NaNoWriMo 2017- Writing with Reckless Abandon

Part 2: Death

"So you're telling me that these notebooks are... everywhere?" May asked, a look of shock on her face.
"Yeah, they're all over the world. The chat room me and Casterpen met was one for people who knew about it, though very few actually encountered these notebooks," Samuel explained.
"So then do you know where they come from and how they're made?" She asked.
The phone call had never been made. May had showed him where the phone was, then ran upstairs to grab her cup of cider, which was cold by then. When she came back, she found him leafing through her notebook, which she had left on the table next to the phone. She had opened her mouth to say something when he told her that this was the reason he was going to meet Casterpen, and pulled a notebook out of an inside pocket in his jacket. After a bit of awkward silence, May offered him a drink. Now they sat in the small dining space in the kitchen, each with a mug of cider, the notebooks open in front of them.
"No one knows how they're made, or if it's really the notebooks. There's no science to back up any proof, and there's no rhyme or reason to it. A new spiral notebook is it's as capable of it as an old leather bound one," Samuel explained.
May bit her lip. She knew that too well. The section in the library dedicated to the notebooks wasn't exactly uniform.
"Well, sorry for calling you a creep. I can see why my dad would have wanted to reach out to others about this. Though he never told me about any of this. I found out that he had a lot of secrets," she explained.
"So you didn't know about the notebooks?"
"Oh, I knew about those. For as long as I can remember, or at least since I learned to read and write, I would watch him write in them, and he would let me write occasionally as well."
"Did he ever tell you what the name was that he gave them?" Samuel asked, causing her to shake her head. "Inspirabooks. That's what he called them. Notebooks that inspired you to write. Though others call them gateways, but I rather like his word for them."
"George had a way with naming things, that's for sure. Speaking of which, Casterpen? Flintbeard? How did you guys come up with those geeky names?"
"Casterpen always said that when he was writing with a pen in those books, it was like he was casting a spell. For me, well, I got the name my freshman year. I, um, I, uh, set my beard on fire. It was an accident! I was playing a tabletop role playing game, I was the dungeon master, and wanted to make the experience more real so set out candles and accidentally caught my beard on fire. So after that they called me Flintbeard. I didn't mind, I think it, uh, sounds kinda cool."
May snorted in laughter at his explanation. She covered her mouth with a hand to cover her smile. The look he gave of shame, and then a smile and shrug made him look childish. But a child with a full beard. Apparently it hadn't had any trouble growing back, but then she didn't know how long ago that had been. With the thick beard it was hard to tell how old he was.
"What?" Samuel asked, suspicious of her chuckle.
"It's just that, you're a geek."
"Is there a problem with that?"
"No! Not at all. I'm kind of a geek, too. Though I've never played a table top game. But I'm not about to tell you everything like that, I mean-"
Just then there was a huge thump on the ceiling above them. The sound made them both jump and look at the ceiling. Whatever hit had caused the small chandelier to start swinging slightly.
"What was that?" Samuel asked.
"I don't know," May admitted, slowly getting up from the table.
"This house isn't haunted, is it?"
"Not that I know of. At least, I've never seen or heard anything before."
"Uh, ok. Then what was that sound? An old house settling?" Samuel looked around. Despite obviously having been renovated and updated for safety and comfort reason, if not also for luxury, the place was obviously very old.
"Not something that loud. That came from the observatory," May said, heading for the door.
"This place had an observatory...? Wait! Don't leave me alone," Samuel cried, realizing she was going to check it out. He followed on her heels, more out of not wanting to be left alone, then curiosity of what the loud thump was.
Down a hall and up a spiral staircase to another hall lined with doors. Samuel kept looking around, the place was clean and well kept but still old fashioned with wooden chair rails, wallpaper, and even old paintings.
"Wow, this place in antique," Samuel whispered. "You sure there's no, um, ghosts?"
"I'm sure. Haven't seen any, and I grew up here," May said, intent on a door at the end. She grabbed the handle and immediately pulled away.
"What's wrong?" Samuel asked.
"The handle is freezing cold! Like ice!" May said, sticking her hand under her armpit to warm it up.
"Let me try," Samuel reached for it, barely touching it before pulling his hand back. "You're right. What, is the air for the room set to freezing?"
"You can't adjust the temp for one room at a time," May retorted. She darted through a nearby door, a bathroom, and came out with a towel. Using it, she opened the door. A blast of cold hair kept them in place as they took in the icy sight. Everything was covered in a layer of ice.
The room's outer wall and ceiling were glass that looked out and up. Several telescopes sat about, some on tripods, some sitting dismantled on tables. There was a giant fixture in the middle made of brass with different loops and circles. Made specifically for calculating positions of stars. The walls that weren't glass were covered in either bookshelves or charts of constellations. It would have been a dream room for a star gazer, but now it was freezing cold -literally.
May noted that she could see her breath as she stepped into the room, glad she wore her slippers. She looked around at what might have caused the ice and noticed an orb of glass broken in half on the ground. The cold seemed to pulsate from the orb.
"What the heck is that?" Samuel asked, having followed behind her. At first he had been entranced by the room itself, but now the orb also caught his eye.
"I... I don't know," May admitted, going to pick it up. But the closer she reached, the colder it got, and her fingers started going numb before she was even a foot away. So she back away, and turned toward the door.
"Watch out!" she cried. He had his back to the door, and there was a huge figure behind him, holding a baseball bat. The figure hit Samuel in the head, full swing. There was a loud crack and Samuel fell prone on the ground, blood starting to pour from his head quickly.
May saw a big, white, toothy grin on the figure, as it pulled the door shut.
May ran to the door, but the locking mechanism was already frozen shut and wouldn't budge. May began to shiver, only wearing a light hoodie over a tank top, and her sweatpants.
Quickly, she bent down to check Samuel, rolling him over. His glassy eyes stared up at her, no breath coming from him. May's breath seemed to billow in front of her from the cold, her hands feeling numb, shaking uncontrollably.
"Hey creep, wake up!" she screamed, shaking his shoulders to no avail. Were her fingertips turning blue? She had to get out of there! But Samuel. "No... he's gone."
May went to move, but suddenly found she was stuck. Her sweatpants had stuck to the ice when she knelt down, and the ice was creeping up her legs. She tried to pull away, but everything was so cold it was like she was burning, her energy leaving her as she sat there watching the ice crawl up her legs.