Story 104: The Ink of the Beast

In the small, forgotten town of Eldridge, where shadows lingered a little too long, there was a peculiar bookstore on the edge of the forest. The shop, called "Old Pages," had an air of mystery about it, with its creaky wooden floors and the scent of aged paper hanging thick in the air. The owner, an old man named Gideon Vance, was known for his vast collection of rare and ancient books. But there was one book that he never allowed anyone to touch, let alone open.

It was an old tome, bound in worn leather, its pages yellowed with age. What made this book stand out was the inkblot on one of its pages—a perfect silhouette of a howling wolf, forever frozen in time. No matter how many times Gideon tried to explain it away as an accident, something about the wolf seemed too deliberate, too lifelike. The townsfolk whispered tales of the beast trapped within the book, cursed to remain an ink stain until someone foolish enough to read the words aloud set it free.