her bag, a sense of someone standing behind her grew stronger. She felt hot breath on her neck, which paradoxically made her feel even colder. She slowly turned around and found no one again. Her veins pulsed, and her breathing became ragged. Without thinking much, she quickly grabbed her bag and ran toward the exit. When she reached the door, it was closed, heightening her fear.
“Why isn’t the librarian here? Isn’t he supposed to stay until everyone leaves?” she muttered, panic rising in her voice. She started banging on the door, her hands growing sweaty and her legs shaky. Desperately, she tried the handle, and to her surprise, the locked door opened. She pulled it with all her strength, but what she saw next caused a sob to leave her throat. Instead of an exit, there was a brick wall.
She stumbled back in shock. Then, she heard a slight movement behind her and a soft voice whisper, “You can’t run, Zephyr.”
Her heart pounded, and she spun around, eyes wide with terror. The darkness seemed to close in around her, suffocating, oppressive. She backed away slowly, her mind racing. “Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling.
Silence answered her, thick and eerie. The library seemed to stretch endlessly, shadows dancing ominously along the bookshelves. She clutched her bag tightly, her knuckles white. “This can’t be happening,” she whispered to herself, trying to quell the rising tide of fear.
She took a cautious step forward, then another, inching away from the door. Her ears strained for any sound, any hint of movement. Just as she began to think it was her imagination playing tricks on her, the voice came again, closer this time, almost a breath against her ear. “Zephyr, there’s no escape.”
