The Cedar Hollow Library Mysteries

"Libraries are supposed to be quiet.

But the day I found Elena Moreau’s note, the books started whispering back."

1. The Discovery

I’ve worked at Cedar Hollow Public Library for three years, long enough to know its secrets:

The way the air smells like vanilla and mildew in the old classics aisle.

How the antique clock above History Section 3 hasn’t moved since 1993.

And that people leave pieces of themselves in books—grocery lists, Polaroids, sometimes even tears on the pages.

But nothing like this.

When I flipped open the battered copy of The Bell Jar, the yellowed slip of paper fluttered to the floor like a dying moth. Unfolding it, I saw five sentences in hurried, ink-smudged cursive:

"If you’re reading this, I’m already gone.

Meet me where the library clock stopped.

Don’t trust the librarian.

They’re watching the doors.

—E."

The last checkout slip was dated October 17, 1993—exactly 30 years ago today.

2. The Missing Girl

Mrs. Langley, our 80-year-old head librarian, froze when I showed her the note. Her knuckles turned white around her pearl necklace—a nervous habit I’d never seen before.

"Elena Moreau," she whispered. "Pretty thing. College student. Used to study here every night until…" She trailed off, eyes darting to the broken clock.

"Until what?" I pressed.

"Until she vanished.* Police searched for months. Some said she ran away. Others swore they saw her…* still here."

A chill crawled up my spine. "What do you mean, ‘still here’?"

Mrs. Langley shut the book with a snap. "Finish re-shelving, dear. And maybe don’t mention this to anyone."

3. The Clock Moves

At 11:58 PM, as I locked up, I heard it—a rusty, grinding click.

The hands of the broken clock shuddered.

Tick. The minute hand jerked to 2:15.

Tick. 2:16.

Tick. 2:17.

Then, silence.

The air grew thick, like the library itself was holding its breath.

That’s when the books began to fall.

4. The Message in the Books

One by one, they tumbled from Shelf 317—the exact spot where The Bell Jar belonged.

*1984*

The Time Machine

Vanishing Acts

They landed in a heap, spines aligned to spell:

"L O O K"

Behind the gap they left, the wallpaper was peeled back, revealing deep scratches in the plaster—fresh ones. And beneath them, etched in something dark (ink? blood?):

"TIME DOESN’T FORGET. DO YOU?"

5. The Twist (Cliffhanger Ending)

I ran to the front desk, heart pounding, and pulled up the library’s database.

Search: "The Bell Jar – Checkout History."

The screen loaded slowly, then:

LAST BORROWER: *MOREAU, ELENA (Card #HL-1993)*

DUE DATE: *10/17/1993*

STATUS: CHECKED OUT – DUE TODAY

My breath stopped.

Because according to the system, Elena Moreau had just walked into the library.

And she was 29 years overdue.

🔮 Teaser for Part 2:

"Next: Who—or what—checked out Elena’s book? And why is the library’s archive room locked… even though I have the key?"