The room is lit only by a tiny orange light, perhaps by an oil lamp. You peer around slowly while your eyes adjust to the darkness. You see shelves and shelves crammed full of books. The smell of dusty old books and cobwebs filled the air. There was no one else in the room. You wouldn’t know if there was one anyway. Not with so many shelves and mountains of books and instruments piling up every corner, blocking most of the room from sight. The winds clawed at the windows.
You only notice a table when you were just a few feet away from it. The table, like any areas of the room, was stacked with books so high that you can’t see pass it. With the help from the tiny orange light, you managed to make out some of the titles of the books: Necromancy, The Art of Killing, The Secret Autopsy of Charmaine.
Your gut instincts are warning you, screaming even, but curiosity, and maybe a tinge of sense of adventure is getting the better of you. You lean your head over the pile of books slowly… trying to stand on one leg for a better position. Tiptoeing now, you manage to see just beyond the books…
A boy is lying face-flat on the table top. His black hair covered his sides so you can’t make out his face. Just as you start to wonder if he is dead, he stirred, made a few noises and raised his head slowly.
“Oh, hello there! Didn’t see you back there. So you have stumbled upon this little corner of mine. How do you like my room? I’m sorry if it’s too dusty and scary. My name is Walker, and welcome to my library! This is where I record my writings, for pleasure and business, and perhaps some of this and some of that. Thank you for visiting, and feel free to browse around!”
When the boy finished talking, he fell, quite literally, into sleep again. His face crashed unto the table top with a soft bang. His hands is still holding a quill pen. A parchment, perhaps a draft for his next blog post, filled with his scrawling, and his drool, laid on his writing desk.
You leave the writer alone in his peaceful slumber and grabbed a book on the nearest shelf.