Chosen to Survive (ONC2024)

Chapter 3

Finally, the staircase ends, opening into a vast, underground chamber. My light barely scratches the surface of the darkness, but what it reveals makes my breath catch. Shelves, ancient and dust-covered, line the walls, filled with books that seem to absorb the light.

I realize then that I've stumbled upon something profound, a secret kept from the world above. The stories of Crestwood, the mysteries and legends, they're all here, hidden in the darkness.

But why? And by whom?

A sense of unease settles over me, the thrill of discovery tainted by the realization that some secrets are meant to stay hidden. As I turn to leave, the whispers crescendo once more, a warning or a plea, I can't tell.

The journey back is a blur, my mind reeling with questions. When I emerge from the passage, the library is as I left it, silent and still, as if the secret chamber below was just a figment of my imagination.

But I know what I saw, what I felt. Crestwood Heights holds more than just whispers and shadows. It hides a darkness, a depth of history and horror that I've only just begun to uncover.

As I lock up the library, the night pressing in, I can't shake the feeling that my discovery has changed something. I've opened a door that perhaps should have remained closed, and there's no going back.

Evils POV

I am a whisper, a shadow, bound to the darkness below Crestwood Heights Library. For ages, I have slumbered, untouched, unseen, hunger growing within me. Then he came, Oakley Henderson, the librarian, opening the door that has kept me hidden from the world above.

Now, I follow him. He does not see me, but I am there, trailing behind him like a scent on the wind. The library is quiet, but his heart beats loudly, a drum of fear and curiosity.

Oakley moves through the stacks, unaware of my presence. He mutters to himself, a habit perhaps, or a way to combat the silence that envelops him. "What was that place?" he whispers, his voice barely audible. "There's something not right about this."

His words amuse me. Not right? He has no idea of the darkness he's awoken. I glide closer, drawn to his warmth, his life. I hunger for it, a hunger that has grown over countless years in the dark.

He pauses, sensing something. "Is someone there?" he calls out, turning in a slow circle. His light flickers, shadows dancing on the walls. I retreat into the darkness, my formless self barely stirring the air.

Oakley shakes his head, laughing softly at his own nerves. "Get it together, Oakley," he scolds himself. "You're letting this place get to you."

But he is right to be afraid. The darkness he's uncovered is more than just history or forgotten tales. It is me, a hunger that has been waiting for release.

He continues his work, cataloging books, always with a glance over his shoulder. I watch, fascinated by his determination, his refusal to acknowledge the fear that clings to him like a second skin.

The night grows deeper, and Oakley prepares to leave. I follow, curious to see where he goes, what protections he might have against me. But there are none. He is alone, and I am ever-present, a shadow cast by his own light.

As he locks the library door behind him, I hover at the threshold, the barrier between my world and his momentarily open. "I'll figure this out," he vows into the night, a promise to himself more than anyone else.

I glide after him, through the streets of Crestwood Heights, unseen by all. Oakley's home is small, a beacon of light in the darkness. He enters, safe in his sanctuary, but not from me. I linger outside, watching, waiting.

The hunger within me grows, fed by his fear, his curiosity. He has awakened me, and now there is no going back. I am bound to him, a specter of the past that refuses to be forgotten.

Inside, Oakley speaks again, though he believes himself to be alone. "There's an answer, there has to be," he says, his voice filled with a determination that only fuels my hunger.

I press against the window, my formless gaze fixed on him. Soon, he will understand. The darkness he's uncovered in the library is not just tales and whispers. It is me, and I am hungry.

The night wears on, Oakley lost in his thoughts and research, oblivious to the shadow that watches him. But he will learn. In his quest for understanding, he has opened a door that cannot be closed, and I, the hunger in the dark, will be waiting.

I am the past that haunts Crestwood Heights, a reminder of what lies beneath. And Oakley Henderson, the librarian who dared to uncover the truth, will not forget me. I am here, always here, a whisper in the dark, a hunger unsatisfied.

1,461 words