The dust danced around me like white confetti, every movement setting off a silent chorus of dirty sparkles. This place with it’s flickering lights and lonely corners seemed like a whole other world to the one I knew Grandpa lived in. His house was filled with laughter, mirrors placed in just the right places to have rainbows dance over his reading couch. His eyes were dressed in smile lines, his sparkly eyes ready for any story, any adventure, any silly or serious discussion that came out of my mouth.
But here I was. In his attic, a week after his will had been read out. Two months after his death. He gave something to each of us. Something that was precious between him and the child. Something for each of his five children, a treasure to each of his ten grandchildren. No one was missed. But when my name was called, not the oldest grandchild, not the youngest. The solicitor looked at me over his long nose and handed me a small silver envelope.
Dearest Ari,
I leave this to you. Go to linin cupboard and find the ladder to the attic. It will be dusty Brave Heart, so bring a cloth or mask. Find a book. An ordinary book, but the only one there. Read it, it is my gift, and my duty, I leave to you.”
I love you, my little adventurer
Pa,
So here I was. My breathing muffled by a dust mask I found in a reject shop. There truly was nothing here but swinging attic lights and a single box. I opened the box and found the book. A tiny, weightless thing. I turned it over in my hands, trying to find a blurb, an author.
I obeyed my curiosity and opened it, seeing each blank page. As I turned, I counted. Ten. Ten dusty, off white pages. I nipped my thumb on the last page, watching the blood fall on the back cover.
Frowning, I pressed my hand on the back cover, seeing if I could wipe it with my palm. The drop of blood only spread, and then sank into the page.
Tiny silver writing formed on the back page, forcing me to move my face inches from the book to see what it said.
Confirmed.
The dust around me stopped… moving. It hovered around me as though the air had become thicker. The particles whirled above my head faster and thicker than snow. I dropped the book, curling my body with my head on the floorboards. I looked up as the dust flew into me, sticking to my clothes, my hair, my face. Everything it touched turned silver. I tried to wipe it off my cheeks, but it only turned my hands silver. My head pounded; my heart raced. As I lost consciousness, I heard my grandfather’s voice, though within it, echoes of other voices curled inside it.
“Welcome, Eleventh Page Master. You have been chosen, you have been summoned, you will serve.”
-OoO-
I woke in the arms of a shady tree. I recognised the oak as one of the paintings in my grandfather’s loungeroom. The branches were the perfect width for me to lie, smooth and curving to fit my body. Looking down I could see a small circle of clearing, as though someone had cut away at the forest to make a perfect picnic spot. Climbing down, the forest began to still as it became aware of my presence. Birds fluttered by, bugs crawled away from my hands and feet as I descended.
I saw that the circle was outlined with trees, each tree had a wooden door pressed into it. They rose like beams in a fence, trapping me inside it.
The back of my mind wondered how I would ever get home again. But my grandfather had spoken true, I was an adventurer, a brave heart by nature. I would concern myself with things I could work out. Not rock in a corner about things that I couldn’t.
Within the centre of the clearing a large tree stump waited. It was easily three times my arm span, a black spot in the clean clearing. I pressed my hand against it, feeling the grain against mt fingers.
“Shame isn’t it.” A voice said, “but not to worry Page Master. It simply means rebirth.”
“Where…” I turned around, looking down for the voice.
“Where did it go? Oh well, home I suppose. But we’ll explain all in time.”
I sat at the base of the tree, pressing my elbow into my knee and my chin on my palm. “We?”
The figure danced into view, his form made of sunshine and electricity. It was no bigger than my head, as it came into view. It bowed and quickly grew, twirling and filling. I watched, mesmerised as it stepped onto the grass before me.
“Magnis, at your service Page-Master. I am a light sprite, a guide for weary travellers and your attendant.”
“Okay… and my job is to…?”
The sprite laughed; a sound that sounded childishly wicked.
“You are of a bloodline which protects the way of the written page. Since ancient times, the written word burned magic and created pockets of infinite worlds. Your grandfather, before his last memoir chose his successor. And here you are.”
I frowned, thinking, “I don’t understand.”
Magnis kicked at the grass, crossing his arms behind his back and walked inches above the ground. “In ancient times, humanity worked through oral traditions. Storytellers and bards travelled through lands and kindled memories of worlds humanity have made and survived through. Provided strength to soldiers, power to kings, lessons to babes. These storytellers, gypsies and the like guarded the knowledge carefully for the power and knowledge contained.
But then humanity began to write. Runes and letters and symbols. Humanity granted it power, power any could grasp. To protect knowledge, power, ancient beings and the like – the bards created the Page-Master order. ancient bloodlines which have the power to take away, bestow, guard and fool humanity for the power within their book titles.”
I nodded along, thinking back. My Grandfather had always been up for a tale, silly for otherwise. Always asking what I was reading, what my friends were, what my sisters were into. He would tell stories of his own, stories which guided me through life.
Until now.
“And how will I be doing that? Just so you know; I have no knowledge of this. But I’m always up for an adventure.”
The sprite grinned, sparks of static sizzling around it, “spoken like a true protagonist and Page-Master.”
I grinned, climbing to my feet.
"Okay then, Magnis." I pointed to the range of doors around us, "which one do I choose?"
Note: I wrote this for this contest - but this prompt could easily create a book/story/creative narrative. If you want more I am happy to write more, but I don't want to overdo it.
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