The library in Oak Street was the oldest building in the town. The tall, dark bookcases remembered a time when everything around smelled of print and dust, and the cuckoo clock still struck full hours. Basia, a thirteen-year-old lover of books and old stories, came here every afternoon to seek refuge from reality. She loved to look where no one else reached - on the upper balcony or into hidden nooks and crannies. On this day, the rain drummed against the windows and the wind whistled through the cracks of the windows. Wrapped in a jumper, Basia climbed the creaking stairs to the third floor, to a part of the library that even the staff usually avoided. There, against the wall, stood a bizarre, huge drawer. It had carved handles in the shape of lions and the entire top was covered in ink stains. Basia sat down in the dilapidated armchair opposite and began to read her latest acquisition. Suddenly, something rustled quietly. She looked at the drawer. She heard a sort of quiet whisper: - Hey... hey... can you hear me? The girl looked around nervously, sure she was imagining voices. There was the whispering again: - Help me... open the middle drawer.... Basia hesitated. Was she so tired now that reading among the old books had begun to harm her imagination? Had someone been teasing her? However, the sound repeated itself, this time more clearly. She decided to come closer. The grips in her hands were icy and the wood trembled all the way. - Faster, please... - this time the voice was almost inaudible, as if someone was whispering through the mist. Basia took a deep breath and pulled the handle. The drawer opened with a groan, revealing a bundle of old, yellowed letters, a notebook with a key lock and a a tiny silver bell that began to dangle of its own accord. The bell rose on a thread of air and spoke: - Thank you! It's time to hurry, someone is coming.... Only you can decide who to entrust our stories to. At that moment, quick footsteps and the rustling of an old broomstick sounded in the corridor. Basia felt her heart beating harder. What will she find in the notebook? Who is the bell? And why had she been chosen? Just outside the door, a quiet knock sounded. Basia stood still, clasping her hands on the notebook, wondering what to do next....