[3684] brutally honest review on this short story i wrote please n thank you

I woke up and was going to go out like I usually do. Get dressed, grab a snack and leave, but as I was leaving…I saw something odd. A book had fallen off the shelf. I pick it up and move on. I hear another noise, almost the same as the one previously 

I turned around and there was nothing in sight but the book on the floor. I walk up to the book and pick it up. This time, instead of just putting it back on the shelf, I open it. What meets my gaze is a line written over the first page in sharpie. I look around, as if looking for a culprit, but alas, nothing is here. Or so it seems. 

I close the book and put it back on the shelf, trying to convince myself I’m psyching myself out, as if it were there before. I reach for the doorknob but as I do I hear a foot step. Loud and clear.

I jolted around as if I could fight whatever this was. But again, nothing. I leave for work and when I return, I see all of the books off my shelf in a stack. The first one that moved at the very top. I grab it off of the peak of the mountain of stories. Open it. Every single page, blacked out with sharpie. Not a single letter to be seen. 

I hear a low growl coming from the closet. “Hello..?” I whisper, then I shake my head in regret, knowing that was a stupid thing to do. 

I 

The growling gets louder, and the books start moving. Falling one by one, I watch as each book grazes my hardwood floor, as if someone, or something, is moving them up and down. I look down, guiding my body to the floor, panting, gasping for air, gagged from fear.

When I look back up, they start floating. I grasp my bookshelf, lifting myself off the ground, trying to process what’s happening. I can hardly breathe, it feels like someone is reaching into my chest, and squeezing every ounce of air out of my lungs. I wipe my eyes, shake my head, trying to get out of this when I open my eyes, the books are spinning in circles around me, trapping me in the orb of words, I'm surrounded. 

I grab one book and open it. I flip through each page, not a single one has any words to be seen. It’s blacked out. I reach around and clutch another book, my eyes meet the paper, but they see the same thing. I grab another, and another, and every single time all I can see is my books black, pages in pristine condition otherwise, no rips, or wrinkles, just black. . All. The Same. 

I push through the books and go hide under my bed. I lay there, panting, trying to catch my breath, all while trying not to be too loud, so that it doesn’t hear me. I close my eyes and hold my breath, then a book makes an abrupt sound as it slides under the bed. I stare at it, debating on if I should let it be, or grab it. I choose the latter.

I open it. I flip through the pages, looking at each and every one, as I realize, the only words not blacked out are “I... .am…here” A shiver rides down my spine. I drop the book and push it out from under the bed as I close my eyes like I’m trying to wake myself from a bad dream. I groan and shake my head, covering my face with my hands. 

I open my eyes and that’s when I see it. A face, peering from above. Looking at me as it slides one last book under the bed. I look between it and the book as I reach for the story. I look through all the pages, and at a first glance, It’s empty. 

I go to close the book, but as i do, i see that the last page says in blood. “Goodbye” Then I hear a roar and my vision goes blurry, then it slowly fades out, and all i can see is darkness, then I wake up, in my bed. Still in my pajamas from the night before. 

I jump out of my bed and run to the shelf where my books should reside. They are there, as if untouched. Though to this day I swear it was real. That…thing