When I bought an old book without a cover at a used bookstore, the shopkeeper gave me a strange look. He stared at me for several seconds before saying in a hoarse voice, \u201cThis book\u2014its previous owner also abandoned it halfway through.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t think much of it; I paid and left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I got home, I flipped to the first page. The pages were yellowed, and the handwritten text was faint, the ink slightly faded. The story was about a man named Jack who moved into an old house and could hear the sound of fingernails scraping inside the walls every night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I smiled, thinking the opening was pretty clich\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On page ten, Jack wrote in his diary: \u201cI\u2019m certain there\u2019s something in the wall. It knows my name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I kept reading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On page thirty, Jack wrote: \u201cIt\u2019s starting to mimic my voice. Last night, I heard myself speaking in the living room, but I was clearly in the bedroom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I furrowed my brow. Why was this book starting to feel more and more real?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On page fifty, Jack\u2019s handwriting became sloppy: \u201cIt\u2019s not something in the wall. It\u2019s behind me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I jerked my head around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The living room was empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I breathed a sigh of relief and kept reading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On page sixty, there was only one line: \u201cIt\u2019s watching you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My hand trembled, and the book nearly fell to the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I forced myself to stay calm and turned to the next page.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On page seventy, Jack\u2019s handwriting had completely changed, as if it had been carved with a fingernail: \u201cIt\u2019s already in your house.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I immediately closed the book and shoved it into the drawer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That night, I couldn\u2019t sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the middle of the night, I heard the sound of pages turning in the living room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I crept out and found the drawer open, with the book lying open on the table, stopped at page seventy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But on the page, there was a new line of text:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy don\u2019t you keep reading?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I jerked my head up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the mirror, my face was smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I wasn\u2019t smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked down at my hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In my hand, I was holding a pen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And on the page, that line of text was in my handwriting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I suddenly remembered what the shopkeeper had said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe previous owner also abandoned it halfway through.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked down and saw the first page of the book; under \u201cAuthor,\u201d it read:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJack.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And my name is Jack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019ve never been a reader.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am the one who is supposed to continue writing this book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I can\u2019t finish it now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The book is already closed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A Book Abandoned Midway<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":422,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[18,22],"class_list":["post-421","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-suspense","tag-story","tag-suspense"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/421","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=421"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/421\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":423,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/421\/revisions\/423"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/422"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=421"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=421"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=421"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}