FB3X Drabble Cascade #140 – “Chronicle”

[charisstoma]

FB3X Drabble Cascades

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FB3X Drabble Cascade #140 – “Chronicle”



Trinity College Library – Dublin Ireland
Who knows what might get stirred up walking thru certain sections of the Library, esp. if you make any noise doing so.


Title: Beware the Tomes (Paranormal, PG)
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 500


The quiet in the place was almost that of a sepulcher, a place that guarded secrets or the thoughts of the dead. The Library had been around for a long time, early 1700s; he’d read the information on the website about it; and it was filled with 200,000 of the oldest books. Connor almost feared that the sound of his shoes would disturb what he sensed lurking amongst those rows of heavily laden shelves. The place was practically deserted; in fact he’d seen none since entering it.

Along the nave he came to the area of oldest books where the tome he needed resided and turned to walk between the two towering lines of shelves. That first step was dreadful. Immediately the books started whispering to him, snatches of information drifting through his mind, tempting him to choose them. Each step presented a different set of whispers, different images, sapping his attention.

“Finally,” the words formed in his head, “I wasn’t sure that you would make it.”

Connor grabbed up the tome and fairly ran with it back the way he’d come. Vaguely he heard a dark chuckling that became fainter the closer he was to the safety of the nave. Striding off at a brisk place to the reading section, where special cradles were provided to support and protect the ancient books while they were being read, he carefully placed the tome he’d clutched to himself. Resting his hands on either side of the cradle, he bent over the ancient tome gasping from the effort of his escape.

“Now that must have been an adventure for you. It’s rare that we are visited by one so susceptible to our words. I do hope that you won’t do anything rash. There’s quite a penalty for damage to one of us. Banned for one. But the real punishment is no books anywhere, new or old, will be legible to you.”

“Why would I damage you?” Connor stared at the tome. “I’m researching dark magicks of the early 17th century.”

“Yes. We were aware. He has a wicked humor, my neighbor. After a while it does grow on one, like mold almost.”

An awful horror started in Connor, “What do you mean?”

“Why, that I am merely a history of the whole of the 17th century, not the select edition of the dark magicks of that time period. I contain just enough on your research subject to cause you to ache at what ‘he’ has in him. But to gain that you’ll have to travel between the shelves again and hope he hasn’t moved.”

Dyslexia is a problem for a researcher. Luckily he’d only slammed his fist against the tome. Connor found himself doing penance in the learning of book repair and conservation hoping that the curse would be lifted. All his training was understandably by example and one-on-one instruction for which payment was one-on-one instruction in a field that didn’t contain the written word but did have to deal with sheets.