I pushed in the library doors displaying the hours (8 am to 4 am daily) and walked up to nice, old Ms. Bobbin, the night librarian. There was a photo on her desk of a New Years party from 1952, clearly showing Ms. Bobbin looking exactly the same, from her snowy white hair to her soft smile revealing sharp teeth.
“Hello Melody,” She patted her mouth daintily with a napkin and putting aside the thermos she’d been drinking from. “What can I do for you?” She smiled at me like a sweet, carnivorous grandmother with a smear of red that was either from her lipstick or her beverage marring the white of her teeth.
“I got an email that said my book on thermodynamics came in.” I loosened my scarf in the warmth of the library but did not take it off.
“Oh, let’s see.” She got up and walked over to the holds shelf behind the desk. “Here it is. Oh my, it looks awfully advanced.” She pulled out a thick book with lava flow on the cover.
“It’s extra credit for my AP Science class.” I explained. I accepted the book and handed her my library card for check out.
“That’s nice, dear.” She smiled, fumbling slightly with the computer.
A man burst through the doors behind me. “I need a copy of the Necronomicon!” He panted.
“Second aisle on your left, dearie.” Ms. Bobbin called, frowning over the screen. He tore off in that direction, his boots thudding on the rug.
“Hope he didn’t summon anything too bad.” I commented, only half joking, as I tucked the book into my backpack.
“Yes…” She agreed absently, staring after him in a way that made me think she hadn’t heard me. “Excuse me, dear. I have to make a call.” She handed me back my library card and picked up the phone on her desk.
“Alright, have a nice night, Ms. Bobbin.” I walked out the door with a single glance back at the aisle the man vanished down.
When my dad turned on the news the next morning I saw that, late last night, there had been a car fire with one fatality downtown. I glanced at the screen over my cereal. I can’t say I was entirely surprised that the photo they were showing was of the man who had run into the library. Poor guy, I thought as I finished my cereal. I grabbed my backpack and left for school.
This is dasterdlywhiplash's fault.