About
As usual, I returned to the library after school. My mother worked there so I'd always catch a ride with her, we lived a few miles out of town and I HATED the bus. Mom had to work an hour longer than usual so i just wandered to the basement of the library. I was in the language section looking for some books on how to speak English. Ironic huh? My mom was fluent in English since she was a child but I only spoke Hebrew. Yes, yes we were from Israel. Anyways, I was looking for books to better improve my English speaking when something from the back of the library caught my eye.
I looked at the sign above the isle where this book resided. The sign said “History 798-856 / Fiction 857-905". Why the History books and the fiction books were so close together, God only knows. I walked briskly to the book and pulled it out. Its cover was seemingly made of leather, was covered in dust and smelled like death itself. “Must have been in some dead persons attic.” I thought to myself, guessing the smell of death contaminated the book before the deceased was found.
I opened the book only to see pictures and Arabic writing, but it wasn't Arabic. Arabic was my second language, I should know. It looked like Arabic, but it wasn't. And the pictures, oh God the pictures. They're still etched in my memory as if someone burned the images in my head. The creatures the book showed drilled fear into my heart as though the creatures were there behind me ready to take me wherever they will.
I dropped the book and sprinted up the stairs back to my mom, asking her when we were leaving. “We still have half an hour sweetie, did you have a bad day at school? You aren't looking too good...” she replied. I shrugged it off and wandered to the comic books hoping the comedy could kill off the horrific images.
That night, I fell ill. I vomited repeatedly, mom thought I had caught something but I knew it was just the books images, they haunt me still.
At around 5 in the morning I woke up, I needed to vomit again. I got up and run to the bathroom, finding comfort in the toilet. When I finished I looked in the mirror. As usual, my reflection. But something was different. Though I was leaning over the sink and had my mouth hanging open, my reflection smiled a wicked smile and stood tall with her arms crossed.
This books images were really getting to me now so I went back to my room, there she sat on my bed. My own doppelganger. She spoke in Arabic, but again, it wasn't Arabic. She spoke slowly at first, but before I knew it, she was speaking faster than I could here. Constant buzzing and whispering filled the room, but when she stood up she stopped talking. She walked toward me and hugged me. If I wasn't ready to kill myself before, I was now. Her fingertips were soft, but they seemed to claw my back. Her body was gentle but it felt like it was burning me. She moaned as though years of torture were finally relieved. She pulled her head back and stared into my eyes as though about to kiss me.
Then her face contorted into a hideous thing. I became paralysed, and she pushed me to the floor, and sat on top of me as her teeth became long and sharp like an angler fish, her eyes still looked as though they were longing for me. Her arms lengthened by about a foot, and lost seemingly all muscles, she looked anerexic. The clothes fell from her body revealing that the skin that barely covered her ribcage was stretched inward so that her torso held only her ribs and her spine. She pinned me down, her legs kept my legs down and her arms kept mine down, as if I was going to move anyway. She then ate parts of me, unspeakable parts, until I was a bloody mess on my bedroom floor. Now here I am, telling you my story through the book that cursed me to have this fate. Amazing that you can read the Arabic writing though never being taught. But me? No. No warning of the curse that was soon to come. The creatures from the book haunt me now, but not just their images. Its them.
Signature
Fifty million screaming China men just can't be wrong.
Donate? : D
Comments
Viewing 10 of 20 comments.