The library was supposed to be quiet, but that afternoon it felt too quiet. Lila, who had just turned thirteen, was helping to reshelve books after school. Normally, she liked the calm, but today something felt wrong. The big clock on the wall had frozen at 4:44. She could’ve sworn she heard it ticking minutes earlier, but now its hands wouldn’t budge.
Trying to ignore the chill creeping up her arms, she wandered deep into the shelves with a pile of books. Halfway down an aisle, she froze. A single book lay open on the floor, pages fluttering even though no air was moving.
Curious, she stepped closer. The title across the top read: The Vanishing of Evelyn Hart.
Her eyes narrowed. She’d never seen this book before, and she practically lived in Maple Street Library. Even stranger, the story wasn’t printed; it was handwritten in quick, messy scrawls, like someone had scribbled it down in a rush.
The first line made her shiver: She disappeared in this very library, on a windy night, and no one ever found her.
As she knelt to inspect it, something slipped from between the pages. A folded piece of paper. She unfolded it slowly.
If you are reading this, leave now.
Her pulse jumped. Was someone playing a trick on her? She whispered, “Hello?” but only the shelves answered, her voice echoing back at her.
The lights overhead flickered, then steadied. Lila gasped; the book had vanished from her hands. One second it was there, the next it was gone, leaving her empty-handed and shaky.
Then came the sound. Footsteps. Slow, steady, and echoing from the back of the building.
They were coming from the archives—the locked section.
She should have run, but curiosity tugged at her. Grippinging her phone tight, she tiptoed forward. Each step made the wooden floor creak like it was warning her to stop. At the door, she pressed her ear against it. The footsteps stopped.
Her breath caught. A whisper slid through the air: “Don’t look.”
Every instinct screamed to leave, but she pushed the door open anyway, just enough to peek inside.
The archive room was lined with shelves of dusty ledgers. In the center sat a chair. On the chair, the missing book.
Its pages were spread open to a passage that hadn’t been there before.
Evelyn Hart was last seen at 4:44 P.M. The same time the clock had stopped. At the same time, it would stop again.
Before she could process the words, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She jumped and fumbled it out. A new text glowed on the screen. No sender. Just four words: You have three minutes.
Her stomach twisted. Three minutes until what? Her mind darted back to the frozen clock.
Slamming the door shut, she bolted down the hall. Her sneakers squeaked against the floor as she sprinted, every shadow seeming to lunge after her. She didn’t look back.
Busting outside, she gulped the cool evening air. Relief only lasted a second.
Because when the library lights flicked off all at once, her gaze shot to the dark windows.
A pale girl with long hair stood staring out.
The clock struck 4:44 again.
And stayed there.
