The Bookworm's Awakening

Chapter Four

Sarah plopped down and finished the last of her spaghetti.

After she had finished her food and kept the plate, she returned and stared at the book. Uncertainty filled her mind – should she freak out or remain calm since it was just a book? Maybe Cynthia Hall was messing around.

An hour passed without her touching the book, only sitting in one corner of her room, studying it intently.

Suddenly she got up and grabbed her brown woolen sweater from the chair. The night was cold at this time at night.

Was she feeling anxious? Was it the book causing it?

Regardless, she draped the sweater over her black body-hugging singlet. Moving to the wardrobe, she yanked the door open, feeling the weight of anxiety pressing down on her.

As she pulled out her expensive black palazzo trousers, purchased on a whim, she glanced back at the book. It remained untouched, exactly where she had left it.

At least it should have moved so she would know that spirits were hovering around. But it did not move.

She picked up her phone and reluctantly grabbed the book, then snapped a photo of the address.

Sarah didn't know why she was doing this; she almost laughed at herself for thinking it was even real.

Was she really doing this?

Stepping out of her apartment, Sarah was greeted by the biting cold, with the wind whipping past her and dark clouds hovering overhead.

The unfriendly weather made her consider going back inside. She hadn't brought a raincoat or an umbrella, but she did not turn back to fetch them. Walking on, she assumed the rain would hold off until she returned.

With slumped shoulders and dragging feet, she moved slowly. Her course mates would tell her that she moved like a snail, if only they knew the things running through her mind.

She pushed the gate of her compound open and was met with the bustling streets of Lagos, vibrant even at night.

Lagosians never seemed to sleep.

She closed the gate behind her, but when she turned, she was suddenly face to face with a black cat with eyes resembling yellow snake slits.

Sarah's hand clutched her woolen sweater, she took a step back, locking eyes with the creature as it gazed at her knowingly.

Was it a male or female cat?

Why was it eyeing her skeptically?

"Shuu;" Sarah said, waving the cat away, but it remained in front of her.

Arg!!! She hated cats.

As she bent down to pick up a stone, it suddenly scurried away, as if sensing her intention to throw it.

She sighed and walked ahead, wondering if this was a bad sign, but yet, she was curious to know if Cynthia Hall was just messing with her readers.

The street was bustling with parked cars, and kiosks stood open, their floors littered with spilled curry, groundnut, and cigarette butts.

Men lounged on wooden armchairs around a table cluttered with empty bottles, some with their bellies exposed, singlets hanged over their shoulders.

Their laughter reverberated through the air, echoing like thunder. Sarah hastened her pace, avoiding the unpleasant aroma of alcohol and the loud laughter that filled the air.

As she walked ahead, she saw a young girl haggled with a shop owner over the price of an attachment.

Her hands were outstretched, holding the item as she gestured up and down, her expression fiery with outrage as she demanded to know why she should pay so much for just a single pack.

The owner appeared meek, explaining that it was the standard purchase.

Sarah quickly looked away, wondering if she too looked intense while bargaining at market.

Anxious thoughts swirled in her mind, it was driving her to notice every detail in her surroundings.

As she reached the end of the street, the sky rumbled with approaching thunder.

Her gaze shifted to the left, where the darkness enveloped the few houses in the area. It should have been normal—the power always goes off all the time, and there was hardly any light. Yet her mind raced with the thought that this could be a sign to turn back. But she didn't.

Instead, she continued walking through the dimly lit street, the faint glow of the streetlights casting eerie shadows on the ground.

Her foot caught on a stone, jolting her from her thoughts, and she winced as she rubbed her leg.

But, she continued walking, her gaze fixed ahead, determined to reach her destination. Only a few people passed her by, but she avoided making eye contact with any of them.

After a while, her steps slowed when she saw the 1111 number engraved on a building that read "library" in shining light.

The building was painted all black with tiny patches of grass scattered around, enclosed by a see-through fence and a widely opened gate.

It was real?

The library was real?