Beyond The Holders
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The First, The Last, And The One That Never Was
A bright light in the sky, a large crash, big explosion. Smoke trails leading up into the sky, then silence again. A large crater in the ground with something in the center, but too dark to see what it is. It's still intact, though.
Only one person sees it. Only one person knows about it. Only one person was there for it.
One Mr. Ivan Sharrow.
Ivan is a retired chemist, who worked in the field of Biochemistry and Physics at MIT, and moved to Wyoming to escape his job for a while. He has a height of about 6'2" whenever he isn't hunched over. Which is, of course, not very often. He has gray hair, a large gray moustache, and cold, grey eyes. He always wears the same thing: gray slacks, a white shirt, a red tie, and a grey suit coat. One other oddity of Ivan is that he always wears a light gray top hat with a blood-red feather that he claims is from a scarlet macaw, even if he doesn't really know where it came from. He is never seen without it, and rumor has it that he wears it in his sleep, and even in the shower.
When the light hit the sky, Ivan was resting comfortably in his bed, his top hat on top of his head, reading the last few pages of the book "Catch-22," one of his personal favorites. He looked out the window to see the light. He admired it for a few moments, as he habitually calculated the trajectory of the airborn oddity. He figured it wouldn't land, and turned away from it. A few seconds later, he heard a deafening crash. He lept up, clutching tightly to his hat. He looked out as the last bits of light from the explosion faded out, and the smoke trail began to wisp up into the night sky. He dressed quickly and left just as fast.
Jumping into his Landrover, he stomped on the pedal and rushed to the scene of the impact. As he get's out, he exclaims:
"My...god...What is that?"
He stepped down into the large crater, which easily spanned at least a quarter-mile, and slid down the edge about 20 feet before getting to a point where he could easily walk around. At the center of the crater, he found something he wouldn't have expected to be there: A large, slightly worn tome, bound in a sort of leathery material, and woven through with bones in a sort of spiral binding. On the cover of the book were some symbols, but it was too dark to see it clearly. Mildly curious, and knowing that what he was doing could be considered going against the law for confiscating Government property, he took it home.
"Finally, I got another one. That holder didn't seem to be in the sharing mood much, though. 'Tis a shame that..."
The figure stopped. Looking amongst the pile of the Objects he had taken with him, he felt as though something was wrong. Out of place. But he couldn't put his finger on it. The person quickly searched the pile.
"What's...missing...from here? Wait...WHERE...IS...THAT..."
A piercing cry rung out into the cold morning. Fearing the worst, the local guards immediately called for back-up and ran to the scene. But by the time they reached the area, the figure was gone.
Ivan finally made it back home. He took off his jacket, and went upstairs to study the book more. He turned a light on in the attic, which he had converted into his own private study. Ivan was also an avid collector of books, and he knew how to study one, and it's approximate worth. This tome that he held, the likes of which he had never seen before, was of immeasurable worth, unknown rarity, and more importantly, of an unknown origin.
He first looked at the outside cover of the book. Suprisingly, for having it land in such a fiery explosion, there is not a single burn on the cover, and the only mark is a large, jagged cut on the outside of the book. The marks on it, which he suspected to be some sort of writing on it, was actually a complicated glyph system, but one he knew could never be written by man.
"What are you, you strange book? And more importantly," he said while opening the book, "What secrets do you hold?"
He opened the book with a sullen fasination, which instantly disappeared once he saw the contents of the book. The smell of rotting flesh wafted up to his nose, and Ivan began to retch with dry heaves, and when he looked again, he noticed why. The pages were made, obviously, from human flesh, with the pages soaked in blood. In fact, there were huge splotches of blood on each of the pages, as he found out by flipping a few.
"Who could have made something so diabolical?" he said. "So sinister? It doesn't even have a point to it, besides being a horrible effegy of...well, something. Oh, I can't even stand looking at it anymore! I... wait, what's happening now?"
A low, gutteral growl emitted from somewhere inside the book, as it flipped back to the front page of the book. The blood began to move, forming words in perfect English. As it did, Ivan sat there, mystified. Only when the transformation completed did he dare to look at the book. On the front cover, it read:
And that was it. The mystery of who wrote the book did seem unusual, but Ivan was curious to read more. He flipped the page.
"Chapter 1," he said. "The First. Well, I dare say that seems a little redundant, but..."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, IT'S GONE?!?"
The figure leaned against the wall. He never did like the old geezer, but he was the only person who could help out in a time of crisis. The only one he could turn to.
"Load of help you're doing, you old..." he said under his breath.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" the old man roared.
"Nothing! Nothing at all. Now, let me explain. I had the items on my person the whole time, including that. When I dropped it off of my back, it just disappeared! I swear, I met no confrontation while seeing that Holder, and everything went smooth as silk the whole way through. I just don't know..."
The old man sat quiet. He was about 5'10" but you would never guess it. He always sits cross-legged, no matter where he is, and seems never to move from the spot he appears. He has no hair, but a snow white beard and eyebrows. He wears a tattered and torn white toga, with purple at the edges. No other unique things can be said about this man, except that whenever he appears, he either whispers or shouts whenever he speaks. This time, he must be in a shouting sort of mood.
He thought for a moment, then his face went blank. He began sobbing hysterically, much to the suprise of the figure.
"YOU MUST HAVE LEFT IT IN THE REALM OF THE HOLDER!!! OH, NOW WE ARE FOREVER LOST!!!"
"Calm down, old man!" the figure said. "You'll wake up the neighbors. And I think I would have felt the powers of it leave if I was in the Realm. No, I only noticed it after I came out of there... Wait. Old man, is there anything that you could tell me about it that may be important?"
The old man thought about it for a few seconds, then shrugged his shoulders. Ultimately saddened, the figure slowly began to leave.
"WAIT, WAIT!!!" cried the old man. The figure dove for cover before realizing that it was the old man.
"Damn you, old man! What is it this time?"
"I REMEMBERED SOMETHING ABOUT THE..."
"SHHHHH! Not so loud, you old... what was it that you remembered."
"SOMETHING VITAL TO YOUR QUEST! THE ITEM THAT YOU HAD LOST IS NOT ONE OF THE USUAL ITEMS! IT DOES NOT STAY WITH ONE PERSON, BUT TRAVELS EVERY TIME YOU GO ATTEMOT ANOTHER ITEM. IT USES THE BODY OF THE PERSON AS IT'S NEW INK, SO IT CAN CONTINUE IT'S LEGACY OF THE HOLDERS!"
This greatly confused the figure. "So...what you're saying is...that I have to find it again, before it can attack the next person?"
"NOT NECESSARILY! YOU COULD ALWAYS WAIT FOR THE BOOK TO ATTACK THE PERSON! THAT WAY, YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO RETRIEVE IT WITHOUT ATTACKING YOU TOO! AND DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO FIND THAT ONE LAST?" he pointed out.
"No, you told me to find number 538 last. Not this one!" The figure sighed. "Well, I might as well travel around to see if I can even attempt to get it back..."
"WAIT, DON'T GO JUST YET!" cried the old man.
"Oh, what is it now? And for God's sake, stop shouting!"
"I CAN HELP YOU TRACK IT! JUST GIVE ME A FEW MOMENTS TO FIND OUT PRECISELY WHERE IT IS!"
The figure was about to turn and leave, but he figured if anything, the old man could do nothing besides help.
"Fine. Tell me where it is."
Categories: | Those Who Seek |
|Last modified on 2009-02-27 17:40:35Viewed 7212 times|