“This time, which cursed place will I end up in?”

Today was just like any other day. I woke up, thought about what I’d do, and got out of bed. Yeah, doing the same thing over and over can get pretty boring, but there’s one thing I really enjoy: writing on my blog about myths and ancestral beliefs with my trusty computer.

It might sound silly, and sometimes I even find it amusing enough to want to bang my head when writing about it, but I can’t deny that I love researching ancient myths and beliefs, even in this modern age.

“Who still believes in myths?” I muttered.

At 23, I should have found my path by now, whether that’s becoming a famous athlete or a pilot like I wanted when I was a kid. But here I am, stuck as an unemployed guy who just writes on a blog with barely any results.

Enough about me being a loser. Better focus on what I’m doing right now, even if it’s unclear, but I enjoy it.

I’ve written a lot on my blog, like the truth behind the myth that when we were kids, we were forbidden to use pencils that were as small as our pinky finger, which supposedly led to our parents’ deaths. There are also rules against sweeping at night, killing living creatures while the wife is pregnant, and a bunch of similar things.

This hobby started because my parents used to warn me about all sorts of things when I was a kid, and they had a library full of ancestral beliefs.

Every time I went to the library, it felt like finding treasure. Among the dusty old books, I’d find notes about almost forgotten ancient myths, like the prohibition against sweeping at night that my mom used to talk about. These myths weren’t just stories to me; they reminded me of my childhood when I’d sit on my mom’s lap, listening to stories that sparked my imagination.

I’ve read so much there that I’ve even tried to prove their truth.

This also sparked my interest in doing small experiments. Recently, I tried to see if hitting the table like a musical instrument really brings bad luck. I even laughed when I realized I was following the myth, and I could only smile. These weird things caught my attention.

It was noon, the usual time I start writing on my blog. I jumped right in, but writing isn’t that easy. Often, I hit a wall trying to come up with ideas, like now.

“Maybe going out to grab some snacks is a good idea right now,” I said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, putting my hands behind my head as a cushion.

I got up from my desk and computer, walked out of the room, and headed to the store that was no more than 30 meters away. The afternoon was sunny with a blue sky and no clouds, the sunlight warming the streets nicely. A gentle breeze blew, making the trip to the store pleasant.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I bought some snacks and a few sodas that I thought were really refreshing. Just as I was about to head back home, I ran into a beautiful woman who was none other than my childhood friend, recognizable even from a distance. Although she was beautiful, she had habits that sometimes annoyed me. I was pretty close to her; aside from being a childhood friend, she was also a friend during school. For 12 years, we were always in the same school, and her house was right next to mine. She liked to hit me for some reason, even without a reason, and her name was Eva Azzura.

“Hey Zoe, it’s weird seeing you out during the day like this,” she shouted, giving my arm a playful poke.

“Hey Eva. You know, I’m having trouble writing, so I thought I’d get some fresh air and maybe find some inspiration. Couldn’t you greet me without hitting like that?” I said with a small laugh.

“Oh, it’s just a little tap. Don’t take it too seriously. Besides, I know you need a little push,” she said, giggling and covering her mouth. “What are you writing this time? Another myth?”

“Yep, another myth. This time about the prohibition against hitting the table like a musical instrument. Maybe you could help me come up with some fresh ideas,” I replied with a smile.

Eva raised an eyebrow. “Hitting the table like a musical instrument? Seriously? Why not? Isn’t it fun?”

“Yeah, but the myth says it can bring bad luck. How about giving me another idea? Maybe something ‘safer’?” I countered.

Eva laughed. “True. But why do strange things catch your attention more? Besides, what’s wrong with hitting the table? Sometimes I need to let off some steam that way too.”

“Because weird things are interesting. Besides, didn’t you also like scary stories when we were kids?” I replied.

Eva laughed. “True. Remember when we tried to summon a ghost with a mirror in the bathroom?”

“Of course, I remember! You were the one who screamed the loudest when the mirror cracked, not me,” I teased.

“That’s because the mirror really cracked! I still don’t get how that happened,” she said, laughing. “But seriously, Zoe, don’t you get tired of writing all the time? When was the last time you went out to have some fun?”

“Well, if having fun means meeting you every day, maybe I need a break from all those hits,” I said jokingly.

Eva tapped my arm again, this time more gently. “Stop being dramatic. I’m serious, Zoe. You need to take a break. How about we go out tonight? Maybe dinner or a movie?”

I smiled. “Sounds good. But tonight, I need to write, at least finish this draft. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Okay, we’ll go out tomorrow night. No excuses, alright?” Eva gave me a serious look but with a smile on her face.

“Deal. Now, let me get back and finish my writing before you tempt me to skip it,” I said with a laugh.

Instead of ending the conversation quickly, I ended up with a perfectly aimed punch to my stomach. After she seemed really satisfied, she finally left without saying anything and laughing heartily.

“Crazy woman,” I shouted and walked back home.

Eva’s laugh still echoed in my ears as I made my way back home. Once there, I wanted to enjoy the snacks I bought while reading a book in my parents’ library, searching for some references to help me overcome the block in my writing. It might take some time, but it’s better than continuing my writing now, which would only lead me to a dead end.

While searching for a book, I accidentally dropped one from the far corner of the room. I tried to pick it up and put it back in its place. Unexpectedly, behind the book, more precisely behind the shelf, I saw a book wedged there, almost falling with just a touch. I had never noticed a book behind this shelf. Curious, I tried to take it, and the room around me suddenly shook, but not enough to knock over all the shelves. The shelf door opened with a vibration in the room.

A sense of curiosity and a little fear began to envelop my mind. What does all this mean? Why have I never seen this room before and why didn’t my parents ever tell me about it?