The tall shelves of books stood singularly against my back, my spine shivered in fear, I was riveted to the ground, the palpitating heart beat, the sweaty palms, the intermittent flashes from the columns of fluorescent lights, made myself shrugged in fear, cocooned in the tangled skein of fear.

It was snuffling, tik… tik… tik… its pace was light, ephemeral. It heaved a breath, as it turned a corner through the line of rectangular wooden shelves filled with books.

I felt that he was closer, the air was heightened with my pulsating fear. I kept my composure, but its presence was sending my nerves off the hook, shit.

It stopped, lock, stop and barrel. No ticking footsteps, no heaving breaths, no more intensity of air, no noise. No, nothing.

My instinct became the puppeteer, a masterful swoop across my arm, I attempted to force my weight unto the shelves to create a domino effect and crash unto it.

As soon as I placed my hand on the other side of the shelf, a brisk, icy sensation wreathed my hand, taking over my body.

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