Henrry stared at the book lying open in front of him,then he hears the whispers of pages with a strange hum, as if the letters were alive, shifting, breathing secrets into the air.
The words weren't in English—or at least not any language he'd ever read. Yet somehow, he could understand parts of them.
A chill ran down his spine.
His hands trembled slightly as he flipped through the glowing pages. "Book of AB..." the title had read. But missing letters of book give him strange feeling.
He felt a knot twist in his chest. The moment didn't feel like he discover anything its disappeared. It felt like a unknown danger.
then he Suddenly, remembered that he had to meet Meclery he knows only he can believe me without thinking i gone mad,then he cautionary shut the book,
still his heart pounding like a drum beat.
And just like that—it disappeared like magic this whole situation give Henrry eerie feeling.
'No smoke', 'no noise', 'no flash'. The book simply ceased to exist in his hands, leaving nothing but cold air where it once rested.
Henrry jumped back. His eyes scanned the room frantically, but there was nothing. No book. No trace. Only the silence of his bedroom and the rapid beat of his heart.
He rushed out of the room, flinging the door open.
The front gate creaked open.
James was standing right there, dripping wet from the rain.
His eyes narrowed. "Henrry? Where are you rushing to?"
Henrry stumbled over his words, trying to hide the panic in his voice. "I—I was just going to Mclery's place."
James frowned. "It's late. And it's raining. That can wait till morning."
"But—"
"No buts," James said firmly, stepping inside.
Henrry stood frozen at the door, hands clenched into fists. James looked at him again. He wasn't angry—just deeply concerned.
James could see it in his son's face. 'The fear', 'The confusion'. Something was bothering Henrry. But he didn't know how to ask.
Henrry looked down, nodding silently, trying to mask his shaken expression.
But he didn't go back to his room.
He couldn't.
Everything up there—everything about that stick and that book—felt too strange. Too real. Too wrong.
So he sat down in the drawing room, curled up on the couch, thoughts spinning in all directions.
What's happening? Henrry tries to calm himself
Then, from the hallway, James called out gently, "Henrry?"
Henrry regain his breathing and answer "yes dad..."
"You know… if there's ever something you need to tell me… you can. I'm here, son."
Henrry hesitated. The words were there, right on the edge of his tongue.
But he forced a smile. "It's nothing much, Dad—just something related to a school project"
James nodded slowly and walked away, his footsteps fading. A small weight lifted off his chest. Maybe he was overthinking.
In truth, Henrry was drowning in thoughts.
That book. That name—AB… Who was that? The author? The owner? The creator?
And that stick—was it his?
Henrry stared at the ceiling.
Should I destroy it? he wondered.Is that the only way to make this stop?
Somewhere between the weight of his questions and the storm outside, sleep finally pulled him under.
Morning came with the warmth of sunlight pressing through the windows. Henrry didn't remember when he'd fallen asleep.
James stood over him, a calm smile on his face.
"Wake up, sleepyhead. Project done?"
Henrry, still groggy, nodded instinctively. "Mmm-hmm."
James chuckled and walked away, seemingly reassured.
But Henrry's mind was racing again. The questions hadn't left. If anything, they were louder now.
He rubbed his eyes and walked up to his room. The air felt heavier here. Like the secrets still hung in the corners.
He found that stick right on his bed.
Still warm, Still humming.
He tucked it inside his shirt, close to his chest.
This time, he wasn't running away from the questions.
He was going to find answers.
And there was only one person he could trust with this.
Mclery