Judy hadn’t deliberately become locked in the library. She’d told her colleague, Moira, goodbye, and had left an hour earlier. But when she reached her car she realised she’d meant to dig out an old diary she thought might be helpful research for her planned novel. So back she’d gone, past the empty reception desk and into the archives at the back of the building. She didn’t have the reference number, just a vague recollection of where the diary should be, so she’d rummaged around for a time before finding the book.
Now she held it in her hands. A small volume, but fat, appropriate to be kept in a lady’s purse from the turn of the 20th century. It was the diary of one Emmeline Parker, a woman with no particular claim to fame except her recordings of daily life in the years leading up to the first world war in the provincial town where Judy now lived. Gold for Judy’s setting.
Judy slipped the volume into her coat pocket and opened the archive door. The low lighting of security met her. She frowned, glanced at her watch. She’d been inside less than thirty minutes but, sure enough, it was past closing time. Never mind – she reached for her handbag to retrieve her library keys to let herself out … and squeaked her horror. Her handbag was in her car, with her library keys and her phone.
Never mind, she’d call Moira from the library phone and beg her to come and free her, be humbly apologetic. All would be fine.
The phone gave off a weird buzzing sound. No amount of dialling and shaking turned that sound into the one Judy needed to hear.
There was a sound, however. A soughing, like a breeze through leaves. Judy returned the phone to its stand, moved with purpose to the shelves and peered around.
‘Anyone there?’ Her voice echoed around the stacks, with no reply.
Except a repeat of that soulful murmur which now increased in volume, seeming to rise up through the shelves.
Whispers on the air. Judy froze. The loudest whisper came from … her coat pocket. A scolding, muted chattering.
She felt for the diary, cautiously, as if the voice might snap at her, or the book bite. Lifting it out, the faded green cloth binding shimmered with a silver glow in the low lighting. As Judy raised it, with shaking fingers, to look more closely, the susurrations from the other books grew louder.
Now Judy heard words among the murmurings.
Emmeline, Emmeline … what tales have you told? Whose secrets have you spilled? Whose reputations have you tarnished?
Judy laid the diary on a table and gingerly opened the cover. A scribbled inscription asked the finder of the diary, should it be lost, to return the book to this very library, where, it seemed, Emmeline Parker had been a librarian. A nosy librarian, according to the increasingly rowdy accusations filling the room, one who spent time capturing the townsfolks’ gossip whispered among the shelves, in what they deluded themselves was privacy.
Judy picked up the brightly glowing book, warm in her hand. Gold indeed! But first …
She addressed the room. ‘I don’t suppose any of you lot remember where Emmeline kept her spare keys?’
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I just love ghost stories, don’t you? LOL
HER VOICE ECHOED AROUND THE STACKS, WITH NO REPLY
“Who’s there?”
All was quiet in the New York public library and Sienna’s voice echoed around the stacks, with no reply.
She heard the movement again, a sort of “wooshing” sound followed by childish laughter.
“Who is it? I know someone is there,” librarian Sienna called once more. “Come on, show yourself this is not funny.”
If the truth be told, it was already after the library’s 6pm closing time and no one was supposed to be in the building – and certainly not a child.
More laughter and wooshing. To Sienna, it sounded like something, or someone, flying through the air.
Turning, she caught a glimpse of a green shape catapulting over the library shelves. Wherever it landed, it managed to leave a slimy residue covering books and timber alike.
“What is this,” she queried, beginning to worry. “Is this your idea of a joke? If so, it’s not funny. Look at the terrible mess you are leaving everywhere.”
Another cackle, and this time the green shape morphed into a face, complete with eyes, nose and mouth stretched into a wide, mischievous grin.
Sienna was reminded of the Ghostbusters movie starring Bill Murray and several of his actor colleagues.
Surely not, it couldn’t be.
“Don’t tell me the library is being taken over by ghosts?” The question went unanswered.
More slime was falling, dripping vicariously from shelves and books alike onto polished wooden floorboards.
Sienna spotted another shape – this one pink in colour. It seemed intent on pulling every book it could reach from the shelves and throwing them as far as it could so they landed in a disorganised heap on the far side of the building.
Despite her best efforts, the Ghostbusters theme song began playing in Sienna’s head.
“Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters.”
But they weren’t real, so how could they possibly help. Meanwhile, the entire library was being turned into a giant disastrous gooey mess that would be impossible to clean up.
She mightn’t be able to call Ghostbusters, so the New York police department would have to do. Surely, however, they would never believe her.
Sienna reached for her mobile and, to her enormous surprise, the Ghostbuster number leapt from the screen.
Disbelieving, she dialled and immediately recognised Bill Murray’s voice on the other end.
“We’ll be right there,” he promised, once she had explained the situation.
No sooner had she hung up than the familiar sound of the Ghostbuster siren drifted through the library’s front doors.
Sienna turned in time to see Bill Murray and his mates burst through dressed in their familiar uniforms with equipment in hand.
“Ok,” he said. “Lead us to these slimy ghosts and we’ll soon sort them out!!”
Sienna grinned at her good fortune. Not only would they fix the problem, but she also got to meet one of her all-time favourite actors.
Lucky Sienna! Although Bill Murray must be getting on – yep, Alexa just told me he’s 73!