"The Skin Archive"
The corridor they descended was so narrow that Alex could feel the walls brushing
against his shoulders. The light from the lamp Helena held flickered every few
seconds, distorting the shadows into figures that seemed to move and retreat with
a life of their own. The air grew thicker as they went down, infused with a damp
scent that combined fresh ink with something else… something organic, almost
biological.
Sara walked very close to Alex, clinging to his hand as if it were the only
connection keeping her sane. He could feel her fingers trembling. Adrián walked a
few steps ahead, the black book clutched to his chest. The object seemed to
pulse, as if it had a tiny heart hidden between its pages.
"How much longer?" Sara asked in a low voice.
Helena didn't turn around.
—Not much. We can already feel his presence.
Sara paused for a moment.
—His presence? The
Guardian's?Adrian shook his head
slowly.
—No. The one from the Archives. He… the one who takes care of this section of the
library.
Alex felt a chill. If the Guardian of the Infinite Halls was terrifying, what was
this?Could it get any worse?
The corridor suddenly widened, opening into a circular room. The walls were still
covered with bookshelves, but here the books had no titles. They had no spines.
They didn't look like books.
Alex approached one instinctively.
An object hung on the shelf. It wasn't made of
paper.It was skin.Human skin, crudely stitched into a rectangular shape, with words tattooed on it in
dark ink. The letters seemed to move beneath the flesh, as if breathing.
Sara stepped back with a stifled scream.
—No… it can't be real!
Helena gently held her arm.
—The Fur Archive is one of the oldest places in the library. Before books existed,
records were written on whatever was considered most valuable.
"People?" Sara whispered, horrified.
—Memoirs—Adrián corrected—. Stories. Identities. Not all of them human.
Alex felt a lump in his throat. He forced himself to move a little closer to one of
those "books." The words seemed to sink and rise to the surface, like worms
vibrating under his skin.
"Who writes them?" he asked, his voice tense.
Helena answered without looking at him.
—The Archivist.
The temperature dropped
suddenly.The candles went
out.
Helena's lamp trembled in her hands.
Something breathed in the room, a wet sound, like a disused lung inflating again.
Alex felt something move behind him. He slowly turned
around.And he saw it.
At first he thought it was a human figure, but the shape was distorted. It wasToo tall,
too thin, as if she had been stretched by giant hands. Her skin was colorless. It was
covered in marks, lines, scars that looked like text in an ancient language. She had
no eyes. Instead, she had two empty sockets from which black ink dripped, falling
to the floor in thick threads.Sara squeezed Alex's hand so hard that she almost hurt his fingers.
—Is that thing… the Archivist?
The being inclined its head towards them, moving with a soft creaking sound, like
old parchment.
Adrian opened the black book with a desperate gesture.
—Don't look at him directly. He writes down what he sees. And if he writes them
down… he changes them.
Alex turned his gaze to the ground, but he could feel the Archivist's empty eye
sockets above him, as if trying to pierce his mind.
Helena lifted the lamp. It suddenly switched on with a brighter light than usual.
—Archivist—he said in a firm voice—, we have new records.Sara
paled.
—What? No, Helena… it can't be…
But Helena wasn't offering them. Not exactly. The Archivist took a step, and
theShelves creaked in response.
"He knows the deal," Adrian whispered. "To get through here, we have to hand over
a story."
Alex took a deep breath. Something inside him was vibrating.
"A story? What story?" Helena
stared at him.
—One that belongs to you.
The words hit him like a brick to the chest.
Ever since he was a child, Alex had had recurring nightmares about a fire. With
screams. Witha door he couldn't open. He had always thought it was a trauma, a
a distorted memory of something he never experienced. But approaching the
Archivist… he felt
that perhaps it wasn't like that.
The creature extended a long, bony hand with fingers as thin as needles.Ink dripped
from the tips of each finger.Alex felt something pulling him. Not physically. Mentally. Like a pageinside her mind
was being slowly torn away.
Sara took his face in her hands.
—Alex, look at me! Don't listen to him! Don't let him get
anything out of you!But he was listening.
In her head, a soundless voice said:
Your story… is incomplete. Let me read it. Let me write it. Let me open you up.
Adrian spoke quickly, almost breathlessly:
"Alex, you have to offer a souvenir willingly, or he'll take it by force and you'll be
killed."It will break! Choose! Quick!
The room was rotating.
The Archivist took a step forward, bending over in an impossible way, as if he
werepaper wrinkling.
Alex took air, tryingthink.
What could I give?
What could it lose without being destroyed?
He felt Sara's hand on his chest. Her fingers were trembling.
The Archivist stretched out his arms, pressing against the walls of the room. The
skinsHanging on the shelves, they began to twitch, as if they wanted to escape.
Choose…
Alex closed his eyes.He
remembered something.
Not the
fire.No
shouting.
She remembered her first day of school. She remembered the laughter of a boy she
never saw again.He remembered a drawing he had made: a house, a sun, his
mother smiling. An insignificant moment, but real. A forgotten memory.Something small.
Something that could be lost without
breaking.He opened his eyes and
spoke:
—I offer you… my first drawing.
Sara looked at him confused.
—Alex… what…?
But the Archivist stopped.
Her fingers curled forward.
And an icy current entered Alex's mind.
For a second, he saw the Archivist inside his head, rummaging through memories as
if they were pages. He saw the childhood drawing fade, the image erased.The voice
of that unknown child, how the paper crumpled… and disappeared.
The Archivist made a sound, a kind of deep click that echoed in the room.
Then he stepped back.
The skins stopped moving.The
air began to flow again.
Helena lowered the lamp.
"He's satisfied," he said.
Adrian closed the black
book.
—We can come in.
Sara took Alex's face in her hands.
"Are you okay? What happened? What
did you feel?" Alex took a deep breath.
—I felt… like something small was being ripped away from me. Something I no longer
remember.Sara hugged him tightly.
But as he held her, Alex felt the Archivist's empty gaze on his back.And a
disturbing idea formed in his mind:
If he took such a small souvenir… why did he let it go?
The answer came like a whisper in his skull, a voice that wasn't his own:
Because I want more. And you'll have to bring it.
Alex opened his eyes
abruptly.The Archivist was no
longer there.
But his presence still lingered in every shadow.