He began to read. The description was visceral. Unlike the sanitized versions he had read in anthologies, this text described the smell of ozone before the whistle, the chilling count of the skeleton's ribs, and the specific way the wind carried the sound. As Lucas read the words, the library’s air conditioning seemed to falter. A sudden draft brushed against his neck, carrying a faint, melodic whistle. Tiiiii... tuuuu... He spun around. The library was empty.