Every night for a few months I must sit in the abandoned library.
Sometimes the monster is there
and sometimes the monster isn't.
The routine changes depending on its presence.
If it isn't there I must search through the millions of books in the library to learn it's history.
When it leaves it sets a due date, I must have learned a year of its life by that time.
Sometimes I need to bring books home in order to figure it out in time.
When the monster is there,
I either jot down notes on it's every mouvement and on every noise it makes,
or it gives me a test on the notes and research.
There is a big test at the end.
By now my room is riddled with books on horror, tragedy, world war one and french grammar.
It's so hard to keep up.
I know they just want to help,
but sometimes they really do seem like monsters.
