I strolled through the library. Usually I would just study in their silent room, but I needed a break. Grabbing books, scanning beginnings, reading prologues–a new book grabbed my attention. It was light pink, and soft to the touch.

The moment I took it, the entire bookshelf began to shift. It creaked open, numbingly slowly, as I glanced around. I was hoping that anybody else was seeing this–but suddenly the library was vacant. 

Curiosity always gets the best of me.

This feels like some cliche movie scene. I thought to myself as I carefully stepped through the opening. The moment I was through, the shelf shut behind me, creaking and slow the same way it opened. Old wooden stairs stood in front of me now, and antique lights hung from the ceiling. Am I really going to do this? Is all I could think then. I, of course, was going to. There isn’t even room for a storage closet behind these walls when looking from the outside, let alone a mysterious hidden staircase. I realized as I continued up the stairs. There had to be forty or fifty steps, all tall and steep. The climbing felt excruciating, like I was running a marathon, but I made it still. 

I got to the top, surviving the climb, and looked around the new setting. It was like another library, but smaller and more at-home. There was cozy furniture, an unlit fireplace, and smaller bookshelves. The room couldn’t have been bigger than a kitchen, maybe eight or ten feet long and wide, and about a six foot tall ceiling. The more I looked around, the more nervous I became. I started to realize weird details–the cage over the front of the fireplace was warped and bent, the walls were littered with unfamiliar carvings, and the books on the bookshelves had similar carvings and characters for names.

I was uncomfortable here–the eerie quietness freaked me out.

Suddenly I had a horrible feeling, like my gut was churning. I looked around to see if anyone else was there. Maybe anything. I carefully walked up to a bookshelf, somewhat squatting as if it would jump out at me, and noticed a familiar soft pink cover. Relaxing, I walked up to it. There was suddenly a scratching. If I thought the silence was deafening, the scratching must be blinding. I was tense all over again. I can’t turn around. I don’t want to. I did. Oddly enough, there was nothing in the room. I almost wish there was something. Then I would know what’s happening.

I almost missed the movement in the fireplace as I looked around. 

I squinted, trying to make out what it was, it was similar in color to the ashes. Curiosity made me stay. Curiosity made me sneak over. Whatever it was, it wasn't large. It couldn’t have been bigger than my cat at home. It was marking the walls of the fireplace, similarly to the way every other wall was marked. For some reason, it made me calm to stare at. I had to have been obvious, but it didn’t seem to mind. It turned to me, and crouched down the same way I was. It walked forward, I stepped back. What even is this thing? It slipped out of the bent fireplace cage, considering it perfectly fit through, I had to guess it warped the bars. It picked up its pace, which freaked me out all over again. I wasn't scared, at least I didn’t think I was, but I was definitely panicking. I got the idea that it didn’t know what I was either, or maybe it did. Maybe it had been watching me in that library all of the time. Every time I studied, or wandered, or walked by. I don’t think this wants to hurt me. Despite this, I kept walking back from the ashy creature. It looked like a skeletal tiny figure now that I really could examine it. Walking backwards, I noticed the pink book in my peripheral. I grabbed it.

I heard the door at the end of the stairs start opening, its creaking was loud and clear, something the little creature didn’t seem to understand. It stopped and stared at the stairs, before looking back at me. Completely still. I stuck the book back on the shelf, hearing the door start to close, and ran. I don’t think the ash creature followed, but I ran. The steep, tall stairs didn’t seem to matter to me now as I rushed down. Squeezing through the nearly-closed bookshelf, I just crumpled to the floor. Out of breath, but oddly calm, I glanced back. I don’t know what the creature was, but it seemed very curious of me. Maybe suspicious, I'm not sure. I’m not sure I care. I want to go home. I can’t get over how I felt there. So conflicting, calm and nervous at the same time–like I couldn’t focus. I left that soft pink book alone after that. Maybe one day I’ll go back there, but for now, I shoved it as far back as possible and tucked a short book in front of it. I didn’t want anyone else in there before me again. My curiosity would lead me there again, but until then, that shelf should stay closed.