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Well, believe it or not, I accidentally found this writing of mine somewhere deep in "My Documents", If I remember correctly, I started writing it when I was like what, sixteen? I was preparing for English Test or something liek that. Anyway, I thought I might sharet his with you. I'll probably try to finnish this story
I was walking down the library again, looking for something that would take away some more of my time. I loved reading. Television, Computers... nothing can be compared to an old, dusty page, of which you can even smell the ages, the time that stands between you and the author of the book. Yes, most of you would never understand me. Maybe in the future books will become an extinct, something like an antique you can hold, but not use on its purpose. I hope I will not live to that time. I am just seeking for a book, for adventures, for mystery and love, fantasies and dreams, all in one, old tome. The whole life was something far away, as I did not care what would happen. I was working in a small café – people said that I’m a great cook. Maybe. I did not care. I hadn’t any ambitions, any feelings; I just looked to reality objectively, if you can say so. My love, my passion was books. Nothing more.
So here I was again, in the library, walking alone between the greatest heroes and the foulest villains, feeling like Hercules when he accomplishes a good deed, like Lars Turms when he understands the immortality, like Plato when he released the Theory of Forms to world... That’s how I felt when drawing a book from the shelf, carefully opening the cover, only to find that the book is not worth my time at all. But the grieve would soon fade away, as I alone could stay in this Cell forever, looking for that book that I always wanted to find.
But the reality could not be neglected, as it would return to you when you least expect that. Today was no exception, as the librarian interrupted my quest. “The library closes after five minutes. Please take the book you want and leave, I’ve got two kids waiting for me at home” she snarled. “Yes ma’am” – I whispered in grieve. I grabbed the first book from the shelf and went to reception. Her face contorted when I placed the book on the table. “Oh, take your dirty notes, poems or whatever that is with yourself and leave faster, you scrounger!” she muttered angrily and pushed the book towards me. Confused, I grabbed the book and left quickly.
In the street, while waiting for the green light on the crossing, I opened the book. A quick glance to it, and I felt chill down my spine as I read the first line:
“As the life is nothing more than illusion, so is the line you read.”
I starred at the book continuously, with the real world shifting from my dimension again, leaving only me and this book. I read further:
“Interesting, eh? Objective reality does not exist, don’t you know it? But I am subjective. Do I exist?”
Suddenly, I felt a punch to my back: “Don’t stand there all day, it’s already green light!” I gazed towards the person behind me, involuntarily grasped the book and ran across the street. I ran and ran till my home, with tears of joy in my eyes, with only one thought in my mind - “Is this the Book?”
The book
Chapter I: The finding.
Chapter I: The finding.
I was walking down the library again, looking for something that would take away some more of my time. I loved reading. Television, Computers... nothing can be compared to an old, dusty page, of which you can even smell the ages, the time that stands between you and the author of the book. Yes, most of you would never understand me. Maybe in the future books will become an extinct, something like an antique you can hold, but not use on its purpose. I hope I will not live to that time. I am just seeking for a book, for adventures, for mystery and love, fantasies and dreams, all in one, old tome. The whole life was something far away, as I did not care what would happen. I was working in a small café – people said that I’m a great cook. Maybe. I did not care. I hadn’t any ambitions, any feelings; I just looked to reality objectively, if you can say so. My love, my passion was books. Nothing more.
So here I was again, in the library, walking alone between the greatest heroes and the foulest villains, feeling like Hercules when he accomplishes a good deed, like Lars Turms when he understands the immortality, like Plato when he released the Theory of Forms to world... That’s how I felt when drawing a book from the shelf, carefully opening the cover, only to find that the book is not worth my time at all. But the grieve would soon fade away, as I alone could stay in this Cell forever, looking for that book that I always wanted to find.
But the reality could not be neglected, as it would return to you when you least expect that. Today was no exception, as the librarian interrupted my quest. “The library closes after five minutes. Please take the book you want and leave, I’ve got two kids waiting for me at home” she snarled. “Yes ma’am” – I whispered in grieve. I grabbed the first book from the shelf and went to reception. Her face contorted when I placed the book on the table. “Oh, take your dirty notes, poems or whatever that is with yourself and leave faster, you scrounger!” she muttered angrily and pushed the book towards me. Confused, I grabbed the book and left quickly.
In the street, while waiting for the green light on the crossing, I opened the book. A quick glance to it, and I felt chill down my spine as I read the first line:
“As the life is nothing more than illusion, so is the line you read.”
I starred at the book continuously, with the real world shifting from my dimension again, leaving only me and this book. I read further:
“Interesting, eh? Objective reality does not exist, don’t you know it? But I am subjective. Do I exist?”
Suddenly, I felt a punch to my back: “Don’t stand there all day, it’s already green light!” I gazed towards the person behind me, involuntarily grasped the book and ran across the street. I ran and ran till my home, with tears of joy in my eyes, with only one thought in my mind - “Is this the Book?”