Original Scary Stories

The Tranquil Library

"A murder at a library?" Yes, of all the places, one that is the most unlikely. Alton Briggs was up to the task.
     "You think you can do it, detective?" Was that even a question? Alton Briggs only hoped that none of the precious books were splattered with filthy blood.
     "Of course." And he straightaway headed off, forgetting to ask for the address. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve- the sun heating him up through his thick clothing- striding confidently to the library. It was not like any he had ever seen. The building was just a white thick cube with many identical, square windows revealing about five floors. The doors were boarded off by police tape but Alton Briggs did not hesitate to burst through. It was much cooler inside, fortunately for him, but the vibe was completely different. There was a strange feeling. Of course it was completely empty and absolutely silent, but there was still a nagging at the back of the detective's mind. It's fine.
     The floor he entered in seemed normal. A checkout and few desks. There was however, a hallway at the back- that is where Alton Briggs started. The hall consisted of diamond-shaped compartments, placed so that one could hide behind the orange walls (Alton Briggs feared someone might pop out). The floor was black carpet, muffling every sound, the only light coming from the ceiling panels. A pretty architecture. In the middle of the hallway, a section closed off by white, transparent curtains. Alton Briggs gently pulled them aside, dampening his fingers, and finding nothing on the other side.
Since everything looked the same in every direction, he headed through the nearest door. It was a theater, surprisingly small for the size of the library itself. The light was dim, seats and carpet beige, abut 15 rows. It was also empty and silent. Alton Briggs continued down the strange hall, wondering where the crime scene was. It would take such a long time to find it here. At last, the seeming endless hall came to an end, and there was a black, metal staircase. Alton Briggs looked down. It was literally bottomless. Alton Briggs looked up. It was literally topless. Both ways went on for ever and ever, getting smaller and smaller until the eye could not see. It was the most bizarre. "I thought it was only five floors." He gaped.
Alas, he began to climb to search the next floor, hopes dwindling. It was tiring to climb just one flight. "Even if one book is splattered with blood, there will be more to make up for it." His fancy shoes made a huge racket climbing those stairs. He didn't mean to. The metal echoed through the stairwell eerily. If the killer was still here, they would surely hear it. It was only then that Alton Briggs felt nervous. Surely he was alone? And the endless stairs? He dared not look down.
     The second floor was not carpet, but white tile. His shoes still made noise, and it was the only noise he could hear as he began walking. The room was so still that his ears seemed full of air, that one might hear a hair drop. Moreover, Alton Briggs did find some bookshelves. Endless bookshelves. The rows and columns left and right, forward and backward, just like the stairs, were unending. But there were yellow arrows. On the ground, they were, and pointed straight ahead followed by a sudden turn. "I am a detective. This is my duty." He comforted himself. He seemed to walk forever- probably in circles- but thankful that the police left him these signs. Soon he heard a strange sound. It was like a quick tapping, but not softly, like metal, but not loud. The sound seemed to come from no source. Alton Briggs examined the shelf and ceiling, but there was nothing. He continued to follow the arrows.
     Finally, he came to what he was looking for: the crime scene. It was not what he expected, but was glad that the books were not splattered with blood. There lay a girl- limbs bent awkwardly- in the middle of a pentagram, drawn with black paint. An old parchment revealed a curse of some sort. In short, it told the detective that he would be trapped in there forever. What a silly thing to write. He thought, doubting when looking down the endless bookshelf halls. He had no time to examine the body when he heard a distant footstep. "Hello?" He felt disappointed to spend so much time to arrive, only to feel scared and want to leave early. The footstep echoed again, louder. Alton Briggs wasted no time pacing back the way he came, following the arrows, only, it seemed that the arrows were wrong.
     The footsteps only became louder, running as he did. Alton Briggs began racing past shelves from memory. The footsteps began to fade. He crashed quietly into the stairwell door- reaching it by a miracle- and flung himself though. He hesitated, heart pounding. He could not hear the footsteps anymore. He, as silently as possible, stepped down the stairs. But of course, his fancy shoes slammed unwillingly against the metal and the echo bounced off of every wall. Below enough as the doors were hidden, he heard them suddenly burst open, bouncing off the walls too. Alton Briggs flew down the stairs, skipping steps, and ran for his life down the strange hallway. There was in a cold sweat throughout his body. When he made it outside, it was dark. The sky was pitch black, not even a moon or sky. The street lamps were of cold light, not a soul in sight. Alton Briggs turned back, but no one was behind him.
     He laughed, then started to walk home. But the odd sensation he felt was still there. Then the sky began to boom. It did not sound like fireworks, nor lightning, but like cannon fire. There was no light to see. The booming could not be seen, but only heard. Why is there no one here? What is that sound? He pondered. He looked back at the library, windows dark like candles blown out by the wind. Maybe the message he read- saying he would be "stuck there forever"- did not mean the library, but the strange world he had entered through the pentagram?