She knelt in the dirt, her fingers trembling as she cleared away the muck. There, hidden under a stone lip, was a keyhole. She slid the brass key in. It didn't just turn; it hummed .
That was the crest of the "Blackwood Library," a place people in town stopped talking about forty years ago. They said the library didn't burn down; they said the ground simply decided it didn't want the building there anymore and swallowed it whole. Catelynn
What kind of "unspoken" secrets are kept on these shelves? She knelt in the dirt, her fingers trembling