Ib adjusted her blood red scarf so it folded nicely infront of her waist. She was sitting in a comfy chair beside a mahogany desk, which had a stern old woman sitting behind it at a noisy computer. Ib avoided making eye contact with her, as she began to swing her legs back and forth in time with the ticking clock.
Her parents had left her in this room, while they went to quickly buy groceries. They hadn't specified to her what this room was, or why she was here. A plaque on the side of the desk read: _ office. She didn't understand the first word.
"Ib?" said a voice coming from the hallway to the right of the desk. Ib's ears pricked up in responce to her name. She looked around for her parents, but they were no where to be found. With no other options, she got up and went towards the voice.
The man before her had a neutral look on his face. He wore a long, black coat with grey trousers. Ib was reluctant to go with him, but with one more hopeless scan of the waiting room, she followed him down the hallway and into his office.
"Do you know why you're here... Ib?" he frowned when he said her name, while she sat on a couch in the corner of the office. Ib shook her head, and stared intencely at the carpet. The man sighed angrily, and shut the door. "Your parents told us that you keep telling them stories about an art gallery. A haunted art gallery." He seemed bored as he returned to his desk and wrote something down.
Ib blushed redder than her scarf. This man had no right to know her personal buisness. Had her parents really told him this? Anxiety ran throughout her. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you want from me?"
The man sighed again. "I'm here to help you.. uh... Ib..."
Ib felt her face turn from red to white. Who was this man? She hastily stood up, and ran towards the door. "Hey, you can't leave!" said the man, finally losing his bored tone. He stood up too, but she was already halfway down the hallway.
To her horror, the waiting room was empty. The stern old woman wasn't at the desk and the room had an awful silence to it. Ib couldn't even hear any background noises, like the ticking of the clock, or the computers constant buzzing.
She heard a door creak open behind her. Ib's heart literally stopped. Words could not explain how scared she was.
When she turned around, a familliar figure stood before her. It wasn't any of her parents. It wasn't the creepy man from the office.
"Hello, Ib," said the figure. "We meet again."