Wha's a |good| {{BOOK}} .::open::.

[\\Blank//]

Jack sat in the little, dusty chair in the far corner of the library, the section that most sought to keep away from. This was Jack's favorite section, all of the creepy, nonfictional ghost stories, witchcraft books, and old spell books. Though he wasn't a satan hailer or anything like that, he enjoyed those things, and most of all, he enjoyed the holiday of halloween. But he wasn't interested in halloween, but how it began, with Hallows Eve, the night when the veil between living and deceased was thinest, the night when anything and everything could go horribly wrong, the night when demons walked with earthly feet to cause mahem over tortured souls amongst the world. He didn't enjoy the chaos because it hurt people but he enjoyed reading the old ghost stories, nofiction mostly but if a fiction was told with skill then he'd read it.


He sat in his little corner, unssen by anyone at the desk or door. He slipped off his shoes, criss-crossing his legs on the chair and curling up to read his newest discovery amongst the dusty shelves before him: Ghostly Colonials of America in the 1700's. He opened to the first page, the smell of musk and mildew hitting him, and staring back at him was a picture of an old country house, an old colonial house, one that he'd like to live in when he left the school, and in the upper right window there was a misty figure silhouetted. It looked like it was hooded; if he hadn't known the title he would have guessed that the figure was a burglar. He flipped the page and began reading.

[Kenneth Garrett Fortuyn]

Kenn (Kenneth-- sorry) was feeling somewhat more awake after his cup of coffee. He was still lacking a social bone at the moment, though, but proceeded to browse through the shelves aimlessly. He found another flier advertising the All Hallow's Eve Ball and it finally ticked off his curiosity.

He browsed a little more before he found the nonfiction section on all the creepy things he would normally stay away from, but today, he wanted to know more about the upcoming Ball. He pulled a random book off a shelf and stopped breathing for a second as ages of dust and debris splashed his face. Coughing, he dusted off the cover and looked at it. The binding was worn and tearing-- the leather-bound turned soft over the years. He opened it carefully and proceeded to read it while trying to find a cozy spot to sit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kenn saw a blurry chair with a coat thrown over it. He made his way over, intrigued by his newlyfound book of darkness, he hardly noticed Willow crawl down his shirt and scamper across the ground. He tripped over his ferret who emitted a squeak, and landed on the chair-- or what he had earlier thought was a chair. It took him a second to comprehend the soft chair was really a soft human, and when he finally did, he jumped off and gave a croaky "Aaah!"