The Library Rewrite Part 1
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The Library: Rewrite, Part 2 free porn video
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THE LIBRARY: REWRITE, PART 2
by Bobbie Cabot
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I used to be a boy scout. Yeah, yeah, you can shut up now. The only
reason I mention this is because of the ghost stories that we told
around the campfire. No, we didn't roast weenies or marshmallows, but
we DID tell stories. Stories about ghosts in the dark - scary-fun. But
there's no fun if you actually SEE a ghost. I saw a ghost. A French-
speaking ghost, mind you. Pretty classy for a ghost, huh? Wonder if
I'll see her again tonight. Can you believe it? I have an appointment
tonight. Well, at least she's pretty hot.
My name is Mark. And this is the continuation of my Halloween story.
( chapters one through seven of the story can be found in Part One,
http://www.fictionmania.tv/stories/readtextstory.html?storyID
=126650913794408199 )
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8. A Shower and A Change of Clothes.
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*** Mark ***
I decided to take a quick shower. A little water therapy might just do
the trick, and get me out of this funk. I closed my door, took my
clothes off and dumped my stuff on the bed as usual. I went into the
en-suite bathroom, got in the tub and pulled the shower curtain around
me. I turned the shower on and got myself wet prior to soaping myself
up. The usual.
But when I reached for my usual bar of soap - I couldn't find it.
Where's my soap? I felt around the little shelf suction-cupped against
the bath's tile wall, and it wasn't there. What was there was a brand-
new bar still in its box, and a new bottle of Johnson's Baby Shampoo.
Now even my shampoo's missing.
Could it be, in this new configuration of my apartment, I was sharing
my bathroom with my new room-mates? Could that be why there were
unfamiliar things on the shower shelf? Maybe it's the girls' stuff...
Well, I thought, given I was already wet, I had no choice but to go on
with my shower. I reached for the box of soap. Now, who ever heard of
putting a soap bar still in a box in the bathroom? I picked up the
yellow box and read the name printed on it with my newly-improved
twenty-twenty vision - 'Heno de Pravia,' it said in curliqued letters.
I took out the soap, throwing the cardboard box into the little
trashcan by the sink. The soap smelled strongly of jasmine. And I do
mean 'strongly.' Phew!
Well, in for a pound and all that. I started soaping up a little face
towel and started to rub myself with it. "Ow!" What's with the towel?
It felt like it was starched or something. I turned it over, thinking
I was using the rough side of the terrycloth. "Ow!" Geez, both sides...
I reluctantly put the little washcloth aside and soaped up directly
with the soap bar. The slightly oily feel of it made me want to finish
up right away, and I soaped up rapidly. Instead of rinsing right away,
I put shampoo in my hair using the yellow-colored baby shampoo bottle,
and lathered up. It was my usual routine, shampooing before rinsing.
This way, I just needed to rinse the entire me just the one time. The
shampoo bubbled up a lot. I think it was because of my hair, though I
don't know how. And it felt softer and finer, too. Hmmm.
I rinsed myself thoroughly, but the slightly-oily feeling on my skin
made me want to rinse some more. After a bit, I decided to quit even
though I felt a bit of residue left. Guess I had to tough it out. I
got a towel and, remembering the washcloth and my shower from this
morning, I gingerly patted myself dry instead. The oiliness left on my
skin made it feel softer. Maybe that was what the soap was meant to
do. After I was dry enough, I stepped out of the tub and fished out
the soap box from the trash. I read the printed stuff on it and, yes,
indeed, there were "moisturisers" and other things in the soap. Guess
I just need to get used to it. Especially the strong, jasmine scent. I
told myself to go by the 7-Eleven later and buy new soap and shampoo.
I got my weird, pink toothbrush and brushed my teeth. "Up, down, up,
down, side-side-side-side-side," I said while brushing. My usual
shtick. Maybe I should include a new toothbrush as well.
Afterwards, I wrapped my terrycloth robe around me and padded into my
room. I looked around and found the clothes I was wearing, except for
the jacket, had been whisked away by Olivia, no doubt lumped together
with the weekly wash by now. So I went to my closet, intending to pick
something like my usual. But when I opened it, I was greeted by the new
clothes I had just hung up, and nothing else. I could have sworn I
still had some of my old clothes still hanging in there before... Not
wanting to wear the brand-new clothes yet, I went to my cabinet and
picked out a plain, white crew-neck t-shirt, white wooly socks and
underwear. But the only underpants that were in the cabinet were men's
style bikini underwear. Damnit, where are my y-fronts? After futilely
digging through the clothes in all the drawers, I had no choice and
picked a plain-white pair of the new Jockey's.
I put on the shirt and underwear, noting how soft they were. Also how
tight-fitting... my, ummm, junk, was clearly outlined. But even though
they were tight, they felt soft and very comfortable. I examined the
shirt closer and, yep, this was one of the new ones, too...
I sat on the edge of my bed and put on the socks, finding it easier
than normal to bring my foot up and fold my leg across my lap to put
the socks on. The hot shower must've loosened me up.
In my stockinged feet, I went back to my closet, and pick out some
pants. I eventually decided on a new faded-blue pair and took them
down from the hanger. As I was doing so, Kristy barged into my room.
"Hey, Markie, can I borrow your iPod? I was gonna work on some stuff
and wanted to listen to some... well, hey, there."
She looked me up and down in my freshly-showered, t-shirt-underwear-
and-socks-wearing glory. She had the look of a big Doberman
contemplating the idea of snacking on a big juicy hamburger.
"Kristy!" I exclaimed, holding the pants against me to hide my
jockey's. "Don't you ever knock?"
Kristy giggled and knocked on my door. Grrr.
Hearing the knock, Nancy came in. "Hey, Markie. What's up?" Great -
just what I needed.
Nancy smiled a big mischievous smile. "Well... why wasn't I invited to
the party, hmmm?" Both Kristy and Nancy couldn't stop giggling.
I tried to sound mad, but couldn't hide the panic in my voice, nor the
blushing on my face.
"Guys!"
Olivia took that moment to come in.
"Mark," she said as she came in. "I'm just making a final check, to see
if you have other clothes that need to be in the wash." She saw me by
my closet, covering myself with my pants.
"Well," she huffed sternly (although she couldn't stop a little smile
from creeping into her expression), "I don't suppose your mother would
be proud of you just now, showing yourself to young impressionable
ladies in this way. Shame, Mark! Shame!"
"Olivia!" I wailed in despair and consternation. After a bit, they all
burst out laughing.
"Will you guys leave me alone to get dressed in peace?" My voice had
risen to an almost screeching glass-breaking level. "Out!"
Giggling, the two girls left, but Olivia proceeded into my room. She
picked up a few odds and ends here and there, went into my cabinet's
drawers and took out several items of clothing that as far as I knew
were perfectly clean. She went into the bathroom and got the towel I
just used.
As she brushed by me with the bundle of clothes, she smiled at me
merrily. I stuck my tongue out at her, and she giggled.
But after the door closed behind her and I was alone once more, I felt
it again. The sounds and images from last night. Could I face what I
had to face last night again. My resolve felt like snow melting in the
sun. But no - maybe I inherited my dad's hardheadedness because I
wanted to get to the bottom of this - I could not leave it alone.
After a short wave of shivering, no doubt imagination-induced instead
of a cold draft of air whispering past me, I shook my head. "No," I
whispered to myself. I will find out what this is all about. I turned
back to get dressed, and to go to the library.
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9. Back to the library.
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*** Mark ***
I finally ended up wearing a pair of faded blue-jeans that were very
close-cut but were a bit stretchy so they fit, a new Oxford shirt which
I tucked into my pants and rolled the sleeves up, and a pair of biker-
style low boots. Though I could remember getting several pairs of jeans
and shoes, I couldn't remember picking out this particular pair of
boots nor this pair of jeans. Truth be told, I don't think I would
have picked a pair this close-fitting. In fact, they actually tucked
into the low boots as I couldn't wear them any other way.
I went out to say goodbye to Olivia.
The sun had already long set when I bussed Olivia on the cheek and said
goodbye. The back seat of her BMW was piled inordinately high with my
dirty laundry (I didn't know I had that many dirty clothes, actually).
And as she pulled away from the curb and tooled down Elm, Kristy, Nancy
and I waved goodbye. And when she hung a right at University Drive, I
turned around, went in the house, and came back out wearing my new
leather jacket, and motorcycle helmet in my hand.
My two room mates saw me and my getup, and wolf-whistled.
"Hey, tough girl," Kristy said and giggled.
"So," Nancy said, "where you goin', biker chick?"
I pshawed the jokes away, swept my hair out of my collar (do I really
need a haircut?) and went to the shed to wheel out my bike. It was
pretty dark by then so I had to wheel it out by feel.
As I got the bike onto the pavement, the street lights clicked on.
"I'm going to the library," I said.
"This late? Whatever for!"
I sat down on my Aprilia and put on my helmet. "Ummm, I need to borrow
a book," I lied.
"But you just brought home a bunch of books this morning!"
"I, umm, forgot one. So I'm off to the library. Seeya later, girls!"
I zipped up, started the bike and quickly zoomed away so they couldn't
ask any more questions. I belatedly turned on the bike's headlight and
drove towards the library, noting the rapidly disappearing sunlight.
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10. Bonsoir.
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*** Mark ***
The feel of the night air was somehow different tonight. Used to be,
I'd find the slight tinge of coolness in the air very nice and bracing.
But tonight, it was a bit, I don't know, foreboding. Nervously, I
looked around and couldn't help noticing most of the people were
walking in the opposite direction, away from the campus and the
library, going home to their dorms or apartments, no doubt, although
there were still a few going my way.
I noticed that some of the people walking were clearly couples, holding
hands and talking intimately. There were larger groups, many of them
talking boisterously, friends going out to dinner maybe, or to a
friend's place. That made me vaguely sad, wishing I had friends to be
with on a Saturday night, too. Yet here I am, alone, about to confront
a ghost...
That made me think. I looked up at the street lamps, and they seemed
to be totally normal. No signs of any of them mysteriously shutting
off.
When I got to the library, I parked near the lamppost by the coffee
shop across from the library, and chained my bike to the post.
The kids standing around by the front of the library and near the
coffee place had clearly just come from the library, judging by the
books and other stuff they were carrying. They were looking at me as I
locked the bike and took off my helmet. None of them were talking much
and weren't acting too friendly, except for this bunch of geeky four-
eyes sitting around one of the coffee house's street tables, drinking
lattes and machiattos, relaxing after a hard day of hitting the books.
I sniggered at that thought, but then I realized I was no different.
Now, why would I have thought so meanly of them?
The... ummm, geeks, were looking at me, and when they saw me looking
back, they pulled themselves up. Two of them swiped at their stringy
hair while one of them actually brought out a comb. The guy nearest me
waved shyly and smiled. I wondered at their reaction since I didn't
know them. They were acting like they were coming on to me or
something. Internally, I shrugged. Probably all in my head. I waved
back. What the hell, right?
I saw Laurie and Joey though the coffeehouse window as they served some
customers. I waved at them and made my way across the street.
As I walked across the street, I noticed that the rest of the kids were
all looking at me. Eerily silent and devoid of expression, they
started to slowly walk towards me. It creeped me out so I picked up my
pace. As I did so, so did they. I hurried some more. You know how,
when you need to run but don't want to, you end up sort of shuffling,
but quickly? I did that. Thing was, they did, too.
I found myself sprinting for the library doors with the silent mob of
college kids chasing me. For whatever reason, I was able to stay
ahead, and, in retrospect months later, I realized that was impossible
- I wasn't the fastest sprinter in campus, and it was just a four-lane
blacktop. I suppose the adrenaline was stretching my sense of time
because, instead of a scant few seconds, it felt like that dash across
the road took minutes.
I felt it when the people chasing me got to within touching distance,
but I refused to look back. I knew I would falter if I did, and it
would be curtains for me. But I felt a cold, light touch on the back of
my neck, and I knew one of them touched me.
I screamed and reached back to bat away the arm. I put my arms up to
stop the others from touching me. I looked up at the closed library
doors. I prayed it wasn't locked, and even as I felt my arms being
touched and grasped at, I saw the doors swing open.
Like a cannonball, I flew through the doors. I slipped on the linoleum
floor and slid halfway down the reception area. I fetched against Mrs.
Weatherby's counter.
Rubbing the top of my head, I sat up, leaning my back against the
counter. I looked back at the doors and it was closed. Through the
glass, I saw the kids - perfectly normal college kids. Except for
their expressionless faces. They were all looking at me. The hair on
the nape of my neck wouldn't go down.
I wondered why they weren't coming in. The doors weren't locked. I
knew that because, with my new twenty-twenty vision, I could see the
left-side door slightly ajar. But they weren't coming in. They were
standing by the doors, standing almost against the glass, but they
weren't coming in. I looked at the windows - the ones that scared me
last night with their flickering shadows and eerie ghostly shapes. Now
theere were no shadows. They were covered up by a sea of faces looking
in.
I was close to whimpering from fear. The decision to come here was
born of a misplaced sense of bravery that, in the absence of warmth,
sunshine and friendly voices, had disappeared, like mist blown away by
a cold breeze. Why did I come?
I forced myself to stand and look around the rest of the library, and
it was empty. I didn't know whether to be relieved by that, or to be
more scared.
The high-vaulted ceiling gave the room an echoing kind of feeling. The
fluorescents, hanging down from the ceiling by their cords gave the
individual tables sufficient light, but they did not illuminate the
ceiling, and there seemed to be laughter coming from the inky blackness
above.
The phrase, "this is a mistake," kept on repeating in my head. I
wanted to get out of here, but I didn't know what to do.
There wasn't any choice, really - I could only leave by going through
the front doors. I looked at the eerie people outside. They were
standing completely still, all of them looking at me. How could I hope
to get past them?
A sudden crack of thunder and its accompanying flash of lightning
crashed through the room, momentarily overloading my hearing and
eyesight. But in a few moments, the after-images faded and I could see
and hear again.
I looked back at the doors, and there weren't any people there anymore.
I looked at the windows and the sea of faces looking through them had
also disappeared. What...
In the murky stillness of the library, I heard a voice.
"Bonsoir, ma ch?re," the ghostly voice said.
I looked at the empty study tables. They weren't all empty anymore.
In the middle, sitting in a pool of white fluorescent light was a girl
with blond hair. She was looking at me.
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end of part two
to be continued
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Author's Postscript: I apologize for the extreme shortness of this,
but I was working to a deadline: as usual, the time specified was
still too short for me. I guess I just can't write on demand. So here
is a short second installment of my story, again still incomplete.
Sorry for yet another cliffhanger. I do promise to finish it. Anyway,
feedback would be appreciated.
Please know that I'm committed to finishing this, as well as my other
stories - "Danny," "Witching Hour" and the new one, "Shepherd Moon." I
might take a while to finish them but finish them I will. Any ideas on
how I can do this would be great.
Thanks!
- Bobbie.
Makenna
- 21.11.2022
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