I’d walked by the old library a thousand times, but I never gave it much thought. It was one of those buildings that seemed to be stuck in time—dilapidated and forgotten, tucked away between newer, shinier shops in town. The windows were always dusty, the door permanently closed with a sign that read *CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE*. Still, there was something about it that caught my attention whenever I passed. Maybe it was the way the paint peeled off in long strips, or how the brick walls had started to crack. It looked like a place with stories waiting to be told.

One rainy afternoon, I found myself standing in front of it. The kind of rain that soaks you through in seconds, making you regret not having an umbrella. I was supposed to meet some friends at the diner, but the rain kept coming down harder, and I didn’t feel like standing around waiting. So, on a whim, I decided to see what was inside.

The door wasn’t locked. Maybe it had always been open, and I had just never noticed. I pushed it open slowly, and it creaked like an old door should. The air hit me—musty, like forgotten things—and there was a dim light coming from the high windows. Everything inside was covered in dust, as if time had slowed down here, stuck in some kind of limbo. The shelves were stacked high with books, their spines faded, some of them leaning at odd angles.

I hadn’t planned on staying long, but there was something about the place that pulled me in. It wasn’t just the silence. It was like everything in this room had a history, a story that was waiting to be discovered. I wandered further inside, touching the spines of a few books, wondering how long it had been since anyone had read them. Most of the titles were too old to recognize, but there was one that caught my eye. 

*The Forgotten World.*

It wasn’t a fancy title, but the words felt important, like they held a secret. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. The ink was smudged in places, and some pages had started to crumble, but there was something almost magical about holding a book that felt this ancient. I was so absorbed in it that I barely noticed the small door in the back corner of the room. It was hidden behind a row of bookshelves, almost as if it didn’t want to be found. 

My curiosity got the best of me, and I made my way toward it. The door was old, with a rusty handle that squeaked as I turned it. I pushed it open and immediately felt the temperature drop. The hallway on the other side was narrow, and the walls were lined with more bookshelves, but these books were different—strange, ancient-looking volumes with titles in languages I didn’t recognize. The air was thick, almost heavy, like it was holding onto something.

I don’t know what made me keep walking, but something told me that whatever lay ahead was something I had to see. I reached the end of the hall and found another door. This one wasn’t like the others. It was beautifully carved, with intricate designs of vines and animals. It looked almost... alive, like it was a piece of art, not just a door. My hand hovered over the handle, and without thinking, I opened it.

The room inside was breathtaking. It was circular, with tall windows that let in a soft, golden light. In the center of the room was a giant book, lying open on a pedestal. The pages turned slowly, almost as if they were being flipped by invisible fingers. The room felt... timeless. Like I had stepped into some forgotten place, a part of the library that was never meant to be discovered. 

And then, I heard it.

“You’ve found it.”

The voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it sent a chill through me. I spun around, looking for the source. The room was empty, just me and the giant book. But the voice continued.

“You’ve found the heart of the library. It’s been waiting for you.”

I felt a knot form in my stomach, the kind of feeling you get when you know you’re in over your head. I wanted to run, but something kept me rooted to the spot. The pages of the book turned again, and I swore I saw my name written on one of them. My heart raced. This couldn’t be real. I’d just walked into some abandoned library. I had no business being here, but somehow, I didn’t feel like I was alone. I was *supposed* to be here.

Before I could process what was happening, the book slammed shut with a loud bang, and the room went completely silent. The door behind me slammed shut too, trapping me inside. Panic set in. I tried the door, but it wouldn’t open. I could feel my breath quickening, and my hands started to shake. How was I going to get out of here?

And then, just as suddenly, the walls around me seemed to shift. The bookshelves started moving, revealing a narrow passageway that hadn’t been there before. I didn’t think. I just ran.

The hallway was dark and cramped, but I followed the passage, twisting and turning, not knowing where it would lead. I didn’t even stop when I saw light ahead. I just pushed through, the air now warm and fresh, until I found myself back in the main room of the library. 

The door was wide open, and the rain had stopped. The library looked exactly the way it had when I first walked in—old, dusty, and forgotten. It was as if nothing had happened. But I knew something had changed. 

I never told anyone about what I’d found. It felt too strange, too unreal. But I go back to the library sometimes. Not often, but enough to wonder if it’s still waiting for me. I know the door is still there, hidden behind those bookshelves. And maybe, just maybe, next time I’ll be ready to open it again.

But I’m not sure I ever really will be. Some things, I think, are meant to stay locked away.