Printed Secrets

• Isabelle Cane, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2015

Mr Boatville woke drenched in sweat. His head lay resting on an open book. A smouldering fire barely alight sustained a small crackle in the hearth. He scrambled for his half moon spectacles and squinted. That was the fifth nightmare in the past two weeks. He shuddered mopping his brow as he remembered, long tendrils squeezing slowly, suffocating and those flashing eyes, frozen, shaking body. It had all started two weeks ago when Jessica Sinker had entered Mr Boatville's library. He had warned her about that book. The one that seemed permanently stuck to the shelf unable to be removed. But soon it would be too late.
Two weeks earlier...
Jessica Sinker pulled the brake on her shiny red motor scooter. The street was empty and leaves covered the path that fell from oak trees. Damp patches of grass covered the ground. And eerie silence had filled the street and mist was hanging from the branches of the trees like droplets. She walked briskly along the path making a loud noise that bounced off the pavement. She stopped in front of a barely noticeable building covered in flaky plaster and rough sandstone that seemed to be squished between two far more modern buildings. Jessica gave a reproachful look and stepped inside. Immediately she felt as though she had stepped into a freezer and quickly put on her coat. Despite the fire crackling in the hearth, a chill was running up her spine. Mr Boatville looked up unexpectedly dropping his glasses, he quickly smoothed his grey wispy hair and fixed his sleeveless knitted jumper. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.
"Well hi then?" said Jessica glancing with a rude expression at the librarian.
Mr Boatville sighed as he realised who it was. Probably just another youth looking for some old superhero comics.
"The comics are over there," he sighed indicating with his left hand to a brand new looking stand.
Jessica just rolled her eyes and began to wander around.
Mr Boatville followed duplicating her movements peering over her shoulder like a pesky fly just waiting to be swatted.
Her eyes were drawn, almost immediately to a dusty looking book, which appeared to be glowing. She didn't know why she was walking towards it but it was like an invisible string pulling her forwards urging her on. But before she knew her hand was gripping the thick spine and running her finger down the dusty cover sliding it away from the shelf. Mr Boatville was slowly turning green, his hands were trembling and tiny beads of sweat were plastered to his forehead. Just as she took it off the shelf, he lunged forwards and snatched the book away.
"You don't want this old thing!" he said forcing himself to smile.
"Actually I think I do!" Jessica pushed pulling the book towards her and storming out of the library. Mr Boatville stared down at his scorched hands and spoke only seven words. The printed secrets are revealed. Once again.