Chosen to Survive (ONC2024)

Chapter 3

Oakley POV

The days at Crestwood Heights High School Library blend into each other, a steady rhythm of shelving books, assisting students, and the occasional research request. It's a routine I've come to appreciate, the predictability a stark contrast to the undercurrent of mysteries this town seems to harbor.

"Mr. Henderson, do you have any books on calculus?" a student asks, breaking the silence of a Wednesday afternoon.

"Of course," I reply, guiding her to the mathematics section. "You'll find what you need on the third shelf down."

"Thanks, Mr. Henderson. You're a lifesaver," she says with a grateful smile, her tone light, echoing the mundane yet comforting interactions that fill my days.

As evening approaches, the library's ambient noise dwindles to the soft clicks of computer keys and the gentle rustle of pages turning. Closing time nears, and I begin my end-of-day tasks, the quiet enveloping me like a familiar cloak.

Tonight, however, I've decided to stay late. There's a sense of calm in the library after hours, a stillness that's both eerie and serene. I'm at my desk, lost in a book on local folklore, when a soft whisper breaks the silence.

I pause, looking up. The library is empty, the only light coming from my desk lamp. "Hello?" I call out, my voice sounding strange in the quiet. There's no response, just the faint echo of my own words.

Shrugging it off as my imagination, I return to my reading, but the whispers come again, clearer this time, though I can't make out the words. A chill runs down my spine. Crestwood's tales of the unexplained flash through my mind, but I push them aside. There must be a logical explanation.

I stand, curiosity edging out my apprehension, and follow the sound. It leads me between the stacks, the whispers growing louder, then fading, as if leading me on a chase. I find nothing, each corner turned revealing only shadows and books.

Then, suddenly, a book drops to the floor behind me. I spin around, heart racing, to see a book lying open on the ground. No one is there. I pick it up, glancing around the empty library. Another book falls, then another, creating a path through the stacks.

I follow, each dropped book a breadcrumb leading me deeper into the library. The whispers grow louder, a cacophony of voices that sends shivers down my spine. I'm drawn to a secluded corner of the library, one I rarely visit, the air here colder, the shadows deeper.

Books line the walls, but it's the ground that captures my attention. A circle of books surrounds a section of the floor, their pages fluttering as if caught in a breeze. The whispers crescendo, urging me closer.

I kneel, examining the floor, and my fingers brush against a seam I've never noticed. A secret door. My heart pounds as I trace the outline, the whispers now a deafening roar in my ears.

With a deep breath, I press down, and the door gives way, revealing a dark passage below. The air is stale, the darkness impenetrable. I hesitate, fear wrestling with curiosity. The whispers seem to beckon me, a siren call from the shadows.

"I should get a bigger flashlight," I mutter to myself, the practical part of my brain taking over. But as I turn to leave, a cold gust of air rushes from the passage, the door slamming shut behind me, plunging me into darkness.

Panic rises, but I fight it down, fumbling with my small flashlight. Its light pierces the darkness, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling down. The whispers are silent now, replaced by the pounding of my own heart.

"Do I really want to do this?" I ask myself, the allure of the unknown battling with the instinct to flee. How can I turn back now?

Taking a deep breath, I descend, each step taking me further from the safety of the library, into the heart of Crestwood's secrets. The passage twists and turns, the air growing colder, the silence oppressive.