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.”