Episode 1: The Forgotten Library
[CASE FILE #001 – RECORDED BY DR. SARAH MILLS, ARCHIVIST]
My name is Dr. Sarah Mills, and I collect strange stories. People send me letters, old tapes, and photographs of things they cannot explain. This is my job. I listen, I record, and I keep everything in my archive.
Today, I want to tell you about the Forgotten Library.
Last month, I received a package. Inside was an old cassette tape and a short note. The note said: “I found something. Please listen. Please believe me. – James.”
I put the tape in my player and pressed play. This is what I heard:
[JAMES’S RECORDING – MARCH 15TH]
“My name is James Carter. I’m 28 years old, and I work at the city library. Nothing interesting ever happens here. Until last week.
We were closing the library at 9 PM. I was the last person inside. I walked through the empty rooms, turning off the lights. That’s when I saw it.
There was a door.
I work here every day. I know every corner of this building. But I had never seen this door before. It was old, made of dark wood, and it had no sign on it.
I should have left. I should have gone home. But I was curious.
I opened the door.
Behind it was another library. The room was huge – much bigger than our whole building. The ceiling was so high I couldn’t see the top. There were bookshelves everywhere, going up and up forever.
The air felt wrong. It was too cold. Too quiet. Even my footsteps made no sound.
I walked between the shelves. The books were strange. Some had no titles. Some had titles in languages I didn’t recognize. I pulled one book from the shelf.
When I opened it, I saw my name.
‘James Carter,’ it said on the first page. ‘Born June 3rd, 1996.’
My heart started beating fast. I turned the page. The book described my childhood. My first day of school. My first pet. Everything was correct.
I turned more pages. It described yesterday. What I ate for breakfast. The blue shirt I wore. The conversation I had with my mother on the phone.
Then I saw tomorrow’s date.
I read the words slowly: ‘March 16th – James Carter closes the library at 9 PM. He finds the door again. This time, he goes deeper.’
My hands were shaking. I closed the book and put it back on the shelf.
That’s when I heard the voice.
‘Hello, James,’ it said. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. It sounded like wind, like whispers, like something very old and very tired.
‘Who are you?’ I asked.
‘I am the Keeper,’ the voice said. ‘I keep all the stories. Every life. Every choice. Every ending.’
I started walking backwards, towards the door. But the bookshelves seemed longer now. The door seemed farther away.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ the Keeper said. ‘Everyone comes here eventually. You’re just early.’
I ran. I ran as fast as I could. The bookshelves stretched on forever. Finally, I saw the door. I pushed through it and slammed it shut behind me.
I’m in my apartment now. It’s 2 AM. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about that book.
Tomorrow is March 16th. The book said I would find the door again. The book said I would go deeper.
But I won’t. I’m never going back to that library. I’m quitting my job. I’m leaving this city.
The book is wrong. It has to be wrong.
[LONG SILENCE]
Wait. Someone’s knocking at my door. But I live alone. And it’s 2 AM.
The knocking is getting louder.
I don’t remember ordering anything. I don’t remember inviting anyone.
Oh God. There’s a book being pushed under my door.
It has my name on it.
[THE RECORDING ENDS]”
[DR. SARAH MILLS, ARCHIVIST]
I tried to find James Carter. I called every library in the city. No one had heard of him. I searched online. No James Carter, age 28, exists in our records.
But the tape is real. I’m holding it right now.
Yesterday, I received another package. Another tape. A different name. A different story. But the same Keeper. The same endless library.
How many people have found that door? How many stories are waiting on those shelves?
And the question that keeps me awake at night: Is there a book about me? Does it say what I’ll do tomorrow? Does it say how my story ends?
I’m going to keep collecting these cases. I’m going to keep listening. Maybe one day, I’ll understand.
But I hope I never find that door.
