Pencils & Polaroids

21: nightmares & daydreams

With how I'm running, James Wan could easily cast me in The Conjuring 4. With my speed, skill in panting, and a drained face that's naturally paling white, I'm fit to play the role. What I'm running from isn't anything less than a ghost either. This scene looks like a page ripped out of a horror book where every reader will unanimously find the ghost annoying. 

I barge into the third-floor corridor, taking staggered peeps behind my shoulder, trembling my steps but not considering the idea of stopping to catch a breath. My lungs need a moment before crossing the line of sanity but I cannot stop. I cannot let the ghost get to me. 

Seeing the library door half open, I act on my instinct and dive through it. I'm not surprised at how dull the thick wooden shelves with thicker book spines make the library look, but the sight of finding Maria's chair (the librarian's chair) empty puts me in perplexity. There could be an approaching holocaust and Maria's chair would still not be empty. She would rather choose to die amidst burning books than in between running away from them. 

I have very minimal time to hunt down Maria because I hear thumping footsteps growing louder and closer. I rush to the nearest shelf because any chaser's instinct would be to search the farthest end first. When my unpleasant ghost surpasses my shelf, I'll escape through the door and lock him inside forever. 

Sorry, Maria, I guess this part of the school will be legendarily known as Maria and the library ghost. 

"Mellon," I shiver when I hear my name grunted in his voice. "You can't hide from me." 

Forget responding, I don't even breathe. I hold my breath, my stance, and my comebacks (The hardest being the comebacks). I concentrate on his footsteps and the creaking wooden floor. Because I'm good at Physics, I calculate his speed, the distance between us, and the time he's taking to cover it with my required velocity and round up the shelf he just finished passing. 

"You think breaking all my pencils was fun? Did throwing grease on them make you badass? I have spent ten years collecting them. They were my grandma's favorite brand--I am going to make you pay today." He threatens in a low but determined voice. "You'll pay for everything."  

After I'm sure he's five shelves too far away from mine, I charge for the door. I'm just about near the door when I realize it's locked. It's not bolted, it's not jammed, it's just locked shut. I yank the door, pushing and pulling it with all my might so it breaks free. But no matter how hard I try, it wouldn't open. 

I do a double glance behind my shoulders to see Rainer looking at me with a tilted head, narrowed eyes, and slow steps directed towards me. I start banging on the door with both my palms. "Help! Maria, help!" His steps become fast. "Somebody, help!" 

I don't dare look back because my other senses tell me he's way too close now. I press my eyes close but continue slapping the thick door hoping someone would come to rescue me. 

"Shhh," I shiver when I feel his whisper travel from my ears to my entire body giving rise to goosebumps wherever they touch. His chest crams against my back, pushing me further into the door. 

His hands' case around mine on the door with his fingers slowly sliding down to intertwine between the spaces of mine. His fingers tighten behind my palms and I grow warm to his touch. A touch that my body seems very aware of. 

"Bark," I whisper when he thrusts his entire body to my back and I feel his erection in a place that feels so inappropriately pleasureful. 

"Stop running from me," he whispers raspily but only this time, his lips brush touching my ear. I gasp at how many icy twists he provoked inside my stomach. "You know you want this," In the mid-way of his words his other hand snakes around my waist and tugs me to his chest.