Tome

It had to be mine, for I had to know the truth. I had journeyed for months before I received even a humble hint of the tome’s existence. The sun scorched me as if it held a grudge against me, the wind whipped my face like a scourge, and all streams of water fled from me. I should have understood and listened to these signs, these obvious rebukes of nature, yet in my quest to find the truth, I could not keep my legs from marching onward with a foolish determination.

I had first travelled through the desert in search of the oasis, for it was the only piece of the puzzle I knew for certainty. The tome was hidden within it, yet, from the pieces I had studied vigorously back at home, it wasn’t obvious where the oasis was located, or if it was truly possible to find it. Thus, in naïve arrogance and faith in myself, I crossed the endless planes of white sand that assaulted my eyes, until I indeed found that mythical place.

It was the first time during my journey that my sour, crackling lips felt the cool, sweet nectar of life; the waters most pure that lingered peacefully in the core of the oasis. I lunged at the pool and drowned my head in the waters, gasping as I gazed at the empty grey skies above that still managed to beat me with heat.

Around me were tall trees of curious features, for they shared characteristics of both evergreens and palm trees, yet my logic could not fully categorise them. They were, off, in some sense and though I was glad to cleanse my thirst and hide under their shadow, it was already above ground that I began to feel a sense of dread, a kin to the time I crawled like a shadow in my neighbours garden, as a child, knowing I had crossed into someone’s domain and that, were I to be caught, it would herald my imminent doom.

What I can recollect, I remained above ground for three days, studying the books and the papyrus I had carried with me all this time. I ate from the sweet fruits of the trees and slept under their unified canopy, finally safe from the overbearing radiance of the sun and close by to the pool that remained still as a mirror. During those three days, I had grown quite the appetite for the water, for it had a fulfilling effect on my body. I did not pay much thought to this strange occurrence, yet I know now, in a bitter irony, that was all indeed part of the grand orchestration of my doom.

Nonetheless, I journeyed below ground on the fourth day, for there was a narrow opening under the grandest of the trees. The darkness whistled for me as I approached and I, carrying all the water I could, felt a bit too eager to reply. Though the dark granted me no vision, I strolled forth in relative confidence, a gut feeling, you might call it.

From the moment the light of the outside world was shut behind me, I began hearing stuttering, as if a million legs were crawling on the coarse walls all around me. Further away, I heard the emptiness of the place bellowing, as if in pain, and droplets of water fell and let out a sombre cry ever so often. It made me mad at first, then furious, until the abhorrent orchestra of this place engulfed my heart with wrath and I shouted into the void and struck my firsts against the walls. It was futile and though I was able to recollect my sense of sanity, the further I travelled, the longer it took for me to wake from that strange sleep the darkness placed on me.

Time is a strange phenomenon, for back home, I could simply glance at my watch and know the time precisely. If it happened that my watch was out of reach, the sun and the moon, with their eternal dance, would reveal the sense of time with precision. Yet, below ground, in this tomb, time is shattered, disconnected, like a poorly composed opera or an out-of-tune instrument. I remember feeling a strange shape in the wall as I walked, and then, as if I had been cast back in time, the same event, in all its peculiarities, occurred again. However, my mind remained, how could I say it, outbounds, as if it was separate from the world, from my body. As I saw nothing and heard only the endless bellowing and crawling, I, at times, found myself observing myself wandering in the dark, like a raven. Yet, where would have I been? I know not, even now that the morbid truth has been laid clear to me. I suppose it is the irony that still makes me laugh in a hopeless, agonising way.

I grew weary, though I know not how long I had travelled. The nature of this place means I could have journeyed for a day, for a week, or perhaps only a few hours. I hadn’t drunk since entering, thus, I could not make sense of the time by the amount I had drunk. Now that I think about it, I still haven’t wet my dry tongue. I believe I never will.

The tome, yes, the tome. Old, true, powerful, full of wisdom, written to answer whatever a man’s mind might ask for. That tome, oh, how it still allured me in the dark, and though my mind was in splinters and my body stumbled forward as if I had no say in the matter, the tome was the only clear thought in my mind. I had gone through all this suffering, all this labour, which is why I needed it, I had to have it, I, indeed, deserved it and all the knowledge it held inside.

The darkness continued and I began to realise I was walking forth in an endless tunnel of sorts, for my hands had not felt a single opening or indentation. I recall halting my advance and squinting my eyes, staring into the abyss as if I saw a long-lost relative, or a colleague, or a friend. Perhaps, I saw all of them, yet I could not but laugh at the absurdity of it all. However, after that terribly curious event, I was barraged with constant memories of my time back home. I remembered my beautiful house, and my elegant and pleasant office; I remembered drinking tea with my brother before visiting a friend and discussing the nature of knowledge. Is it not strange how you realise yourself shivering from the cold only after recalling an evening spent by the fireplace?

These memories dazed me and I fell on the ground. Sand, dust, and what smelled like smoke, pierced my nostrils and, for a brief moment, threatened to suffocate me. I grew exhausted and began glancing around myself like a trapped rat, searching for any escape. The tome, for a brief moment, had left my mind, and all I could think of was the terrible predicament I now found myself in. I banged at the walls, I shouted into the dark and heard a grumbly voice answer, and I studied the walls and the floor again and again, as if that would aid me.

But after a single tear fell from my blind eye, I was shot through the dark and fell for what felt like an hour. My mind then returned to me and I once again saw the truth, the objective, the purpose of all this madness. The tome, oh the tome. I stood and marched onward with renewed determination and by the tension on my face, I must have appeared like a grazed lunatic, for such was the grin on my face.

I saw no memories, heard no voices, felt no thing. I had fallen into a pool of silence, where not even my own heart could muster out a sound. My gut was in flames and my heart drummed with an anxious haste, as if that what I sought was just behind the corner. I continued on without a breath drawn, without an eye blinked, without a single thought formed in my cluttered mind, until I saw a light. It was a humble candle, floating in the void like a firefly. The light illuminated the dark just enough so I could see the floor. It was covered in sand and black ash. It was then when I glanced at my hands and realised my knuckles were bleeding. I felt no pain.

I continued forward, following the light as it split the dark and guided me through. I came to truly take a liking for the light and I must have muttered a word to him, as if he was an old friend. He didn’t reply, yet I took no offence, after all, not all can be similarly gifted in the art of conversation.

I continued on for just a brief while until the light reached a room, a narrow, bare-looking room. There was a single desk, on which I saw a large object lying with a menacing aura. My heart leaped and my mind recollected all its pieces from all around me, for I had finally found what I had searched for. I ran past the light and entered the room, placing my hands on the tome and feeling the smooth leather covering. I laughed, I cried out in a triumphant voice and, for a second, thought of the great knowledge I and only I had now accessed.

Yet, a strange sensation overtook me soon after. I stood there, ready to lay open the pages of the tome, when my gt fell into the abyss. That bellowing I had heard long before now returned and, for the first time, I was afraid. An eerie sense of terror filled my heart and I began to shiver as cold sweat pooled on my face. It had to be mine, it was meant to be mine.

There was no other way. My colleagues would not understand, my brother could neither. The world was a mere arena of fools and ignorance, but I would become its light. It had to be so.

I began to open the tome ever so slightly, yet I felt my arm struggle as if I was lifting an immense boulder. Then, before the tome was fully opened, I felt a thrust of air for the final time. I glanced to my right and saw a dusty light illuminating from an opening. Was it a pathway back to the surface? Perhaps, or was it this accursed tomb taunting me as it had all this time? More than likely.

With the sound of a million crawling legs and a bellowing terror right at my ear, I, with all my remaining strength, pushed open the tome. As it was laid open, I felt a quake and the walls around me let out a piercing screech. I was too excited to cover my ears and my blind eyes were quick to latch onto the letters, like a starving vulture.

That was days ago, years ago, a mere minute ago? I know not, yet I have grown aware of my fate. A mere thought of the contents of that accursed tome is enough to scatter my mind for hours and I cannot even close my eyes to keep it away, for the dark has blinded me. The bellowing from the depths is approaching by the minute and the air that I have the misfortune of breathing has turned sour and gained a rotten scent.

I would say I regret my expedition and my entire life that has led me to this particular place in time, yet I will not grant it the pleasure. I will not drink, I will not eat, and, hopefully, it will be so that my body withers away so that my mind may be free, though I hold no confidence in this either.

The tome is close by, I can still hear it. The walls are as coarse as I remember, the air as cold as ever. The distant memory of the desert sun feels like the most loving memory I have left, for the dark is gluttonous and waits for nothing. I feel my mind scattering again and it has grown nearly impossible to gather the pieces. I should have replied to him. I should have hearkened onto his words. The bellows, the crawling, my mind… it had to be so… it had to.