a woman in a red dress walking through a library

Once, in a small, forgotten town, there was an old library that no one dared to enter. The townsfolk whispered about a book hidden deep within its dusty shelves, said to contain the last words of those who had vanished over the years. One rainy night, a curious girl named Clara, seeking adventure, pushed open the creaky doors. The air was thick with dust and the smell of mold. She wandered through the narrow aisles, her flashlight flickering, illuminating titles long forgotten. In the back, she found a heavy, leather-bound book, its cover embossed with strange symbols. Ignoring the unease that prickled at her skin, Clara opened it. The pages were blank, save for one: a list of names—her own name scrawled at the bottom, the ink still wet. Heart pounding, she glanced around, convinced she was being watched. As she turned to leave, the library doors slammed shut. Panic surged as she pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Suddenly, the lights flickered out, plunging her into darkness. A whisper echoed