Holder of Ignorance

In any city, in any country, go into any school or college you can get yourself to. When you walk inside, throw Object 188 onto the floor in front of you and wait. Do not move. If you do, or if your timing is off, then you will never be seen again, and the object will be returned to its original holder to be retrieved again by another. For better or for worse.

Should you do this correctly, a man in a suit will come around the corner and pick the book up for you. He will hand it to you and introduce himself. His name will be yours. If you ask him any question, he will whisper something into your ear in a pleasing tone. Do not fret, the second before your brain simply decides to stop, you will feel an infinite and calming relief. There is only one correct response- "What can we do?"

He will look at you with a smirk, and lead you through an office door, or so you think. When you emerge on the other side, you will notice that the door behind you is gone, and that you are in a square, windowless room made of granite. He still holds the book, but the chains have disappeared. Just this sight will fill you with an unspeakable, primordial fear. He will open it, read a few lines and chuckle to himself, and offer it too you. Do not take it. Do not. Such warnings have been made time and time again to those who seek the Objects, but you mustn't do this above all else.

Instead, close your eyes. Force them, strain as hard as you possibly can. You will see a light. At first, it will be like an especially bright light source passing through the thin membrane of your eyelids, but then like a light at the end of a three-dimensional dark corridor in your mind. The light will seem to be getting closer, and as it does, the terrible, blood-curdling screams and shrieks will get worse, and worse, and more vivid. Run backwards, fast. Keep your eyes closed at all times, and keep running and running until you feel like you would rather die then continue. Eventually, you will pass out.

When you wake up, you will be on the top story of the nearest parking garage, on the ground, covered in soot, and holding the book. The book will have an elaborate, well-crafted lock on it, with no keyhole.

That lock is Object 224 of 538. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

Categories: | Needs Revising |

Last modified on 2010-05-10 09:47:45Viewed 3434 times

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