A boy the age of twelve was seen walking down the dimly lit streets of Traverse town. Seldom was it seen for such a young child to be walking alone, at such an early hour of the day. He had bright vibrant green eyes and spiked messy hair, chocolate brown with auburn streaks running through it. He was destined. Destined to be the lone figure, just like Sora and Riku before him, a keyblade wielder.
He came upon the two massive brass double doors of the Traverse Library. Known for its odd assortments of books, about other worlds and Sora's adventures through them. He let out a sigh, remembering that he had read practically every book within this library's walls. It was foggy out today and the library smelled it's worst. The stench of moldy old volumes of magical cures, horology books and catalogs of past wars of the keyblade exuded from the thousands of shelves he was now walking amongst. He paused looking over the volumes and volumes of book in one area. He shook his head, read them all.
He looked up, an eyebrow quirking as he saw, in the lone corner of the library a figure adorned all in black. Its leathery jacket glinted in the sun's peeking light. It was still early he remembered and no one was here, just yet.
"Come. You wish for a new book, do you not, young one?" the man's deep baritone voice shook through the walls and yellowed browning pages of the many books. The boy just nodded a keen interest in this man and the book lying on the table, open out in front of him. He stepped right next to the man, an ominous yet peaceful presence was shrouded around him and the book he was reading. The man stood, pushing out the chair and motioning with a black-gloved hand to the book residing on the oak tabletop.
The boy looked up. A question on the tip of his tongue.
"What is it you ask?" the man responded shattering the silence between the two. The boy gasped taken aback at the stranger's response.
"H-How did you know I was going to ask that?!" The chocolate brown haired boy asked, his eyes narrowing in question. He couldn't see, but felt that the black hooded man was smiling, laughing inwardly at his sheltered attitude.
"Please. Sit, relax, tis but the early morning, up so early for such a young child." The boy nodded.
"I got bored with all these books…how would this one be any different?" the boy asked haughtily. And the man just laughed.
"Why, my dear boy, this book is a collection."
"A collection of what?" he asked perplexed taking a seat slowly his eyes never leaving the old tattered pages of the books.
"A collection of things best left, unknown. But you see I am not one to tell what is to be known and what is not, for this collection is surely something you won't soon forget." The boy turned and gasped, for the mysterious stranger was no longer there, but his presence still remained.
The boy shook his head, turning back to the black bound book, he touched and cried out in surprise, for the book was freezing cold, an icy bitter cold that he could now see wafting up through the sunlight flooding through the large pain windows. He sucked his finger as he gently touched it again; it was still cold, but no longer as much so.
His eyes scanned the first page, a customary action for one who spent their time reading as much as he, and there in neat handwriting was a note to the reader.
Dear reader.
I would like to commend you on the finding of this book, for no mortal would be willing to go into the depths of darkness from which I have bestowed this volume, this how should I put it… collections of writings. This is no mere book, oh no. For. Unlike my many other volumes of science books of experiments on the heart and experiments done in my rather unending lifetime. This book you are about to continue reading, if you're not deterred from this letter, is about us. It about the lives of the Organization members, all thirteen of us. I have here, compiled into various pages and notes, similar yet different suffering of those whom I dare I say, where my colleagues. By the time this book is founded I've probably have passed away by now, for the book would probably still be in my possession. Alas, I hope you read further onward about us, for you see, we might not have had hearts, but…we, contrary to popular belief, were still human once…
So please sit back, in your chair by a fire, which I wholly detest, and trend carefully through these pages, for there are spells and seals upon this book which were not meant for human eyes. But do not worry…they're only meant to stop you, of course if you're pure of heart you've not a care to worry about.
I hope you'll enjoy this masterpiece of mine, I dubbed it…The Collection for its sole purpose was to be just that. So I bid you a farewell and a peaceful read, for you shall venture into the world of those who were but could not be; in the land that never was and could never truly…be.
Yours truly,
IV
The boy looked in awe at the pages he just read, a blasphemous book surely, especially for him. But, there was something about it he couldn't pull away from. Number four was Vexen…the Chilly Academic. He looked at the roman numerals their fading ink making the book all more tantalizing to read. And so, he did. He turned the browning page, with a delicate hand, to chapter one and there he read the book about the people who lived in the nonexistent land.
Lawlz I made another story...I need to stop making stories. Dx But er yeah. Hope you enjoy this. I wanted to make a collection of short stories, instead of submitting countless seperate ones...because yeah. These stories unfortunately don't follow a continuing plot, they'r eno supose to, so um yeah enjoy! And don't forget to read and reveiw my lovelies! D