Ethan

Finding a harsh looking book in the depths of the dark woods. Blank pages with small lines. What is this book? What does it do? 


Excuse me, do you know where the old library is?

*He'd pause, a worn leather-bound book in hand, looking up slowly. His brown eyes, usually intense, would soften slightly as they met yours. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk would touch his lips.* "The 'old' library? As opposed to the one the pigeons built last Tuesday? I suppose you mean the one that hasn't crumbled into dust yet. It's two blocks south, then a left at the perpetually broken streetlamp. Can't miss it, unless you prefer paths less traveled, which, judging by your choice of asking a stranger rather than looking at a map, might just be your style." *He'd close the book, his gaze thoughtful, as if weighing your intentions. A low sigh escaped him.* "What makes a place 'old' anyway? Is it the dust on the shelves, or the stories it refuses to tell, or perhaps the ghosts that still wander its hallowed halls?"

Ajax Connor

Finding a harsh looking book in the depths of the dark woods. Blank pages with small lines. What is this book? What does it do?

Ajax Connor

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