No one had ever said such a thing had existed, but no one
had stated the contrary either. Which left him firmly with the conclusion that,
though possible for such a thing to be
it certainly was not yet. But if such was the case in this instance, what
stopped such from being the case with everything?
He
brought a hand up to stroke his face, fingers tapping away against the desk as
he considered the possibilities. If such things were true, then there were
numerous things that might exist, but had simply not been found yet. In fact,
nigh anything was real, and could simply be extremely skilled in matters of
stealth and sorcery. How many things had escaped the grasp of documentation
because of their quick wit, or agile speed? How many things had been too strong
to be recorded, and let into the annals of history, and how many more would
remain in the realms of the unknown?
Part of
him was tempted to pick up his quill, which sat at the corner of his desk, and
begin penning the numerous possibilities that had yet to be seen. There would
be more supplies required for such a task, of course. Numerous pages worth of
paper would be needed and easily filled, pots upon pots of ink emptied, candles
to burn throughout the late night hours as the ideas came, and foodstuffs to
keep him well fed and able! His hand moved as if on instinct, grabbing for the
colorful feather, so carefully crafted from some exotic expedition, forcing him
to grab it and hold it at bay until he could collect his thoughts further.
This was
no time to begin such a project, not when his thoughts were so muddled and confused.
Of course not! If anything, the fact that he had even considered engaging in
such was just a sign of how far he had forced his mind to wander, and how
desperate it had become to rest. Clinging onto such high fantasies of being
able to just create things out of
thin air, just because they had not been disproven in existence!
A chill
crept its way down his spine, closing in swiftly on his lower back, forcing him
to twitch. How had he even managed to consider such blasphemy? His hands shot
to his lips, shielding them, lest he let loose so much as a stutter of the
cursed ideas. Even alone in this cramped office someone might hear him, as they
wandered down the hall and past his long darkened door. From there it was only
a matter of time until word had found its way to the hierarchs, and not long
after he would have just been dismissed entirely!
The very
words they would spit at him, the very poison in their voices rang in his head.
Lines of how the Historium was not a place for such nonsense, of how if he were
to even consider such he might as well be nothing more than a storyteller in a
village, cobbling together useless tales to amuse and appease some thirsty
crowd. Perhaps an actor who spewed dramatized lies to an audience of idiots.
He
shuddered again, the same chill working its way back up to his brain. These
were the things nightmares were made of. Things meant to wake one up in the
middle of the night, sweat still beading down their face as the realization of
reality slowly swept over them. A hand ran back across his head, though unlike
when he had done so in his younger days it found much less hair. This was the
work of ruin, and the work he could never commit to, and yet, these thoughts
remained.
“Curses
upon you boy,” he muttered to himself, biting his tongue before his lips leapt
into a frenzy and brought yet another possibility of undue attention.
He could
still see the child’s smug face, sitting so peacefully at his desk while his
instructor wailed on and on about how improper such accusations were. It was
beyond his realm of knowledge to assume the boy’s intentions, though. Perhaps
he had meant the question innocently enough, wondering if somewhere in the
world fantastical creatures could exist. Fish the size of men, who stood with a
tall stature and were spotted, wandering this way and that with no need for the
water. Birds with puffed feathers colored by rainbows themselves.
But yet
he could not bring himself to cease at the conclusion at the boy’s goals were
so noble! He had been standing right there, watching as his own student, the
boy’s instructor who was getting so much use out of his vocal cords. Just a few
feet away, so it would have been so easy for the young lad to see the looks of
horror upon his face as he considered the prospects presented before him. That
there was somehow the chance that such things could be.
His
hands found their way to his face, smothering him for a moment, the only source
of comfort he could give himself. His thoughts were bound to cycle as such for
some time. Any prospects of sleep were bound to be in vain, and any hope of
breaking away from this circle now was all but abandoned.
There
was just too much of a chance for him to lay them to rest entirely, yet there
was no reason for him to cling to them as he did! Things were discovered all
the time, yet prior to their discovery what was the chance they would have been
scoffed at! If one were to describe half of the concepts and creatures in the
Historiums libraries to those who were alive prior to their induction, they
would have received the same cold, disgraceful greeting he would imagine for a
playwright.
Another
idea found its way onto the center of the stage of his mind, to which he nodded
furiously, as though it were a friend who had just appeared in his chamber to
deliver a wonderful package. To banish these thoughts from his mind, they
needed to be captured. To be captured, they needed to be written, and
illustrated.
He
stood, approaching the door with the stance of one who meant to pick its lock,
opening it as though he were a rogue sneaking through the halls. Soon enough,
he would return with what he needed, ink, paper, and more. Once these things
were banished, perhaps burned even, he could finally let the matter rest.
