I turned toward the bookshelf, and started reading some of the titles. Then suddenly, a book right in front of me started to slide out slowly, all by itself, then it stopped…just before it was about to fall off the shelf. I stared at it for a second or two, and then glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone else had seen it. But they were on the other side of the room, and obviously didn’t see it. I took a deep breath. How could a book move by itself? I reached up and grabbed it, then took it off the shelf. It was Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. When I opened the book, a strange feeling came over me. I shivered. It felt like someone was looking over my shoulder, watching me. I quickly glanced behind me, but no one was there. I guess it was just my imagination. I flipped through some of the pages, and then suddenly something fell out of the book, and onto the floor. I looked behind me again, because that feeling of someone watching me was still there. I held my breath for a second, and slowly let it out. This time when I shivered, it was because I was cold and I could actually see my breath. How is this even possible? It’s October. I shouldn’t be able to see my breath. It shouldn’t be this cold in here.

“Lacy!” Robin called. “Come over here, and look at this.”

“In a minute,” I glanced over my shoulder. Then I bent down to see what fell out of the book. I picked it up. It was a skeleton key, and it looked really old. It was very ornate, and it had a capital R on it. I held it in my hand for a few minutes, looking at it, feeling it. Then right when I was going to put the key back in the book, the strangest thing happened. The window started rattling, and then the dingy white curtains that were hanging down each side of the window started to blow, like there was a hurricane. I hadn’t even noticed that the window was even open. I think it was closed. The wind started howling, and then the door slammed shut. I jumped.

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