Jason loved old books. At twelve, he spent most of his evenings in the town library, flipping through dusty pages and losing himself in forgotten tales. One rainy afternoon, while exploring a locked-off section, he discovered a thin, leather-bound book with no title. The cover was cold, even in his warm hands.
Curious, Jason opened it. Inside were blank pages—except one. It read:
“Read me aloud, and I shall awaken.”
He laughed nervously and whispered the words.
That night, Jason heard a faint rustling sound—pages flipping on their own. When he turned on his lamp, the book was on his desk… open, though he had put it away.
Each night after, the book appeared closer to his bed. It began whispering—words he couldn’t understand—while he slept. His dreams turned dark. A pale girl with hollow eyes emerged from the pages, standing silently at the foot of his bed.
She never moved, never spoke—just stared.
Jason tried to burn the book, but the flames died instantly. He threw it in a river. It was back on his pillow the next day.
Terrified, he ran to the library, desperate to return it. But the librarian stared blankly at the book and said, “We haven’t accepted that one in over a hundred years.”
Before Jason could respond, the pages flapped open violently. The girl stepped out of the book… this time not in a dream. She whispered:
"You read me. Now read no more."
The book slammed shut.
Jason was never seen again.
Only the book remained—waiting on the shelf, for the next reader.
