Hey Lavish. I'm glad to have found this place. There's a certain atmosphere that comes from small communities, that you just don't get on larger social sites. Hopefully a faster response than other sites too.
It's for that reason, that I've decided to post here, maybe get some opinions, even just get a little off my chest. I need to know I'm not crazy.
About 4 months ago, I got a job at the (now permanently closed) Public Library near the border of Tennessee. It was fairly close to home, had really good pay for the job. Seemed like a simple gig, stock books, organize, give kids library cards, whatever. Easy. There was one weird thing in the contract, where I wasn't allowed to use any piece of technology, except the Library computers. Odd, but for the pay, I won't complain.
No one else worked there. Just me, all day, opening, closing. It got a little unnerving, with floor to ceiling windows faced deep into the woods. Only people I ever saw were the kids, and an occasional homeless person stopping in for the bathroom. It was kind of out of the way, so nothing out of the ordinary. I'd never met my boss. Applied online. I just assumed they weren't a real hands on kind of person.
Eventually, less and less people were coming around. It got to the point where it would just be me in the building for hours on end. It started getting dark earlier in the winter months. Sometimes things would fall off the shelves when I knew for a fact there was no one there. Sometimes water would turn on in the bathrooms, flooding the sinks. I'd have to go clean it, since the janitorial staff only came when the Library was closed. I got paranoid.
I can hear your comments already. Yes, I know, ghosts are horseshit, but this had me pretty spooked for a while. I think the emptiness was starting to get into my head. It was an old-ass building, with the original features and creaky wood still intact. I would've quit just for how damn spooky it was, but the pay was way too good. I probably would've done anything for how good the pay was.
After a couple of days of this, I went out looking around for what was causing it. Like an idiot, clutching a broom handle to my chest. Went about as well as you'd imagine, found absolutely nothing. Every time I thought about the Library, a chill ghosted down my spine. I can't even explain how shit-my-pants terrified I was. It doesn't make sense.
When I was closing that day, another thing dropped from the shelves. The loud thud of a dusty book is unmistakable. I took a real deep breath, and rushed over to where it fell. I looked around for the culprit. Nothing. I felt something brush my leg. I jumped, and god, when I tell you I screamed, I SCREAMED. I feel they probably heard me in Antarctica.
I got my wits about me and realized it was a cat. A cat who had been tormenting me this whole time. An orange one, at that. My heart was still on a nascar track, and clearly hadn't gotten the memo. I saw my life flash before me, all for a fluffy little dumbass. The cat seemed to be blind, or at least mostly blind. His eyes were cloudy white.
By this point, it was just nuzzling up against my legs, clearly angling for attention.
I picked the cat up, and took him with me to close up shop. I named him Jonesy, because 1, he's orange, and 2, because he's a little nuisance. And 3, I suppose he's now my only real companion aboard the (Library) Nostromo.
I took him home with me. He had no collar, no chip either, so I assumed he was a stray that found his way in. Guessing he survived off of stolen employee lunches. (that's where they've been going).
Even though I caught my pest, the weird shit only kept happening. I genuinely thought I was going crazy. I'd see shadows out of the corner of my eye. I'd hear what sounded like Jonesy crying, only for him to be on the other side of the apartment. I'd feel something ghosting the back of my neck as I showered. Sometimes I'd think I was being stared at from the drain. It felt like my sanity was slowly dripping away.
After my first night of sleep paralysis, I opted to see a therapist. She put me on antidepressants. I don't think they helped.
I kept having horrible night terrors. Visions of white fleshy tendrils at the foot of my bed, feeling their way up to me as I can only sit there, helpless. Worm-like parasites trying to squeeze inside of my tear ducts, forcing my eyes open.
I started not going home. Practically living at the Library, most of the time I'd do whatever I could to avoid sleeping. I brought the cat with me. The only time I would leave was to buy food for him. I stopped eating, taking care of myself. Nobody came in to see me anymore, so I stopped caring.
Only sleeping when I passed out at my desk, at least I didn't have to experience the hallucinations. When I woke up, my eyes would be sore.
Day 5 of that. Walking around the Library in a lethargic haze, I found Jonesy on the bathroom tile. He was laying down... strangely. He was curled in on himself, sort of deflated. It looked as if all the meat inside his body had been hollowed out, leaving only skin and bone. I was worried about him, my only friend here. His eyes were open. No, not open, gone. What was left was a slimy trail from his empty sockets to the door, not blood, mucus.
A horrible realization sprouted in my brain.
Jonesy was not a cat. Jonesy was the thing inside the cat.
I'm writing this from the Library employee computer. The internet speed is terrible here, so I hope this gets out fast, if this gets out at all. Hoping for pretty fast responses. Is there a cure for this? It's becoming hard to type. Everything is kind of foggy.
I think I know what happened to the last Librarian.
It's for that reason, that I've decided to post here, maybe get some opinions, even just get a little off my chest. I need to know I'm not crazy.
About 4 months ago, I got a job at the (now permanently closed) Public Library near the border of Tennessee. It was fairly close to home, had really good pay for the job. Seemed like a simple gig, stock books, organize, give kids library cards, whatever. Easy. There was one weird thing in the contract, where I wasn't allowed to use any piece of technology, except the Library computers. Odd, but for the pay, I won't complain.
No one else worked there. Just me, all day, opening, closing. It got a little unnerving, with floor to ceiling windows faced deep into the woods. Only people I ever saw were the kids, and an occasional homeless person stopping in for the bathroom. It was kind of out of the way, so nothing out of the ordinary. I'd never met my boss. Applied online. I just assumed they weren't a real hands on kind of person.
Eventually, less and less people were coming around. It got to the point where it would just be me in the building for hours on end. It started getting dark earlier in the winter months. Sometimes things would fall off the shelves when I knew for a fact there was no one there. Sometimes water would turn on in the bathrooms, flooding the sinks. I'd have to go clean it, since the janitorial staff only came when the Library was closed. I got paranoid.
I can hear your comments already. Yes, I know, ghosts are horseshit, but this had me pretty spooked for a while. I think the emptiness was starting to get into my head. It was an old-ass building, with the original features and creaky wood still intact. I would've quit just for how damn spooky it was, but the pay was way too good. I probably would've done anything for how good the pay was.
After a couple of days of this, I went out looking around for what was causing it. Like an idiot, clutching a broom handle to my chest. Went about as well as you'd imagine, found absolutely nothing. Every time I thought about the Library, a chill ghosted down my spine. I can't even explain how shit-my-pants terrified I was. It doesn't make sense.
When I was closing that day, another thing dropped from the shelves. The loud thud of a dusty book is unmistakable. I took a real deep breath, and rushed over to where it fell. I looked around for the culprit. Nothing. I felt something brush my leg. I jumped, and god, when I tell you I screamed, I SCREAMED. I feel they probably heard me in Antarctica.
I got my wits about me and realized it was a cat. A cat who had been tormenting me this whole time. An orange one, at that. My heart was still on a nascar track, and clearly hadn't gotten the memo. I saw my life flash before me, all for a fluffy little dumbass. The cat seemed to be blind, or at least mostly blind. His eyes were cloudy white.
By this point, it was just nuzzling up against my legs, clearly angling for attention.
I picked the cat up, and took him with me to close up shop. I named him Jonesy, because 1, he's orange, and 2, because he's a little nuisance. And 3, I suppose he's now my only real companion aboard the (Library) Nostromo.
I took him home with me. He had no collar, no chip either, so I assumed he was a stray that found his way in. Guessing he survived off of stolen employee lunches. (that's where they've been going).
Even though I caught my pest, the weird shit only kept happening. I genuinely thought I was going crazy. I'd see shadows out of the corner of my eye. I'd hear what sounded like Jonesy crying, only for him to be on the other side of the apartment. I'd feel something ghosting the back of my neck as I showered. Sometimes I'd think I was being stared at from the drain. It felt like my sanity was slowly dripping away.
After my first night of sleep paralysis, I opted to see a therapist. She put me on antidepressants. I don't think they helped.
I kept having horrible night terrors. Visions of white fleshy tendrils at the foot of my bed, feeling their way up to me as I can only sit there, helpless. Worm-like parasites trying to squeeze inside of my tear ducts, forcing my eyes open.
I started not going home. Practically living at the Library, most of the time I'd do whatever I could to avoid sleeping. I brought the cat with me. The only time I would leave was to buy food for him. I stopped eating, taking care of myself. Nobody came in to see me anymore, so I stopped caring.
Only sleeping when I passed out at my desk, at least I didn't have to experience the hallucinations. When I woke up, my eyes would be sore.
Day 5 of that. Walking around the Library in a lethargic haze, I found Jonesy on the bathroom tile. He was laying down... strangely. He was curled in on himself, sort of deflated. It looked as if all the meat inside his body had been hollowed out, leaving only skin and bone. I was worried about him, my only friend here. His eyes were open. No, not open, gone. What was left was a slimy trail from his empty sockets to the door, not blood, mucus.
A horrible realization sprouted in my brain.
Jonesy was not a cat. Jonesy was the thing inside the cat.
I'm writing this from the Library employee computer. The internet speed is terrible here, so I hope this gets out fast, if this gets out at all. Hoping for pretty fast responses. Is there a cure for this? It's becoming hard to type. Everything is kind of foggy.
I think I know what happened to the last Librarian.
