The Beautiful Monsters

The Library

I wake up in my room. It's eleven in the morning. I have a headache. I must have drank a bit too much, that's all. I stand up and look out my window.

The shovel is still there. With the box. And the hole.

What the hell is going on? It was real? I run to the bathroom. Sure enough, there are wounds on my neck. Small, red, sealed. They look like they will heal in a few days. I get dressed, and because it's a day when I have no classes, I decide to research my house. I mean, maybe there will be something to explain what in the name of Harry Potter is going on. But before I can get my library bag, I get a text. It's from Danny.

Hey shortstuff! I saw that you called, but didn't leave a voicemail. Everything okay?

There is no way in hell I am telling her what happened. So I just come up with something.

Yeah! I'm fine. I just buttdialed you and realised it at the last second. Sorry. How are you?

Danny: Okay, It's fine Hollis. I'm good! Hey, do you want to some to the pub with Laf, Perry, and me tomorrow night? It'll be a great way to celebrate your new house!

Like it was worth celebrating. But Danny Lawrence was asking me.

Sounds awesome! I'll meet you guys around six?

Danny: Sure! See you tomorrow night!

Wonderful. This was the perfect way to forget what happened. But I have over 24 hours until then. UGH. I guess I'll go to the library to research the house. I grab my tan bag, and I go out the door.

Five minutes later, I'm at the library. It's not that big, but it's very cozy. I love it. It's a safe place, even though it can be a be a bit creepy. It feels like it's watching you. Almost like it's alive. But it's always comforting, happy almost. Most of the time. At times it can be tense. It's odd, giving a library a human feeling, but that's what it has.

I go to the bookshelf in the back corner that holds all records of Silas. Everything from student yearbooks to the first list of clubs is here. It's my go-to, and no one really comes back here. The computers are always fast and useful, and like the library, they seem to have a personality of their own. No one uses them though. It's a bit odd, but this is Silas. I guess this place is just strong like that. I go to the first computer. Okay..what to type..Let's try Silas disappearances.

Searching......... Holy Hufflepuff.

Hundreds. Of. Them. All girls my age. Over two centuries of girls, every twenty years. Young, and quite smart. But in the weeks before they disappeared, they became party animals. Something hisses behind me. I turn. Nothing there. Huh. Anyway.

Okay, Betty Speldorf. 19. Was at Silas in..1985. She went missing. No explanation. Jemma Simpson. 1985. 18. Missing, never found. Sara Jane Louis. 19. 1985. Five girls, every twenty years. 1985. 1965. 1945. 1925. 1905. 1885. Wow. This goes back to the beginning of Silas. I look at all of the records. No one matching the description of the girl I saw. Maybe she was there before Silas? No, the wood of the coffin would have rotted.

I turn around quickly. There it was again. The noise. A hiss, or a growl. Something.

What was that? I thought I saw a plume of black smoke. Huh. I must have not gotten enough sleep. Or..something. I must be imagining. What is that? A meow pierces the silence in the old building. I jump in surprise as something small and soft brushes across my leg. With a shaky breath, I look down.

A cat. A small, black, cat. Sleek black fur, big brown eyes, sharp white teeth. I pick it up. It's a her. Huh. It's going to be cold tonight. I'll take you home.