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Adding Pages

The only sound in the room was my breathing and the scratching of the pen across the paper. A thin bar of light came through a crack in the drapes and I felt lucky that it was enough for me to see what I was doing. I prayed as I wrote, asking any god that would listen to give me enough time to finish the warning.

Adding the page to the book wasn’t a problem. The thing was made to grow. All I had to do was slip the page into place and the binding had drawn the edge in. I didn’t know if it would try to bite my hand or not, so I was careful not to get to close to the edge while I was writing.

“This is not a joke.” The first line, written in thick, capital letters. “The stories are true. This is everything you think it is. If you read it, you will die and it will hurt the entire time.”

I had to try, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Other pages of the book had been added with similar warnings. I had read them without believing them. What in my words could possibly change the mind of anyone who had went through as much to find this as I had.

I grinned, thinking of those same words on page 10, except that they had been written in German.

A long, loud creak of dry wood flexing under great weight screamed its way into the room. The second and third ones confirmed that the sound was made by slow footsteps.

I sat the pen down and turned to face the door. I couldn’t run any more.

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