The Abnormal Visitor At the exceptionally edge of the town stood a long-abandoned library.

A long time ago, it was the heart of information and learning. Understudies from adjacent zones would assemble there to think about, perused, and unobtrusively rest between racks. But one night, a fire broke out. In spite of the fact that the flares were quenched, the boy who had fallen asleep was never found. Since at that point, the library entryways had remained closed—sealed by quiet and puzzle.

Local people whispered bizarre stories. At midnight, pages flipping on claim, black out whispers, removed coughing—sounds as well as human disregard, ghostly examine. Shuvo, an inquisitive college understudy going to his grandmother's town get-away, didn't accept such stories. In truth, he was captivated by frequented places and supernatural rumors. When a few nearby boys specified the frequented library, Shuvo smiled.

"Apparitions do not exist," he said. "Perhaps rats or the wind, but certainly not spirits."

They challenged him:

“Spend a night interior the library, alone. At that point say that again.”

Shuvo acknowledged.

Equipped with an electric lamp, phone, note pad, and thermos tea, he draws nearer the library fair some time recently midnight. A thick mist had crawled, suppressing the world exterior. As he pushed open the ancient, creaky wooden entryway, it moaned like something waking from a long rest.

Interior, the library was solidifying cold. Clean clung each surface. The discuss noticed ancient paper and something faintly metallic—almost like dried blood. Strangely, books on the racks were flawlessly orchestrated, untouched by time.

Shuvo felt a twinge of unease but brushed it off. He found a tough chair and sat down at a table in the center. On the table lay a thick, leather-bound book, coated in clean. He wiped it clean.

The title examined:

“The Reader's Curse.”

With a smile, he opened the book. The primary page was manually written in striking ruddy ink:

“If you perused, you belong.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Cute,” he mumbled and flipped to the another page.

Abruptly, the book started to flip pages on its own. Shuvo inclined back, startled. Page after page uncovered his name—SHUVO, composed huge ruddy letters—repeated over and over again. Underneath each title was a date.

Today's date.

The room chilled assist. His breath was obvious. And after that, without caution, a shadow rose from behind the book.It wasn't molded like a person—more like a twisted outline, featureless but for an expanding, purge mouth. From inside that empty, a whisper risen, layered with voices—some crying, a few snickering twistedly:

“You perused. You're ours.”

Shuvo attempted to stand. His legs wouldn't react. Something imperceptible held him firmly. The lights glinted, and the furniture around him shifted—creaking, groaning—as if the building itself was lively. Frantic, he dropped the book and turned. The entryway he had entered through… was gone. The windows had vanished as well. In their place were more bookshelves—each filled with indistinguishable duplicates of the same reviled book. At that point, a cold hand held his bear.

He turned around.

Standing some time recently, he was... himself. But not very. The figure had his clothes—but the eyes were gleaming ruddy, and a bent grin extended unnaturally wide over its face. “I was the final reader,” it whispered. “Now, you take my place.”

Shuvo shouted, but no sound came out.

The lights squinted once more—and the duplicate vanished.

He was alone.

As it were, he wasn't.

The room had changed. Books coasted within the discussion, pages turning savagely. From all sides, whispers developed louder:

“Welcome to the store”

The Following Morning

Villagers assembled close the library, taking note the entryway slightly open for the primary time in a long time. Reluctantly, many entered. The library looked untouched—but there was no place to be found. All they found was a notepad lying open on the center table. One line was composed on the final page in blood-red ink:

“Don't attempt to discover me. I'm a portion of the book currently. But he—he strolls among you.”

To this day, the library remains surrendered.

But some of the time, at midnight, you might see a youthful man with Shuvo's confront, strolling past the windows—smiling, holding up for the other peruser.