Leather-Bound | Teen Ink

Leather-Bound

May 1, 2018
By mochiminnie BRONZE, Oconomowoc, Wisconsin
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mochiminnie BRONZE, Oconomowoc, Wisconsin
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Author's note:

The works of Stephen King really inspired me to write this piece. I really wanted to write a story taking inspiration from my favorite author. 

Christina grabbed her leather-bound book from her desk. The brown, earth-colored leather shone through the dim lighting in the abandoned school hallway. Her heels clicked against the linoleum tiles lining the walkway through the empty school. The book emitted chilling vibes throughout the air, but Christina had become used to them after having the book for a week. With each new number appearing she started to become an open book, she would go about her daily everyday life until the book gave her something new to happen in her life. She had become its puppet. Willingly going along with whatever the book wanted her to do. Getting closer to the library, the vibes that the book was emitting grew stronger, but Christina felt nothing. She walked to the librarian’s desk and picked up an empty unnamed leather-bound book. With the book wrapped tightly in her arms, she headed towards the history section. With the books about famous kings and queens. She slipped the brown unnamed book on the shelf. With a feeling of uneasiness falling over her, she made her way to the exit. The lights in the hallway flickered on while she walked through the school. A light flickered on in one of the empty classrooms. Like a screw attracted to a magnet, she was pulled to the room. Her hand wrapped around the door handle and yanked down. The door creaked open. When she stepped into the room she was completely alone. It was so quiet one could hear a pin drop on the carpeted floor. She glanced around the room, there was something written on the whiteboard in the front of the classroom. With her attention focused on the whiteboard, she failed to notice the figure lurking in the shadows of the room. On the whiteboard, there was only a single sentence.
54. She meets her demise.
Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. In the back of the classroom, a mucus-filled cough emerged from the figure skulking in the shadows. Christina jumped and turned around. She had thought she was alone. The figure stepped out of the shadows and licked its lips. Christina dropped the book, it made a dull thud on the floor. Her mouth hung open as she recognized the figure standing in front of her. The figure tore off the gloves it was wearing to reveal talon-like nails. A raw scream tore itself from Christina’s throat. Panic wrote itself over her face as she came face to face with the unholy thing that would soon take her life. The figure stood over her flexing her long withered fingers. “This won’t hurt a bit.” A piercing scream echoed throughout the school.
Laila was in the library, searching for the perfect book for her history project on King George III. She made her way to the librarian’s desk in the entrance of the library. There was an older lady with hair as white as snow, and cat-eye glasses on a chain hanging from around her neck. Her flowered dress looked vaguely like a nightgown. Her hair was in a bun, wound tight upon her head. A small black cardigan clung to her skeleton like figure. Just by looking at her you could tell she had at least three cats. With all of their names starting with the title of Mister. Her skin was paper thin and stretched over her bones. There she sat at the desk slowly typing away on the ancient computer she refused to have upgraded. Laila approached the desk and it seemed to loom over her menacingly. She stood in front of the librarian. The librarian stopped typing, raised her glasses to her eyes, squinted and cleared her throat.
A voice that was barely a whisper emitted from her dry lips. “May, I help you, Dearie?” Her voice called out from the desk that seemed a million miles away. Laila started to speak, but her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat and started once again.
“Yes, I need to find some books on King George III. Could you help me find them?” She hoped the ancient lady would be able to hear her, it seemed as if the lady would need an ear trumpet or two. The nameplate sitting on the oak desk read Ms. Crassus. The old lady peeked over her glasses and looked down at Laila.
“King George III, eh? I know just the book for you. Now if you’ll just follow me, I’ll show you right to it.” A smile revealed a set of yellowish teeth that looked eerily like fangs. Laila shook her head and the teeth were just a set of old unwashed dentures. Something was giving her an eerie feeling, she just wanted to get out of that library as soon as possible. The old lady hopped down from her throne-like chair. Her black cardigan pulled tightly around her thin frame. She shuffled around the desk with a notecard clutched within her frail hand.
“Now, dearie, if you’ll just follow me down this way, you’ll have your book in no time.” She smiled the unearthly smile again. Another chill ran down her back as Ms. Crassus led her deep into the archives of the student library. They passed row after row of books. Laila tried to make a bit of small talk while going to the archives.
“You know I’m a bit of a reader myself. Just the other day I was reading a book about Stockholm Syndrome, when I started it I hated it, but by the end I fell in love with it.” Ms. Crassus must have left her funny bone at home today because she didn’t even make an effort to laugh. Laila blushed and looked down forgetting to keep an eye on where they were going, she had failed to realize that Ms. Crassus had stopped. She ran smack-dab into the back of the librarian.  The smell of mothballs, prunes, and Chanel No.5 filled her nostrils and she almost gagged, but she held herself back. Ms. Crassus turned around and looked her straight in the eyes.
“We’re here now dearie. I have just the book for you. It’s right over here.” Ms. Crassus pointed directly at a book. A long bony finger pointed at a book just a few feet away. Laila moved closer to the bookshelf. One of the bony hands rested on her shoulder. Her fingernails felt like claws digging into her shoulder. She held a gasp back from escaping her lips. Ms. Crassus pointed directly at a book.
“That’s the one dearie. The leather-bound one. Right there.” A cackle escaped the old woman’s lips in between coughs as she walked back to the front desk. Laila glanced uneasily back at the librarian and at the book. The book seemed to call out to her. It entranced her. The brown leather shone in the fluorescent light shining down on her. Her hand reached out for it, and she finally held the book in her hands. Before opening it she gave the book a once over. It looked more like a journal to be exact. A small piece of leather was wrapped around the book, holding all the secrets of the book inside. On the outside, there was no evidence that it was even a book. There was no title, no author’s name on the spine, or the cover. The back was just as blank. Not even a single letter imprinted its mark upon the spotless leather. Then she unraveled the string and opened the cover. As she leafed through the pages, confusion sewed itself onto her face. All the pages were empty. Not a single inked letter or page number. The inside was just as empty as the cover. Not a single word or ink mark made itself present. She closed the book and examined it closely once again. The cover was just as empty as it was thirty seconds ago. She opened the book once more and skimmed through the pages. This time something caught her eye. A single sentence was penned into the book. She flipped through the pages once more, this time more slowly. The page lay flat in the middle of the book. On the used-to-be empty page lay the words
She opened the book.
She glanced around the library to see if anyone was around. She was greeted with emptiness. She quickly shut the book and shoved it in her bag. The old librarian wouldn’t know she took it. There wasn’t even a barcode to scan on it. She hurriedly zipped her backpack shut. A blush crept into her cheeks as she speed-walked to the main entrance of the library. She thought she was going to go free into the rest of the school until the librarian called out to her.
“Did you find everything you were looking for dearie?” Her scratchy whispery voice called out to her. Laila froze in her tracks and slowly turned around.
“Yes, I did, thank you for your help, Ms. Crassus.” A forced smile grew on her face. It was one she was used to making so it didn’t take much effort to pull it forward. The disturbing smile made its way to the librarian’s face once more. It took all of Laila’s effort not to visibly shudder at the sight of it.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that dearie, good luck on your project on King George. Come again soon, I’d love to have you back here. It gets awfully lonely being the only library staff here.” An ominous smile grew on her face. Laila’s blush grew more prominent.
“I’ll stop in sometime soon.” Laila nervously muttered. “I have to get to class, thanks for all your help, Ms. Crassus,” Laila said while cautiously heading towards the door, the book in her bag suddenly feeling much heavier than it did when she shoved it into her bag. As she left she could’ve sworn the librarian licked her lips.

Lunch could not have come more slowly for Laila. It felt as if she had waited two years for the bell to ring. Instead of heading towards the cafeteria, Laila headed towards the commons, a place where many a student gathered to finish papers before their next hour class began. Although Laila didn’t have a paper to hurriedly finish, she did have a history project she wanted to get a head start on. As she rifled through her backpack to find the syllabus the teacher passed out, her fingers grazed the mysterious book she found in the library that was supposedly about King George III. She pulled it out and once again inspected the book. She was puzzled at the thought of a book that could appear empty but then suddenly have words on one of the pages. She could feel that its empty pages yearned to be looked skimmed through. Its leather cover itched to be opened. The leather string holding the book together lusted to be untied. Laila finally succumbed to the desires of the book in her hands. Her greedy hands tore off the string, and she swore that the booklet out a sigh of relief. Her hands trembled as she thumbed the pages of the book. Passing the first sentence, more black spots appeared. She stopped her skimming. She turned one more page and another fateful sentence stared up at her from the page.
2. She receives horrifying news.
At that moment her phone chimed from the depths of her backpack. She jumped. Slowly she brought the phone out to face the world. She thought it was just someone snapchatting her. She unlocked her phone and saw one new message from her father. She opened up the message.
Dad: Someone broke into Grandma and Grandpa’s house last night and the robber was armed, he killed both of them. A funeral is on Friday, closed casket.
A gasp freed itself from her tightly sealed lips. There was no way that the book could be about her. It was just a freaky coincidence. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She turned her phone off and shoved the book down into the depths of her backpack. With everything that had just happened being so fresh, she stared into space absorbing what had just happened. While she was deep in thought, the lunch bell rang, jolting her out of her thought process. While at lunch she still had to With an empty expression she headed back to class unprepared for the events that would change her life.
There were fifty minutes left in the day. Mr. Jenkins had given them the rest of the hour to work on whatever other work they had received throughout the day. Laila felt around in her backpack for her folder. She had a college application for a school she really wanted to go to. If she didn’t mail it in by the end of the school day, her application wouldn’t be accepted. She grabbed what she thought was her folder and set it down on her desk. Before she opened it to grab the itinerary, she went once more into her backpack to grab her pencil case. As she reached into her bag, she flipped open the folder. Once she found the pen, she turned back to her desk and looked down at her folder. Shock made itself present on her face as she found herself face to face with the book once more. It was open to an empty page, but she knew something horrible would appear soon. She slammed the book shut and threw it in her backpack. This time she made sure to put it in the second pocket. She reached for her folder in the first pocket and felt the familiar material of her ladybug folder. She breathed a sigh of relief and set it down on the desk. Opening her eyes she once again saw the foreboding leather book. A small scream escaped her lips. Its leather string called out to her, asking her to pull it off. Along with the slight whispering of the string, the pages grabbed her attention by shouting at her to run her fingers along them. Louder yet the leather cover screamed at her to be held in her hands, with her fingers resting safely against its spine. Temptation overwhelmed her and she once again tore off the string. She slowly opened the cover and breathed in the comforting scent of the pages. Unconsciously her fingers browsed through the pages, resting on the one that had new words on it. With terror on her face, she slowly looked down. New words were on another page.
3. She loses something important
Terror dropped from her face and was replaced by confusion. The other two were a little scarier than just losing something. Worry disappeared completely from her face. What did she have to lose? If she lost something “important” she could simply just buy a new one. A small chuckle escaped her lips as she closed the book and reached for her folder with her college application. The little ladybugs gleamed up at her as she set the folder down on the desk. Inside her folder where her daily to-do lists and her college applications. She grabbed her pen ready to cross off mailing in her application. The mailbox was just around the corner from her school, the envelope was signed, sealed, stamped, and ready to be mailed. She opened the folder ready to pull out the envelope and set it on the desk so it would be accessible when she walked to the mailbox, the only problem was that the envelope wasn’t there. Everything else was, except the envelope. She had made sure to put the envelope in her folder the night before. Her eyes widened in panic. If she didn’t mail in that application by tonight, she would never get to go to Harvee School of Art and Design. Alarm grew in her chest as the clock grew closer to 2:45, the time when school got out. Frantically she searched through all the pockets in her backpack. It could’ve fallen out, or maybe she left it at home. All these thoughts raced through her head at one hundred miles per hour. They were possibilities, but she knew for a fact she put that envelope in her folder. Tears fell down her face her lifelong dream was shattered right before her eyes. The crunch of glass was edible only to her as she watched a dream of seeing her clothing modeled at Angela’s Key fashion show. A sour taste formed in her mouth when she realized it would never happen. The bell rang dismissing class for the day and she was jolted out of her thoughts. Gathering her stuff into her bag she realized she hadn’t talked to her friends Stacy and Amy all day. She put on her fake smile, pretended everything was okay and called them over.
“Oh, my g, Stace where did you get that cute jacket from? It’s totally something you would wear!” On the inside, she really wanted to tell Stacy her jacket was downright hideous. It didn’t fit her at all, and it made her look like a shapeless blob. Stacy smiled and blushed.
“I got it at that new store, Never 42.” She replied with a mouth full of gum, just smacking away on it. Outwardly Laila smiled, inwardly she cringed, she hated that store.
“Omg, I love that place! Oh, by the way, have you seen Amy at all? I have her lip gloss.” She inwardly hoped Stacy would know where Amy was, she only talked to Stacy because Stacy was best friends with Amy, and she was best friends with Amy. Stacy smiled at the mention of Amy.
“Oh yeah! She’s at the auditorium trying out for the fall play.” Stacy said with a bright smile plastered on her face. Laila released a breath of air she didn’t realize she was holding.
“Thank you so much, Stacy, I really appreciate it. See you tomorrow?” Stacy nodded with enthusiasm. Laila sped away before Stacy would drag her into another dry conversation about her fascination with the Gobi Desert.
Laila reached the auditorium wondering what the fall play was about. Walking through the halls she passed a poster and backtracked, feeling drawn to the poster. Almost as if the poster was calling her name. She approached the poster with her arms wrapped around the strange leather book, hugging it close to her chest, not wanting to let it go. Looking up she could see the poster crystal clear. It was a picture of an open book, encased in leather. A leather string lay limp on either side of the book. On one of the pages were the words:
4: She is neglected.
Tilting her head back farther permitted her to see the entire poster. The title of the play was The Seven Steps to Ruining HER Life. A puzzled look crossed her face. That was a weird name for a play. All of a sudden she felt a burning sensation near her chest. She looked down and pulled the book away from her chest. She hadn’t even noticed she was holding it. Looking down at it she saw there was finally a title on the mysterious book. Written on the cover in black sharpie was: The Seven Steps to Ruining HER Life. She looked at the book, then at the poster. The poster for the play was entirely different. What was the poster for The Seven Steps to Ruining HER Life was now a poster for The Perks of Being a Wallflower. The green background somehow glowed in the dimly lit hallway. Before reaching the auditorium, Laila made sure to throw away the book in the nearest garbage can. She pushed open the doors to the auditorium, cringing when she heard the slight creaking noise the emitted from the doors. On stage was her friend Amy, about to audition. Laila saw Amy looking towards the doors with a puzzled look on her face, she waved to Amy and gave her a thumbs up. Amy looked past her at the door, as if she was invisible. She waved once more in Amy’s direction. Once again Amy paid no attention to her, instead, she looked at the empty stage waiting for her. With a look of sadness on her face, Laila left the auditorium. Music played through her earbuds as she walked to her car on the far edge of the parking lot, which was closest to the forest that made up what cut off Pinewood off from the rest of the world. She grabbed her keys out of her jacket pocket and put the key into the lock on the door and twisted the key. The doors unlocked. She took off her backpack, threw it in the back and slid into the driver’s seat. She put the key in the ignition and turned the key clockwise. While starting the car, she looked left and right and in her blind spots twice. That’s when she realized there was an unwanted passenger in the car with her. She looked down in the passenger seat and saw the leather book snugly sitting in the passenger seat already buckled in. She screamed, the piercing noise echoing in the car. With her hands trembling so bad, she almost couldn’t unbuckle the seatbelt surrounding the book. The seatbelt clicked and released the book into her hands. Holding the book in her hands she felt a calming sensation wash over her. She wasn’t scared anymore as she untied the leather string constricting the pages from breathing like a python does to its prey. The string fell limply to her lap. On the front, she could see the words penned in black sharpie: The Seven Steps to Ruining HER Life. With a feeling unknown growing in her chest, she opened the book, flipping through the pages one at a time. She flipped through numbers one, two, three, and four. Then a new number was present in the book.
5. She is alone.
When she realized she had opened the book again she screamed. Her eyes widened with uneasiness. She looked up from the book and she was sitting at the dining room table in her house. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips.She was last in the school parking lot, how could she have gotten here?
“Dad, Jamie? Are either of you here?”Dread spread throughout her entire body. “Hellooo? Is anyone home?” She walked around the house, calling their names. When she didn’t find them, she tried calling them. They didn’t pick up. The feeling of despair came back to her. She tried calling the police, the school, her friends, her aunts, her uncles, anyone who she could potentially reach by calling. Still no answer. A feeling of anxiety washed over her. Then the feeling was replaced with anger. She was furious at the book for all these things happening to her. She grabbed the book and ran into the garage. She grabbed her father’s lighter for the grill, and the lighter fluid. She ran outside threw the book into the fire pit, drenched the thing in lighter fluid, then held the lighter to it until she saw the orange flame emerge.
“That’s right mysterious book! Feel the burn!” A laugh bubbled up from inside of her. She had gotten rid of it. It was gone, it no longer held control over her life. Soon she was laughing like a madman. Her laughs had gotten high pitched and breathy. She was laughing as she walked back over to the fire pit, relieved to see a pile of charred remains. Satisfied she walked back inside, placing the lighter, and the lighter fluid on the dining room table.zz

Chapter Three: The Finale
With relief flooding her system she sat lay down on her bed, looking up at the ceiling. A smile grew on her face as the recent memories played back through her mind. Remembering her homework she stood up and went over to her desk where her backpack leaned against the side of the desk. Bending down to get her notebook and a pen, she saw something on her desk that startled her. There lying open on her desk was the book. Its shiny leather cover glowing, and its pages that used to be empty. A high pitched scream echoed throughout the house. She fell to the floor with sobs rising and falling in her throat. She saw that book burn. How could it be perfectly fine? How could it be open and lying on her desk, after she witnessed the burnt and charred remains? With hiccuping sobs stuck in her throat, she stood up and looked at the book. There weren’t any words on the page yet. Thinking fast she grabbed a pen on her desk and ripped the cap off the pen, throwing the cap across the room. She scribbled a sentence in the book before one appeared.
6. She fights
“I write my own story, whoever you are!” She screamed at the empty room holding the pen as a weapon in front of her. Looking around she breathed heavily. Her chest heaving and her hair hung in a curtain in front of her face. Then her bedroom door opened. A small figure stepped into the room. She had hair as white as snow, cat-eye glasses that hung around her neck on a chain, and was cocooned in a black cardigan. It was Ms. Crassus. In her frail little hand, she clutched a black fountain pen and a leather-bound book. Laila’s pen fell from her hand and hit the carpet with a dull thud.
“Ms. Crassus? What are you doing here?” Her voice was high pitched and breathy, and her breathing was heavy and erratically. The old lady shuffled forward.
“There, there dearie. There’s no need to be scared, Ms. Crassus is here now. Everything will be just fine now dearie.” Ms. Crassus kept advancing, this time Laila was positive Ms. Crassus was licking her lips. Laila moved closer to her vanity. With her back towards the vanity, she was facing Ms. Crassus, the seemingly pleasant librarian in a pink flowery dress. Laila’s hand tightened around a hairbrush.
“Now why don’t you just come with me dearie and we’ll get everything sorted out. How does that sound dearie?” Ms. Crassus was still advancing and she was almost five feet away. Laila’s jaw stiffened.
“Honestly, I find this situation to be a bit hair-raising!” She shouted as she threw the hairbrush right at the old librarian. As the hairbrush made contact with Ms. Crassus, she let out an inhuman shriek that filled the room. The smell of Chanel No. 5 overpowered the room, and Laila covered her nose.
Laila ran out of her room to the kitchen. She looked around the empty room. In the distance, she could hear the shuffling of Ms. Crassus heading slowly towards the kitchen. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins as she thought about what to grab. A large bowl was sitting on the counter. Hurriedly she grabbed the bowl and held it tightly in her hands. The shuffling noises grew louder as she approached the kitchen. Laila jumped out and slammed the bowl down upon the lady’s head. The librarian crumpled to the floor moaning. Her eyes once calm, now filled with madness. Laila breathed a sigh of relief. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw her get up from the ground.
“Oh honey, it’s going to take more than that to kill me!” She licked her lips and fixed her fingers in a claw-like stance.
Ms. Crassus chased her back to her room where she cornered Laila by her vanity. Laila pressed against the desk, clutching the lip so tightly her knuckles were white. Approaching closer Ms. Crassus licked her lips and her permanently yellow teeth were revealed. Laila groped around the marble slab that made up the top of her vanity. Various items thumped to the floor. 
She grabbed her Just Peachy Perfume from Soap and Shapes. With the scent of Chanel  No.5 overpowering the room and she coughed. She tore the plastic cap off the perfume, hoping that it would do some kind of damage to the old bat. Her finger poised over the spray nozzle as she aimed directly for the eyes hidden behind the cat-eye glasses. The nozzle was pressed down and it released a noxious scent of artificial peaches into the room. The perfume settled over the old librarian, and more devilish screams erupted from the old hag’s mouth. Steam began to fill the room and Laila went into a coughing spasm. By the time she had recovered, the steam had disappeared, and so had Ms. Crassus. The only evidence that could show that she had ever been there was a pair of cat-eye glasses on a chain lying on the floor next to Laila’s bed. When Laila tried to find the book, she discovered it was no longer in her house.
The book was no longer on her desk. In fact, the book wasn’t anywhere near Laila, her house, or her family.  The book is lying open on an oak desk, where a librarian clicks her pen once and touched the tip of the pen to the page. On that page, she writes a single sentence, before closing the book.
7. Finis



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