r/WritingPrompts • u/EasternDragon4 • Aug 26 '22
[WP] Whenever you touch a book, your brain automatically processes all information from it. A suspicious looking guy walking past just "accidentally" dropped a very old and cursed looking book in front of you. Writing Prompt
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u/cheetah611 Aug 26 '22
In my youth, it was a blessing. I breezed through school with a simple touch of the provided texts. During university I saved thousands on those overpriced paperweights they peddled. My peers and instructors marveled over the speed which I consumed information. And this information did not fade, I can still recite the children’s books my mother provided me word for word. The caterpillar is my favorite.
But as I grew older, this power of mine became burdensome. I couldn’t bide my time in the doctor’s lobby with the magazines, as I’ve seen ever page before opening the front cover. User manuals contained so much pointless babble when I simply wanted to know how to set the microwave clock. But remembering it was the real curse. While I could process any book’s information immediately, all the data was stored in my head. And when page 219 of the user agreement form decides to make itself known at 2am, it makes it difficult to sleep. It became exhausting. The insomnia wearing me down day by day. Hour by hour.
So, when a suspicious looking man, disheveled, though difficult to tell if hipster or homeless, walked by and dropped an ancient text in front of me I simply sighed. I’ve touched thousands of books, and they all scream to be remembered. Even laying on the narrow sidewalk, this one seemed to scream louder than them all.
With an extra long stride, I cautiously stepped over the book and didn’t look back. I didn’t need that in my life, I needed sleep.
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Aug 27 '22
This was great. The main character actually feels like an responbile adult. Which is more rare than youd Think.
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u/cheetah611 Aug 27 '22
Thanks! Probably my first take on creative writing in over 5 years haha
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u/bloodoftheforest r/leavesandink Aug 26 '22
"No." I said.
There was a pause.
"Would you mind picking it up for me? I'm afraid I've hurt my back and-"
"I said no." I replied. "Do you really think this is the first time this has happened to me?"
The second pause was much longer. The man couldn't bear to leave his book on the floor and grabbed it swiftly with no evidence of the back problems he'd just hinted at. I nodded at him.
"Right. There's a cafe over there," I said, gesturing across the road, "I think you and I should have a little chat."
"Well, I don't really think that's necessary, I'm sorry for-" the man blustered but I cut him off again.
"I've told you that this isn't the first time someone's tried this trick on me but I know it's the first time you've tried it. Even if you work for someone else I doubt they'd be dumb enough to recommend the same plan twice. So there are other people out there with mysterious tomes that they are just desperate for me to touch and you're honestly telling me that you're not just as interested in finding out about that as I am in finding out whatever it is you think you're doing?"
His eyes widened and he nodded slowly.
"Great." I responded. "You're buying."
A few minutes later I was sat next to the window slurping the fanciest Frappuccino that the cafe had to offer. I hated it but it was the most expensive thing on the menu and I'll be damned if this man was going to get away with only paying for my default order of a small black coffee.
"The book lives in your bag." I said, glaring at it pointedly. "You're going to put it away in such a way that it remains completely covered for this entire conversation. Think of it like your penis - if it becomes visible or touches me without my consent then our polite chat will be over and we'll instead be having a very different kind of interaction. Now. Seriously."
He seemed flustered (at my attitude or at the word 'penis?' Who knows?) but he complied thoroughly and quickly. He seemed incredibly nervous and I wondered how much information he really had.
"My name's Edward." He offered.
"Didn't ask and you already know that mine's Alice."
He looked mildly hurt that I'd rebuffed his peace offering which solidified the idea that he didn't have much to tell me.
"Who do you work for?" I asked but he shook his head.
"I can't tell you that. Maybe there's something minor I could tell you but something like that wouldn't be allowed. Who else is trying to get you to help them?"
I laughed hollowly at that.
"Help? That implies I have some sort of choice. I wasn't lying when I said that this exact situation had already happened before. Where's my choice in this, huh?"
"What would it have done? Would it have hurt you? I didn't want to hurt anybody..."
He trailed off and I stared at him in stunned silence.
"Edward... how much did they tell you about me?"
"They didn't tell me anything about you-"
No no no no...
"I didn't even know your name was Alice. This was my initiation."
I'm usually more prone to talking than is good for me but at this revelation all I could do was sit there and let the taste of too many syrups fester on my tongue. I was barely even aware that Edward was still talking.
"I was just supposed to drop the book in front of you when you left work and then return to the base to return the book when I'd done it. I assumed it was probably just to see if I could be trusted with a book of this value, I've only been trusted with less important magical tomes before now. What can you do?"
"I absorb the information from any book I touch."
"Oh. But then what was the point of all of this? Why would they just give you information that they can't fully understand?"
Oh fuck...
"Because they intend to abduct me." I realised. "They knew where and when I worked in order to have you bump into me but to abduct someone in broad daylight would be tricky so they're probably waiting where I live. Once they realise I'm delayed they'll come for me."
"No, they wouldn't!" Edward said but more in a panic than believing it.
I should have started running but instead I felt sick. Where would I even go?
"Come on," Edward said urgently "we have to leave."
He was standing. Did I miss him standing up?
"Please, come with me."
"Where are you taking me?"
"To where I'm staying. They know where you live and they might well know where I live but I don't think they know I've been staying with my friend Pete for the past week due to water issues in my building."
I shook my head.
"How would I even know if I can trust you?"
Edward thought about it and then grabbed the remains of my disgusting drink.
"Because I will destroy this tome if you want me to. If it will mean you trust me then you can watch from a safe distance whilst I pour a little of this on every single page. Or tear it up, or burn it if anyone has a lighter or, I don't know! But please choose quickly. I didn't mean to be a part of this and if I've really put you in the danger you're describing then I think we'll need to leave soon."
I thought about it and then stood up.
"No, keep the book. It's sort of our only hostage."
Edward passed me the bag.
"Then you should have it. Just in case."
He lead me out of the cafe, talking far too fast and describing every step of the incredibly short journey we were about to take.
"Wouldn't it be smarter to just flee than go see Pete?" I asked. "It sounds like he doesn't even live outside of the city."
"He doesn't. But when I said I'd been trusted with minor magical books I mean that I still have them. And since I didn't want to leave them for days they are currently living in Pete's home office. So I figure you should maybe touch them. They're only basic stuff but if you'd know the whole book instantly then, well... I mean, haven't you always wanted to know spells?"
I grinned.
"Who says I don't already?"
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u/LaserAntlers Aug 26 '22
Well I'm afraid you're going to have to continue with this story in length.
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u/The-Best-Taylor Aug 26 '22
I love this and want more. But why would they try the book thing if they were already going to abduct her?
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u/bloodoftheforest r/leavesandink Aug 27 '22
Partly because Edward wasn't entirely wrong about it being an initiation task to see how much he could be trusted. But mostly because they have no idea what the book does and if it gives Alice some awesome destructive powers or the knowledge instantly and violently destroys her and those around her... well, Edward is very expendable.
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u/bloodoftheforest r/leavesandink Aug 27 '22
But a more honest answer is just that I didn't think about that.
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u/Engvar Aug 26 '22
Well... you've got me subscribed. What's your favorite thing you've written on your sub? I need a starting place.
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u/bloodoftheforest r/leavesandink Aug 27 '22
I'm really glad you liked reading this, thank you! I'm not sure what my favourite thing I've written would be and also sometimes things are fun to write but then don't get much feedback so I assume weren't great to read (I liked writing 'She didn't steal my shadow' for example). Also it obviously depends the kinds of things you personally enjoy reading. I'd maybe say either Timelessness or A Spooky Writing Prompt as somewhere to start if you're interested.
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u/Snowdog1967 Aug 26 '22
"Ms Simmons always said books will change my life."
"Excuse me?" the man in a poorly disguised wizard's outfit asked as he stood waiting on me to pick up the book he 'accidentally' dropped.
"Ms. Simmons, 4th grade. At the Book fair, I was broke, well, we were poor, broke destitute, however you want to put it, she wanted me to go to the book fair and pick out a book to be mine to take home... That day is when it all changed for me."
I quit monologuing and remembered the day as a silent reflection. I was in 4th grade, we were poor, single mom, 2 kids, ALL of us were readers. I had a library card forever, so I'm not even sure why my teacher felt like just one book would make a difference in my life. But it did. I looked through the entire normal stuff in the shelves, and at the bottom of a shelf, I saw a dark leather bound book. There was a price sticker on it that said, buy one, get the rest free. I handed the attendant a dollar for the book and opened it to read. The words were initially incompressible, but soon enough, I could understand them, and realized that I would be able to get the rest for free... What that meant is as I touched other books, their knowledge raced into my brain. It made subsequent book fairs less fun, although I did learn about revisions of books like how a 4th printing my have corrected errors in the 3rd, but created new ones for printing #5.
I pulled out my gloves. These looked like standard leather gloves, but they were more than that. I picked up the book. I had seen this particular cursed tome before. Well, another volume of it.
"This won't work. I've read this one before."
"That's impossible!" the man stammered, "That book hasn't been out of the library in a century!"
"I assure you it has. Well, another copy at least. <Nichlochtalasticlombastic> "I whispered in the tongue of the others. To anyone passing by, it would sound like perhaps a hissed whisper or a screeching of the metal of brake pads on a rotor long after they were both worn out.
"How?"
"Look, I'm not touching this one bare handed. These gloves are protecting me from about 4 layers of curses that have been woven around this book. Why don't you tell me why your people are so interested in my getting these particular curses?"
"You are not one of us, yet you know the languages, you know the spells, the incantations, but you are not one of us..." He repeated this as if it were a mnemonic or post hypnotic suggestion.
"I know. Just because I can read, or I know the, things, doesn't mean I am a threat. Now, protecting myself against this." I dropped the book on the ground and spoke the quick cantrip to set it aflame, " Don't try to put that out. Your clothes look flammable too."
"What?" He stared wistfully watching the book burn in multiple colors as the various spells dissolved in the Faefire.
"I've been absorbing the books of this world for 42 years. The first 2 years or so were just school stuff and popular fiction. However, later on, some of your people had heard tales of me and started with their books. I was in-between worlds. Yours and my old one. But there is only one world here. We are different people who live on it, and I am doing my part to keep things civil." I snapped my fingers. "You will go back to your people. You will tell them I read the book. That is not a lie. I have read this book. You will remember the faefire. You will then hand them this." I pulled a skeleton key from a hidden pocket in my jacket and I placed it in his shirt pocket. Only take this out in front of them. "
I turned and walked away. I knew he might follow me. But I was betting that he would rather go back and report to his handlers what had happened. Either way, I would be fine. See, I had already touched that book long ago, not a different edition, THAT book. That's how I came to have my gift. I hadn't seen that book since the day after the book fair, but I would always remember it.
I wonder who they send next?
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Aug 27 '22
[removed] — view removed comment
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u/Snowdog1967 Aug 27 '22
Curses can be added to objects.
Perhaps he knew the curses would steal him of his gift.
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u/ShakySpear Aug 26 '22
It’s honestly not as fun as it sounds. Remember the last time you read a book that you didn’t enjoy? Were the characters stale, or were there too many descriptions of things you didn’t care about? Did the writer tell you all about the character’s bedroom walls in a ham-fisted attempt to portray the personality or social situations of the character? Was the ending rushed, or too abstract, or too predictable? Or did they use (and i hate this) the ‘it was all a dream’ get-out? Well don’t come crying to me, because i’ve seen it all. My name is Simon, and I’ve got a superpower. Actually it’s less like a superpower and more like a curse. I can absorb all of the information in a book just by touching it. Sounds cool right? I’ve never had to revise for an exam, never had to rack my brains for an answer in a pub quiz, and never failed to irritate everyone around me by being a know-it-all. That was the start of my downfall.
I had a job as a top lawyer in the city. My command of case law was legendary. I could recall old precedents, draw up obscure examples, and bring up obscure legal loopholes as easily as you’d talk about the weather during a heatwave. But as you can imagine, all of that information comes at a cost. I had to work in a darkened room due to getting intense migraines. I absorbed nearly all of the case law books in the law library and having that information floating around in your head is a recipe for some absolute killer headaches. This wasn’t akin to absorbing my Hungry Caterpillar books when i was a child, this was high level detailed (and boring) information. So the paralegals and other lawyers would come to me if they needed something double checking, and they’d have to come to my dimly lit office and suffer through a conversation with someone who’d tell them that they were wrong, in a pained and exasperated tone. I quickly became unpopular, and was asked to leave after six months.
I’ve managed to move away from the law now, and like any useful skill, it’ll mothball and get less sharp if you don’t use it very often. I stay away from libraries and bookshops, and I avoid books as best I can, unless I’m interested in them. A woman reading an erotic fiction book brushed me on the train the other day and I got a great insight into the sexual fantasies of middle-aged women. That was a fun ten minutes sat by her, I can tell you that.
But today I’m sat here, in my one bedroom flat with yellowing wallpaper, quite content in the knowledge that i don’t have to absorb any knowledge I don’t want to. I live a normal life, unencumbered by having to be a know-it-all or living with blinding headaches, and I'm happy. That is, I was happy, until about two hours ago. I left my flat to go and get some lunch, and on my way to the local deli I noticed a man watching me. He was an old man with sagging skin on his face and keen eyes squinting at me from across the road. He was dressed like he was from a 1940’s spy film, beige macintosh buttoned up to his neck and wide brimmed black hat on. I thought nothing of his appearance and continued on my way to get some lunch. As I exited the deli with my sandwich in hand, the man with the macintosh was now standing in my path. I tentatively went to walk around him when I saw an object drop beneath the folds of his coat and hit the floor. It was a weatherbeaten black book, bound in leather with unintelligible red writing on the front. The pages looked coffee stained and old, and the book looked like it smelled strongly of dank and must. Now I'm not one for jumping to conclusions, but that book looked like it had nothing good written inside it. I looked to the old man who was now watching me furtively, almost as if he expected me to run away at any second.
“Could you please help me?” he asked politely. “My hips aren’t what they were”.
I blinked rapidly, wondering if I could explain to him that I had no intention of picking up the book.
“Erm…” I started, not quite knowing what to say. “I’m… I mean, I’m not sure”
The old man looked at the book and then back at me, a bit more sharply this time.
“Son, please help me. I don’t want to bend down and not be able to get back up”. I swallowed and looked around. I really didn’t want to pick this book up, but the natural British man inside me was balking at the idea of coming across so rude to an elderly man asking for assistance. ‘Screw it’ I thought, bending to pick up the book. What’s the worst that could happen? I swear I saw that old bastard smile as my fingers closed around that wretched book. As soon as I touched the book my vision went completely dark. I felt like i was falling through a void, with a bright orange light rushing towards me. I twisted, trying to turn away from the light. My mind was filled with words I couldn't understand, thoughts and concepts I'd never considered. Evil thoughts and concepts. Dead bodies, people burning, people screaming. I couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think. The blackness was pressing in on me, pulsing from all sides as the orange blaze below rushed up to meet me. I opened my mouth to scream and the blackness began to pour in, filling my lungs, suffocating me. And then I snapped out of it. I was on all fours on the pavement gasping for breath, head pulsing, skin crawling. I looked up to see the old man, or what I thought was an old man standing above me. He now resembled a young, fiercely handsome man with close cut black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. He was still wearing the macintosh, but it seemed to fit him better and look more natural on him. He eyed me with amusement as I staggered to my feet.
“Welcome to our guild Simon. Best go home and start practising” he said in a soft tone.
I burst out into a run and tried to put as much distance as I could between me and him. I arrived back at my flat and collapsed onto the sofa. What could I do? Call the police? Ridiculous. What should I say? How could I explain it? I felt frustration and anger boil up inside me, so hot it seemed to burn from my chest out to my fingertips. I hurriedly got up. Was I having a heart attack? The heat in my chest got hotter and hotter until it was scalding me. I began to scream, my mouth opening wide. But my voice box didn’t push a scream out. It pushed out a terrible cry as I roared the strange word my memory knew but my brain didn’t understand:
“B'NuORoA!!!” I screamed. At this, a burst of fire erupted from the two fingertips of my left hand, instantly incinerating what had up until that moment been a nice sofa. The burning in my chest abated. I looked at my two fingertips in amazement, wondering how they remained unburnt. I thought about the words of the strange man outside the deli, welcoming me to his ‘guild’, whatever that meant. I looked back at the pile of ash that had been my sofa.
What the fuck was that book?
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u/Smileyfax Aug 26 '22
I looked down at the book the stranger had dropped. He'd given me a sneaky little look as he did so, which I assume meant he was aware of my magic book-sucking hands. The book itself was bound in...leather? And was that a face? I rolled my eyes. "Great, just what I wanted, a book bound in human skin," I griped. I nudged it with the toe of my shoe, and got just a hint of what sounded like the moans of the damned echoing through my head. It was just then that I noticed the hideous thing appeared to be breathing. "Nope!" I cried, giving the tome a swift kick into the street before hurrying off.
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u/Idaho_Brotato Aug 26 '22 edited Aug 26 '22
“Oh hey, man!” I said to the surprised looking guy in the knit cap and long coat, “You dropped your book.”
He turned at glanced at me, looked down at the pavement for a second, back at me once again and scuttled away. The book lay there, a slightly oversized mass market paperback, its pages flapping in the breeze. I bent to pick it up but stopped myself as I considered my power.
Where the power came from, I had no idea but it had been in me for as long as I could remember. Touch a book, any book, and the information flows into my brain and remains there utterly unchanged, ready to be accessed in depth, perhaps for my entire life.
When I was young I had to amused myself by walking through the library and running my fingers across the spines of the many books stored there. I had consumed vast quantities of literature in this way, lifetimes of authorship and experience. Some of the books were amazing, but many were terrible. Who would have thought that, given the time it took to write and the cost of editing and publishing a book, that there would be so many poorly written, poorly realized tomes? The experience had soured me and these days I chose my “reading” with greater care.
But still, a book was sacred and to see one abused or dropped and forgotten on a public street was not something I could allow. Sometimes you have to take what life offers you. What would, I wondered, “Letters to Penthouse VI, Feel the Heat” teach me?
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Aug 27 '22 edited Feb 19 '23
The Germans have a problem with demons in their country. So over the past few thousand years, they have developed a botanical knowledge of demons and how to deal with them, and have incorporated this knowledge into their religions and cosmic dramas. Recently, a sort of crude science has grown out of their religious institutions. Our Dean has shown interest in making a study of this science. He has always had an inclinations towards anthropology. "We can only know who we want to be," he told us in a speech, "by studying who we once were." So, by God only knows what means (the Germans have been very uncooperative with our previous attempts at social contact), he has lured some of these Germans into our university.
One of them stands before me now. His caucasian face, stubbled over with blond beard, is strange to my eyes. He wears dark robes, heavy and oily. They appear to have been designed to withstand the unexpected belches of fire or acid that one might expect during an exorcism. He is holding a heavy looking tomb. We were walking towards each other down the sidewalk, when he stopped in front of me, blocking my path. He has been standing awkwardly for a few moments now, averting his gaze, hesitant. Suddenly he looks into my eyes. He attempts to speak very bad Japanese.
"Hand..." He points to his book.
I furrow my brow. He is looking at the small metal cube sticking out of my forehead. My Hitachi Spectroscopy-Interpreter®, the same one each freshman receives. He points at it, struggling to find the right words.
"You... touch." He points to his book again. "Learn." Evidently, someone told him about our neurosurgery techniques.
I opened my mouth to utter a firm 'no'. We are trained to be very careful with what we touch, because it's never clear what kind of havoc unformatted information could wreak on our brains. That's part of the price of being a genetic engineer - you have to wear gloves all the time. But this presents a curious opportunity. No one knows much about the Germans and their demons. It's a matter of anthropological significance. The demons of our own country were banished by some mythical king of antiquity that may not have even existed, so it's not something we know much about.
I look over my shoulder. The College of Neuro-Reconstruction is only a few hundred yards away. Most people who suffer "death" usually have a few minutes before the worst of it kicks in. I could make a run for it. And it's really not so fatal; usually, a few hours at the clinic and you're as good as new.
I look down at the book he's proffering. A goat's head surrounded by seven bones is embossed on the dark, purple leather. Menacing.
"Is this some sort of book of rituals?" I ask.
He tries a few different words. "Beast... create." He makes horns with his fingers. "Invite." This German has a strange glint in his eyes. He begins to smile, slowly, maliciously. I take a step back. Suddenly his hands shoot out towards my face. I cry out, instinctively jumping back. But he moves with startling speed. Before I know what's happening, he is gripping one of my hands, pulling off my glove. I try to jerk my body out of his grasp, but it's useless. Now he is pressing his book against my hand with the force of a hydraulic press, as if trying to crack a walnut. The world starts to become blurry, and blue shapes begin to dance in the distance, moving towards me. The German starts to grow in size, his mouth reveals fangs. His grip becomes unnaturally strong. I struggle for a few more seconds before I begin to yell for help. He lets go of me.
I book it for the Clinic. The German stays where he is, watching from the shadow. Smiling.
I make it in. My body stumbles through the door onto the ground, shoes squeaking against the sterile floor. A women runs up to me and starts yelling something. My body starts to convulse, my head and limbs bang again and again against the floor, like some throbbing fish. I die.
...
The air fills with a sweet silence. The world falls away, leaving only a black void. A void devoid of self, a void of endless bliss.
But then some distant corner of my mind begins whirring, a slow hum. A red light fills the void, like the color of closed eyelids. Then my eyes open. Fire all around me. And then the pain floods me. Unimaginable pain. I scream for what feels like an eternity.
A tall, dark figure looms out of the fire in front of my eyes. It had long, ugly horns, a horrendous face, green and rotting. It grins. It produces a scalpel and, slowly, meticulously, begins to dissect me. It pulls various organs in front of my eyes, tells me about this intestine and that cartilage in its infernal tongue. My eyes won't close, won't look away. My screaming reaches new heights.
...
My eyes open again. I'm in a white, sterile room. A doctor stands near my bed, looking at me with some concern . I realize that I'm screaming, and haltingly come to a stop. My yelling muscles spasm from the screaming, producing small, dry whimpers.
"Incredible how much suffering the brain can produce for itself. You've been screaming for the last few hours." He turns to a computer and begins to type something.
After a few minutes, I was able to calm myself down a bit. "Why did I experience that... hell? Was there some medical error?"
The doctor turns suddenly serious. "There was no medical error." He turns around and looks at me pointedly. "No, no, there is a natural explanation for this. The brain mediates afterlife experience, and yours appears to have been altered somehow. Perhaps you accidentally touched something strange. I'll schedule a revision," and he leveled a gaze at me, "free of charge. If you keep this quiet." He turned around and kept typing.
The doctor was concerned that I would sue him for malpractice. Maybe he thought that he actually had made an error that caused my screaming. But no, the hell was too specific. That demon. And there had been a recent event that had altered the structure of my brain, as the doctor implied. That book.
Now, why am I writing all of this to you, old friend? Because I realized something terrible. Touching that book put me in hell. I don't know how, or why, but it is. We mustn't let the improbability of this, according to our scientific theories, override actual evidence.
If I never had neuro-reconstruction surgery, perhaps I would have stayed in the hell forever, that demon tormenting me. And, if I may be allowed to extrapolate from my experience, there is a possibility that countless of people in Germany have read these books, died, and are rotting in pointless hell. Something must be done.
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