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@inkhorn
And the quota for blatant fourth-wall-breaking has been filled for the week XD Somehow we end up shattering the fourth wall with quite alarming frequency, it’s great XD

Athena

This was the oddest book I’d ever read. I scowled at it and turned the page.

“You think I’m odd, do you?” It read, a single sentence sprawled across the page.

Well, I rather do.

“You don’t even know the half of it.”

I rather wouldn’t, if it’s all the same to you.

“Who said you had a choice?”

I instantly glanced over at Ophelia, but she had comfortably sprawled on one of the armchairs, legs extended, admiring her shoes. They were horrifically impractical, I had no idea how she even walked in those, let alone skip and fling herself around as she did.

“You’re right. I apologize that my incorrect Latin grammar d-disturbed you from whatever you are d-doing,” the man answered my comment.

“No trouble,” I answered, briefly. At least he hadn’t gotten ruffled and defensive at it. I was right, after all.

“Wow, you’ve been in here for five minutes, and you’ve bored me already. That’s got to be some sort of record,” a deep, unknown voice boomed.

I glanced down at the book. The same words had appeared on the decaying pages. A shiver ran up and down my spine. What kind of elaborate prank was this? Was it some of the upper-class students who thought they were funny? Had this been previously set up, with something reading from a script? That wouldn’t explain the book that had seemed to answer my thoughts.

Something was very wrong.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t greet you earlier,” Ophelia answered, cheerily. “I’d like to, where are you?”

I shot her a confused look. How could she not be worried by anything that was happening? It was so ridiculous, had she even thought about it at all?

I was done with this situation. I turned toward the door and started back, reaching into my messy braid for my hairpins. If only it was an old lock, I wouldn’t have any trouble with it. Otherwise, I could dig out the lockpicks I kept hidden in my sachel.

I would report this to… someone. I didn’t feel like solving it.

“Ophelia, come on,” I called back.

“Not so fast,” the same deep voice answered.

“For those who cared enough to find out where I am, I’ll put your minds at ease. I’m the castle.”

“You’re not a castle, you’re a library,” I corrected. “And you’re not a library, you’re a speaker with someone who thinks they’re funny behind it.”

“Now while you puzzle over that bombshell, I’m going to drop another one on you. In about a second or so, the lights will flip off. In about a second after that, poisonous snakes will be released into the library.”

Ophelia couldn’t let that opportunity to be dramatic slip. She let out a shriek, though it was so obviously planned that it lost a lot of effect. She sounded more excited than scared.

“Since the auth-, I mean, my bosses don’t want you dead after only a couple of minutes, I’ll make sure that the snakes will stay on the ground. They won’t go flying around the room or climbing up walls. Everyone got that? ‘Kay so, that’s it. Peace out and try not to die. I’m getting paid a $100 an hour to traumatize you not to kill you.”

I tapped my foot on the floor, trying to figure out what to do. Just then, the lights flicked out.

Pure instinct took over. I’d have to believe the speaker for now.

I turned and ran for the chairs and climbed onto one.

Ophelia had followed my example, though she perched on the back-rest of a wing-back chair as though it was a completely natural position.

“Do you have any snake repellant with you?” Ophelia asked, surprisingly perky, despite the circumstances. Maybe she hadn’t figured out that we could die. On the other hand, if she panicked, we’d be in a worse position.

“You, incorrect Latin speaker, do you have anywhere high to stand?”

“It’s Conroy,” Ophelia corrected, gently.

“Whatever,” I said, distractedly.

We had to come up with a solution, the snakes could easily climb onto the chairs eventually.

I didn’t have snake repellant, but Ophelia did.

“Do you have hairspray on you?” I asked.

Ophelia fished in her sparkly purse and fished out a pocket-sized can of hairspray. I knew it, she always had it on her. It was as strong as glue, she used it for ballet-class, when stray strands were the enemy.

“I’m not an expert on how much hairspray will kill a snake, but I don’t think they’ll like it,” I said.

“You’re a genius,” Ophelia said, admiringly.

“Focus on staying alive for now,” I said, briefly, though I was rather flattered by her remark.