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          She bolted.  Not even glancing back over her shoulder, she sped forwards, zigzagging through the shelves, trying desperately to find the exit.


          She tripped –

          -- and fell!

          The mounds around her collapsed in a thunderous plume of dust.  She spluttered.

          As the dust cleared, she felt a sensation: a tug on her heart.  It was as if she were being told something.  As if there were a book calling out to her in the darkness…

          Pulling herself to her feet, she looked around.  Nothing.  Nobody.  Except…

          “Excuse me, my dear,” an old man said.  “Can I help you find a book to read?  I have a wide variety of books – books from across the hemisphere, I dare say.”

          “I… I feel like there’s a book that is made for me to read.”

          The man, Mr Linden she presumed, smiled: his lips split showing ghastly teeth.  “Ah, yes.  I am afraid, Miss, that is the one book you are not allowed.”