Today's Prompt: An archeologist finds an ancient library filled with working spell books.
I couldn't believe my eyes. And people said it was impossible.
Through the clearing dust, I could see what the shouts had been about. What everyone had been in such an excitement about. Before me, I saw what the rest of the world thought to be impossible.
On the door, I had seen inscriptions warning that any who told of the secrets inside would be cursed for the rest of their short lives. But now, as I lay on my deathbed, I will tell you what I had seen that fateful day.
The dust had seemed to go on forever. But when it finally cleared I saw the most incredible thing. It was a door. But not just any door. A door carved with old runes protecting my discovery. This was a place of magic.
I still feel that magic with me as I write this very sentence. Which might as well be a death sentence.
The door specifically said that any words spoken after entering would be your last. And a world of silence was worth it to me.
I never got to open that door. And I never will. The door opened on its own.
What I saw when it opened I will never be able to put into words. It was beyond my comprehension. The room was filled with old magic just waiting to be awakened.
In the center of the room, an old book sat on a stand. It called to me. I had to open it. And I did. It was probably the most incredible thing I had ever seen. Although I would be overjoyed to say what I had found, I never will. I must protect the secrets of this magic.
That book showed me many wonderful and enchanting things. That book changed my life. It showed me that this place was not to be disturbed by our modern ways.
I took that book when we left. And I devoted my life to learning it's ways. The magic chose me. And I let it.
My time is up now, for I can barely write another sentence. But I must, I must write an end to my story. Magic is real, and it is just waiting for ordinary people to harness its power.
I couldn't believe my eyes. And people said it was impossible.
Through the clearing dust, I could see what the shouts had been about. What everyone had been in such an excitement about. Before me, I saw what the rest of the world thought to be impossible.
On the door, I had seen inscriptions warning that any who told of the secrets inside would be cursed for the rest of their short lives. But now, as I lay on my deathbed, I will tell you what I had seen that fateful day.
The dust had seemed to go on forever. But when it finally cleared I saw the most incredible thing. It was a door. But not just any door. A door carved with old runes protecting my discovery. This was a place of magic.
I still feel that magic with me as I write this very sentence. Which might as well be a death sentence.
The door specifically said that any words spoken after entering would be your last. And a world of silence was worth it to me.
I never got to open that door. And I never will. The door opened on its own.
What I saw when it opened I will never be able to put into words. It was beyond my comprehension. The room was filled with old magic just waiting to be awakened.
In the center of the room, an old book sat on a stand. It called to me. I had to open it. And I did. It was probably the most incredible thing I had ever seen. Although I would be overjoyed to say what I had found, I never will. I must protect the secrets of this magic.
That book showed me many wonderful and enchanting things. That book changed my life. It showed me that this place was not to be disturbed by our modern ways.
I took that book when we left. And I devoted my life to learning it's ways. The magic chose me. And I let it.
My time is up now, for I can barely write another sentence. But I must, I must write an end to my story. Magic is real, and it is just waiting for ordinary people to harness its power.
-Written by Miss Iris Swan on the date of her death, January 11th, 1875
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