Mr. Linden's Library

Ending

As I tried to sleep that night my mind was racing. I couldn't think of anything else than how personal Arthur made his story. At about midnight Azalea crawled onto my bed and cuddled up with my bed covers. I pretended to sleep and allowed her to hold my stuffed bear. I thought of how Arthur looked up at the old book in the corner. When I came to the conclusion that Arthur had read the book in the corner so many times he didn't need it to tell us the story, I easily drifted off to sleep.
I woke up early the next morning and sneaked out of bed quietly, so I didn't wake up Azalea. I grabbed a granola bar and shoved Azalea and I's old library books into my bag. When I glanced up at the clock it flashed 6:48am. I walked out of the kitchen and opened my granola bar and began munching on it. I walked down to the park, but this time I decided to walk slowly and take in the fresh morning air. When I arrived at library I pulled out my key. I unlocked the front door to the library and stepped in. The morning air was cold and windy so when I stepped into the library it felt like a breath of warm summer air. I turned over to Arthur's desk and saw him sitting there. I walked over and sat in the empty chair next to his desk. I pulled it over toward him and ask him with a curious voice, "what was that story?"
He looked over at me and replied, "the truth"
My eyes looked down and I ask him "What was the book you gazed at?"
He chuckled as he replied to my question, "No that was the book," he saw my confused look and continued, "from the story, that killed Ebony. She really did exist and so did Tor."
"Who are they?" I questioned. My eyes traveled over to my hands that were restless in my lap.
"Me," he declared, "Tor was my nickname as a kid and Ebony was my best friend." Arthur kneeled over and opened the bottom drawer in his desk. He pulled out an ancient paper folder, everything suddenly made sense. He pulled out a story titled "A Dog Named Savior" I looked at the paper it had perfect cursive handwriting, but it was messy and spread around the page.
"You knew her, the whole story was real," I whispered out loud.
"Don't tell the younger kids though, they wouldn't be able to handle it," begged Arthur.
"Wait, one more question. The book, in the corner what did it do to her?" I asked.
"No one knows" Arthur replied.
"How could that be real?" I question.
Arthur and I talked for an hour before the other kids all arrived together. We played games. I couldn't help but glance at the book in the back corner, but I knew better.