By Lou Toad
The first week of finals was always the most harrowing, but this year, it felt different to Ian. The air in the campus library was thicker than usual, laden not just with stress, but with something darker. He could feel it in the way the lights flickered unpredictably, how shadows stretched just a little too far, and how the silence of the study hall was oppressive, as if the building itself disapproved of their collective desperation.
Ian was a senior, clawing his way to a degree in biochemical engineering - a degree he wasn't even sure he wanted. His parents had dreamed this path for him long before he had a say, and now, with graduation in sight, the stakes felt unbearable. If he didn't ace his final research presentation, his cumulative GPA would fall short of the summa cum laude his parents demanded. Failure, he believed, was not an option.
The library's clock struck midnight as Ian glanced at the dim light of his laptop screen. His research notes blurred together into meaningless symbols. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of the equations. His thoughts spiraled, and he gripped his pen so tightly his knuckles turned white. Around him, students hunched over their books like prisoners in solitary confinement.
That's when he noticed it: the faint, rhythmic scratching. It came from the darkened corner of the library, where the older books - the ones no one checked out anymore - collected dust. Ian tried to ignore it, but it grew louder, more insistent, like nails scraping against stone. His pulse quickened. He wasn't the only one who noticed. Across the room, a girl in a hoodie glanced toward the shadows. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale as if she hadn't seen sunlight in weeks. She stood abruptly, muttering something under her breath, and wandered toward the noise.
"Hey," Ian called softly, but the girl didn't stop. She disappeared into the darkness.
A chill crept up his spine. He told himself to focus - there was no time to get distracted. But then, the girl screamed. It wasn't just a scream of fear; it was raw, primal, a sound that tore through the quiet like a razor. Students looked up, exchanging uneasy glances, but no one moved. Ian hesitated before rising to his feet. He didn't know why he felt compelled to investigate - maybe it was guilt, or morbid curiosity. He approached the corner cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the vast silence.
"Hello?" he called, his voice trembling.
The shadows seemed to shift, growing darker and more tangible. The scratching sound had stopped, replaced by an eerie hum, low and resonant. Ian's breath hitched as he peered around the shelf. The girl was there, or at least what was left of her. Her body had been twisted into impossible angles, her fingers fused to the pages of a book she clutched desperately. The book itself pulsed with a faint, unnatural light. Words spilled from its pages, slithering into the air like smoke, forming incomprehensible symbols that burned themselves into Ian's vision.
"What - what is this?" he whispered.
The words twisted into a voice, deep and echoing. "Knowledge has a price."
Ian staggered back, his mind reeling. He turned to flee, but the shadows coiled around him like tendrils, dragging him closer to the book. He felt its pull, a magnetic force that promised not just answers, but mastery. It offered him the perfect presentation, the perfect grades, the perfect life - everything he thought he wanted. But deep down, he knew it was a lie.
His hands trembled as the shadows forced him closer to the book. He saw himself reflected in its glowing pages, his face twisted with exhaustion and fear. He thought of his classmates, of the unrelenting pressure that had driven so many of them to despair. He thought of the girl in the hoodie, who had sought solace in the book's promises and paid the ultimate price.
Ian screamed, summoning every ounce of willpower to resist. "No! I won't be like them!" The shadows faltered for a moment, and Ian seized the chance to break free. He ran, leaving the library and its horrors behind. Outside, the cold night air filled his lungs, and for the first time in years, he felt a glimmer of clarity. He wouldn't go back - not to the library, not to the expectations that had chained him for so long. He didn't know what came next, but anything was better than the labyrinth of academia and the nightmare it had become.
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