The Library Lurker

Intermission: Excerpt from Jason’s vlog

Research log: #129

03/04/2021

13:31

[Jason is sitting at a table with a small stack of books to his side; bookshelves filled to the brim with books of all colors fill the frame on both sides.]

“Continuing on from yesterday, I decided to do some deeper research into Salem’s history. Honestly, it’s somewhere I have always thought about visiting, and if there's any place I am going to capture some real supernatural phenomena, it’s Salem.”

[Jason reaches for the book on top of the pile and pulls it down to begin reading ‘The History of the Salem Witch Hunt’.]

13:48

“Ooooh, so this is interesting… and horrible, definitely horrible, but the ages of the accused ranged from as young as 4 years old all the way up to their early 70s, it's fascinating what fear drives people to do.”

14:02

“So contrary to popular belief, many of the accused were actually men, even 6 of the 20 executed ‘witches’ were men."

[Jason reaches up to cover his mouth as he yawns while stretching back in his seat.]

"Although the majority of the victims were still young women and girls, it wasn’t exclusive.”

14:55

[Jason's eyelids are visibly drooping, and his head is swaying slightly as he reads.]

“Oh, that is interesting, so… it's mentioned here… eugh … wow, all this reading must really be getting to me… It’s um.. Mentioned here that the uh, the witch hunt was at one point attributed to ‘ergot poisoning’ from a bad batch of wheat, but that has since been debunked. And the uh, the general consensus today is that a combination of *yawn* mass hysteria, religion, and societal tensions led to the tragedy.”

15:23

[Jason is slouched to the side in his chair; he appears to be sleeping.]

“Witch………… ghost………. Trials…………”

[Jason reaches for the corner of the page and flips it without even looking.]

16:37

[Jason is slouched further down in the chair, eyes still closed, a new book is in his hands, ‘The Devil in the Shape of a Woman’, he continues to flip through pages.]

21:29

[Jason is slumped face-first on the desk, books are scattered around his collapsed frame, a figure comes into view, blurry and out of focus behind Jason, its form grows bigger as it approaches the camera, a hand reaches over Jason's shoulder and—]

“Excuse me, excuse me young man, we’re closing soon and you are going to need to pack all of this up.”

[The old librarian lady shook Jason's shoulder, attempting to wake him.]

“Wha- ughhhhh-”

[Jason pauses as he raises his head and rests his gaze on the books strewn around the table in front of him. He then looks down beside his chair and audibly gasps.]

“oh god… ooh no, I am so sorry, I do not know what happened here, just… ughhh.”

[He rubs the sleep from his eyes and readjusts his glasses to get a better look at the messy surroundings.]

“I am so unbelievably sorry. I will clean this up right away.”

[He begins to bend over to pick books up off the floor.]

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, this is far from the worst I have seen; you students are always overworking yourselves.”

[The elderly woman gave a hearty belly laugh and turned to leave.]

“Nothing to be ashamed of, mind you, just try and get a better night's sleep at home next time.”

[She walks off-screen around the corner of the row of bookcases. Jason is still picking up books from the floor when he looks up and stares directly at the camera.]

“Ohhh crap, have I been recording this whole time? My storage is gonna be so damn full.”

[Jason reaches towards the camera, and it cuts to black.]

Two sharp knocks echoed through the empty room, the sound ringing in Jason’s ears as he stared at the tall wooden wardrobe with mounting anticipation.

“Sylvie Langford!” Jocelyn announced with a dramatic flourish, both hands sweeping toward the wardrobe in a showy arc.

The ornate wooden doors blew open as air gushed through from behind. When the flow calmed and the doors stopped swinging on their hinges, Jason could get a better look inside again.

“WOAH! How on earth did you fit that in there!?” Jason shouted in delight, scrambling out of his seat to get a closer look at the wardrobe's interior.

Gone was the thin wooden backboard, and in its place was a long, dimly lit corridor with a single light near the end, illuminating the area around it.

Jason closed his eyes, trying to contain the excitement coursing through his body. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, “Oh my god!” he ran forward to touch the sides of the wardrobe, and then continued running around the back, knocking on wooden planks and boards as he did so. He took another look inside and reached in to confirm it wasn't an illusion, then backed out to do one more 360 of the strange furniture.

“It’s bigger on the inside!” Jason proclaimed with a beaming grin on his face, looking towards Jocelyn for confirmation

“…Well, not really no,” Jocelyn deadpanned, slightly perturbed by Jason's sudden enthusiasm. “It's just a portal inside the wardrobe.”

Jason's smile dropped instantly, and blood started rushing to his face, forming a blush so bright it could guide Santa's sleigh.

“Well… I uh.. I just wanted to… You sound British, so I thought…” God, he just wanted to melt into the floor he was staring at right now.

“What? You thought you could interrupt my show?” She folded her arms and hovered higher in the air. “Honestly, you entitled Americans always think you are more important than everyone else.”

Jason swallowed, still refusing to lift his eyes from the floor, his humiliation clear as day.

Jocelyn let him stew in it for a moment, then she sighed dramatically, tapping a blue fingertip against her cheek.

“Well,” she drawled, “since you’re already up and interrupting my show…”

Her grin flashed wickedly. “You might as well make yourself useful.”

Jason blinked. “U-Useful?”

“Yes, darling.” Jocelyn pointed toward the open wardrobe corridor with a casual flick of her wrist. “Go fetch her.”

“Fetch? A- as in… go in there?”

“Well,” Jocelyn purred, now lounging on her side in midair, “unless you’ve got some other idea?”

Jason opened and closed his mouth. “Uh… no?”

“Well then, mr ‘ghost hunter’, why don't you go and hunt yourself a ghost?” She wiggled her fingers in a flippant little go on then gesture.

“It's not—” The anger in Jason’s voice sparked for half a second… and then sputtered out like a wet match.

He shut his mouth, cheeks hot with humiliation. Then he looked up from the floor and took a step toward the towering piece of furniture.

“Oh come on, Jay, man up a bit,” Jocelyn said, rolling her eyes with a bored sigh.

Jason didn't respond this time. He took another shaky step forward, and then another, and then another, until he finally crossed the threshold into that dim hallway.

But as his eyes began to adjust to the gloom, he realised that it wasn't a hallway at all; these weren't walls, but rather very tall shelves, covered in lines and lines of books. This was a library.

“What am I looking for here?” he turned back to Jocelyn, only for her to tap an imaginary watch on her wrist impatiently.

‘“Message received,” Jason mumbled, pushing further into the darkness.

He walked slowly at first, but the deeper he went, the more the fear morphed into something else. Something familiar.

He’d spent years doing this—snooping through abandoned hospitals, libraries, offices. If anything, this was some comfortable respite from all the crazy he’d just walked away from.

“Um.. hello?” he shouted out into the room, not really sure how to approach this without his usual gear. “Who am I kidding? Like that was ever going to work.” He sighed, the sound swallowed by the vast room.

All of a sudden a shape slid into view directly ahead of him, a translucent pale white and faintly glowing figure. Upon closer inspection, it took the form of a young woman, skinny and frail-looking, with incredibly long hair and an oversized, flowing dress, smothering her form.

“What? A break in? Who breaks into a library?” the figure said with a raspy voice, sounding almost dry, or like they need to cough really, really bad.

Initially startled, Jason decided to take the initiative and greet this new specter.

“H-Hi,” he managed, lifting his hand in a tiny wave. “I’m Jason.”

The white lady stiffened, then tilted her head to the side. “Who does this weird guy think he's talking to?” she rasped out incredulously.

Jason blinked. “Um… well… y-you?”

The ghost froze

“...Wait. Me?” Her voice cracked sharply. “You can— you can hear me?”

“Uh… yeah?”

For a moment, she just stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“O-Oh,” she let out barely a whisper. “Oh no.”

She wrung her translucent fingers together, trying to look everywhere except him.

“I-I didn’t think… anyone would… or anyone could… hear me.” Her voice came out slow and broken. “You are the first person in years… And ohhh noo… I just insulted you right to your face,” she cried out, covering her own face from sheer embarrassment.

“Oh God… please don't worry uh… Sylvie? Was that your name?”

The shy ghost peeked through her fingers to look back at Jason, looking almost like a child caught stealing cookies — if that child was glowing, floating in midair, and also a ghost.

“Uhm-hmm,” she hummed with a nod, “how do you know my name?”

“Well, uh, Jocelyn told me.”

“Somebody told you?” Sylvie's voice jumped an octave, airy and horrified.

“Y-yeah? Actually, I-I guess I'm supposed to bring you back.”

“Bring me back? Where?” Sylvie lowered her hands from her face, still clutching them together at her chest.

“Uh, I think she’d better explain that,” Jason said, forcing a hopeful smile she absolutely could not see in the pitch-black aisles. “If you’d just… come with me?”

He reached out a hopeful hand towards her.

Sylvie drifted back a little, translucent fingers clenching around fistfuls of her own ghostly dress.

“I’d love to get out of here… really…”

Her voice shrank to a fragile whisper.

“But I can’t.”

Jason blinked. “Can’t? What do you—”

“I just… can’t,” she shook her head, causing her hair to whip around her weightlessly.

“If I get too far from my typewriter, I start to fade. And then I just… black out. And when I wake up, I’m right back here again.”

She winced, hugging her arms around herself. “It’s happened so many times…”

Jason exhaled sharply. “I really don’t think she’s gonna take that for an answer…”

Sylvie made a tiny, worried noise at that.

But then Jason’s expression lifted. “...Wait. What if I just bring the typewriter? Then you can come with right?”

Sylvie’s eyes widened, a soft glow brightening around the edges of her form as she stared at him like he had just performed some form of miracle.

“You… you’d do that?” she whispered. “Y-You’d really bring it for me…?”

Jason gave an awkward, half-embarrassed shrug at her reaction; it seemed pretty obvious to him. “I mean… yeah? Can’t be that hard, right?”

Sylvie’s glow brightened even more, the faintest halo forming around her trembling outline. She lifted both hands to her mouth as if trying to physically contain the sudden rush of emotion.

“Oh my gosh thankyouthankyouthankyou” The words poured out so fast they tangled together, her voice rasping and airy with excitement. She practically vibrated in place, drifting up an extra inch before remembering herself and forcing her way back down to Jason's level.

Jason startled at the intensity, his hands lifting like he might need to catch her. “H-Hey, it’s okay—really, it’s fine,” he said quickly, embarrassed by how flustered she was. “It’s not a big deal, I just… move the typewriter. Simple.”

Sylvie ducked her head, the glow around her dimming to a shy little shimmer. “When you put it like that, it… does sound pretty obvious,” she admitted, voice small and sheepish.

“A-Anyway… um… the typewriter’s this way,” she said softly, turning and drifting down one of the side aisles. Her glow cast a faint white sheen along the spines of the books as she led him deeper.

Jason followed, weaving between towering shelves.

Now that the shock had worn off, he recognized the layout—at least in patches.

“Wait,” he muttered under his breath, eyes darting across a familiar cluster of shelves. “I’ve been here before,” Jason said, running his fingers along a shelf as he passed it. “This is the corner I usually sit in, this is… this is my local library.”

Sylvie peeked over her shoulder. “Why is that surprising? Did you not at least visit before breaking in?”

“Well… I wouldn’t say I broke in, per se,” Jason said, cheeks warming. “I just kinda ended up in here. Um. You’ll… see.”

“Oh.” She slowed half a beat, processing that. “Uh… okay…”

She turned forward again, drifting a little faster now. “The typewriter’s just at the back. It won’t take long.”

They wove past one last row of shelves, and then the space opened into a small reading nook Jason knew very well—two worn armchairs and a low side table, tucked against the wall beneath a tall window…

“There it is,” Sylvie said softly.

The typewriter sat on a narrow wooden desk, just where he remembered always seeing it. Old, matte black metal keys slightly crooked with age. He’d walked past it a hundred times, assumed it was just a dead display piece nobody touched anymore.

“I’ve seen this thing for years,” Jason muttered, stepping closer. “Didn’t think it actually belonged to someone.”

“It does,” Sylvie replied, voice small but proud. “It’s mine.”

Up close, the machine felt… different. More solid than everything else here. He rested his hands on its side, readying himself to lift it.

“Right,” he said, bracing his feet. “Can’t be that bad.”

He tried to lift it.

It didn’t budge.

Jason grunted, adjusted his grip, and tried again—this time hauling it up with a strained exhale. The weight of it hit his arms like a bag of bricks; his shoulders screamed immediately.

“O-Okay wow. That’s… heavier than it looks.”

Sylvie hovered anxiously beside him, wringing her hands. “I–Is it too much? I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

“Nope, nope, it’s fine,” Jason puffed, hugging the typewriter to his chest. “Totally… manageable… probably… hopefully.”

He staggered a step, the heavy device slipped in his grip, causing him to lose balance, but he caught himself at the last second.

Sylvie gasped. “Oh gosh, please don’t drop it, I really, really don’t want to find out what happens if you drop it.”

“I’m not gonna drop it,” he said through clenched teeth. “I swear… Just lead the way, okay?”

Sylvie nodded hurriedly and drifted ahead, glowing a little brighter.

Jason took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the stupidly heavy relic, and started the long, wobbling walk back toward their meeting spot.

The return trip was… not graceful.

Every few steps, Jason had to readjust his grip, elbows trembling, shoulders hunched forward in a **** attempt not to let the ridiculously dense hunk of metal slip out of his arms. The typewriter groaned with every shift, as if it resented being moved after decades of sitting undisturbed.

Meanwhile, Sylvie drifted backward ahead of him—occasionally forgetting she could pass through shelves and having to rewind herself to lead him properly.

“You’re doing great!” she whispered, voice breathy and excited.

Jason grunted, stumbling over a carpet wrinkle. “Yeah… so glad… You think so.”

Finally, the shelves thinned, the space opening up into the central section of the library.

Sylvie slowed, turning in a small circle, hands clasped indecisively.

“Um… okay. W-We’re back where we started. Where are we going now?”

Jason tried to answer, but all that came out was a strained wheeze. His arms shook violently.

He clenched his teeth, lifted one trembling hand off the typewriter, and attempted to point. A sad little inch of movement is all he managed.

“Hrngh— th-that way,” he managed to cough out.

Sylvie looked where he was pointing—toward the next corner between two tall bookshelves.

“Oh, okay! I'll light the way!” she said, speeding ahead.

Jason stumbled after her, legs wobbling every step of the way.

But just as she rounded the corner, Sylvie gasped.

“What… what is that?”

Because between the shelves, where there should have been another aisle of books, was a glowing rectangular distortion, swirling at the edges.

Beyond the shimmering doorway was the stage, and hovering right there, leaning casually on her elbow like she’d been waiting all day, was Jocelyn.

The phantom hostess waved at them with a smug little wiggle of her fingers.

“About time, darling!” she called out, voice echoing faintly into the library. “Honestly, I was starting to think you’d never come back, oooh and you found your new plaything, what joy!”

Sylvie’s eyes went wide, jaw dropping in pure bewilderment.

“That… that shouldn’t be possible,” she whispered, staring at the portal as though it had personally betrayed the laws of physics. “There isn’t even a room behind that wall—there’s nothing behind that wall! And how did a stage end up behind the wall!?”

Jason wheezed, the typewriter slipping another inch in his grip.

“Trust me,” he rasped, knees shaking, “you’re gonna wanna… just roll with it.”

Jocelyn clapped her hands sharply, the sound echoing unnaturally through the stacks.

“There he is!” she sang. “My big, strong hero.”

Jason wanted to say something snarky.

Jason wanted to say anything.

All he managed was another full-body tremble and a strained, nasal noise that vaguely resembled a dying kettle.

Sylvie, meanwhile, hugged herself anxiously, drifting a little closer to Jason like she needed his reassurance.

“Is… is that where we’re going?” she asked, pointing a trembling finger toward the swirling doorway.

Jason nodded, breathless. “Yup. That’s the… that’s the exit.”

“Ok… I’ll trust you then,” she resigned herself.

Jocelyn floated forward through the portal just enough that her upper body poked into the library, “Well?” she purred. “Bring her through, darling. We don’t have all day.”

Jason **** one foot forward. Then the other. Sylvie drifted close beside him nervously, her glow flickering like a candle trying its best in a strong breeze.

They crossed the last few feet between the shelves, the swirling distortion humming softly as it filled their vision.

Jason sucked in a breath, braced the typewriter against his chest, and stepped through first.

The air shifted instantly, its warm stage lights replacing the cool library gloom.

Sylvie slipped through right behind him, clutching her dress, eyes huge with fear and awe. Her glow dimmed, then steadied as she floated fully into the open space of the stage.

“Well took you two long enough,” she had her arms on her hips, looking somewhat unimpressed.

Jason wobbled dangerously. “C-Can I… put this down now?”

Jocelyn flicked her cane towards him. “Yes darling, please do. You’re sweating all over and it is not a good look, believe me.” The hunk of metal floated out of Jason’s grip and into the air. Jocelyn twirled it around and gave it a curious look.

“What were you even hauling this piece of junk all the way here for anyway?” she inquired.

Sylvie made an audible squeak at Jocelyn's comment, wanting to get mad but couldn’t find it in her.

“It's hers… Uh Sylvie’s… I mean.”

“Alright, but why bring it here? It looked like an awful lot of effort.” Jocelyn raised a brow, giving him a pointed once-over.

“Well, she said she can’t get too far from it,” Jason explained, wiping his forehead. “I figured she was… haunting it?”

Jocelyn burst into laughter. Not a polite giggle—a full, delighted, echoing cackle.

“Oh, that’s adorable. Truly.” She tilted backwards, hovering on her back while holding her stomach. “You actually thought you needed to bring it? Ahahah—oh that’s precious.”

Jason flushed, mortified. “W–What? What’s wrong with that?”

Jocelyn gestured broadly to the stage behind her.

“Darling, Babs and Mika certainly didn’t arrive dragging in the things they were haunting. Do you have any idea how inconvenient it would be to fit an entire warehouse on this stage?”

Jason opened his mouth. Closed it. Slowly nodded.

“Oh. I… see.”

“Mm-hm,” Jocelyn smirked. “But do keep the enthusiasm. It’s almost endearing,” she wiped a tear from her eye and straightened herself back up.

“Right,” she said, patting down her dress, magically placing the typewriter down at the seating area, right beside Jason's black case, “We really must be getting on with the show, now come on over here Sylvie.” Jocelyn struck the floor with her cane as she said it

Sylvie yelped at the sudden noise and did as she was told, hovering to attention right beside Jocelyn.

“Now there's a good girl, about time we had somebody more obedient, isn't it, Jason?” The host sideyed Mika and Babs still sat at their seats.

Mika just shot her a dirty look and Babs remained completely still.

“Now, why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself hmm Sylvie?”

“Uhm, what do you want to know?” Sylvie replied, gripping her dress with all her might.

“Well, your name, interests and cause of ****, how you know our master and your sexual preferences would be a good start.”

Jocelyn’s forwardness was massively off-putting for Sylvie, especially after being helped out by that nice man. Wait, now that they were somewhere bright, she could actually get a good look at him.

Sylvie turned on the spot to see the face of her saviour.

‘Wait, I know that face, oh my God it's him.’

Jocelyn noticed instantly. “What’s the matter, little Sylvie?” she teased, floating lazily closer. “I mean, sure, he could use a bit of work, but it’s not that bad, is it?”

Sylvie jolted. “O-Oh! No—no, I… It’s nothing. Just—sorry—what was the question?”

Jocelyn smiled, sharp and predatory. “Your name.”

“Sylvie Langford.”

“Your cause of ****?”

Sylvie wrung her spectral hands. “I—I’m not sure. I just… passed out. I was twenty-eight years old.”

“Mmhm. Occupation? Interests?”

“I… was a writer.” She flushed with embarrassment, her glow dimming shyly. “Mostly small things. Journals. Bits of fiction.”

“Lovely,” Jocelyn said with a flourish. “And your sexual preferences?”

Sylvie blinked. “Um. I’m… not sure? I wasn’t ever all that interested in that stuff.”

Jocelyn sighed dramatically, “I see.”

She leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Last question: how do you know our lovely Master Jason?”

Sylvie startled, clutching her dress. “W-Well… he was a frequent visitor to the library I was… stuck in. For the last few years. I sometimes… um… read his books with him. Because they were really weird— I mean interesting! Interesting.”

Jason turned scarlet, thinking back on how much time he had spent in that library over the last few years, just how many vlogs he filmed when he assumed he was alone.

Jocelyn clapped her hands, delighted. “Finally! Someone simple. Cooperative. How utterly pleasant.” She gestured grandly.

Then she turned toward Jason, her smile curling into something sly and predatory.

“She is a sweet one, isn’t she, Jason?” Jocelyn crooned. “Just imagine the things you could do with her adorable little body.”

Jason made a noise halfway between a cough and a dying bird.

Sylvie blinked up at him, wide-eyed and confused, as if she wasn’t sure how to react to such a provocative comment.

“W-Wait— my… my what?” Sylvie asked, looking down at herself as though expecting something scandalous to be attached.

“It’s a compliment, darling,” Jocelyn said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m sure he appreciates the view.”

Jason’s face went scarlet. “I— I didn’t— I wasn’t—!”

Sylvie’s glow flickered, heating into a nervous peach-tinted blush. “Um… I don’t… really think I have a… a view.”

With a theatrical flick of her wrist, Jocelyn shooed Sylvie off.

“Whatever you say darling, now go on sweetheart and find a seat. And you too Master Jay, don’t want you getting in the way again now do we?”

Sylvie nodded, drifting timidly toward the seating area.

The moment she spotted Babs’ towering, smoking, helmeted form, she squeaked and shrank inward, glowing like a startled firefly.

Babs sat perfectly still, seemingly not acknowledging her in the slightest. Sylvie wasn't sure if she should be threatened or calmed by this.

But then Sylvie saw Mika, who offered her a tiny, warm smile.

Sylvie brightened—literally—and smiled back gratefully.

She drifted over and hesitantly, making sure to check on her typewriter's wellbeing on the way, and sat beside Babs, hovering an inch above the stool clutching her dress tightly around her thighs.

“Alright folks, that's it for Contestant number three! How do we all feel about our adorable little Sylvie? Make sure to leave your comments below,” she said with a saucy wink

“And if not, maybe our next contestant will spark some interest. Tune in after the break for Contestant Number Four!”

“Esmerelda Medrano!”