Sitting at the enquiry desk I feel a presence. I know it’s there. The building is old, a hundred years maybe more, with large cavernous rooms and stairways. I suppose it’s always quiet in libraries. Sunday mornings are very quiet. High above me is the tall and rather grand clock tower.
I can hear it chiming every fifteen minutes. That’s not the noise today I’m focusing on. There are thuds and bangs high above me. As if a large creature were gripping the tower. I know it’s there, I can feel it, a presence pounding on the old walls. Calling, demanding all around know that today is its day. The day of reckoning.
It’s telling me that it will find me, seek me out. I move away from this open space. Doors above and behind me begin banging and creaking. Many floors down the noise that was has gone. Have I escaped? Peace and silence surrounding me among old books, boxes and dust. Then finally it finds me. Its cold breath hitting me squarely in the face. Its smooth strong arms envelop me.
Down, down through the tower, passed reception to the very bottom basement. It finds me. The wind rushes through an open door and spreads throughout the room. Outside the storm rages rumbling against the walls. Then once again inside calm settles among the myriad of words, order is restored.