The Library

It was 9:30am. Ice clung to the windows of the library, the grass white and frozen solid. A typical July morning. Four people were waiting outside the community library. On a chair in the waiting area was a middle aged man in a brown dusty coat. Next to him sat a blonde teenage girl. Standing outside the library door was an Islander woman in a hoodie and an old man with white grey hair, gripping his senior citizens bag tightly in an old wrinkly hand. None of them knew that by 10:30am that morning the peaceful library would be the scene of a brutal and unexplained murder.

As they waited in silence, a tall, skinny man with exceedingly large round glasses approached. Finding the door to the library locked, he disappeared around the side of the library. As far as any of the people waiting knew, he put his books in the BEFORE/AFTER hours chute and left.

The library opened with a loud click from the glass sliding doors. The librarian looked up from her desk and smiled a tight-lipped smile as the four entered.

The glass door slid closed behind them. The click of the lock echoed through the empty library. With their heads down each person parted ways; the old man went to sit on a cluster of chairs between the isles in the centre of the library, the Islander woman headed for cultural cookery.

The library was silent except for the occasional sound of turning pages. The old man glanced nervously around. Eye contact was made with the teenager then quickly broken.

A roar of thunder broke the silence. Dark grey storm clouds rolled in; the library was cloaked in darkness. Rain poured down, smashing hard against the windows.

The lights went out.

The teenager stood frozen in horror. Out the corner of her eye she saw a dark, tall, slim figure begin to descend the stairs. Shakily walking to the stairs and looking down she saw a slither of light hit the stair rails and light up the figure's face…it was the man from outside the library; the man who had never entered.

A choked cackle shattered the still silence. Then a soft slithering noise was heard throughout the library. It grew louder in the darkness until it became an ear-piercing squeal.

The middle aged man ran from the library's CD collection to the library door and started banging on it in fear. It was locked. He tried the windows nearby. They were wedged shut. He kept shouting 'NOT ME! NOT ME! TAKE SOMEONE ELSE!'

A soft whispering hiss filled the air.

Fear spread through the other three like an infectious disease. They stood there, transfixed, waiting…listening…their hands shaking but their feet rooted firmly to the floor.

A tapping sound started to their left. The archives room. The middle age man had returned to the group now; all four stood clumped together shivering. The Islander woman pulled out an asthma puffer and began inhaling.

"What do we do now?" inquired the old man.

"We wait..." whispered the middle aged man.

The tapping noise increased in urgency until it was a belting thud. Whatever was in there was trying to break free.

The group simultaneously and soundlessly moved back.

The tall, skinny man from outside the library rushed back up the stairs.

Splitting wood...it was getting out. Not much longer now...

"Come on!" bellowed the tall, skinny man.

CRACK!

A blood-curdling scream ripped from a man's lungs.

The lights flickered on. The storm had passed. All three looked up from the body of the middle aged man on the floor. They glanced at each other and then down at their own bloodstained hands. Looking up again they realised all three sets of hands were stained with blood.

The tall, skinny man stealthily slipped back down the stairs.

The librarian was nowhere in sight.

On the floor lay her glasses and what looks like the shed skin of a large snake. A loud click is heard…the library door slides open…