The Staircase of Souls: A Wraithwood Library Tale
The Wraithwood Library stands tall and proud at the edge of Pumpkin Hollow, its towering windows casting long shadows as twilight settles over the town. Most who visit are enchanted by its endless shelves and the comforting hush that blankets every corner. But few know the true story behind its name—a story that lingers in the stillness, like a whisper just out of reach.
I still remember the day I learned the truth. A chilly autumn afternoon had lured me through the library’s grand double doors, seeking warmth among the pages. As I wandered the aisles, I found myself drawn to the grand staircase, its polished wood gleaming under the soft glow of lantern light. I had always admired its craftsmanship, each step a testament to skilled hands and timeless design. But that day, something felt… different. As my fingers brushed the banister, a shiver ran through me, unbidden and unmistakable.
Curiosity, my ever-present companion, led me deeper into the mystery. I began asking questions, piecing together fragments of forgotten history. It wasn’t long before an elderly librarian, with a knowing glint in her eye, shared the tale that few dared to speak.
The library, she whispered, was built on the edge of the Wraithwood Forest—a place whispered about in hushed tones. Ghostly figures were said to roam its depths, their stories lost to time. When plans for the library began, the forest stood in silent defiance. But progress is a relentless force, and a small portion of the forest was felled to make room for the grand building.
The wood from those ancient trees was used to craft the magnificent staircase that now stands at the heart of the library. A decision, the librarian sighed, that some believe was a mistake. For the forest, ancient and restless, did not take kindly to the intrusion.
Since then, those who find themselves in the library after dark speak of faint whispers echoing down the halls. Some claim to hear soft footsteps behind them, only to turn and find nothing but shadows. But the most unsettling accounts come from those who have descended the grand staircase at night. They tell of spectral figures that follow silently, their presence felt rather than seen, as if the forest itself watches and waits.
I felt a chill wrap around me as the librarian’s tale ended. That night, as I left the Wraithwood Library, I glanced back at the grand staircase. Was it my imagination, or did I see a flicker of movement in the shadows?
Even now, whenever I return, I can’t help but wonder if the spirits of the Wraithwood Forest still linger, tethered to the very wood beneath my feet.
A spooky story imagined and conjured for you by The Queen of Halloween 365
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