Timestamp :: Fall 15th, 513 AV
Lorelle stares down at the blank pages of the book in front of her. A quill sits perches in her grip and an ink bottle sits on the floor. She doesn’t really know why she went to the market today to get these things. She was suppose to buy clothes, but that didn’t actually happen. No, just the purchasing of a book. A blank one no less. Something to write in. Stories, her thoughts, anything her mind could conjure up could be written on the pages. Most of it would probably just be the mindless ramblings of someone wanting to just write to practice it. Other parts of it might just be her deepest, darkest thoughts. She isn’t sure yet what she will put here. Putting down her thoughts could be very dangerous. Then someone could get their hands on it and find her weaknesses. The ways to target her. However, it could be good for her. To actually voice what she is thinking for once, even if it is only on the pages of a book.
Lorelle sighs. She is stalling as she thinks up all of what could happen. A great many things could happen, but that does not mean that they will happen. Exhaling, she picks up the book and rests it on her knee. Staring down, she rests the tip of the quill on the open page. What to put, what to put. How does one even start such a thing? Is there any certain way to do it or is it all just in the eyes of the beholder? Lorelle doesn’t know and it frustrates her. She doesn’t want to mess it up. Messing up is bad. Very bad. Even if it can’t be avoided. “Okay Lorelle, stop this. Stop thinking so much and talking to yourself and just write. Let it all go and write,” she tells herself out loud, breathing in and out as deeply as possible.
The quill is lifted and dipped in the black ink before being pointed to the page. She begins.
Fall 15th, 315
Dear whatever you wish to be called, though I doubt you wish to be called anything considering the fact you are a book and have no mind to care. Though, maybe your reader shall care, if there ever is one aside from me. So I will call you reader then, makes sense. I guess.
So, reader, today I bought this book. I don’t know why, so don’t ask me. I just did. I guess it seemed like a good thing to do. You know, write down my thoughts so that if I leave this world unexpectedly my secrets will have been kept somewhere for someone to read. It is a romantic thought isn’t it? To not be truly known in this time, but for someone to read about you and understand you better than anyone without ever meeting you. I don’t know if you think that, but I do. Though I highly doubt anyone will care about my life thus far. It has been somewhat uneventful. However, for those interested, I will start this book off with my story in short version. Maybe that will give me some practice with this whole writing thing.
Dear whatever you wish to be called, though I doubt you wish to be called anything considering the fact you are a book and have no mind to care. Though, maybe your reader shall care, if there ever is one aside from me. So I will call you reader then, makes sense. I guess.
So, reader, today I bought this book. I don’t know why, so don’t ask me. I just did. I guess it seemed like a good thing to do. You know, write down my thoughts so that if I leave this world unexpectedly my secrets will have been kept somewhere for someone to read. It is a romantic thought isn’t it? To not be truly known in this time, but for someone to read about you and understand you better than anyone without ever meeting you. I don’t know if you think that, but I do. Though I highly doubt anyone will care about my life thus far. It has been somewhat uneventful. However, for those interested, I will start this book off with my story in short version. Maybe that will give me some practice with this whole writing thing.
Lorelle pauses, staring at the words already on the page. She purses her lips, hating what she has written. When reading it, it seems wordy and somewhat idiotic. Like the mindless ramblings of a nervous person about to preform. Many words that don't say much of anything. She wishes that the words would just disappear and she could start a new again. She sighs, staring up from the page and letting her eyes rest on Eva who is across the room sleeping away. Rolling her eyes, Lorelle returns to writing.
Dear reader, I have changed my mind. I do not wish to tell you my story as it has happened thus far. I am not to that point yet. Instead, I think I shall tell you of Eva. She is my dog. I got her almost three seasons ago now. She was just a red, little ball of fluff then. I still can’t believe she weaved her way into my heart enough to make me take her in. Even I was surprised at that. Though, I am very glad I did. Eva has brought a lot of happiness to my life. I am happy to have her. Very happy.
Though, she does cause trouble. She isn’t exactly, fully trained in the way of much of anything. She knows to stay by my side when we are walking outside the hold together, but that is about it. Otherwise, she does practically anything she wants. She knows sit, somewhat and she sort of knows go and lay down. That is about as extensive as her training goes. However, while this is annoying with no end, I do love her. The way she tilts her head and her right ear bends some. The softness of her warm fur pressed against me as I sleep. Or the cold, wet feeling of her nose as she wakes me in the morning.
I never had a dog growing up. Well at least, not what I remember. My mother, she doesn’t like them. She really doesn’t like many animals for that matter. She likes horses and cats, maybe birds, but I am not sure. Mother is a very complex creature. Very complex. Something we will not be going into quite yet. Back to Eva though, she has formed a different kind of bond with me that no one else has. Something that makes me love her no matter what she does. Even when I am having a rough day or try to push her away, she is still around and still trying to make me feel better. If that is what she is trying to do. I don’t know. Do animals think and feel that much? Not sure, but it seems like they do.
Though, she does cause trouble. She isn’t exactly, fully trained in the way of much of anything. She knows to stay by my side when we are walking outside the hold together, but that is about it. Otherwise, she does practically anything she wants. She knows sit, somewhat and she sort of knows go and lay down. That is about as extensive as her training goes. However, while this is annoying with no end, I do love her. The way she tilts her head and her right ear bends some. The softness of her warm fur pressed against me as I sleep. Or the cold, wet feeling of her nose as she wakes me in the morning.
I never had a dog growing up. Well at least, not what I remember. My mother, she doesn’t like them. She really doesn’t like many animals for that matter. She likes horses and cats, maybe birds, but I am not sure. Mother is a very complex creature. Very complex. Something we will not be going into quite yet. Back to Eva though, she has formed a different kind of bond with me that no one else has. Something that makes me love her no matter what she does. Even when I am having a rough day or try to push her away, she is still around and still trying to make me feel better. If that is what she is trying to do. I don’t know. Do animals think and feel that much? Not sure, but it seems like they do.
Lorelle pauses in her train of thought once more. She continues to not like what she has written so far. Even if it is only a journal, she still wants it to make some sort of sense. Have some thought and care put into it. Biting her lower lip, she thinks. She doesn’t want people to know her. That is why she keeps herself closed off, it is easier than getting hurt. While people in the future after she is gone can’t hurt her, the idea of being fully known doesn't make her exactly comfortable. Sighing, she dips the quill in the ink and starts on the next page. Time to go in a different direction with this thing. Maybe she can get this right. If there even is a way to get it right.
ReceiptInk (1 oz vial) - 1gm
book, blank - 3gm
Quill - 5 cm
