HEY READ MINE TOO.

THE LIBRARY OF REPULSION.

Curtis Rose stood at the large, wooden double-door entrance of an enormous, dilapidated castle. Its outer walls were on the verge of collapsing upon themselves, and the windows were broken. From where he was standing, Curtis could see a place on the far side of the castle where the walls had actually already fallen in. Something about the castle made Curtis feel uneasy, but right now wasn’t the time to complain. It had started raining twenty minutes earlier, and by now, the ground around his feet had turned marshy and lightning blazed across the sky like jagged rips of fire. When the rain started, Curtis had attempted to find shelter in one of the small houses of the nearby town, but to no avail. Strangely, the townspeople had seemed completely terrified by him, and when he approached their homes, Curtis could see them crossing themselves and praying through the window. One home had locked its doors completely and hysterically begged for him to leave them alone, though Curtis couldn’t imagine what threat he posed to them. Indeed, Curtis was merely a historian at the Museum of Modern History in his own town back home, and was taking a quiet holiday around the more mysterious parts of the country. According to his map, he was in a small, overall unremarkable town called Marrow Town. The map, however, didn’t make any note of the enormous castle that now loomed over the sky in front of him. Neither did any of the other supplementary maps he had brought with him.
Pushing at the massive wooden door with a tinge of trepidation, he was surprised to find it was unlocked. Slipping inside cautiously, he noticed a glowing light coming from somewhere deeper in the house. The rest of the house was hidden in darkness, save for the flaring lightning that lit up the insides of the house in piercing flashes. It then occurred to Curtis that the castle might actually belong to someone, but it didn’t seem likely to him; he could make out tapestries of cobwebs lacing the walls, and the colours of the various pieces of furniture were dulled with layers of dust. The furniture itself was in various stages of ruin. The castle looked like it hadn’t been inhabited for a very long time.
“Hello?” he called out, nervously.
There was no response, but at this point Curtis was struck with a curious, uneasy feeling. He couldn’t explain why, but he was gripped by the sense that the house was alive. The more he thought about it, the more evidence seemed to appear; as he slowly navigated his way towards the glowing light, he felt as if the walls were whispering to each other. He felt, strangely, that the walls of the house itself seemed to be watching him. As he passed through to a great hall, he noticed a large full length mirror on the wall to his right. As the lightning flashed, he glanced at the mirror, and his heartbeat seemed to stop, and his skin curdled with goosebumps. In the mirror, he had seen the reflection of the rest of the room he was in. What disturbed him was the fact that the room he had seen in the reflection of the mirror was not the same thing as the room around him. The mirror’s image had shown new, grand-looking furniture, completely devoid of cobwebs or dust. At the top of the hall had been an enormous, intricate chandelier, spreading its golden light all over the room, which Curtis now noticed lying on the floor behind him, its tiny glass pieces broken and scattered across the floor. On the far end of the hall had been a large statue, its face lined with contempt. Curtis turned around, scanning the room behind him, but couldn’t see any statues. As the lightning flashed again, he mustered up the courage to glance at the mirror again, but the mirror’s image simply showed the room as it was – broken furniture and empty darkness.
As he walked on, trying to compose himself, he realised that he himself had not been present in the reflection.

Nearing the glowing light now, he could see that it was coming from a room with closed double doors. He thought he heard whispering coming from the inside of the room, in a language he couldn’t understand, but as he listened more intently, it seemed to stop. Peering through the crack in the doors from which light was emanating from, he couldn’t see anyone inside. The room was completely empty, aside from shelves upon shelves of books lining the walls. In between the shelves, upon the walls, were paintings and portraits. High above was a giant, golden chandelier. Checking again to make sure no one was inside, Curtis pushed the door open and entered, heartbeat hammering wildly.
As he entered, he was once again struck with a fear that he was being watched. He spun around, but there was no one in the room. Looking up, he noticed something strange about the paintings on the wall; all the portraits seemed to be glaring down at him, their painted faces twisted in disgust and hatred. The paintings themselves were painted in strange, discordant colours. He turned his gaze away from the portraits, feeling a horrible sense of terror, but he didn’t seem able to escape theirs. Everywhere he turned, he was met with the piercing eyes of a portrait. He felt like he was drowning in panic and fear, the portraits eyes seeming to drill into his mind.
He then began to notice what was depicted on the various large oil paintings placed between every few portraits. Gazing at one, confused, he realised it depicted Curtis himself, standing at the large, wooden double-doors of the castle.
Upon noticing this, the room seemed to hum with a low whispering again. Turning his view to the next painting, he realised with a gasp of horror that it was of him standing in the room he was in now. Around him, the whispering grew louder, and within seconds it was all he could hear. As it grew louder and louder, he turned his eyes back to the portraits, whose eyes, filled with the deepest anger, seemed to tell him that it was indeed the portraits that were whispering into his mind. Looking up at the final painting, the whispering growing louder and overwhelming, he froze. The final painting depicted him in what he recognized as the town outside. As the whispering in his mind turned to harsh screaming, the painting began to move. Staring in frozen horror, he watched himself approach a house, the inhabitant inside screaming and crying in fear. He watched himself force the door upon using the raw strength of his hands, and burst inside. The resident, a young woman, dropped to her knees, begging him to leave them alone. Curtis watched in horror as his own face twisted in contempt, placed his hands around her throat, and began strangling her. His mind was now overwhelmed by the abrasive screaming of the portraits, the harsh screech seeming to invade every cell of his brain. The screaming was unbearable now. Do it, they were screaming. Do it now. What are you waiting for? Do it! Kill her! Kill her now!
Screaming and crying in fear, terrified out of his mind, Curtis ran out of the room, and into the town. He didn’t want to murder her. But he had to. He couldn’t bear the screeching anger of the portraits anymore.

The Marrow Town Express
BRUTAL MURDER
Article by Claire Hope

A girl was found strangled to death in her own home last night in the eastern part of Marrow Town. Neighbours called the police after hearing distressed cries and violent thuds coming from Emily’s residence. The police arrived at her home to find the body of Emily White on the floor of her living room, and her killer sitting on the chair beside her, crying. The police have arrested him but his name remains unknown. According to police reports, the killer allowed himself to be taken in without any struggle, and kept apologising and repeating ‘the portraits’ forced him to. When interrogated, he simply stated ‘The library at the castle will explain everything. The portraits forced me to do it.”
Police investigations have been undertaken at Nightingale Castle on the south of Marrow Town, but a library has not been discovered. The castle interior is also devoid of any artwork. An inquiry at the Marrow Town Archives has also revealed that the castle has never been inhabited, and that the Nightingale family abandoned the site halfway through construction of the castle. The case is still under police investigation.