The Discovery

Alice stood in unbelieving horror. Down the hall, she could hear the librarian at the circulation desk humming tunelessly as she checked the printers for paper. Students were shuffling in, world-weary, to give their all-nighter papers a once-over before printing them off and turning them in to their essay-burdened professors. The cuckoo above the mantlepiece in the Lincoln Room chimed a cheerful eight o'clock, waking Alice to the reality of it all. Yes, it was real. She glanced once more at the young man, lying face down on the plush Persian rug, the woven green leaves swirling together with a darkening, dismal brown. In a flash, she jerked away from the sight and flung herself out into the blaring fluorescent light of the library lobby. Alice reeled, and the humming librarian frowned in her general direction; why should anyone act so very upsettingly on such a beautiful morning as this? Alice pointed to the door of the Lincoln Room, her words fighting within her throat, seizing each other, gasping for air. "There's ..." She could do no more. The librarian moved towards her, but in an instant, Alice lay on the floor, all in a heap, just like the blood-stained body she had discovered only moments before.