Lisa couldn't resist the allure of the bookstore's shadowy depths. It was a narrow space, wedged between a store selling incense and another with faded signs for fortune readings. The sign over the door was nearly illegible, hidden behind decades of dust, and the light inside barely reached the tall, teetering shelves.
The air was thick, musky with the scent of ancient pages. Lisa could feel her pulse quicken; this was the kind of place where one might unearth exactly the kind of book she was looking for. She moved down the cramped aisle, her eyes scanning titles that looked untouched in years—grimoire here, "Dark Histories of the Spirit Realm" there. Then, something caught her eye.
Wedged between two thick tomes, its cover darkened with age, lay a book that seemed to beckon her closer. She pulled it free, feeling its weight, the cover embossed with swirling silver symbols she didn't recognize. Necromancy: The Art of Binding Souls. The words sent a chill through her fingers, and her heart pounded as she flipped it open.
Inside, Lisa found herself gazing at eerie, intricate illustrations. A skeletal hand reaching out of a grave, a figure cloaked in shadows with eyes that seemed to follow her, diagrams of symbols she couldn't decipher but felt oddly familiar, resonating with the same energy as her encounter in the cemetery. She was hooked.
"Finding something interesting?" The voice was raspy, almost as dusty as the shop itself. Lisa startled, looking up to find the shopkeeper—an older man, small and birdlike, with piercing eyes watching her curiously. He held her gaze, and for a second, she felt as if he could see through her, see her fascination with things dark and forbidden.
Oh, um… yeah, she stammered, then shrugged, trying to play it off. Just… doing some research for a project.
The shopkeeper's mouth twisted into a wry smile. That's not a book for projects, young lady. People come looking for that one for… other reasons.
Really?" she asked, curious despite herself.
Necromancy. Dark stuff. His gaze lingered on her, his eyes gleaming with some kind of secret knowledge. A girl like you, with that look in her eyes… well, you've probably seen things others can't explain.
Lisa's stomach fluttered, and she looked back down at the book to avoid his stare. What's the price?
The man raised an eyebrow, his smile barely hiding something deeper, something knowing. Not sure it's for sale. But if you feel a connection to it, let's say you're meant to have it. Just be careful, yes? Books like that… His voice trailed off. They have a way of pulling you in.
Lisa gave him a nod, unsure of what he meant but feeling a thrill in her chest. She paid and left the store, clutching the book tightly, feeling as if it were a hidden treasure, a piece of her destiny unfolding.
That night, Lisa lay in bed, the book propped on her lap, her fingers tracing the faded symbols. She felt like she was entering another world, one woven with shadows and secrets, more real to her than the familiar faces of her classmates or the fluorescent-lit hallways of school. As she flipped through the pages, her mind wandered back to Jonathan Price, the boy from the cemetery, whose dead eyes had felt so alive with something she couldn't understand.
Suddenly, she found herself on a page that seemed different from the others, the symbols more complex, the drawings more vivid. Her eyes trailed over an incantation written in what looked like Latin, and below it, a series of sketches showing a sequence of gestures and symbols.
She didn't quite understand it, but as she traced her finger along the page, a chill swept over her, a strange energy passing from the paper into her skin. The words seemed to whisper to her, not in her mind but in the silence of her room. Her heart raced.
Just as she was about to turn the page, she heard a faint knock on her window. She froze, the book clutched in her hands, and glanced toward the window, where she saw a figure standing in the darkness.
She scrambled off her bed, inching closer, peering through the glass. To her surprise—and, admittedly, disappointment—it was Jake. He stood on her front lawn, holding a flashlight and looking nervous as ever. She sighed, pushing up the window with some annoyance.
Jake! What are you doing here?
Lisa! I just—I was passing by, he stammered, clearly lying. He scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. I thought, you know, maybe we could… go on a ghost hunt? Like you said, you're into… you know, real horror and stuff, and I thought maybe I could… you know, help?
Lisa couldn't help but laugh. Here she was, in the middle of a strange and almost frightening moment with the necromancy book, and Jake had come to play ghost hunter. She softened a bit, though, seeing the earnestness in his eyes. Maybe his harmless, goofy energy was exactly what she needed to balance out the intense feeling still lingering from the book.
She raised an eyebrow. Fine, but if you scream, I'm leaving you out there alone.
Jake's face lit up. You won't even hear a peep from me, promise!
They walked to the cemetery under the cover of night, Jake occasionally glancing her way, his face half-hidden in the shadows, as though he wanted to say something more. Lisa, however, was more focused on the book she'd tucked into her bag, the weight of it pressing against her like a promise, or maybe a warning.
As they reached the cemetery, Lisa felt that familiar chill, the one that told her she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She glanced at Jake, who was now looking around nervously, his earlier bravado slipping away.
Okay, so… now what? He whispered.
Lisa gave him a mischievous smile. Just follow my lead.
But as she stepped forward, something strange happened. Her hand brushed against her bag, and the book seemed to pulse, sending a cold shock through her. She froze, feeling as though an unseen presence was watching her, a sensation so tangible she could almost feel eyes boring into her back.
Jake, oblivious, wandered a few steps ahead. So, um… think we'll actually see anything?
Lisa didn't answer. Her focus was elsewhere. The air around her felt thick, pressing in like a thousand invisible hands. She heard a whisper, faint and distant, a voice murmuring her name in a tone that was neither welcoming nor hostile—just insistent.
Lisa…