27
Hamilton library was unexpectedly quiet, and not at all haunted in the way that everybody claimed.
She was a Duvachelle, they were acquainted with ghosts and the otherworldly and she would know exactly how to deal with one if it decided to manifest and give her problems. “Well,” Mrs. Cachola sighed. “That is pretty much it for the night on my part, when it's closing time just make the announcement and the security guards will help usher anyone out, who didnʻt hear the announcement. A lot of these people are wearing earbuds, so, you know?”“I get it,” Lovey nodded. “Iʻm sort of surprised,”
“About what?” Mrs. Cachola asked.
“The hauntings and the ghosts that everybody told me about,” she mused. “I donʻt feel anything.”
“Oh, whoever told you that is just trying to pull the wool over your eyes,” Mrs. Cachola laughed. “Youʻll be fine.”
“Sort of disappointing,” Lovey sighed. “But, okay I guess.”
The rest of the night was uneventful, no shadows like her friends told her, no voices calling your name, no apparitions of dead librarians or night marchers, nor the mangled corpses of students who jumped to their death at Krauss hall, now wondering the bookshelves looking for the textbooks with the answers that will help them pass that exam that they failed in life. It was silent, save for the sound of the old ʻ70s music echoing from her smartphone. This gave her time to read up for her literature exams, which were easier than the ones for history. Before she knew it, the hour had come to close the library and send everyone home, or to their dorms at least. “The library will be closing in five minutes, the library will be closing in five minutes.” Everyone rose from whatever station they were sitting at and made their way out the front door and out into the late evening. Once it was empty, Lovey waited for something, a voice, books falling from the shelf. There was nothing but silence. Once the lights went down and all was dark, Lovey stepped out as the security guard locked the door behind her and disappeared into another part of the building. She slid her laptop into her backpack and put her arms through the straps and adjusted everything once it was on her back. For a brief moment, she looked at the place where she had been sitting the whole night and suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream.
She clearly saw herself sitting at the desk with Mrs. Cachola standing next to her as they both looked over a book that lay open on the table in front of them. For a second, they looked directly at her, expressionless. Then, a smile came across their faces, a smile that said they would do her harm the first chance they had. Their faces went stoic, and they re-directed their attention to the book in front of them. That following day, Lovey contacted Mrs. Cachola and told her about her experience from the night before. Lovey was stunned to hear Mrs. Chacola say that she had never been to the library the night before, she'd been homesick the whole week. “People misunderstand when they're told that the library is haunted. They assume it's the classic kind of haunting where you will see something manifest right in front of you. But this library absorbs the energy of the people who spend the longest time here. It absorbs their imprint and then plays it back like a recording, that is what you saw last night.”
As logical as Mrs. Cacholaʻs explanation was, Lovey, never went back to the library ever again.
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