![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackofallgeeks| He sat up and slid out of bed, his old joints protesting at the night's chill. He found his slippers and shrugged into his heavy woolen robe, and then slowly opened the sturdy wooden door of his room. The door creaked, as always, but he had learned years ago that his son would not wake from it. His son's wife, bless her, had awoken to the sound once or twice, but she had only come to see that it was him, and then went back to her husband's bed. As if she knew, as if she understood. He shuffled down the hall, steadying himself with the thick wooden banister as he went. The soles of his slippers scuffed against the foot-worn floorboards. He sometimes heard whispers in the scuffing, echoes from times past and places which no longer existed. He sometimes heard whispers, but tonight the voices were silent. They had not spoken in some time, now. He passed by another wooden door in the hallway, where his grandchildren slept. Two boys and three girls, all old enough to know exactly how best to get into mischief. Dear as they were, he snorted to think his son kept a closer eye on him, his own father. Though, it was as Miriam had wanted, rest her soul. She had wanted to make sure there was no more... business. The though made him pause, just as it always did. Just as he had every night for longer than he cared to count, he almost turned back. Miriam had wanted this, but... But she had never understood it. The dear woman had never understood, much as she had tried. He came at last to the end of the hall, by a third great oaken door, where the pools of moonlight seemed to melt back, away from the study. He didn't try the handle, he knew it was locked. His son believed he could keep him out with a simple lock. From his very own study! He placed his hand lightly against the door and closed his eyes. One breath. Two breaths. There was a metallic click, and the door swung open a bit. He entered, and shut the door behind him. The room was as familiar as it was strange. He had worked -- nearly lived -- in this room for countless years. Pale moonlight poured in from a great bay window, washing over a wide desk which even now was littered with papers. Several globes -- all of diferent designs, all crafted by his own mind -- were placed around the room, and one table was set up with a system of tubes and beakers. The walls all around were lined with shelves, and each shelf was crammed with books. But as much as he knew this place, it was never the same. The desk and papers were coated thickly with dust, and the gears of the globes were nearly rusted solid. The candles had not been lit for some years, nor did the beakers or tubes contain any liquid. He had not seen this room by the light of day in far, far too long. He breathed deeply ans walked over to the shelves, packed full of books. Books in long-dead languages, from old kingdoms whose names were no longer even in the history texts. He ran his finger over the bindings and ancient runes glowed briefly to life, dimming as he passed. He felt as though electricity flowed through his veins. He breathed deep, and felt younger with every step. There was knowledge in these books, knowledge which no one for generations had known. And he knew every book, every page, every word. His mind felt full, near-overflowing. With this knowledge he could change the world, move the heavens. The room practically glowed with the energy stored in it. He came to the edge of the bookshelves, where the wall opened out into the bay window. A single flower, still in bloom, sat in a blue porcelain vase. He touched the vase lightly and gazed out over the grassy moor. The blue moon hung low over the land, and the wind blew sadly out to the sea. Slowly, he walked back to the door, opened it slowly, and left. There was another metallic click, and the study was once again silent. |
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Damn boy!
Date: 2003-01-24 09:45 pm (UTC)I really want to know more about this man and his study. That's why I like your writing... but at the same time hate it. You always get me interested, and hold my interest... but then you never tell me all the information! Damn you! :-)
Anyways. Very nice. I liked it a whole lot.
^^...
Date: 2003-01-25 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-01-25 07:43 pm (UTC)Anyways, I'm glad you ladies enjoyed it, and I'll make an effort to try and revisit some of these scenes and characters. I really enjoy writing, and it's a great bonus that others enjoy reading it.
no subject
Date: 2003-01-28 10:42 pm (UTC)i could feel the dense air, smell the dusty books
i like that it was just a peak into something bigger, a moment
no subject
Date: 2003-01-29 12:09 am (UTC)Most of my pieces so far have only been peeks, though I've considered expanding on a number of the scenarios. This one included. I've actually got an idea for a series of snippets connected by characters and plot and all. A rat I know is gathering notes for me as we speak.
Re:
Date: 2003-01-29 10:03 am (UTC)no subject
"The Study," necessarily, isn't included as it came after the fact, but the rest can be found in my Anthology (http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=roliasnoom&itemid=148860).
Any and all comments, criticisms, speculations, and ideas are more than welcome.