I left the crowded room and headed up the metal staircase. With me, I brought my school bookbag, a book I had found back in the room I had just left, and a coat I was wearing around my waist. I found a room on the next level of this building. It was dimly lit, but I couldn't care less. It also appeared to be empty and wide open, or maybe it was just too dark to see against the walls. Whatever it was didn't matter to me. I sat down in the middle of the room and opened the book.
I first saw a title page with a picture of a strange-looking woman on it. She had a long, pointy nose and she reminded me of Strega Nona, a fictional book character I had read about in a childish picture book. I lay there, looking at the woman on the book, which was spread out in front of me, in that dark room for a moment. I was trying to map out who this character might be in the story, as all good detectives do. But before I could come up with any ideas, I heard a voice.
The voice read the title of the story out loud. I could not hope to repeat what they had said, as the title was in Spanish and was spoken so fast I couldn't begin to guess what it meant. Then, the page turned itself. I did not flinch, I did not show any signs of fear. The next page showed another title page. Perhaps this book held several short stories. It must have because as the voice read the titles aloud, again and again, I counted up four stories inside this one book. Then the book stopped turning pages on what I assumed was the table of contents. It didn't look anything like a normal table of contents, though.
It showed the four stories I had counted up, along with pictures to go with each one and a little description under each picture. The voice then told me to pick a story to start out with so that they could read it to me. A chill swept through the air when I heard those words. But I ignored it and squinted my eyes to try to see the descriptions so I could make a choice. But it was in vain. I would need more light if I hoped to see anything on the page. But that was when the third story's description caught my eye. It was written in a sharp ink that stood out against the darkness. And, wouldn't you know it, it was written in English as well.
It read "Th-they might find the girl."
I immediately stood up. There was no voice anymore. It seemed to be hoping I would still want to read the book. I grabbed my bookmark from off the floor and started to mark my page when I realized I never wanted to read this book ever again. I slammed it shut and picked it up off the dusty floor. Then, just as I thought, the voice began to call out to me in a muffled voice. I slung my bag around my shoulder and picked up my coat off the floor. It must've fallen off when I had stood up so quickly.
I left the room and entered the stairwell. Instead of climbing down towards the noisy room I had previously left, I trudged up the stairs to a dark and gloomy attic. I left the book and the voice in the room sitting on a shelf. After closing the door, I could no longer hear the voice's mean tone. Feeling satisfied, I made my way back down the metal steps and into the party room where I was greeted by a happy song and smiling faces.
Author Notes: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know how I can improve. And have a great day! And if it's night when you're reading this, go to sleep >:(
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United States • 16 years old