It takes you a few moments to really understand the situation. When it had just been inside the confines of your house, you could somewhat understand it. This was not your house, and while you had been at the library an hour or two ago, there is no way you could physically be in the actual place right this moment.

Not without being soaked from the storm. Your hand grasps at your top, and your stomach churns at the fabric not only being dry, but there is still some warmth to it. You haven’t been away from the fireplace for long.

So why here? You flex your bare toes against the carpet, trying to get your bearings. From what you can make out, you are currently over in the seating area, not too far from the seat in which you had sat earlier today. You pull a face as you take a few steps over to the nearest bookshelf. Narrowing your eyes against the dim lighting, you pick out the titles of the first dozen. All of them seem normal, and they fit the section in which they are placed.

If this is some manner of dream or madness, there can’t be that degree of detail. A fidelity that only has a basis in reality. You even pluck one from the shelf, flicking through the pages angled toward the best lighting—which wasn’t saying much. All words, sentences, and paragraphs are arranged as they should be. Salient context and the content was-

Your thoughts stopped abruptly as a loud thunk came from behind you. Like a dropped book, maybe? You turn slowly, eyes burning as they try to pick up any useful information from the dimly lit library. It had sounded like it came from the back room behind the main counter.

The librarian may have decided to stay put.

You go to call out to Chloe, but a second loud thunk from that direction has the words catch in your throat. That wasn’t books falling to the floor.

A third thunk came, this time closer to the closed doorway. Loud, despite the wall muting it. Any notion of calling out to whoever is there quickly left your brain. Thoughts screamed for you to move, but your legs were frozen in place. Another bang, right in front of the office, as lightning and thunder rippled through the air.

The door cracks slightly, a crimson light pouring forth from within—and you move, as if by instinct.

Bare feet padding across the floor, you circle two bookshelves before ducking down behind a large one stood parallel to the counter. With a few of the books already withdrawn, you have a small view port across the room to the door.

Rather than a head or figure emerging from the crimson gap, a long limb stretched through. Something that looks like the arm of a praying mantis, but a pale fleshy color. Pointed at the end and jagged in appearance. Your stomach knots up, unsure as to what you are even seeing.

The door groans and shudders as this sharp arm moves it open. And then the face of the unknown entity pushes its way through.

At first, you hardly recognize it as a face. If it wasn’t for the two eyes burning bright yellow, sunken in pits of black, it would be much harder to make out. Smooth and featureless other than these sinister orbs, the creature had no nose, ears, or hair. In place of a mouth was a foot-long tentacle, barbed with small shapes that could be teeth. It writhed and waved through the air as if it was trying to taste something. Your presence.

Your heart is beating loud enough that you fear the monster will hear you. Breathing is difficult, and your right hand shakes as it grips at the bookshelf. The back and forth with the red door in your house had been quaint in comparison to this being you barely understand. It is like a horror movie turned real. Without the telltale signs of puppetry or CGI, it is beyond normality to the point of being damaging to your psyche.

Risking taking your eyes off whatever the fuck it was, you glance over toward the exit. At first you think it isn’t there anymore, another sick joke being played at your expense. But it was there, just smaller. More aged. Red.

For lack of any better options, you might have to go through that cursed door again. Even if it takes you out into the storm, or a different version of the library, or back home. Anything will be better than being stuck here with that abomination.

Now that you have taken your eyes off of it, it was difficult to switch back to looking at it. As if you could ignore its presence. Clenching your teeth together, you force yourself to look back.

More of its body has emerged now. A second long arm that it is using to crawl forwards like a spider. The body is coming through now as well, and it is long and jagged, the rib cage large and visible through thinly stretched pale skin. As the two eyes scoured through the library, it started to make a noise.

A low wail, constant. Like an alarm or siren. It was haunting and runs down your spine immediately, overwhelming your senses. It stops after a few seconds of ear-piercing discomfort, and the monster pulls itself through the opening fully. As the door closes behind it, you pull a face at the four legs moving behind it. These are also spider-like, or perhaps similar to a crab. Shorter than the arms by far, but almost constantly moving back and forth in an unsettling way.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Lowering yourself even further against the bookshelf, you watch as it takes a few steps out from the counter. The body then rears up as it brings both arms into the air, before slamming the tips down on the carpet, creating a loud thunk sound that reverberates through your head.

About twenty or so feet to your right, a couple of books fall from their shelf because of the creature's stomp. Your eyes widen and you say a few silent curse words as it's head snaps almost immediately to the sound of the dropping books, and as their tentacle-mouth probes the air it starts to clack against the floor in that direction.

You will need to move to the left to avoid it potentially seeing you. Away from the the door and potential salvation.

There was no doubt in your mind that if it found you, that is it. It didn’t look friendly at all. Any brief thought of dying bringing you back to the real world was squashed in an instant. There is no chance you are going to take that risk. Death to that tentacle and sharp, bladed arms wouldn’t be pleasant either.

You glance off to the left and start to pace your way along this bookshelf. As it draws closer, you can almost feel an aura around it. Like pure dread. You pause at the edge of the current shelf and hold your breath. The chitinous cracks of the sharp feet cutting through the carpet and into the stone floor draw closer.

As soon as its body and back legs have passed your position, you move.

Out from the shelf, around the next—your heart leaps into your throat as you almost barrel straight into a metal wheeled unit for moving books around. You skirt it, and circle around another shelf, before dropping quietly to your hands and knees. Only now you feel it was safe enough to exhale deeply. You even try to close your eyes briefly, hoping to escape this place, but a loud crash from down the room has you on edge again.

The creature has found the fallen books and isn’t too pleased about it not being something more interesting. In a rage, it had slashed through the offending shelf, splitting the wood and sending the rest of the contents to spill about the floor. It stomped around on these discarded tomes before shrieking again.

You peer through a slight gap in the books before you, only barely able to see the shape of the monster moving. It stepped away from the rows of books and into the area with the chairs and tables. Rather than shriek, it emitted a strange purring sound. Like a cat, but wetter and more shrill.

As you try to calm your short breaths, you slowly draw a book out from the shelf in front of you. You manage it without causing a single sound, and retain your grasp on the withdrawn piece of fiction, narrowing your eyes through the newly created gap.

While the creature purred, a thick mucus-like liquid ran from the tentacle, dripping down onto…

You tense up. Onto the chair you had been sitting on earlier today. The creature raised up a limb as it continued to slobber on your seat, before bringing it down on the table. The split wood cracked loudly, something echoed by a flash and then a rumble of thunder from the storm outside. Was that a slight gap? It's finally moving away? You are too distracted to focus on it properly. It may just be wishful thinking.

Now you are even further from the red door. Your breathing comes out shakily as you try to draw up your options. From memory, there is a back exit to the library that was seldom used. Mostly just a fire exit, other than the times it is opened during especially hot summers. Did the back office have an exit? Scouring your memory quickly, you don’t believe so.

If any of the doors are locked, that back room will have the keys. Trapping yourself unnecessarily seems like a terrible idea. Risking it all to rush through a door that is locked is another abysmal potential occurrence, but what options do you really have?

The thing wailed once more, having satisfied itself with whatever it had been doing with your chair. Now you are being hunted. While the library could feel sprawling at times, it wasn’t large enough to a point where you could lose the monster for good. There was no way you could kill it, unless it was allergic to sweat and fear. That would be a terrible allergy for an unspeakable horror.

You glance away from it to try to find the back exit. Usually, that may be visible from here, but you can’t even see the back wall. You blink several times before realizing this end of the library is much deeper than is supposed to be. The shelving units duplicate in a pattern that repeats at least three times—that’s as far as you can see from your current position.

Do you want to go deeper? The question weighs on your mind. Being as far away from the creature as possible sounds like the most positive outcome to whatever you choose to do, but getting further away from a known doorway seems counterintuitive.

Perhaps if you throw this held book to just the right place, the monster will stomp deeper in and you can circle back to the red door. Then, if it is locked, you won’t be too far away from the counter and office. Hopefully the creature can busy itself far away and you’d be free—or at least as far away as possible. There must be a point where you could escape it fully.

You take your eyes off to the side and weigh up the projectile in your hand. It is a risky plan. If it just opened and floundered, or clipped one of the many nearby shelves, then it will land too close and put you at risk. You will need to step back and stand up, do the full motion required to really put decent distance on it. Thankfully, your current cover was taller than you were, but any potentially excessive movements made you paranoid about being seen.

It had eyes, but seemed to operate by sound. The weird tentacle-mouth can taste the air or something. Does it have your scent now? You shudder at the thought, but really your options are limited, whatever it is and however it worked. You just needed to survive it and escape.

You stand slowly and take a step away from the books. With one long breath, you pitch your arm back and ready yourself to pick a target destination.

As your muscles tense up, there is a loud thunk from the seating area.

Behind you, a book shuffles and drops to the floor, barely five feet away.