by John Stone
Books of The Dead
John Stone
DHS Publishing House
Books of The Dead
Copyright 2015 John Stone, DHS Publishing House
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Thank You
Chapter 1
Emily raced past her classmates to reach the library door, but to her dismay, the corridor walkway wouldn't end. On either side, they pointed and laughed at her efforts. Her hair was wet and matted to her face, nearly blocking her vision. The hallway twisted and bent as she struggled to reach the other side. The more she ran, the further the door retreated from her grasp. She clutched a half-written manuscript in her hand, but the pages kept flying away one by one in the wind. Her halted steps brought laughter from her classmates, but she couldn’t see them anymore. Everything went black. Only their menacing voices rang out in the hallway, echoing loudly off the brick walls. Their overbearing guffaws even surpassed the sound of the incessant rain and ear-deafening thunder outside. Emily realized she was stuck in a timeless limbo, but was powerless to free herself from the terrifying nightmare. She struggled and thrashed, but nothing would bring her closer to the door. She wanted to scream out, but only a shrill whisper escaped her throat.
******
In a campus dorm room at Elmhurst College, a stifled cry and hushed sound of sobbing woke Grace up. The darkness of the room numbed her for a moment and she blinked her eyes. She took a few seconds to realize where she was, but was unable to move herself towards the source of the sound. The oppressive darkness seemed to cloud her mind with only a hint of moonlight peering through the window. She desperately tried to switch on the light when she realized that it was her roommate Emily again. It was the eleventh consecutive night that Emily was having the same nightmare.
For the first few nights when Grace woke up to find her friend and roommate crying, she didn’t take it too seriously. She asked Emily what was wrong, but her blonde roommate dismissed it immediately. Grace didn’t inquire further, but was quite concerned for her friend. The days were fine, and Emily was her normal cheery self, but the dreams never stopped coming at night. Grace failed to understand the cause or the reason behind it, and it was only after the sixth night that Emily confessed to her about her mental misery. Grace was worried and she urged her friend to visit the nurse in the campus union. Yet Emily refused.
It was now the dead of night, and Grace looked up at the clock on her bed side-table. It was 3:00 a.m. She hurriedly got out of her bed and tried to wake up her friend. Emily twisted in her bed and gave out a loud cry before bolting upright.
Grace asked her sympathetically, “Is it the same? How did it end?”
Emily did not reply, but simply nodded her head. She sat up slowly and began to rub her eyes. The dream was still fresh in Emily’s mind. She was getting used to crying herself to sleep, but it never lost its exhausting effect on her. She sat on the edge of the bed with her arms folded up to her knees. Grace waited patiently for her friend to offer an explanation, for which none was given. Emily just sat there rocking back and forth, staring at the wall.
Grace always wondered how the nightmare ended for her friend, but all she gathered from Emily was cryptic at best. Her friend seemed to be running towards the library through an unending corridor path. Grace had nightmares sometimes, but nothing as vivid as what Emily was experiencing.
Grace let out a deep breath and sat quietly at her friend’s bed side. The clock was ticking away and Grace wondered if they would get any more sleep that night. Tomorrow was a big day for both Emily and Grace, being the first day of their final year in the university. Both of them didn’t want to miss it for the world. With that thought in mind, they switched off their bedside lamps and endeavored to get at least a few more hours of rest. Emily finally relaxed, and closed her eyes again.
Wednesday morning’s weather was no different than any other day; both friends woke up to bright and sunny conditions. Soon, the happenings of the night were forgotten as both girls headed across the university campus to finalize their enrollment. It was senior year and although they were quite used to the routine, it was no less hectic.
******
Emily and Grace were excited about sharing at least one class together this semester. Their new class was situated at the far end of the corridor on the fourth floor of the Fletcher building. The two friends arrived early after sharing lunch together, and the classroom was already filled to capacity. There were the usual hushed whispers among the students about a new teacher on campus, new boyfriends and girlfriends. Everyone was eager to catch up after summer break. There were also rumors and myths that surrounded the fourth floor library. It was said to be haunted.
Unlike Grace, Emily preferred being by herself, so when her friend rushed off to mingle with her classmates, Emily sat quietly waiting for the class to begin. Grace motioned towards her friend to come up and share her stories, but Emily refused to participate. She wasn’t at all interested in the latest campus gossip. However, during her first year as a graduate student, Emily recalled hearing numerous stories regarding the fourth floor of this university building. Some students reported seeing ghostly figures traveling through the halls. Therefore, sitting there in one of the classrooms gave Emily the chills.
Looking outside the window, she noticed a soft breeze blowing against the three-story tall catalpa tree. The swaying branches put her into a trance and she was lost in a private reverie. Her mind drifted towards the strange dream and the meaning behind it.
Why did it occur so often and why was I so afraid to reveal the ending to my friend?
A loud screech woke Emily up from the dreamy trance and she looked out towards the door. Brushing off the morose thoughts in a huff, Emily, along with the rest of her classmates, greeted Mr. Gallagher. The teacher had just arrived, carrying his briefcase and a handful of documents beneath his arm.
From what Emily knew, Mr. Gallagher was a nice old man. He walked with a limp. The students around the university not only liked him, but looked up to him as well. A veteran at the university, he was a teacher with more than forty years of experience. A gentle smile was plastered on his face all the time, and Mr. Gallagher never scolded any of his students. He was loved because he treated everyone like adults. His students always wondered where he lived, and his staple answer was, “round the corner.”
Dr. Gallagher’s arrival delighted everyone in the class. He spoke softly and chose his words in a discreet manner, addressing each student individually. Emily tried to focus and concentrate on her teacher’s words, but something seemed to occupy her mind. She couldn’t q
uite lay a finger on it. Her mind drifted back and forth and her eyes inadvertently traveled towards the large clock that was nestled against the classroom wall. The clock showed 12:00 p.m., but everyone entered the classroom at 10:00 a.m. Emily quickly checked her wrist watch to confirm that the classroom clock was broken and stuck at 12:00 p.m. She speculated if there was a story revolving around the clock as well.
That’s odd, Emily thought to herself.
The first day of class was rather informal and Mr. Gallagher didn’t bother getting into a long lecture. He introduced the syllabus and made a few jokes to entertain the class. Time seemed to fly by and soon Mr. Gallagher announced that it was 1:00 p.m. Then, he stopped and looked at the students, opening up the floor for questions or comments. Emily checked her watch once again to see the time. Indeed, it was 1:00 p.m. and Emily wondered how she could have been daydreaming for two whole hours. Emily looked at her friend, who was looking towards their teacher in hopes he would dismiss the class. At that moment, Emily thought she saw a sudden change of emotion come across Mr. Gallagher’ face, but then again she assured herself she was seeing things.
Some of the students walked up to Mr. Gallagher to ask him questions and Emily considered going up to him as well. There were a few things she wanted to ask him, but decided against it at the last minute. The moment quickly passed and Mr. Gallagher excused himself. He ducked out the side entrance and left the class alone for a moment. Grace walked up to Emily to ask if something was bothering her. Before Emily could answer, there was a loud horrifying shriek outside the classroom. Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment before rushing out of the classroom.
They found a junior named Megan lying unconscious on the corridor floor. Her face was white as snow and her forehead was covered with sweat, as if she had seen a ghost. A handful of students crowded around her to see if she was seriously injured.
“Was she attacked?” a student asked anyone who would answer.
Everyone searched about, but they found no one in the corridor. This was not unexpected since there were only two classes on the fourth floor and neither of them had yet finished. By this time, more than a few students gathered to help Megan regain consciousness. There was an entire crowd beginning to form. The librarian, Mr. Mitchell, was also present and looked over the matter. The frail looking silver-haired man hovered over Megan and asked the students to clear the area. The young girl’s eyes fluttered and she looked at the faces around her in a state of utter confusion.
Mr. Mitchell gently asked, “Are you all right, girl?” He rubbed her arm and tried to get her eyes to focus. “What are you doing out here in the fourth floor corridor? “
“I don’t have a class here, Mr. Mitchell,” Megan replied in-between her sobs, “I was going towards the library when someone pushed me hard.” She paused and continued, “I didn’t see who it was, but the hands were dead cold, like ice.”
“Is that all? Are you sure?” Mr. Mitchell inquired.
Megan kept silent for a few minutes. She seemed to be searching her mind for clues that were rapidly fading away. Then, she quietly replied that she saw the person run into the library before she fell unconscious and was left shaken. There were faint whispers as students spoke among themselves.
Someone among the crowd said, “But our class was still in progress and there was no one here.”
Someone else said, “The corridor was quiet.”
Megan looked up and asked, “You don’t believe me? I saw the person who pushed me running towards the library. The hands were very cold. I swear I saw them and felt them, too.”
Everyone looked at Mr. Mitchell since he was the one who came out of the library. The quiet librarian saw that all eyes were on him, looking for some answers as to his whereabouts during the attack.
He promptly replied, “At this hour, there was no one inside the library. I was the only one there.”
Scott, a first year Criminology student, didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure, Mr. Mitchell?” he probed.
Megan nervously asked, “Did you see anyone come in?”
Mr. Mitchell shook his head to indicate that no one had come into the library.
Suddenly, Emily said, “I believe you.”
Several of the students present asked her, “So did you see the person?”
Grace, wanting to defend her friend, said, “No, how would she have seen the person? We were in the classroom and Mr. Gallagher just left.”
Someone asked, “You don’t suppose Mr. Gallagher pushed her, do you?”
Grace seemed to be at a loss of words. Emily went forward and helped Megan up to her feet and then looked solemnly at her. “I believe that someone might have pushed you and gone into the library. The person may be hiding in there, so let's go together and find out.”
The rest of the students looked at them awkwardly, but soon they lost interest in the matter altogether. Even Mr. Mitchell shrugged his shoulders and together they lifted Megan to her feet. He just assumed that Emily was willing to go above and beyond the call of duty to help a fellow student.
What Emily kept secret from the rest of the group was that not that long ago, during the finals of her first year, she was pushed in the same manner on her way to the library. It was in the evening and not many people were present on the fourth floor. She did not lose consciousness, but like Megan, she saw someone run into the library, too. At the time, she looked, but found no one who had entered the library at that moment. There was old Mr. Mitchell, who was dozing off and a few students studying in silence. The incident never occurred again, and Emily didn’t give it a second thought.
This time, Emily was determined to find out if it was the same person or just a figment of her imagination. The library had one exit door and there was no way out, which left only six windows along the wall. However, since the library was fully air-conditioned, all the windows stayed locked.
Emily, Grace, Megan and Mr. Mitchell all walked back toward the library doors. Mr. Mitchell gave them a nod of the head and welcomed them into his domain. The library had an old charm about it. It had antique-looking benches on the front and left side of the library, which were set in double rows. Students and teachers sat on these for hours, studying and researching. The other areas were taken up by huge wooden cupboards and shelves that stored books. On each shelf, the subjects were marked in alphabetical order. The library gave off a thick smell of books and people, of untold stories and mysteries, of silence and murmurs.
Mr. Mitchell usually sat behind one large oak desk with his spectacles on one side and a computer on the other. The library assistant had resigned a few days earlier; therefore, the other chair remained vacant. The green curtains on the windows let the right amount of sunlight in and the library was fairly lit almost all the time. So if someone was hiding, then it was just a matter of time before that person would be found.
Emily, along with Megan, Mr. Mitchell and few others, stood in front of the doorway. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary upon first glance, no ominous silence in the library, just a preferred calmness. The place was empty, just as Mr. Mitchell had described. The old librarian went ahead first, followed by the others.
Emily called out loudly, “Hello. Anyone there?”
Her voice reverberated loudly through the entire room and other than a few sounds of moving footsteps, nothing was heard. Everyone looked around at each other, as if the search could have been over before it ever really started. Emily did not want to give up though. She had a hunch that something was amiss, but failed to understand what it was. She decided to look into it by moving ahead of the others. She didn’t expect the rest of the group to follow her, but they did.
Based on the details of Megan’s account, they fully expected to find someone. There were bullies all around campus, hiding in plain sight among all the young students and faculty members of the university. The group of junior investigators had a few likely suspects, and a few infamous names were called out in hushed tones. Yet, the
only thing they heard was the sound of silence. There was no one in the library, and it was unlikely that someone entered and left without being noticed. Nothing seemed out of place. Emily and the others were soon joined by some of Megan’s class friends. They all helped search throughout the library, but no one was found.
Mr. Mitchell looked particularly perplexed. He stood in one corner, monitoring everyone’s progress and trying his best to keep track of the students’ movements. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and started murmuring something to himself. He seemed to blame himself for the attack, citing his old age, his cane and stifled movement. He even went so far as to blame the changing times for the reoccurrence of violent crimes on campus. Most of the students ignored him, but Emily moved closer so she could hear what he was saying. He recalled how everything was perfectly fine in the library until one fateful moment in the past.
“I've kept silent for years,” he said, “but I did not see anything.” He repeated that a few times until someone came and called his name out loud.
“Mr. Mitchell. Mr. Mitchell,” Rick called out.
He looked up slowing. “Could it be?” he whispered. “Did you find anyone?” he asked quietly.
“No one, Mr. Mitchell,” the student answered. “There’s no one in here now, but are you sure that you didn’t see anyone coming through here earlier?” Rick asked.
“I am old, but I can see. I saw no one coming in or going out!” he gruffly replied.
Emily was at the front desk by then and followed the conversation between her classmate, Rick, and Mr. Mitchell.
Is he hiding something? Emily asked herself.
She knew Mr. Mitchell for the past year, but did not find anything wrong or creepy about him. She had visited the library on a regular basis over the past year and was particularly fond of the old librarian. He didn’t talk that much and most of the time looked too tense to be a threat to anyone.
