March 25th 18--
I am Daniel McCullen and these are my words. This is the world and how I see it. This is how I see the great mass of unread people and their limited, tiny perspectives. All the wonders that could be limited by the grayness of those who don’t wonder. Marvels of the imagination that are lost on the mindless souls that surround me. I have chosen to start a journal as my life has recently become somewhat odd. From the life of a scholar, who wished only the time and monies to fund a lifetime of research comes a request from a stranger that has captured my interest. I have been offered a chance to continue my own research and helping to fire the imaginations of those who life is filled with mundane tasks.
The invitation has come in the form of the position of head librarian of a small, but growing town, in the mid-west. I shall be funded and given the chance to continue my studies in a relatively quiet environment, with little chance of intrusion. The letter contained simple instructions, money and tickets to assist me in my travel to this new opportunity. I am curious as to the identity of the sender but then there are many learned men who are undoubtedly impressed with my endeavors and would wish to fund such a noble cause.
I shall pack my clothes and valuable research materials and set about other the preparations for the travel to this new place. I have been informed by some that my constitution should greatly improve with the abundance of fresh, clean air.
April 4th
The journey here was long, dusty and tiresome. My traveling companions were a mother and child, who’s noise I might add did not allow me to sleep, A fat gentleman, who boasted wealth from South African gold mines and a what I assumed to be a widow. For she was very sullen faced and dressed from head to toe in black, with a veil covering her face. In her hands she clutched a silk handkerchief. Conversation was continually punctuated by the child’s interruptions for attention. Sometimes I wondered how such a small child could produce such a thunderous noise. My reading of Homer’s the Illyad, in the original Greek, was interrupted again and again but more dull remarks from my fellow passengers. The Fat man kept interrupting the mesmeric rhythm of the wheels with his requests for attention. However as time passed he grew quieter and eventually fell asleep. Other than that my journey was uneventful. Upon my arrival I surveyed my new home. The small town seemed much like any other small town in the mid-west.
April 5th
I have seen the library for the first time. It is rather a state. The large building has old packing crates and broken chairs strewn around the floor. There are cobwebs everywhere and the bookshelves that remain are in need of some repair. I found a letter addressed to me waiting in my living quarters, which are housed within the building itself. They at least have seen some recent renovation. The mysterious Mr. Collins welcomes me to my new abode and workplace.
He has authorized me to make any good repairs I saw fit before unpacking my books which are due to arrive within the week. I also found enclosed three fifty-dollar bills towards repairs and any sundry items that I might see fit to require.
April 9th
It has been four days since my arrival and this is the first time I have had to enter any details about anything. I managed to unpack my things within hours. I managed to find a local joiner and carpenter to make repairs on the bookshelves, desks and the like. Tom Sleer, the local bank manager came to see me about noon. Tom is a small unimposing man with glasses and a pale complexion. He coughs and splutters a lot due to an unspecified allergy. He talked to me about an expense account opened for me by my employer. Apparently Mr. Collins has placed a very generous sum of money in an account for me. The money is to be used for my wages and other such sundry items as and when they become required. Mr. Sleer found that this arrangement was unlike any he had encountered before. I agreed with him as it is rather odd. Mr. Sleer asked me if I had met Mr. Collins. When I told him that I had not, and my post had been appointed through friends and letters send back and forth he seemed quite perplexed by this. It would seem that Mr. Sleer has also never seen this mysterious Mr. Collins. As if this was not enough to arouse my suspicion, something else was said that added another curious note to the day. When I joked about the possibility that Mr. Collins might be a ghost who was fond of reading, Mr. Sleer almost seemed to turn three shades of white before my very eyes. ‘Don, don’t say that’, he stammered. ‘Not with the reputation that this town already has!’ I tried to draw him upon what he meant by that remark but he refused to be drawn and left when I pressed him further. I shall not dwell upon such idle speculation or gossip as I have too much work to do.
April 10th
The unpacking of the books took most of a day and then placing another three now that they finally arrived. I have worked exhaustively to complete my task and now I behold the fruits of my labours. A large ramshackle building has become a smart and efficient library. Its shelves are stocked with books on almost every topic and subject that a person might wish to read.
From the letter I have received from my mysterious employer everything is as he said it would be. The books arrived as per his letter, the rooms clean and aired, fresh food was waiting. But I still expected to be greeted by the man himself. Nevertheless, I believe that he will be impressed when he sees what I have accomplished. For he must come here and see what his money has purchased sooner or later.
April 11th
Tonight I was awoken by a noise in the library. I dressed quickly and investigated but found nothing but some books, which must have fallen off the shelves. However, I did smell something strange. I though I could smell wet earth, of all things. After checking that the doors and windows were locked I returned to the arms of Morpheus.
April 12th
The library was open for the first time today. A few of the local townsfolk came and introduced themselves. Sheriff Lyle Watson, a big burly man with a knife scar running down his face came in and stayed for a small chat. Mrs. Lyle, the local school mistress came in and talked about her children and how she would like them to come and visit. I saw Mr. Sleer walk past but he did not come in. The next visitor was Mrs.Witlow, A widow who had lost her husband to war. She was a small woman of advancing years. She wore a kindly smile and spoke with a gentle softness that suggests a loneliness of many years. Two tear-aways came in as the afternoon drew on. Tommy-Lee Jenkins and Bobby Frier. Ten year olds looking for some adventure inspiring reading. Both dusty and dirty and covered in scrapes and bruises. I fired their excitement with tales about Captain Sinbad and his adventure in far away foreign lands. So far this is the sum total of the visitors I have had.
April 13th
Again a noise awoke me from my restful repose and again after a thorough investigation, found nothing but books fallen from their shelves. Again the smell of wet soil was present. Perhaps the building is slowly subsiding thus causing the books to slip and fall? I shall ask the joiner to return and look at the shelves for me.
April 15th
I do not know how to describe what I have just seen. Protect me from such horrors as I have witnessed tonight. Again this night I was awoken by a noise, but this time decided to remain still and wait for another noise before venturing out of my warm and comfortable bed. As I lay there, almost not daring to move, I thought I heard the sound of bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor below me. A strange chattering noise which grew slightly louder as I listened. Eventually the curiosity became unbearable. I had to see who was walking around my library at night.
My first thought was that it might be the local children. I was to be horribly mistaken. I crept out of bed and very slowly put my bathrobe on. It took what seemed to be an eternity to reach the door walking as slowly as I was. Carefully I turned the bedroom door handle and stepped out into the living room. As I moved towards the door, which would lead me to the balcony, I believed that I saw a small dull light underneath it. The light seemed to move away as I drew closer to it.
As I stood close to the door my breathing became hard to come by and, I started to cough. Upon hearing this, the prowlers fled. I heard many feet running this way and that. I stepped through the door and peered down into the shelves. What I saw was like a man but not. Its appearance was human but rotten. The face was more animal than man and even though I only saw it for a few seconds, I would swear that it was wearing glasses! It seemed to stand and look up at me for a few moments. It was as though the creature was looking for something within me. An understanding perhaps?
It ran off into the darkness meeping to itself. I returned to my rooms to find my trusty Spencer rifle, and to make a written note of tonight’s events, this I do now with my journal. I have locked the door and wait with loaded rifle for any return visit that might occur. Tomorrow is Sunday and we are closed. I will begin to investigate further then. The Brandy I took to steady my nerves is having its effects and I shall stop now before fatigue over takes me.
April 16th
The events of last night were not the fancy of a lonely librarian. When I emerged from my rooms I discovered books scattered about the floor. Again the smell of wet soil lingered in the library. As I replaced the fallen books, I noticed that some of them had been missing since the day I opened the library. I checked them against a list I had made up. Most of the books I had presumed had been stolen or misplaced were lying on the floor. They all smelt of earth but seemed no worse for it. As I investigated further I discovered several books missing? I checked the index cards and was proven right! The books had not been loaned but stolen by these creatures! I am loss to understand what those hideous things could want with my books?
April 22nd
The library has seen a growth in the number of visitors. To the extent that I have seen fit to hire an assistant on a temporary basis. My choice of applicants was limited to the only person to apply, Simon Ward, a thin, bespeckled youth of eighteen years of age. A prolific reader by my reckoning, quiet, clean, mannered and pleasant. I have told him that he may start tomorrow.
May 2nd
It has been several days now and the creatures have not returned. Perhaps my stumbling upon them has driven them away? I have thought about them a lot since seeing one of their kind. Perhaps they are lepers? I do not know of any colony near here, but it would explain their nocturnal movements. I have decided not to bother Sheriff Watson with this information as nothing has been damaged and I seem to be in no danger. How would I explain what I had seen? He would think that I was mad or suffering from some brain fever, should I try and explain that hideous ghosts have been borrowing my books.
May 5th
I have decided upon a plan. I am to take a trip to Stevensburg so I may acquire some goods. I will be away for two days. I believe that they will return to replace the loaned books when I am away. I will leave a solitary book in the middle of the floor. I have written a note which I will leave sticking out of the book in plain sight. I have informed them that if they wish to use the library then I am agreeable to the idea and would wish to meet one of them to discuss the matter. I have no idea if I will get an reply. But I feel compelled to try. I have informed Simon that the library is closed for two days and that he may have a long weekend. I have done this so as my experiment may not be disturbed.
May 8th
The reply I was hoping for was waiting for me. The same book was still there where I had left it but the note lay underneath it! I hurriedly read it. Someone calling himself Jacob will meet with me tomorrow at midnight to discuss the use of the library for himself and his friends? My heart pounds with fear and anticipation. What have I done? What possible danger have I unleashed upon myself and perhaps my townsfolk? I will know soon enough.
May 9th
I do not know where to begin or even if I should put this tale down upon paper! The things I have learned tonight have shocked me to my very soul. I feel repulsed by what I have seen and heard but my heart knows the loneliness that Jacob spoke of and the joy that literature can bring. For do we not seek a union, an understanding, a sharing of feelings through books and stories! Do we not seek to know that our feelings are not freakish and odd? We seek knowledge and understanding.
The understanding that we are not alone in thought even though we may be in soul! I feel as though I have waited all my life to meet such a fellow as Jacob. To meet another person who understands the need to feel kinship with his fellow humans, if such a word can be used in Jacob’s case? Through the reading of another’s exploits! But I must detail the fantastical meeting before the details escape me altogether!
I had placed a chair and a small table on the main floor of the library. Upon the table I had placed a candle and a small glass of brandy, for medicinal purposes, in readiness for the meeting. The entire evening I spent in nervous anticipation.
At a quarter to twelve I descended the spiral stairs that lead from my quarters to the main floor. I had already placed the Spencer rifle and extra cartridges on a bookshelf close at hand. I sat in the chair and lit the candle and waited. The library clock seemed to be ticking the time away in a very loud manner. My heart seemed to keep pace with it and a cold sweat ran down my back as I sat there in silence. As the clock struck twelve I almost collapsed with fright. I was somewhat apprehensive! I heard, or thought I heard, a soft scraping sound as I sat in the near darkness. I jumped as the candle flickered and almost went out.
The smell! Again the smell! Wet earth? It pervaded the air and came at me in a soft, warm rush. Clinging and sweet, it surrounded me like an old blanket, comforting and enveloping. It was then I heard the soft slapping of feet against the cold hardwood floor. The sound grew louder as Jacob approached. I felt a quiet calm stole over me. Jacob came into view from the end of the bookshelves. His form was outlined by the moonlight behind him, but gave little away as I gazed at his approaching body.
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He was a small man. He seemed stooped by the passing of time. I could discern that he wore a suit. But it seemed to be a burial suit! Something that the dead are laid to rest in?
It confused me at first but as my tale continues you will see, as I did, that all becomes frighteningly clear. Jacob’s face, upon closer inspection, seemed slightly animal like, and he had what you could call a maw or beak. Like an eagle or other bird of prey.
‘Good evening Daniel’ came my visitors casual greeting. ‘Evening Jacob’ said I. ‘Only the one chair? Would you like me to stand all night?’ said Jacob as though addressing an old friend. ‘I…I didn’t think! I’m sorry. I will fetch you one right now!’ came my burbled reply. ‘No need, no need at all. I feel that after tonight you will be better prepared for the future and with that in mind I shall now discuss the kind offer you have made for the extra nocturnal use of this fine reading establishment.’ Before I could answer, Jacob continued. ‘Imagine, if you will, a life of desolation, where people, such as I, are unable to read and share the sights of adventurous souls. Imagine that the colour of our former lives has been stripped away and we are lessened by it.’
To read to learn and to be reminded of another life, feeling, places and much more. It has been many years since I have seen another human face and even longer since I have seen the smile of a child. You cannot understand the aching I feel to live. I know this can never be so I, and my friends, seek to live through another’s eyes. To see what they see, to taste a salt sea breeze, to know the tender caress of a lover, to journey to foreign places, to live again. All we ask is that you allow us a respite from our daily misery. Can you understand fear and loathing? Have you ever seen the ones you love waste away before your very eyes? Have you ever felt so lonely that you wept in the darkness for another kindred spirit to understand you? Have you Daniel? Have you? For I have.’
‘There are many like me Daniel and we seek your help. I am not, as you have probably discerned, a leper, Nor are my companions. We do suffer an ailment but not like anything you have ever known. It is both a curse and a blessing. With your help the curse will become a blessing and this life of ours will hold many treasures for us.’
‘We are not like you in body for we do not age! But we share the same mind. We seek, as you do, the fellowship of literature.’ I was at loss to understand what kind of malady or malaise could so affect people. Not being scientifically minded I was unable to determine the cause of Jacob’s curse. Jacob saw the bemused look upon my face.
‘It all began years ago. I was a happily married man with two children. I was a printer by trade. I was a lucky man. I loved my work and was loved by my family. We did well for ourselves, for my wife also worked a little. She taught at the local school. The combined incomes kept us in a pleasant lifestyle indeed. Four years after Mary, that was my wife’s name, took her job as a teacher she contracted a foul, loathsome wasting disease.
The doctors prescribed drug after drug to cure her. None of them worked! She grew steadily worse. I hired a nurse to tend to her whilst I was working. I was so consumed with caring for Mary that I never noticed the children! It was only after Jessica, my eight year old daughter, became feverish did it occur to me that they were at risk from infection.’
By this time Mary had lost her sight and would call out for me and the children in the middle of the night. She would awaken, as if from a nightmare, shouting for me to tend to her. She never told me what it was she saw in those dreams and perhaps, on reflection, it is better that I did not know. Two weeks after Jessica, my daughter became ill and feverish did her sight also fail her! She also cried out in terror in the middle of the night.
Never again do I wish to hear such sounds, to be awoken, in the early hours by your own child crying out for help. It is something that haunts me to my very core, even now! I began to search for a physician who might be able to assist in the recovery of my family. I also began to read medical journals and papers. I started to learn as much as I could in the vain hope that I might be able to find a cure for my family.’
‘As the days became weeks, and the weeks months, I saw my family stricken by this unknown fever. David, my ten year old son, soon succumbed to this plague. Only I managed to somehow resist the disease that was robbing me of my family. I stopped working so that I could care for my family. Not long after Mary began to drift in and out of lucidity. I feared that her cries might alarm the children. Two days later Mary lay cold and lifeless next to me as I awoke. I had hoped that the merciful release of death might soothe her pain and ease her passing into oblivion. I would have happily believed that but for the look of terror on her face that stared at me! Her face was twisted in a grimace of horror as though she was looking into the very jaws of hell when she died!’
‘For the sake of the children the funeral was a quiet affair. But since this disease came to our house visitors had become scarce. Only doctors dropped by from time to time to enquire after the health of the children and to see if there was an improvement or any way that they could help. It was one such visit that seemed to bring me the hope that I was so desperately seeking. Doctor Samuel Shapiro, a Russian Jew, living in Boston had come to see his cousin and heard of our plight.
He had come calling to offer his assistance and sympathy. It was during one of his many visits that I came to hear of the ‘De Vermils Myseries’, a legendary magical tome, that is supposed to contain the cure to most ills that plague the common man. As a printer I heard many stories of supposed magical books. Samuel Shapiro claimed to have once supplied an old man, at his urgent request, with powders and chemicals that he claimed would prolong his life for another two generations! A process the old man claimed he had learned from his copy of the tome.
‘Samuel saw the excitement in my eyes each time he spoke of the De Vermils myseries.
After much badgering and persuading he agreed to return to Boston and attempt to find the old man again in the hope of finding some cure.
I had exhausted every possible avenue of treatment by this point. Jessica had began to drift away from me a day earlier, just as her mother had. I knew time was running out. Samuel said he would send me any information that he could find.’
‘Nine days after Samuel departed for Boston Jessica slipped away from her misery filled life. Only David now remained and his condition was growing worse. I attended to his needs daily. The nurse had left my employment after Jessica died. She said that she couldn’t watch David suffer like that, she apologized for not staying but it was more than her nerves could bear.
It was the nocturnal screaming that had finally worn the poor woman down and eaten away at her nerves. Four days after the nurse left David lost his sight! I fought against the realization that I was powerless to fight this unseen murderer. I would never give up hope, I would find a cure, I must, I had to. I continued my search for a physician that might be able to offer some assistance.’
‘Seven days had passed since David’s sight had failed him and his night time screaming fits had started when a parcel had arrived from Boston! I felt sick at the sight of the brown paper parcel. Could Shapiro’s have found the man? Could he have found a cure? My thoughts were unsteady. David’s nightmares had robbed me of sleep for the past two days. I had barely eaten for the fear of leaving him alone in his darkness! With trembling hands I undid the parcel. A small walnut inlaid box sat before me. I lifted the lid to find four bottles of curiously coloured liquids. A letter lay amongst the bottles. The letter was not in the hand of my friend, but rather the hand of a stranger. The edge was ragged, as if it had been torn from a book? The torn sheet detailed the mixture that would cure any condition or malady of the body. I read like a man possessed. When I had read it I noticed that there seemed to be more words written on this thin paper but these words made no sense. It was only by blind chance that I noticed Samuel had scrawled a message on the other side of the paper. His message was a warning. His research had led him to believe that the cure would come at a price. I was not concerned about a price, as long as my son survived!’
‘The relief of having found a cure struck me like a physical blow. I dropped to my knees and wept! All I had to do was mix the compounds as described and give it to my son. I found my legs withstood my weight after the third attempt to rise from the floor. I rushed to the kitchen and began to mix the strange fluids. It was only when I had finished did I realize something was wrong.
David, as Mary and Jessica, had certain times when we would awake from some sort of unspeakable nightmares, shouting for me. Seeking reassurance that he was not alone in his darkness. One o’clock in the afternoon was one of these times when David needed such reassurance. The clock in the kitchen told me that it was ten past one?
David should have called for me by now? Perhaps he had overslept? Perhaps the nightmares had let him be? Perhaps……no, no, NO! I remember screaming his name as I ran up the stairs to his room, clutching the vial containing the finished mixture that would save my son’s life. Over and over I called to my son, my shouts giving way to frantic screams.’
I ran into the room, only to be greeted by his grimace. His eyes glazed, his form contorted by the final spasms that took his life from him.
As I held his cold body in my arms, willing him back to life, I recalled the first time he lost his sight. He took it all so calmly. He said to me ‘Don’t be scared daddy! I wont forget what you look like!’ his arms clasped tightly around me, hugging me. He spoke as though a bowl of hot broth and a good nights sleep would find him playing with his friends by tomorrow!
How I lied to him! How I lied to Mary and Jessica! How many times I had told them all that a cure would be found and there lives spared. May God forgive me! I told him he would be fine, as his sightless eyes searched the room, his hand tightly clutching mine, afraid to let go incase he never found it again. His terror pacified only by my presence. How I told him that he was looking better as his small face grew paler by the day. But how could I let him hear the fear in my voice? How could I let him know his father, his tower of strength, was terrified of what was coming? How could I tell him that I was helpless? How could I? I so wanted to reach into his frail body and tear the foul sickness from him! But I couldn’t, it was too late. I had been ten minutes too late! Ten minutes! If only I had mixed the potion faster! If only the parcel had arrived earlier! If only. If.’
‘I fell to the ground as the last of my strength escaped me. The vial I had prepared too late to save my sons life shattered in my hands, the glass slicing into me, cutting my hands. I lay there feeling the blood and medicine mix, but feeling nothing inside but darkness that stole over me like a cold, clammy sea mist. Its chill touch can still be felt when I recall the memories, Daniel!’
It was all I could do to look at Jacob and nod at him. I heard what he was saying. His story awakened feelings inside of me I thought were long dead. Emotions I thought had died with my own family. Jacob again took up his talking stance and continued with his story.
‘The next few days were a blur. The final funeral came and went. My sister Isobella came to look after me. I had become so fatigued that I myself was near death’s door. Isobella kept a watchful eye upon my slow recovery. Three weeks after David’s death I began to notice that sunlight burnt my skin and I felt repulsed at the sight of normal food. I began to sleep during the day and awoke at night and prowled around town with a new vigor! I was confused by whatever changes were taking place within my own body.’
‘I fund a hunger within me that I could not satisfy with normal food, even when I could keep it down, the hunger began to burn within me. It was on one of my nighttime strolls that I happened by the town cemetery. The smell of dead lingered in my nostrils like the bouquets of a fine wine or a good steak. An uncontrollable urge took me and without knowing what I was doing, I found myself digging up a corpse.
Once I had unearthed the coffin, I tore at it like an animal. The wood splintered noisily before my unnatural strength. The smell of decay only urged me on. When finally the rotting carcass lay before me I began to feast. What a feast it was, I had never tasted food with was such a delight to my palate, nothing was left to waste. In my eyes I was sat before the finest banquet that man could behold.’
Only when my appetite had been sated did I relax and sit back. My full stomach felt good. For the first time in what seemed like a dark eternity did I feel good and at peace! I was bought out of this trance like state by the sight of torches coming towards me! The noise I had made opening the coffin must have been heard.
Only as the townsfolk approached did I realize what I had just done! I had eaten dead flesh. Dead human flesh! I sat there in shock of my behaviour. The Sheriff had come with a small posse, all armed with rifles, to investigate the unholy noise in the Graveyard. I stared at my hands. They were smeared with blood and entrails from my dining companion! I realized that my face would also be like wise covered.
The Sheriff and his men said nothing as they stood over me. There was nothing that needed to be said. It was fairly obvious from the carnage about me what had transpired! Two of the posse threw up their last meal upon realizing what I had done! The Sheriff beckoned me to rise with a swift rise and fall of his rifle. I stood and two of his men stood behind me, nobody wanted to touch me! I felt no shame at what I had done or even become. It was only a chance comment that caused me to turn round and view the name upon the headstone. The stone read ‘Mary Jameson, beloved wife of Jacob and mother to Jessica and David!’ I screamed and screamed as I realized who I had just consumed! My, my own, my own wife! I screamed with such terror and fright that the two of the sheriff’s men behind me, bolted for home, dropping their rifles as they fled. God had played his final card in this, the sickest game of his creation! I ran and ran. I seemed to move with extreme speed and dexterity for a man of forty! I kept running until I reached the river, some five miles away. There I fell into the water, hoping it would absolve me of my crimes and my life.’
‘When I next awoke I was underground! I believed that I had entered Hell and would shortly be brought before some Demon for his attention and personal tuition of pain and punishment. I was to be gravely mistaken. Instead, a man who appears much as I do to you, tonight, came into the small, hollowed, earthen room and sat down. He explained what it was I had become. For I had become a Ghoul! I had become one of the Undead. I would never age or grow sick and never die. This is as long as I kept out of the sunlight and away from people with guns, knives and flaming torches! He was at a loss to explain how I had become a Ghoul. He knew only that I was one of them and as such free to join their underground society. I recounted my story to him and together we realized just what had transpired.’
For my part I was dumbstruck. I imagined that Ghouls, should they exist, be loathsome creatures. Creatures, to be feared and hounded to extermination with flame and holy bible. Instead I found an articulate monster. Who seemed far more intelligent than some sort of surface dwelling visitors that came to the library in the daytime. I sat and listened to Jacob and his monologue.
‘The fluid that I was to use to save my son! I had fallen, the vial broke in my hands! The fluid had run over the open bleeding wounds in my hands! The cure comes at a price! That was the warning that Samuel had scribbled on the sheet! The price was a cure from all disease by embracing the worst one of them all!’
‘For years now I have lived amongst other Ghouls. We have built better tunnels and searched out others like ourselves. But in all our wanderings we have never found a soul so receptive to our plight as you have been tonight. Now you know my story Daniel. You now have the power to destroy me and my kind. Your revelation of our existence to the townsfolk would lead to our down fall. What will you do? Will you turn us away? Will you deny such wretched creatures what little we have left? Or would you seek a bargain with us?’
I shrunk away from Jacob as he said this. The sight of him revolted me even further now that I knew what it was he had become. But even though being near him made me feel physically sick, I felt curious. What kind of deal could he hope to offer me if I didn’t want to be a Ghoul?
What else would there be to offer me? My thoughts wandered back to the Spencer rifle upon the shelf behind my chair. As I sat there imagining the safety the rifle would afford me when a sharp sound brought me back to the here and now. Pieces of metal were being dropped on the floor in front of me? As I looked up from my chair I saw Jacob release the last of the rifle bullets from his hand. ‘I thought it would be safer if I didn’t tell you that I managed to unload your rifle before I concluded my story. You might, after all, take fright and do something foolish!’ said Jacob in a calming voice.
‘What bargain can, can you, offer me?’ came my stammering reply. ‘What bargain indeed! I do not offer you the life I have for that would mean we would lose your library if you became a Ghoul. No, we have a better offer than that! If you would let us borrow your books then we would pay you. We can pay you in gold and should that not suffice, then we could always find you something interesting to read. Something with a little more power than the books you have here! Does that sound interesting to you Daniel?’ asked Jacob.
‘What types of books do you mean? What other kind are there apart from the ones that I have here? You seem to suggest some type of hidden or occult knowledge. Explain yourself Jacob.’
‘There are magical books hidden out in the world Daniel. Some of them have found their way to this new land. We know where some of them can be found.
We can obtain them for you as a form of payment for the use of the library. With these books and the dark knowledge that they contain you could become very powerful. You would find your life becoming what ever you wanted it to be. Or does the thought of using magic make your skin crawl with disgust? Hmm? Your life can be as extraordinary as you wish it or it can remain as dull as it is now. The choice is your Daniel. What would you choose?’
I sat in silence for what seemed like a lifetime. The slow ticking of the library clock marking moments that might see my life change in ways I could not foresee. What would you do? Would you choose to trust a creature that fed itself from the rotting remains of someone’s loved ones?’
Could you bring yourself to trust something like that, all because it promised a life so far removed from the one you now lead? Even if I did trust Jacob and his promise, I could not guarantee my use of magic would not bring about my own destruction. What was the other choice? To sit and hand out books to small minded people in a small town. The chance to live a small but safe life, to marry and settle down and have children with a loving wife.
I have seen those who lead such lives and I do not envy them of their lifestyles. How long before I became used to the mundane trivialities if existence? Work, home, family, the church, debts, illness, old age and infirmities that it brings. How long before the man inside me who yearned for a life of adventure was smothered by the dullness of the life around me? How long could I keep him alive with reassurances of golden futures? How long before I became a broken rebel like those who amble about the modern metropolises of today? My youthful dreams were already becoming tarnished and worn. When would the day come that I could no longer recall them? How long before I lost my wish to recall them? I wanted more. More than other people want, more than is normally offered. More than families and the church could offer. I felt tired of the footprints on the back of my already struggling ego and thought of all that I might accomplish in this new life.
I now know that I never really had a choice. To choose between mediocrity and the chance of something far greater! Even for the chance to obtain something better was worth fighting for. There is no choice is there? I smiled as the thought played across my mind. I looked up at Jacob and smiled. He began to laugh and I laughed with him. The contagious laughter of mad, excitable youth echoed through the book filled room. This was the moment that we are all born but to few who have never had the chance to embrace. When the laughter died down I stood and faced Jacob and said ‘where do we begin?’
‘First I must report back to those I serve and inform them of your choice. Then we must find a way for you to help us and we you. The steps we must take are to be painfully slow and tiresome but without good foundations we shall surely be destroyed.
I must take my leave of you. There is much to set in motion, much to be planned. We shall meet again soon enough.’
With this Jacob turned and walked back into the shadows. His feet became quieter and quieter until I could no longer hear him. I sat there with the morning sun peering through the windows in complete shock at what had just happened. I left a message for my assistant that I would be in my quarters engaged in private research and was not to be disturbed for the day. I came here, to my room, to write this down lest I should forget what I have seen tonight. I must rest now.