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There were endless rows of shelves; each row never-ending. Each shelf was filled with dozens of thick hard books with a layer of dust coating most of them. It was obvious the small quaint library was not frequently used by the residents; not when there was a much more modern library right around the corner. Despite the small exterior, the interior was large. Most of the library was dark, with only one candle aflame sitting upon the lone front desk near the entrance.
The bookshelves stood tall and intimidating. They were at least five times the size of Itsuki Shu, who peered through the rows as he walked approached the front desk.
Shu was a mere Japanese student who managed to make his way to France in order to study the beauty of art. He managed to fly to France partly due to his family’s wealth, but in reality, it wouldn’t have been possible if Japan had not lifted its borders and did not have great relations with France. Whilst France was perhaps not on par with Italy in terms of art, Shu did not particularly care since he was also interested in the culture and the multiple languages which graced the country. Compared to France, Italy seemed a little bland.
His days had been filled with attending classes at the University of Rennes. Shu hadn’t had the time to properly explore the town due to how busy he had been, but he finally had a day off, so he decided to use it as an opportunity to explore the city.
So, here he was. In the least popular yet most antique library of Rennes, six days after his arrival to France. Perhaps this didn’t count as him exploring Rennes since he was going to isolate himself in the library, but it was the thought that counted (the truth was, Shu did want to explore Rennes badly, however the weather did not look that great. The heavy clouds threatened him with rain and Shu, being the perfectionist that he was, decided he’d rather spend the day indoors than ruin his meticulous hand-sewn outfit).
Shu slowly approached the librarian who sat at the small wooden desk. The librarian, a petite old man, looked up from his book with a confused scowl. His eyes seemed to have widened in something akin to recognition, before narrowing into suspicion. Unintimidated, Shu stared back at him. He eyed the librarian’s-stained shirt in disgust, not surprised that, despite being a librarian, the man was still of lower class.
“Here is a candle,” the librarian’s voice was gruff, more fit for a farmer than someone of his position, “The library closes at midnight. Be out of here by then or get locked in here. Other than that, be quiet.”
The librarian handled a delicate candle to Shu and Shu, seeing its wilting state, gently took it with a look of displeasure. He almost wanted to snap at the librarian but decided against it. He wasn’t fully confident in his language skills yet, so he didn’t want to humiliate himself.
The fact that the librarian couldn’t even afford a cheap gas lamp made him really upset, however. How was he meant to see with a mere flimsy candle? He now understood why no one made use of this specific library anymore and instead opted for the more modern one.
Shu nodded and turned away, heading towards the direction of the bookshelves. It felt like he was walking through an abyss as Shu strutted through one of the rows. His candle was only bright enough to light the way; even reading the book titles was a difficult task. Each step was a step towards pitch darkness.
Earlier, Shu had exaggerated when he thought of the bookshelves as never-ending but now, it really was like they could go on until infinity. Shu estimated that he had been strutting through the bookshelf for five minutes and yet he still hadn’t even reached the midpoint. Probably. He couldn’t actually tell how long he had been walking for or if he reached the midpoint but he definitely knew that it was taking a really long time to get to the end.
A huff left his mouth as he continued walking through, the smell of dusty books ingrained in his nose.
Eventually, the bookshelves stopped, and Shu came upon a staircase. Behind the staircase was a decaying wall. Shu couldn't help but notice the singular table beside the wall. The table’s intricate design allured him, but the dust gathered on it made him scowl in disgust. Above the table was a mirror hanging rather loosely from the wall. The mirror’s silvery frame was probably the most expensive thing found in the entire library, save for the thousands of books which probably added up to millions of Francs. Just like everything else however, there was dust collected on the mirror’s silvery frame.
Looking away from the mirror, back to the table, Shu noticed a plain looking vase where a single wilted rose laid lifelessly. He grimaced at the sight before him. It was too depressing. Even the red rug underneath the table looked like it had seen better days.
Though the staircase led to another floor where there were another dozen of bookshelves left and where there were more tables, Shu was tired of walking. He did not have the energy to go up the stairs and through even more books just to find a couple of tables in a much worse state. So, with a lot of reluctance, Shu decided to sit at that singular table under the mirror.
Shu unpacked his stuff, having everything he needed in his bag. He debated whether he should find some books regarding his studies, but he ultimately decided to first use his own materials first before searching for more. For the next hour or so, Shu looked through the two books he brought with him as he wrote up an essay for his university classes that was due in weeks. He was a little frustrated that he was working on his day off, but alas, the weather had not been on his side.
And so, Shu worked.
Unbeknownst to him, lost in the world of art, he failed to recognize how the library went unnaturally cold. He failed to recognize how the entire library went even darker, as the dim, barely visible glow of candle light from the front desk disappeared into nothingness. The only thing that glowed was his own candle, a wispy flame threatening to fade away at any moment.
Finally, something broke Shu out of his stupor. There was a press on his shoulder, like someone was holding onto it. He looked up confused, thinking it was the librarian, but he saw no one. It was then he realized that something was not right. His purple eyes gazed over the dark cold library. He stood up and called out for the librarian but gained no response back.
“There is no way the library already closed. I have not even been here for that long,” Shu whispered to himself, his pink eyebrows furrowing in thought. He grabbed onto his candle, thanking the gods that the librarian had given him the little thing even if it could not compare to a gas lamp. He protected the flame with his life, his eyes further analysing the area around him.
The wilted rose seemed to have withered further. The corpse of the flower had somehow become devoid of even death itself. The mirror also appeared unusual. It looked the same but looking straight at it, Shu felt unsafe. Through the dust, he could barely see his reflection. It made him feel unnerved, on edge. He turned around, leaving his stuff behind him to see what was going on.
Shu stumbled back through the rows of books, searching for the librarian. He took one step at a time whilst making sure the flame did not die out. Cold sweat formed at his forehead as bile rose in his stomach, threatening to consume him inside-out. He refused to panic though, keeping his breaths slow and calm.
Everything would be fine…
There was something wrong though.
Something was utterly wrong.
But everything would turn out fine.
Shu was sure of it.
He would be fine.
Once again, Shu realised just how long the bookshelves were. It was too much. They were too long. They kept on stretching and stretching and stretching.
So, Shu took a couple steps forward.
A couple of steps forward.
A couple of steps forward.
A couple of steps forward.
Another couple of steps forward.
Another couple of steps forward.
And another couple of steps forward.
It all felt like everything was repeating in a cycle, like Shu was going back in time and repeating the same few steps. Each step was the same, each breath he breathed felt the same and yet his lungs ached. They ached for reprieve, for relief. His mouth went dry, his throat parched.
Shu unconsciously licked his lip, yet his eyes remained focus on the dying flame he was holding in his shivering clammy hands. On more than one occasion Shu felt like he was going to drop the candle from how weak his hands felt.
And yet it all felt the same.
A repetition.
A repeat.
Time was moving strangely…it had to be. Unless Shu was going insane; he hoped he wasn't. He didn't want the consequences that came with being insane nor did he want to be regarded as a lunatic (though there were moments in his life where Shu did feel like a lunatic; whenever he heard his favourite doll speak in his head or whenever he realized just how different he thought about things compared to his family. How sometimes, everything was just too much. Shu refused to acknowledge any of that though, both for the sake of society and for the sake of himself).
Shu was tired of walking. He was tired of gazing at books. His eyes strained in the dark, the candle seconds away from dying out.
How long had he been walking for?
He should have arrived at this point, right?
Yet somehow, he was still walking.
And then, he gave up.
Shu sat down on the floor. In other situations, he would have been against it especially since the floor was absolutely disgusting with how grimy it was however, his legs ached. He also needed some time to quiet down and think. Shu wanted to figure out what he could do before proceeding any further; even just figuring out the situation would be better than nothing.
Shu was not stupid by any means, so he felt like he could easily find a way out if he actually thought about it and stopped panicking (he wasn’t panicking, he totally wasn’t).
However, seconds after he sat on the floor, his candle died out. His only hope diminishing into the unknown. Shu’s eyes widened at the darkness, letting the panic finally settle in his heart. His heart raced. His clammy hands cold and desperate for the warmth of the candle.
Only one thought rushed through Shu’s mind; he wished for his favourite doll. He wanted, no, he needed her in his arms so bad. He needed her to reassure him. He needed her reassuring whispers, her soft smile.
He regretted leaving her behind in his temporary house.
Shu scrambled back upwards and started walking again, ignoring the pain in his legs. Despite not being able to see, Shu was not worried of tripping. The library was in a dirty state however it was not left in a mess. There were no books on the floor that could trip him up.
Shu held his hands out to touch the two bookshelves he was stuck in between. In his frenzied state, he at least wouldn’t diverge from his path and bump into one of them.
From the corner of his eyes, Shu suddenly saw a blue light through the cracks of the books. He stopped; his panic diminishing as his brows furrowed. Idealistic optimism took control over his thoughts. Perhaps the librarian did actually have a gas lamp or even a lantern, if Shu was lucky enough. Perhaps the librarian had a strange lantern that shined blue. Perhaps Shu had panicked for no reason (how embarrassing. How does he expect to be perfect if he can't even handle the darkness?)
After taking a long deep breath, one that made Shu feel even calmer, he removed some of the books in the shelf. He then peered through to the next row.
Fire. It was a floating fire. A blue flame just levitating in the middle of the two bookshelves in the other row. Shu stumbled back, eyes wide and breaths heavy again. The flame suddenly disappeared, its light fading until darkness enveloped him again.. Other than Shu’s panting, there was silence.
“Is this a dream or am I really a lunatic?” Shu asked himself, his head aching. He reached for his temples and rubbed, trying to ease the pain. For a split second, he was more inclined to believe it was a dream, however his dreams had never been this eerie before.
He had his fair share of nightmares; of bright lights on a stage with cheering crowds and loud music, of a demonic emperor with an angelic disguise and of a perfect doll who abandoned him and found eternal happiness elsewhere. None of his nightmares had ever been like this though. This was different, vivid and terrifying to the core. Sure, his nightmares were terrifying too, but at least he had certainty in them. He was used to the nightmares since they were always the same three. Despite the fear he felt in them, he knew what to expect because of how frequently he had them.
In this hellish reality, he didn’t. He knew nothing.
Uncertainty had its ugly hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing his throat.
Shu broke out of his stupor when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him; one around his chest and the other around his waist. A voice spoke in his ear with a cold breath, making shivers run down his spine.
“It’s alright Oshi-san…Don’t panic. Yer safe now,” a thick Japanese voice infiltrated Shu’s ears, the familiar language making his knees go weak. A flood of emotions overwhelmed him. Fear. Curiosity. Comfort. Questions washed over his brain; who was this person and why could they speak Japanese? Why did they call him Oshi-san? When did they enter the library? Did they know what was going on? Did they know why everything went all eerie?
All his questions remained unvoiced. Despite the peculiar situation, Shu found comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore, that there was someone else, and that someone else happened to be Japanese too. There was a press on his shoulders, similar to earlier expect this time, it felk like someone was resting their head on it.
“Just listen to me Oshi-san. Trust me. Let me guide ya back…”
That familiarity of the language was enough to make Shu let go of his inhibitions. He continued to listen to the voice.
“Yer safe now, Oshi-san. Let me protect ya.”
Shu started walking. He wasn’t sure in which direction he was walking in, and it’s not like he could think about it. That voice…It haunted his brain, its essence controlling him without even knowing.
His legs no longer ached. His breaths were measured and calm. The pressure around his body and head remained as he walked forward.
“That’s it…That’s it…Yer a good boy, Oshi-san. A good boy fer me…”
Shu was unsure if it was because of the lull of the voice or if there was something else at play, but unlike earlier, he had arrived at the table where he left his stuff at quicker. Although, not his wanted destination, it was better than being trapped in between the bookshelves.
“I’m lonely Oshi-san. Don’t ya feel lonely too sometimes? That’s why ya have Madonee, right? And all yer other dolls. I feel like a doll sometimes too Oshi-san. Won’t ya make me yer doll too?”
Shu’s breath hitched, listening to the voice. His eyes darted to the mirror.
The mirror looked…
Strange.
Enticing.
Shu took a step forward towards it.
“Closer Oshi-san. Closer.”
Shu obeyed. He kept walking towards it until the table was in the way.
“Closer,” the voice said again.
Shu obeyed once more. He climbed onto the table, ignoring how his papers and books dropped to the floor. He crawled until he was right in front the mirror. His fingers unconsciously moved to touch the reflective surface which brand new. Tempting him closer.
Threads shot out from the mirror, wrapping themselves around Shu and pulling him inside it. The pressure on his body left and was replaced by the tightening strings. They cut off his blood flow, his oxygen and thus, Shu fell unconscious.
“I found ya again Oshi-san. My Oshi-san.”
-
There were rumours about the antique library of Rennes. Rumours surrounding its haunting appearance, its antiquity (no one knew how old the library was; some people even said that it was older than Rennes itself). The rumours soon shifted to something more sinister.
They started to spread when, a group of young students went to search for books. They came out of the library, pale and with bloodshot eyes. The people around them believed that they had all spiralled into insanity when the students told them that they saw a ghost, wearing strange garments which looked like something an aristocratic would wear.
The rumours continued to spread as more and more people began to see the strange ghost whenever they visited the library. Each rumour was different from the next.
Conversations about the strange ghost took place all around the town, being the most popular topic to discuss;
“If I had to guess, he probably died in the library a century ago and is haunting it, wishing to inflict revenge on who killed him.”
“Well, whoever killed him is definitely dead and his attire doesn’t look French at all. Trust me, I saw him. So, I do not think your theory holds, Etienne.”
“Apparently someone managed to see his entire face and he doesn’t look French at all, so I’m inclined to believe what Pierre is saying.”
“But Pierre, you didn’t get to see his face, right?”
“Obviously not. The only person who ever got to see his face is Antoine, the one Joseph mentioned. I am skeptical about that though. Antoine is a coward, he probably actually went insane when he saw the ghost and he imagined that he saw the face.”
“Good morning, everyone! Good to see you lads. Are you talking about the Library Ghost?”
“Good morning, Charles, fancy running into you here at this hour. We are, we are. Etienne over here thinks that the Library Ghost is out for vengeance, but Joseph and I think otherwise.”
“Only you think otherwise. I think Pierre’s theory is good, it’s just. Not the best.”
“It’s a good theory. Unlike you two, I haven’t seen the ghost, so I am working with rumours to create my brilliant theories. Have you seen the ghost yourself Charles?”
“Oh me? No. But I heard it.”
“You heard it?”
“Oh yes. I was in the library yesterday with Antoine-”
“Antoine? Well that makes sense since his father owns the library, but I didn’t expect him to go back again since the last time I saw him, he was crying about seeing the ghost’s face and he swore to me he’d never go back again.”
“Oh yes, he swore the same thing to me too. However he needed some books from the library, and he begged me to go with him. Anyway, back to the story, we were upstairs grabbing the books when suddenly, a quiet voice filled the space. It sang in a foreign language yet both Antoine and I could understand the words clearly. It was…a romantic song I’d assume. The song sounded broken, like it was meant for two rather than one. It was full of flowery metaphors. I remember one of the lines clearly; he sang something about how he will never forget ‘you’ even if ‘you’ were to disappear. His voice was quite beautiful. Quite melancholic.”
“How can you be sure that it was the ghost singing though?”
“Stop being so skeptical of everything Pierre. That changes my entire theory. My theory now is that he’s waiting for his lover after they were separated by death. He awaits for their return, to hold them in his arms again.”
“That’s romantic, I like this theory. More than the other one. Makes more sense too.”
“The theory is nice, oh yes, but as someone who experienced it, I’d rather not hear him sing again. No in fact, I’d rather just never go to the library again.”
“Oh? You didn’t sound terrified though.”
“Now I’m not but in the moment, I had to admit I was. It was right next to our ear, a hum of breath. Terrifying. I can’t wait for the construction of the new library to be done with. I refuse to enter that library ever again. Alas, this might be Antoine’s cowardness rubbing onto me, but I could careless.”
“First Antoine and now you huh? Hey Etienne, want to come with me to the library? I want to see the ghost more clearly this time and you still need to see him.”
“No no! No! No thank you. I’d rather stay back and create theories from what other’s are saying rather than experience it myself. I am quite…weak to this stuff. I am a man of words, not a man of investigation.”
“Aww but going with Pierre is no fun. He asks too many questions all the time.”
“That is because asking questions makes one smarter.”
“Does it? Does it really?”
“I will –”
“Now now. Do not fight you two. It’s still quite early for a fight. Alas I shall be on my way now, lads. It was nice to see you three. And Joseph, I wish you the best of luck if you plan to go to the library.”
-
Antoine really disliked maintaining the library, the horrors from seven years ago still haunting his mind. He had only been 15 years old back then, when he had seen the ghost’s face. Those two eyes, bright yellow and deep blue, they terrified him to the core. And that singing voice…Just remembering it made him want to weep even after so many years had passed. Antoine refused to speak about it to others, including with Charles, his best friend, who happened to be there with him when they heard the singing. Recalling the memories filled him with fear.
He really wished his father hadn’t died four years ago, but alas, death takes whoever it wants. It took his father and the responsibility of maintaining the library fell to him. He originally wanted to sell it but couldn’t for two reasons. The library had belonged to his family for decades now, so selling it would have betrayed his lineage. The second reason was that no one wanted to buy a haunted property anyway.
Though the ghost did not appear as much, Antoine knew that he was still there. He could feel his ghostly presence, waiting for his lover (or whatever theory it was that Etienne had made up, all those years ago). Perhaps he stopped appearing so frequently because nobody visited the library anymore. Of course they wouldn’t, not when there was a more modern and ghost-free one right around the corner. The only people who visited the library were his friends on the occasion, his farmer wife or desperate students who didn’t find what they were looking for in the other libraries.
Which is why, on the cloudy day which was that day, he hadn’t expected anyone to enter. Not with the clouds threatening the land with rain. He was expecting another day of boredom, reading through a dozen more books as per usual. However, a young man with pink hair entered. A young man who reminded him of the ghost. They looked different but they had a similar facial structure; both the ghost and this young man came from the same place. Due to his fear, Antoine couldn’t help but regard the young man roughly.
The young man seemed to scoff right at him when he handed him a candle, but Antoinne paid no attention to it. He watched as the young man disappeared in the rows of books.
And then, it was finally midnight. Another twelve hours gone, marking the library’s closure for the night. Antoine had packed his stuff, blew out every candle and was about to leave when he remembered the young man with the pink hair. He realised that he had never seen him leave. He sighed; although afraid, Antoine wasn’t a cruel man. He didn’t want to lock someone up, especially not with a ghost in tow.
So, despite his fear, he turned on a candle and made his way through the bookshelves. As he walked through them, he remembered when he was a young boy. Everything had felt so big to him back then, almost never-ending. Now though, he knew how far from the truth that was. He quickly found himself near the stairs. His eyes instantly gazed over to the lone table where the mirror hung.
That had been his favourite place when he was a child. He liked sitting at that table, a large book in his hands as he read through pages and pages of words (reading was so fun back then. Now it seemed more like a chore). Due to the ghost, Antoine had never stepped a foot near the table again, the fear gripping at his throat at the thought of doing so.
His darling table was left exactly how he left it all those years ago, with the difference of the flower. The flower had long wilted, becoming dust on the table. The vase looked barren without a fresh new flower. It made his heart ache. He decided he would go out in the fields the next day, before going to the library, to pick a new flower for the vase. He’d also have to clean the area, no, the entire library. Everything was so dusty and gross. Especially the mirror. Antoine grimaced at he saw how the dust collect on it; the reflective surface invisible.
Yes, he would definitely clean this place up. He didn’t know why he refused to throughout all these years. This was his library, and if he wanted people to come, he had to take good care of it! No wonder his library was emptier rather than full despite the fact that there were so many books, almost a never-ending amount.
Antoine turned on his heal and headed back, deciding that it was time for a change. As he walked through, he stumbled upon a couple of books which laid on the floor. His eyebrows furrowed.
“Strange, how did these get all the way down here?” he muttered, picking them up and putting them back in their place before continuing back to close the library for the night.
His mind, motivated with starting anew, seemed to have forgotten his fears and the young man with pink hair.