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Latin Strange Symbols

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Latin, strange symbols, ancient chronicles of events I didn't recognize. They swam around my head and faded as quickly as they had appeared. It all came back to me, slow and hazy; researching a dead language, thinking one symbol looked familiar, my thoughts roaming to the graffiti on the wall of an abandoned lumberyard where a vamp nest we were hunting had settled down. My mind kept wandering to irrelevant memories until it all blurred together and everything just faded into black.

I didn't dream of anything noteworthy. I never did. More nightmares than dreams, but if I got lucky I didn't see anything but black until I woke.
I don't move in my sleep, that's what I've been told. Which is hard to believe since I know what's really going on
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An old jazz song was coming from the record player across the room, there was a crick in my neck that was definitely going to bother me all day, my butt was numb from sitting in this wooden chair for hours, and the pages of the book I was reading had gotten crinkled and the spine was most likely warped from me using it as a pillow. As I sat up completely, I felt something shift on my shoulders. Looking over to my shoulder, I saw a jacket that didn't belong to me, was way too big and wasn't there when I dozed off.
'Okay, there's a strange jacket on me. That's fine' I thought as I inspected the jacket further. By then I had fully accepted that there was a strange ghost that wanted to keep me warm and had, in fact, given me its jacket. The waterproof material crinkled loudly as I pulled it off my shoulders and sat it down on top of the scattered books and trash I was definitely going to have to clean up at some point in the day. A groan- that you could only imagine a Bear making- came from my throat as I stretched my stiff muscles, wiping absentmindedly at my face. Something cold and wet spread across my hand and I looked down, slightly relieved at not seeing blood. I drew the jacket aside and cringed at the drool that had pooled on the book's
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crap' the wet spot had already dried somewhat, but the ink was smudged and it looked like something out of librarians nightmare. My only course of action was to hide the sucker in some random shelf corner and hope it's never opened again, and that's exactly what I did. After throwing the granola wrappers and coffee cups away, I put the jacket back on just in time to avoid whoever was stomping towards the library, witnessing me destroying all evidence of my nap induced crime. The sound of heavy work boots echoed from the hall. It was unmistakable and a small smile broke through my half-asleep fog.
A figure popped up on the edge of my vision, making its way across the room, messing with the record player in the corner of the library. The sound of an old bass guitar and the artists raspy southern accent replaced the smooth jazz that filled the room moments before. He pushed the small towel on his head, back onto his shoulders, running his hands through his damp hair.
"Morning, sleeping beauty. Did you dream about me" he smirked over his shoulder, the corner of his eyes crinkling slightly. My mood brightened at his friendly teasing. "You wish. Do you know where this jacket came from" I said gesturing to the baggy article wrapped around
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