If you’re reading this story on Reddit, then come visit us in the library. You’ll find us in the Adult History section, where I have been sitting day after day, together with the ghost, since that white-haired boy left us. I have been waiting for him to come back, but he hasn’t.
So you come and join us for a quiet reading session, Russian Imperial history, our preferred reading, is actually quite fascinating. And maybe you can turn the pages for us while I take a little break?
Let me tell you the story from the beginning.
Actually I’m not sure when it began- I mean when I first really noticed the white-haired boy, seated at the large heavy wooden table in the middle of Adult History. But once I noticed him, I became curioser and curioser.
A large volume was always open before him. His tablet was next to the book, his fingers busy on the screen. Every few minutes, he would pause, and turn a page of the book.
He would come in every day after school and stay there until closing time. Children weren’t supposed to stay there unattended, but the library has evolved into after-school care for tweens, and all us librarians know until a child goes missing there isn’t much we can do about it.
This boy never went to the Children’s section. Just sat at this table, turning pages and playing on his device, brushing his fair almost white hair out of his eyes, swinging his legs which barely touched the ground.
Eventually I went up to him, breaking my strict librarian code to never disturb anybody reading.
“That’s an impressive book you’ve got there- History of the Russian Empire!” I remarked.
The boy looked at me.
“Mummy will pick me up at 5.” he said. “I’m ok.”
I sat down next to him. “Do you enjoy learning about the Russian Empire? Or is it for a school project?”
The boy turned to the empty chair on his other side, mumbling.
Then he went back to his device. He swiped out of his running game, and started typing.
“Im turning pages for the ghost. He loves reading but he cant turn pages himself. Bc hes a ghost.”
I tried to absorb this information. Then I looked at the empty chair, and I noticed for the first time how the book was angled towards it. I concentrated, staying still.
As I focused, the air shimmered and thickened, assuming a human form seated on the chair.
A human form avidly reading.
Then I typed on the tablet.
“Do you like turning pages for the ghost?”
The boy shrugged. “he comes to my dreams if I don’t. When we were away i had nightmares every night.”
The thick air reading swirled and rustled, and the boy hastily turned the page.
I typed “how can I help you?”
The boy shrugged again, brushing his hair. A text from Mom popped up. He turned to the empty chair. “Mom’s here early” he said. “I’ve got to go- but this nice lady can see you, she’ll turn the pages for you”
He snatched his tablet, and without looking at me, he rushed away.
I hesitated. The air rustled and an impatient growling vibration filled the air. Fear filling my heart, I hastily turned the page. The vibration died down.
That night, I had the most terrible nightmares about the library full of dead and dying people. I was wandering through the aisles, lost and trying to get out, and corpses which still had somehow a spark of life in them ambushed me. I dodged the flying heavy books.
I still think back to that night, and I don’t know how I survived. I would rather spend a hundred years turning pages than ever going though a night like that. In the morning, I saw in the mirror a great swathe of my hair had turned white overnight, a shiny thick white streak.
The library was almost empty when I arrived. Almost, but not quite. The Russian Empire book was out on the table, exactly where we had left it, and I knew the reader was waiting for me.
The memories of the nightmares fresh, I obediently sat where the white-haired boy had sat, and turned the page. The air rustled with content.
Occasionally I got up to attend to other patrons, but honestly, not that many people visit Adult History. Whenever I delayed in returning to the table where the reader was waiting to me, a scene from the nightmare would come before my eyes- a book crashing towards my face, a corpse falling out of a shelf as I reached up. I ran back as fast as I could, and turned the page.
At 5:30, closing time, I finally got up to leave, stiff, my mouth dry and parched from lack of adequate nutrition. We are not allowed to eat, of course, at the tables. Immediately the growling vibration began. I turned the page three more times, until we reached the end of that chapter. And then he let me leave. It was 5:48.
The next day, passed much the same, although I remembered to bring a water bottle and my tablet with me. But he didn’t let me leave until 6:04. I was almost fainting by the time I got home.
He is impatient with my snacking, you see. I hastily run outside and grab a bite, between the pages, but he is a fast reader, and I can’t leave the table for long. Otherwise the flying books and falling corpses will appear.
On the third night, I couldn’t leave until 6:27.
Soon I will be here around the clock, turning the pages, sipping water. It is quite nice though, very peaceful after hours. If you crave peace and quiet like I used to, come visit us and say hi. You will see me, an emaciated white-haired librarian, skinnier every day, sitting at the table by myself, with the big book about Russian Empire open before me.
It is truly fascinating, and I am sure you will love to learn about the Russian Empire. Come visit us. We are here.