The noise

This isn't my diary, okay? Just, like, a place for me to put down what happened. Because if I don’t, it’s going to live in my head forever and ever, and I already have enough of that with the last chapter of The Hollowed Heart not coming out yet. Ugh. Anyway.

It all started, as most things do, at Bookmarks. It’s this local indie bookstore that my BFF Maya and I practically live in. It’s got that cozy, old-book smell and creaky floorboards that totally add to the atmosphere. It’s run by a woman everyone just calls “The Book Belle.” No one knows her real name, but honestly, she’s so iconic it doesn’t even matter. She’s super cool, always has the best recs, and she lets us hang out for hours without buying anything. (Though we usually do. Guilt purchases, you know?)

We were there last Friday, because of course we were. The wind outside was really doing its thing, like one of those horror movie trailers where you know something bad is about to happen. You know, that kind of wind that gets inside and makes everything feel colder. We were in the YA section, because, duh, and Maya was showing me her latest obsession, some dark academia thing with a murder plot. She loves that stuff. I’m more of a fantasy girl myself, but whatever.

Then we heard it. A rustling sound. Not like, a normal rustling, but more like paper shuffling. It was coming from the back, where the old, dusty books are kept. The Book Belle wasn’t there, and it was just us and, like, a couple of people in the cafe section.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered to Maya.

She was still staring at her book, but she looked up with a frown. “Hear what?”

“The noise,” I said, and a chill went down my spine, but probably because the wind was totally, like, chilling. “In the back. It sounded like... someone flipping through pages.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “It’s just the wind, Em. Chill.”

“It’s not just the wind,” I insisted. “The door to the back room is closed.”

She sighed, dramatic as usual, and closed her book. “Fine. Let’s go check it out. You’re such a scaredy cat.”

I wasn’t a scaredy cat, okay? I just know what’s up. Books have ghosts in them sometimes. Everyone knows that.

We walked toward the back, past the mystery section and the history books, which are super boring. The sound was getting louder, and it was definitely not the wind anymore. It was, like, a rhythmic, almost frantic sound of pages turning.

“Okay, that’s not the wind,” Maya said, her voice a little shaky. She’s all tough until she’s not.

We got to the back room, which is basically a storage closet for books that are out of print or just too old for the regular shelves. The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open slowly, and the sound stopped. Dead silent. The only thing I could hear was my own heart beating like a drum solo.

The room was super dark, and I had to turn on my phone flashlight. It was pretty much a hoarder's dream, books stacked everywhere, piles of them on the floor, shelves crammed full. The air was thick with the smell of old paper and dust.

“See? Nothing,” Maya said, and she sounded relieved.

But then I saw it. A shadow. Not, like, a human shadow, but a weird, distorted blob of darkness that was, like, rippling across the books. It moved like it was alive.

“Maya,” I whispered, my voice barely there. “Look.”

She followed my gaze, and her eyes went wide. She grabbed my arm, her grip so tight it hurt. “What is that?”

The shadow thing swirled, and then it started to pull books off the shelves. One by one. It was like a poltergeist but with a taste for literature. The books didn't fall to the floor; they just floated, pages ruffling like a flock of black birds.

"This is not real," Maya breathed.

But it was. The books were gathering, swirling around, and the pages were turning faster and faster, a whirlwind of paper. The shadows got darker, and I could hear whispers coming from them. But they weren’t, like, normal whispers. They were… quotes. From the books.

“And so it begins,” a low voice said, like a villain's first line.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” came another voice, frantic and fast.

I saw a book float right past my face, its title clear as day: The Ghost of Willow Creek. Of course it was.

The whirlwind of books got faster, a swirling tornado of paper and ink. It was so loud now, like a thousand pages being ripped at once.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos. "Stop this at once!"

It was The Book Belle, standing in the doorway, holding a little leather-bound book. She was, like, a wizard or something. The book-tornado froze, and the floating books dropped to the floor with loud thuds.

The shadow thing, a smaller, more concentrated blob now, looked at The Book Belle and, like, hissed. It was the grossest sound ever.

“You know the rules, Grimoire,” The Book Belle said, her voice firm. “No unauthorized reading outside of opening hours.”

The shadow, "Grimoire," flickered and shrank, becoming a normal-looking book. A really old, fancy one with a leather cover.

“Seriously?” I said. “The book is called Grimoire?”

The Book Belle sighed, rubbing her temples. “Teenagers,” she muttered. She picked up the book and put it back on the shelf. “This one is a little… moody. Don’t worry, it’s just the wind.”

She gave us a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Maya and I just stood there, speechless, surrounded by fallen books. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t even look at each other.

The Book Belle just went back to the front, and we heard the little bell on the door jingle as she left.

We just started picking up the books, putting them back on the shelves. No words needed to be said. We both knew what we had just seen.

We were totally silent on the way home, too. It wasn’t until Maya got to my porch that she finally spoke.

“So… you think The Hollowed Heart has, like, a haunted book in it too?”

I shuddered. “Dude, don’t even.”

Maya laughed, and it felt so normal I almost believed her. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”

But as she walked away, I looked back at Bookmarks. And for a second, I could swear I saw a shadow move behind the big front window. I heard a whisper on the wind, but I couldn’t make out the words.

It could just be the wind…

Yeah, right.

i tried my best but i cant enter the contest cause im only 16 and i font got money i try my best my mom knows i have this account