two hobbies of mine include reading old books, and exploring buildings that’ve been left behind. things from the past give me a reason to constantly be out in secluded spaces or have my head stuck in-between library books. today, i traveled over 50 miles just to explore an ancient library from the year 1879, somehow still standing. no tourists. no silly teenagers graffiti. it’s just… old. covered in vines and green moss, trees fallen on it, weathered.

“what a beauty you are,” i mutter, step onto the still damp soil from my car and shut the door, locking it. it looks like any ordinary library, but there are carvings in the walls, symbols that make no sense but look so beautiful at the same time. my feet travel around, the book shelves are almost empty.

until i find one shelf.

a book, dusty, somehow completely untouched. i reach out and blow off the dust with my breath, not inhaling it. i step outside where the sun shines through the light grey clouds, the front says ‘DECAY’ and the author’s name has been written in strange symbols i don’t understand quite yet, but i plan to try and read this new… language, i would call it.

i flick through the pages, everything is written in a mixture of latin, russian, and mexican. strange. my eyes fixate on the first few words in the book, ‘through my findings, passing my visions, i sense the end is near and my legacy will burn in rage.’ is all i can translate at the moment, it takes a few seconds for me to realise i can read this.

“they’ll never believe me.” i chuckle, tucking the book underneath my armpit and rushing into my car, turning on the engine and immediately pulling onto the road, heading to my book club to tell the other members about this discovery.