I write this now, not knowing what will come of this, and not knowing where it will end, all I know is that I must write. To write is to tell the story deep inside, something long forgotten, if I try to speak it, it only turns to ash on my tongue, confused, and destroyed. The written word is what must be done, and so I shall begin by saying this, nothing is set in stone, and nothing can prepare you for something that you might have once thought was all too familiar. On the outside this world is for the most part calm, sure there are wars, there are deaths, murders, and diseases, but in the heart of it all there are so many of us out there who really don't feel the strong punch to the gut that one of these things can produce.

I'm just your average writer, nothing to write home about, no prizes, or awards to my name, and yet I both cherish and fear what I have actually accomplished. You see there was a time where I lived in ignorance, which I think all can admit, the majority of us actually do. Sure we know something things about our lives, jobs, loved ones, etc, but at the heart of it there is still that air of mystery, that veiled door that we can sort of see through, and yet can't quite make out what's on the other side. We are too scared to try to approach it, but in a strange way its comforting that it is there, if there were to be anything bad on the other side at least its offering some protection to us on the other side.

Well I accidentally at first took steps to close the gap between that great unknown, and what was known, and once I figured out that that was what I was doing I started to sprint. You see I'm the kind of person always asking why, and when I can't find an answer to my question I buried myself in literature, be it from books, random papers, even the internet (a very corrupt place to be trying to seek out the truth). What I found solidified my pace, and then one day I found myself at that very door, and when I opened it, well that's what I'd like to write about.

Through the door was the world, not exactly how we know it but more of a refocused version. I was able to see things others could not, I could feel the world actually turning beneath my feet. Everything seemed different, and yet no one seemed to notice. You see it wasn't like I was teleported to a new world, but apparently something knew that I was different.

I was walking down 5th Street probably a couple weeks into this new state of being when I started to feel tremors. The odd thing was that no one else seemed to feel it, and yet they could see me in distress, and probably thought of me as some crazy drunk who had finally become unhinged. I tried my hardest but ended up falling flat, face down, on the ground. Of course all the pedestrians walking the street calmly skirted around my ever shaking, slightly moaning, form, and went about there day. That's the best part of living in a big city, everyone has their own shit to do, and if you try to get in their way, well they will try to scoot right around you, and pretend that you don't exist.

Whatever the tremors were, they were gone shortly. I dusty myself off and then started to quickly walk down the street until I got to my favorite bookstore on Tevor Street. This was not your national monster bookstore that crushed all others, this was one of the few surviving mom and pop shops that had somehow lasted from 1889 on. As soon as I walked through the door, causing the bell on the back of it to jingle, I found that same old smiling face of Victor sitting behind the front desk. He gave me a slight nod, and then went right back to his crossword. It had taken me years to figure this out, but if Victor was working on his crossword, unless you wanted to find yourself destroyed mentally, you let him be until he was done. Seeing that he was about half way through I decided to browse the shelves. The last time I was here, which was around the same time that I had finally walked through that mythical door, I had found a manuscript bound in beaten leather. I tried to find it again, but for the life of me, I could not remember where I had seen it. I checked the sections that I most frequented, and yet there didn't seem to be anything close to what I remember. After going up and down 3 rows I took a glance at Victor, he was still bent over his crossword, now slightly humming something to himself.

I might have wanted to know what happened to that item, but as I said before Victor was busy, so I just went right back to walking the aisles, checking to see if I could uncover this lost item all by myself. It was about 20 minutes later, and 3 rounds of walking the aisles when I finally heard that tell tale shuffle of paper from the desk. Victor, with a large smile on his face, having accomplished yet another crossword, had his arms crossed and leaned slightly back in his chair staring me down.

"Alright, that's enough suspense. You've been buzzing round my shelves like a man on a mission, so what is it that you are looking for?"

"To be honest I don't know, I was here a couple of weeks ago and saw an old manuscript bound in leather, I think in the back section there," I pointed back into the left corner of his store.

"Interesting," he replied and shifted in his seat. He then got to his feet, and when he did that a sudden realization occurred, Victor was a giant of a man. He may have looked normal while sitting at the desk, but when he got up and started to walk in the direction I was pointing, it became obvious that if true giants existed, from fairy tales, somewhere along the line he had a relative. I kept pace with him once he past me, and we both walked to where I thought I had last seen the item.

"Well, about where would you say you saw this manuscript?"

"That's the problem, I know I saw it around here, but I'm drawing a complete blank as to its actual location. To be honest I couldn't even tell you the title of the thing."

"Interesting," he then leaned towards the bookshelf and squinted his eyes. Trying to see what it was that he was look at I tried to stand slightly behind and to the side of him, and yet I had no idea what he was thinking or where exactly he was looking. After about a minute, he straightened up, and walked back to the front. He sat back down in his chair which let out a complacent sigh, and then he pulled one of the drawers of the desk open. He reached in and pulled out a large leger. He then began scanning page after page, and as he went he absentmindedly licked his finger to move to the next page. He was about 3/4s of the way through the book when his hand shot up and then his finger came down on a line. My attention being drawn by this motion I tried to read what he was pointing at.

"uh... ... ... Nope," and then he was off again scanning the book and turning the pages. It wasn't until he was within a handful of pages from the end that he did the same actions again, this time nodding to himself.