Time for some background on James and his (apparently) haunted workplace.
He's 24, same as me, and works in a reference library in Yorkshire - won't say where as its a council operation. However, the library isn't the building in question.
Next door but-one is a storehouse for books and items that are either new and waiting to be catalogued, no longer current but still of use, or resting whilst in transit. Its probably best described by the man himself:
"A dusty old shell, full of things that are in-between places. Stuff waiting an eternity for something to happen."
Its worth mentioning that the building is an old converted chapel.
Anyway, two months ago, James was told he'd be cataloging the entire reference stock for a new library, meaning he'd be spending a lot of time there. Our lad, somewhat disgruntled after being given this monotonous task, was instantly taken around to the Old Chapel - as it is known - by his line manager. After punching in the door security code (nobody is based there, and staff just pop in and out when necessary, which isn't very often) they entered into a small office area; a more recent addition to the rear of the actual chapel. Proceeding through a few short and dimly lit corridors, they quickly reached the door to the storage stack, and stopped.
"Are you sure you'll be alright in here by yourself?" his line manager asked, with only the slightest concern in her soft voice. Puzzled, he told me he'd went to answer but...
"Because some people don't like being in here by themselves."
James laughed when telling me this bit. Said he looked at her and snorted.
"Well you brought me here. What, is it haunted or something?" and made haunted drip with comic horror.
The line manager, an ex-army nurse who dressed youthfully but some would say appropriately for her early fifties, and recently promoted to cover three other branches, looked him straight in the eye. He saw the fingers on her right hand absently twirl a tassle hanging from her belt. The left side of her mouth with its vivid crimson lips hung down awkwardly.
"Some members of staff say it can get... they feel a bit odd in there, so if you get uncomfortable or something happens then just leave. There's no rush on the job. Ok?"
James told me: "She's never as serious as that, especially over something as daft as ghosts. It unnerved me a bit, and before I could say Ok, she'd gone. I think she felt silly, or embarrassed."
Continuing with the story, he pushed open the heavy fire door and instantly tasted dust. The lad was inside.
Things were moving everywhere!
Shadows from the trees outside scuttled eerily across silent avenues of books, resting on shelves over 12 feet high. Rusting burgler-bars spread across plain yet typically large windows, suppressing the already poor light from outside as the courthouse and another building stood near on either side. Above were modern rafters and a kind of make-shift mezzanine that was halfway to the original wooden ceiling, barely visible in the murk. James said the darkness up there worried him, as it looked sort of thick. Patches of shade slid around within this cloud, just on the edge of vision.
Shortly after he entered that old place of worship, within cold walls the colour of snowclouds... things had made themselves known. Before he could even find the lightswitch, shades and shapes had approached.
He ran.
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