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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1538271-The-Song
Rated: 13+ · Prose · Horror/Scary · #1538271
A short story written in 2nd person...
There is no greater sensation than the feeling of walking into that vast ocean of books. As far as the eye can see, the ocean expands, opening your eyes to a world of extraordinary delight. You pause at the gate, a wide metal object that guards these feelings of enlightenment; feelings that are so delicate, they need to be protected from the outside world, or does the world need protecting from the forgotten knowledge within?

You are quite aware of these small stirrings inside your brain; like a pot bubbling over, revealing something greater, you succumb to the interior of the bookshop with curiosity and ease. The lights are dim, casting a soft glow upon the spines of the books before you. The melodies of these words entice you, making you hum a familiar song of a story told to you so long ago. This is heaven, you muse to yourself.

The bookshop is silent; you can almost hear the dust settling upon the old books as you enter further within. As you wander past the shelves of books, you spy an old man peering at you between the rows. He looks to be more than a hundred years old- The Great Keeper of Knowledge. You recognize him from your dreams; then that familiar song begins again, a song of whispers. Who is he, you imagine? Why does he stare at you this way?

You ask him, “Don’t I know you, Sir?” The old man just stares at you.

In his hands he holds a large book. His mouth moves, as if he is trying to warn you of something…but the words are captured by the whispers before they can reach your ears. Suddenly, the old man’s eyes start to water and blink uncontrollably; his hands extend towards you, pushing the large book into your hands. The whispers sing louder, that sweet song, is beckoning to you. With the next song, he vanishes, leaving the book open in your hands.

“Join us,” says the whisper, “sing with us, our song”

You gaze down at the book, forgetting the old man’s eyes and his warning to you. Then you feel it, sharp claws digging into you; something is screaming, who is screaming? The room spins and books fall all around you, as blood drips in pools upon the large book you hold within your hands. This book is alive, but you are dying, darkness is all around you now. What are the whispers trying to say? You feel around for the book, where is the book?! Your fear rises as something grabs for you, pulling you deeper into the darkness.

RRRRRRIINNGG! RRRRRIINNGG!

You slowly become aware of your surroundings, the light is returning- Sunlight. Your bed is wet from sweat beneath you; the sunlight is piercing your eyes as they open up to your bedroom. “Oh no!” you whisper, “They found me again.”




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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1538271-The-Song