The Last Writer Adriane Leigh (story reading TXT) 📖

went to my duffel in the corner, thankful I hadn’t unpacked it while at the library—only kept all of my possessions tucked neatly away every day. I rummaged through it now, pulling out fresh clothes and slipping out of my old and into the new ones quickly. I shoved my sneakers on my feet and tucked my dirty clothes back into the bag when my eyes landed on the tiny red leather journal. I picked it up, running it in my hands, opening the cover to find the tiny porcelain white bone tucked inside like I’d left it. It could be fake for all I knew, but the pink ribbon knotted in a neat bow just below one knuckle joint was enough to intrigue me.

The skeleton key that hung from the other side of the ribbon swung in the air like it swayed on a summer breeze. This was the kind of key that looked right at home at Usher. I tucked it in my pocket, vowing to try at least one of the locks just out of curiosity.

I popped a few more grapes in my mouth, finished the tiny teacup of coffee, and then left my attic room in search of adventure, or at least a house tour. I didn't remember much about climbing the stairs to bed last night, only that Thax had tucked me in. I didn’t even know where his room was, so as I wandered down the hall, I hovered at the first doorway. The house was silent, no sign of Yara, Yarrow, or anyone else.

I slipped my hand into the pocket of my jeans and curled my fingers around the key and bone. Working quickly, I tried the key in the lock. It refused to budge. I swallowed, tucking it away and preparing to knock softly, when I heard the soft snick of a doorway opening and then the usual shuffle of Yarrow’s gait.

Panicked, I wiggled the doorknob on instinct, and it must have been with more strength than before because this time it opened. Surprised, I nearly fell inside the room, but gathered myself quickly and slipped along the wall before letting the door click closed.

I held my breath, waiting for signs of Yarrow’s footsteps but they only faded. I sucked in a breath of the dusty air, covering my nose when a sharp odor of decay settled in my nostrils. It wasn’t like the smell of rot that’d seemed to emanate from my closet at the library, it was more organic. Shards of broken glass caught my eye across the room, glinting in the light across heaps of dusty debris. My eyes finally grew accustomed to the dim light and I registered old hospital beds lining the walls; a chalkboard hung near the window with old arithmetic lessons faded but visible.

I moved deeper into the room, picking my way around the refuse. Piles of paperwork and files, open file cabinets and a teacher’s desk were crammed in one corner with a dozen old-fashioned wooden children’s school desks scattered around it. I imagined teaching from this room, its cobweb corners and poor lighting enough to send a chill down my spine.

A chorus of flapping startled me, a stack of papers behind a desk flew every which way and caused me to leap backwards and fall flat on my behind. I groaned, feeling the pain shoot up my tailbone as I waited for a rat, or something worse, to come attack me from its hiding place.

When all fell silent, I recovered and stood, walking to the corner of the room and toward the broken window. As I came around the edge of the desk, the odd flapping noise started again, before a shrill shriek filled my ears and a spray of papers floated on a cloud. A large, angry looking raven flew up at me, his beady eyes nailed on mine as he attacked. I swung wildly, knocking him back to the floor, when I realized why he was so startled—his wing was broken and bloody. He’d probably only been here a day or two at most, and from the look of the spray of dried blood on the floor, he’d been the one to break his way into Usher.

Funny, I was a breath away from breaking my way out of this place too.

I swallowed, heart hammering as I wondered what to do with the raven. I turned, thinking my only option was to find Thax, when I tripped over a file box and dozens of mint-green folders upended on the floor around my feet.

“Shit.” I bent, scooping them all quickly, before realizing even if I left them, no one would know I was here—this room looked like a hurricane had descended on it fifty years ago and the cleanup crew had forgotten about it.

Just as I made the decision to get as far away from this room as possible, a single word caught my attention.

Typed out in a single line at the top of one of the mint folders was the name Nate W.

My heart throbbed, nerves tingling with awareness. Could this be the same Nate that owned the cryptography book that was still tucked away in my bag? I plucked Nate W.’s folder off the floor, then noticed more names. Unsure what I was doing or even why, I scooped the top dozen or so into my arms and then rushed to the doorway. I hovered for a moment as I listened for anyone on the other side, before I snuck out as swiftly as I’d come and crossed the hallway to my little attic room.

My next deep breath wasn’t until I was securely on the other side of my locked bedroom door.

I pressed my lips together, nerves bundling up inside of my chest as I crossed to the desk and sat, opening the first file on my stack.

The first one wasn’t given a name, only read Usher - Girl. I flipped quickly, eyes scanning a few pages of a medical chart.