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The Phantom Library
The Phantom Library
The Phantom Library
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The Phantom Library

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You don't find the Phantom Library. It finds you.

Seventeen books lay waiting on its dusty shelves. Tendrils of fear uncurl from their spines, searching for children to trap in their stories. Many curious minds have been taken by the library. Ordinary kids living ordinary lives looking for excitement, but what they found was an extraordinary heart-pumping race.

You may escape the library, but the stories never leave you.

Check out if you dare.

Books in the Phantom Library
1. Trial of the Last Wish | A trial begins against a dangerous child.
2. The Sound | A sound makes a powerless town lose their senses.
3. Leek Soup | The only vegetarian in a boarding school searches for food.
4. Dead Arcade | A game is life in a world of the undead.
5. Fortune Speller | A mute child reveals a fortune teller's crime one word at a time.
6. [Ir]regular Regardless | A boy is asked to walk his blind neighbor to their first day of school.
7. Borghese Button | A girl listens to a clown and pushes a mysterious button.
8. A Man with Two Hands | Passengers on a train can't figure out why one man has two hands.
9. Last Phonebooth on Earth | A girl learns that not having a phone isn't the end of the world.
10. Quiet Town | Silence covers a dark secret.
11. They Came in with the Fog | Two children learn how to move forward through a hidden future.
12. Things for Sale | A few odd items become the instruments of doom.
13. Night Merriam | A baby crying in a cemetery gives life to the dead.
14. Dolls of Lindenberg | A fishing boat captain's discovery is not what it seems.
15. Ode by Midnight | Midnight watches a widow.
16. The Manor on Sutton Ridge | Witches are drawn to a quiet manor and its diligent builder.
17. Return to the Manor on Sutton Ridge | A dead uncle seeks four orphans for an inheritance.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherBookBaby
Release dateMay 10, 2024
ISBN9798350951486
The Phantom Library
Author

JoAnna Rowe

JoAnna Rowe grew up afraid of everything. She slept with the lights on, ran past dark windows and washed her face with her eyes open. Her loving grandma, who knew about these fears, gave her the guestroom filled with vintage dolls to sleep in when she visited. They were like the dolls from horror films with cracked porcelain skin, eyes that followed you when you moved, and pink-painted lips pursed with the silent threat of death. Grandma loved these dolls and found pleasure in displaying them in the guestroom to watch her grandchild sleep. After a life of ridiculous but very real fears influenced by Killer Doll Slumber Parties and Twilight Zone marathons, JoAnna decided to be an adult and face her fears head on with a pen and paper. The Phantom Library is her debut novel—a collection of stories to creep out kids in honor of her grandma. Find out more about the author at joannarowe.com.

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    Book preview

    The Phantom Library - JoAnna Rowe

    Cover of JoAnna Rowe by JoAnna Rowe

    The Phantom Library

    © 2024 JoAnna Rowe

    All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

    Print ISBN: 979-8-35095-147-9

    eBook ISBN: 979-8-35095-148-6

    www.joannarowe.com

    Books on the Shelf

    TRIAL OF THE LAST WISH

    A trial begins against a dangerous child.

    THE SOUND

    A sound makes a powerless town lose their senses.

    LEEK SOUP

    The only vegetarian in a boarding school searches for food.

    DEAD ARCADE

    A game is life in a world of the undead.

    FORTUNE SPELLER

    A mute child reveals a fortune teller’s crime one word at a time.

    [IR]REGULAR REGARDLESS

    A boy is asked to walk his blind neighbor to their first day of school.

    BORGHESE BUTTON

    A girl listens to a clown and pushes a mysterious button.

    A MAN WITH TWO HANDS

    Passengers on a train can’t figure out why one man has two hands.

    THE LAST PHONEBOOTH ON EARTH

    A girl learns that not having a phone isn’t the end of the world.

    QUIET TOWN

    Silence covers a dark secret.

    they came in with the fog

    Two children learn how to move forward through a hidden future.

    things for sale

    A few odd items become the instruments of doom.

    night merriam

    A baby crying in a cemetery gives life to the dead.

    dolls of lindenberg

    A fishing boat captain’s discovery is not what it seems.

    ode by midnight

    Midnight watches a widow.

    the manor on sutton ridge

    Witches are drawn to a quiet manor and its diligent builder.

    return to the manor on sutton ridge

    A dead uncle seeks four orphans for an inheritance.

    For Jack.

    TRIAL OF THE LAST WISH

    Her black saddle shoes barely reached the floor at the witness stand. The blue sailor suit she wore had lovely lace trim like a mod Parisienne from decades ago. Dark eyes within a ghostly pale face watched the judge from beneath her blue straw hat. People traveled miles to the village courthouse to see little Aisling Green and her fish. Those who got a glimpse were in terror and awe of the girl who looked like she could be anyone’s daughter. She was someone’s daughter once over a hundred years ago.

    Aisling Green, announced Judge Griffin in his booming voice. Your youthful appearance does not change the fact that you are an adult and must be tried like one. You stand convicted of witchcraft and murder. If found guilty, the penalty is death. Do you have anything you would like to say?

    Aisling shifted her eyes away from the judge to comb across the crowded courthouse and then along the people leaning through the windows and up in the rafters. Their faces were a candy bag of emotions. Aisling looked back at the judge and said, I have a few stories to tell.

    I object! shouted the hot-shot attorney from the city. The crime aired on news channels across the country. Because everyone saw what Aisling did, finding a prosecutor proved to be difficult. The job went to the only one brave enough to face the immortal girl.

    She’s allowed, Mr. Maze, Judge Griffin replied.

    Aisling studied Mr. Maze. The heat of humanity burned his puffed cheeks. Sweat made his deeply receded hairline shine. It resembled the glass fishbowl in her hands that Mr. Maze watched closely.

    Your honor, Mr. Maze said through the tight flex of his jaw. I understand you do things differently here in your little village, but this is incredibly unorthodox. You have placed a lit match in a grass house. Aisling Green is the most dangerous person in the world. She could kill us all with her wicked words. You must take the proper measures to silence her. The man wiped sweat from his lips. Miss Green, hand over the fishbowl. Do what is right.

    Aisling relaxed the crumple of her brow. Do what is right? she said. Mr. Maze, I did what was right, and I’d do it all again. She paused when everyone gasped. You’ll understand when I tell the truth about what happened. May I continue?

    Mr. Maze clenched his teeth and looked back at the silver fish floating very still in its bowl. He opened his mouth to reply.

    That’s enough, Mr. Maze, Judge Griffin said. What truth do we need to know, Miss Green?

    Aisling moved her eyes in that slow way of hers, away from Mr. Maze, across the crowd, and back to Judge Griffin. She pushed the front rim of her hat up so her short black hair peeked out. You all know about my fish, Clybourne.

    Those in the room shifted back like water rippling from a dropped stone.

    Mr. Maze was a teapot steaming. He popped out of his seat. I object. That is not her fish. It is a boy! A ten-year-old boy whose family will never see his face again. What’s stopping her from doing the same to us?

    Aisling shook her head. I can’t hurt anyone. My only wish was used on Clybourne.

    Call it what it is, Mr. Maze shouted. It’s a curse. You cursed him. You’re a witch.

    Order! called out Judge Griffin, slamming his gavel. Sit down, Mr. Maze, or you will be asked to leave. My goodness, I’ve never seen an attorney so erratic. Carry on, Miss Green.

    Mr. Maze flopped into his seat. His mouth pinched around his last thought.

    Aisling spoke over the murmurs of the crowd. They silenced in seconds. Wishes are real, she said, and I am one of them, but this story began long before me. Most people have heard about Pandora. The woman who opened a box and released plague and sorrow unto mankind. She quickly closed it, leaving one thing still inside the box . . . hope. Few know that Pandora’s box was hidden away until two centuries later when someone found it and opened it again.

    Aisling adjusted the fishbowl on her lap and continued, "Hope took the form of a wish when it left the box. It traveled for centuries. Those wished upon could pass one wish on to another person or let it die with them. Over time, the Hope Wish became lost in a world of poverty and war, and its meaning transformed into greed and power within humanity’s hands."

    Mr. Maze snorted and narrowed his eyes.

    Aisling met his glare with her own. "It’s humanity you fear, not the wish. And I have neither of those. Immortality was wished upon me, and I have placed my wish on Clybourne, who as you can see has no way to pass it on. The Hope Wish has hit the end of the line, and when hope dies, the world dies."

    Your honor, she is threatening this court, yelled Mr. Maze.

    Sustained, Judge Griffin responded. Miss Green, you are running out of time. And I’m very confused about what you are trying to convey with this nonsense about wishes. Hurry on.

    Mr. Maze slammed his fist on the table. If Aisling could feel temperature, she would have felt cold. Her eyes were fixed on a scar that revealed itself on Mr. Maze’s forearm. Aisling closed her mouth and gathered her thoughts. She shifted her eyes back to Judge Griffin and said, I’d like to begin with the story where Clybourne dies.

    The Story Where Clybourne Dies

    It was the Fisherman Festival on the full moon of summer solstice, and the hottest night I could ever remember. People around me danced in the moonlight with sweat pouring down their bodies, laughing and smiling. Immortals don’t sweat, and laughing and smiling are superficial but necessary to fit in. I didn’t care to pretend that night. I gripped a hatchet behind my back as I pushed through the joyful crowd toward Clybourne with only one thing on my mind.

    I didn’t expect to pass my wish that night. I had an eternity to wait for the right moment. The boy left me no choice. He was carving tongues out of people like me.

    This wasn’t the first time I’d heard of the wish hunters. They did the same thing to my mother, but that’s another story. What is relevant is that a family of wish hunters have been chasing me all my life. I ran to keep hope alive.

    I hid in bell towers, watching irrelevant seconds pass. Even though signs of the wish hunters disappeared decades ago, I never stayed in one town too long. My luck ran out days after settling into this little fishing village. A murder appeared on the front page of the newspaper that was all too familiar. Some salesman a town over had his tongue ripped out by a fishing hook.

    They called it a tragic accident, but a sentence in the article confirmed what I already knew. The victim had unique gold-covered fingertips. I’d seen greed turn many Hope Wishes into golden curses before. I cared little about the greedy dead man. I cared more that it meant the wish hunters had returned.

    I liked the quiet fishing village and was tired of running, so I decided to end the wish hunters once and for all. I set up a booth in the market square and put out an advertisement in the newspaper calling people to stump the girl who never grew old. My oddity show brought a huge crowd of curious people asking me history questions that I always got right.

    On the night of the summer solstice, my trap worked. I found a young boy sitting behind my tent crying. In his hands, he clutched a large fishing hook covered in dried blood. He looked up at me through his tears.

    I know what you are, he said between sniffles.

    And I know what you are, I responded, while casually removing my hat as a distraction to grab my hatchet. What’s your name?

    Clybourne Gravenwood.

    I gave a derisive snort at the last name I knew well.

    The boy sat up. The Fantastic Ageless Whinny is not your real name.

    No, I answered. It’s not. He had these big, round brown eyes that could reach out and pet you. I rattled my head to shake it loose and pointed to the fishing hook. How many tongues have you taken?

    The boy sobbed. Just one.

    And I’m next.

    Clybourne pulled his hand away from his face. I have to.

    Why?

    I’m the only one left to break the curse.

    I stood straighter. Are all the Gravenwoods dead except you?

    No, there’s my grandpa too, but he can’t walk anymore.

    Keep him talking, I thought. I needed to learn as much as I could. How much do you know about this so-called curse?

    Grandpa says people like you used wicked words to curse my family to be nothing but sea folk.

    Wicked words. I remembered another Gravenwood long ago saying the same thing to my mother. I flashed my teeth. What does Grandpa say happens when the curse is gone?

    My family will be free. The boy slowly stood and lifted his eyes. And you are the very last curse left.

    I glanced at his fishing hook and tightened my grip on the hatchet. "You ignorant fool. What I am is not a curse. I have the Hope Wish, the greatest gift to humanity, given to me by my mother. Your family curse is no different than my wish."

    The boy raised his hands. Wait. What are you saying?

    Your curse is only a wish. You could have wished to not be sea folk, but your family’s anger made them hungry for power.

    The boy’s shoulders dropped. What?

    Your family slaughtered good people—people who were using their wish to make the world a better place.

    How do you know it was my family?

    I pointed to the circular scar on his forearm. The mark of Gravenwood. I’ve seen many of you come and go.

    Clybourne lowered his hook. This whole time I thought I was the one trying to make the world a better place.

    "My mother told me if you remove all of the Hope Wish the world dies. Your family has brought us to the end. I paused and blinked. Reality set in. Should I fight or should I keep running? If I did nothing, I would die with the world. Does your grandpa have his wish to give?"

    We call it an ability, but no. He gave it to my father who died before he could give it to me. My grandpa uses his ability to help me locate those with wicked words.

    I snarled, hating that dumb phrase, and then scratched my chin. So, I am the last one who exists with a wish.

    Clybourne stepped forward. Give it to me.

    What?

    Give me the wish. I promise to pass it on to do good.

    I wagged my head. "As long as I’m alive, Gravenwoods will be expelled from the Hope Wish. Your time is up."

    Clybourne’s shoulders sagged. My grandpa says the curse ruined his life. He’ll hunt you until his last breath.

    Lucky for me I don’t breathe, I said, but I’d like the luxury of taking a breath. I lowered my eyes a moment and looked back at him. Your grandpa’s going to have to die.

    What? Clybourne backed away. No! He’s all I have.

    My snarl flickered. Turning children into orphans didn’t bother your family.

    I won’t let you.

    Then I will rid this world of every Gravenwood, I said.

    Clybourne took off running.

    I followed after him, knowing exactly where to look for Gravenwood fishermen. I pushed through the festival on the summer solstice to the boat dock where Grandpa Gravenwood sat in a wheelchair yelling at Clybourne. I marched closer, thinking hard about the right words I would need to say, but then a cameraman stepped between us.

    Hey, you’re that oddity girl down at the market, the cheery man said. Can I ask you a few questions? I ignored him and kept walking. He continued filming.

    You! Grandpa Gravenwood shouted when I broke through the crowd. So, you’re the one who hid from us all these years. Finally, a face to my hate. End her, Clybourne!

    I . . . I can’t, Grandpa. She has the last wish. She’s come here to kill us.

    Then do something, the old man sputtered.

    What can I do? the small boy said with his arms out.

    The man gripped his wheelchair. First my son and now my grandson. You’re both cowards. Runaway like him. I’ll do this myself. He pushed out of his chair and shuffled along the dock toward me with a fishing hook in hand.

    Clybourne blocked him. Grandpa, what do you mean? Papa’s not dead?

    I only half listened. Grandpa Gravenwood had said I gave a face to his hate. My eyes grew wide. I found the right words and a way to keep hope alive. I needed to clone myself.

    Clybourne! I shouted. I wish you became the face your grandpa hates.

    Clybourne looked at me. In a blink, he turned into a silver fish and flopped onto the dock. I cursed and pressed a fist to my forehead.

    Grandpa Gravenwood shouted. He stumbled to not step on his grandchild and instead teetered sideways and fell into the water.

    Witch, said the cameraman behind me. I spun to see him run away.

    The festival danced on, oblivious to the catalyst that had tipped the world toward its end. I gently picked up Clybourne and placed him in a water cup.

    The splashing and yelping of Grandpa Gravenwood disappeared under the blare of festival music until he fell silent at the bottom of the sea.

    I frowned at my new fish. I didn’t see that coming. Looks like Grandpa Gravenwood hated fishing more than me. I sighed. Well, Clybourne, we both won. I have a new pet and you didn’t die. I tapped at the plastic cup to move the stunned little fish. Or did you?

    The cameraman worked fast. Officers were there to arrest me within minutes. What happened here? asked the female officer.

    I looked down at the silver fish in the cup. First, I’ll have to tell you the story where I died.

    The Story Where I Died

    Mama was in her peach flowing gown with the golden broach that gathered it at one shoulder. The Order of Moral Restoration surrounded us, wearing similar lightweight peach clothing. They lowered their heads while Mama held my hand. She cried at my bedside as the fever slowly drained my life. It was 1885. Three days past my eleventh birthday.

    The Order had strict rules. From the moment Pandora’s box was reopened, the ancient group was created to preserve the integrity of the Hope Wish for good. However, those in the Order were still human with human reactions. They stood there that day mournfully ready to prevent my mother from doing the one thing she could do to save her child.

    Death was a natural course of life, and for my mother to save me, it would be acting against the Order. They all watched as I took my last breath.

    Did you know the moment you died, your senses are crystal clear? It’s like your body takes a snapshot before your sense of knowing dissolves. In my snapshot, I tasted the bitter medicine still lingering on my tongue. I could feel my mother’s tears falling onto my face. Her sweet floral perfume I loved so much stayed with my last breath. I heard Mama whispering in my ear, but I saw nothing, which gave me my last real emotion. Sadness. The words she whispered created a frame for my last thought.

    She said, "You are the embodiment of hope. When

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