Johnny’s vision was like the contrast-gray of a television as the power shuts down. He stumbled back landing on his ass and hands, the stinging pain giving him a burst of adrenaline. As the world returned to his mind’s broadcast he quickly remembered his situation. Scared shitless on the floor of the library bathroom. His eyes darted to the shadow behind the door. There was nothing there.
The flickering lights created long shadows along the hall. Johnny’s fear caused a stark vignette, zeroing in his sight to the corner where he had seen the reflective eyes.
He slowly scooted back, back the way he came, back toward the exit sign.
The hall was silenced under a heavy weight. The only sounds were the buzz of the fluorescent lights and the white noise of the room. But in it, in the silent din he could hear scratching. He looked to another corner and quickly found his focus pulled back to where he saw the eyes. But the scratching, the scratching was closer now. He looked to the now closed bathroom door. He saw nothing as his focus darted between shadow pockets and the black shadow where the initial sighting occurred.
Would he make it if he ran?
Source: https://www.screamingeyepress.com/twisted-pulp/issue-027/the-librarian/
