It was the day of my fathers anniversary when I went downstairs that Monday evening.

“I have a gift for you” she went into my father’s study, a disheveled mess but he always said it

“keeps the gears turning.”

We decided to keep it the way he liked it, after his death. but I was never allowed to go in his room. What did she want to show me?

“You’re old enough to have this now” she had in her hands an ancient book, the binding was nearly broken and the paper was that of a golden brown. I opened it up and dust itched my lungs.

“Why did he want me to have this?” I asked coughing. “You know your father. He would always go on about the ‘original story’ and how it would be in an ancient tome,”

my mind clicked, “so this is it then?”

My mom nodded somberly.

“He thought he could find the truth, the ancient truth of this world but there’s just one problem,” I opened the book to a writing I have never read before! “I dont know why he wanted you to have it, but there must be a reason and to have it when you turned 16 as well,” mom drifted into her own thoughts.

Visions of all the stories my dad told me as a child, all with his magic powers of bringing the world to life.

I remembered them all but it just welled up inside like a hose ready to blow. As I gingerly looked through each page, I didn’t understand!

Why me!

I cried.

As a tear fell to the page, the letters began to rearrange themselves!

“Mom? Are you seeing this?”

But mom was no longer there.

I fell with a soft thud as my chair vanished from under me! Wind entered my home and ripped it away. Until I was holding the book but in darkness.

“Welcome, to the beginning” it read.