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Still annoys me that blogger doesn’t believe in dates before 1970. Posting from this timeframe works, but it feels so unprofessional. As if the timeline wasn’t screwy enough.
So I’d learned what I needed to do, but not how. Do you realize how vague “You must collect several ancient relics to perform a ritual” is? I don’t even know what this ritual is supposed to be! And collecting ancient relics? Half my life these days involves me collecting ancient relics from the days when the planets were young! This world is crawling in ancient relics! I so much as walk out the door and I trip over a pile of ancient relics! You need to be a bit more specific!
Sent out some queries to my contacts in Arkham. They weren’t able to give me much (Genuinely surprising. I’d been starting to think that there wasn’t anything Orne Library didn’t have on its shelves), but they gave me a lead to follow. I was told to seek a small, untitled book written by Abdul Alhazred, one of the few of his writings not already in the possession of Orne Library.
Took me some time to pinpoint where I could find it. When I did discover the location, I can’t say I was very enthusiastic about going there. Like I have a choice.
Dropped into Oxford, and went looking for a bookstore. Not just any bookstore. Had to be the creepiest, oldest, most blatantly ominous bookstore in the city. Found the place squatting in an alley, so obscured by shadows you could barely tell it was day. No signs or external markings on the building; the only reason one could tell it was a bookstore was because of the piles of dust covered tomes scattered around the door.
When I opened that old door, I found that the interior followed the same pattern of organizing its contents as outside. I’d be surprised if the owner had ever heard the concept of putting books on shelves. Or dusting. Though the scattered organization could have been because of lack of space; this building was only a single room large.
Even given the room’s small size, it took annoyingly long to find the owner. He was hidden behind a wall of books, so focused on frantically scribbling on a parchment that he had failed to notice my entrance. Older man; ancient, really. Scarcely a wisp of hair left on his wrinkled head, eyes almost obscured by heavy spectacles seated on a crooked nose, over a mouth half filled with yellowed teeth.
Slamming my hand down on a book next to him got him to notice me (it also created a cloud of dust which caused us both to go into a coughing fit for several seconds, but let’s just skim over that). Looked to be a bit angry at my presence, and shouted that the shop was closed. I ignored that, and told him I needed to get into the back room.
Anger was instantly replaced by fear. The owner didn’t say anything more to me. Stood up, and pushed a stack of books by the wall aside, to reveal a door. Pulled out a key and unlocked it, opened the door, and there was…. Blackness. The light from inside this room barely pierced through the shadow behind that door.
Once I stepped through that door, the owner closed it behind me. For some time, I was alone in darkness. Then, a small flame flickered before me. Followed by another, and another; small candles, stretching as far as I could see, lit themselves, creating tiny pockets of illumination in the darkness. The light revealed my location; I was standing in a massive library. Though perhaps mausoleum for books would be a better description. The shelves stretched far off into the distance, filled with unmarked books, haphazardly stacked and piled. Their height of the shelves was equally immense; when I looked up, the candles illuminating the upper shelves were so far away that they looked like stars in the sky.
I walked down the rows, ignoring the unearthly sounds which came from behind the shelves. Occasionally I would turn and walk down another row, but that served no purpose beyond alleviating the boredom of walking in a straight line. This place didn’t conform to our traditional sense of directions; I would reach the book when the Library allowed me to reach the book, no matter which path I took.
Can’t say for certain how long I was in there. Sense of time was completely destroyed the moment I had stepped through that door. I couldn’t feel the progression of time around me, couldn’t see the lines of time moving through past and future. Felt about as bad as going blind. But my journey came to its eventual end. After walking through dozens of endless rows, I finally reached a dead end, where the shelves blocked further progress. In the center of this shelf, directly at my eye level, was the book I’d been seeking. It was a small thing, barely larger than a pamphlet. But it had the knowledge I needed, so I took it from the shelf, and began my walk back.
My journey into the Library had been calm (or at least as calm as my life gets). Leaving, on the other hand…. The strange sounds I was hearing behind the shelves increased in intensity the further I walked. They were no longer a quiet part of the background, but direct, and hostile. Still, sound on its own is nothing to be afraid of…. Until the lights started to go out. It began far behind me, so far that I almost didn’t notice the flickering of the flames. Soon it became obvious, as more candles went dim, and the darkness spread. Light after light went out, moving towards me as a roar which no creature should be able to produce bellowed from the blackness.
I began to run, as fast as I could. The darkness screamed at me, growing louder, louder, each moment coming closer. Kept running, couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t let it catch me. Must have run for miles through those shelves, pain ripping through my legs, lungs raw, couldn’t stop running, darkness gaining on me until it was just behind me, reaching out and grasping at my hair….
Then, the door. So far away, but I could see it. One last burst of speed, and I slammed into the door, throwing it open. Without wasting any time, I threw it shut with as much force as I could. I sank to the ground, exhausted, but safe.
But then I looked around, and realized that I wasn’t in the bookstore. And when I looked over my shoulder, there was no door behind me. Just me, sitting alone in an empty alleyway. No sign that there had ever been anything else there.
Doesn’t matter. I got the book I was looking for. So I’m calling this one a victory.
And next time I’m going to remember to bring a flashlight. Or a grenade launcher.
Scratch that, next time, I’m going to bring a flashlight taped to a grenade launcher.
I-330
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