Prompt 2 enjoy my fellow readers and writers and please feel free to review.
Dust promises a fortune of knowledge as it embraces the spines of ancient books. Blowing, it spirals up into the darkness. Curiously my finger traces the faded gold lettering. What secrets do these sepia coloured pages hold?
I was in Hell's archive. I have heard a lot of my dad's minions whisper about this place. That the shelves are overflowing with books about witchcraft and rare folklore scrolls that detail creatures we can barely even begin to understand. My uncles would kill me if they knew I was here. But I couldn't resist.
I loved reading anyway but the fact that most of these texts are technically forbidden added value to them in my mind. Or why else would they be stored here in Hell?
Carefully sliding one off the shelf I began to read a long passage: Prophecies are like a line of golden thread, the more you discover about Fate's plans for you the more it starts to unravel. There is a place where you can be enlightened. The kingdom where your feet are no longer touching the ground. Heaven's archive…
"What are you doing?" a rough voice booms behind me as I drop the book and it lands with a deafening thud on the concrete floor.
"Um, reading," I smile sweetly at my dad; Crowley King of Hell and a royal pain at times.
"Reading what exactly?" he questioned, clearly my smart remark did not provide him with adequate information judging by the blank expression and his hands shoved inside his trouser pockets.
"Nothing that you should be concerned about," I mumbled as I tried to scoot past him to exit the library.
Grabbing my arm he pulled me back and snarled,
"Tell me. NOW!"
I scrunched my eyes shut temporarily as his voice charged through my body and echoed around us.
"Fine. Just a book about prophecies," I relented and rolled my eyes.
I could have sworn that for a second a flicker of sadness travelled across my dad's dark eyes. But then they hardened and I bit my lip, waiting for his response.
"Get out," he spoke calmly and pointed to the door.
Hurriedly I left not wanting to tempt Fate, who I was already beginning to assume was a bitch. Clearly I caught my dad in a lenient mood. At least I could trust he wouldn't inform the others. Despite what you may think my dad was fair. Sure he manipulated people but he had a decency about him such as following through with the deals he made. Even though I personally would never make a demon deal, a part of me appreciated that when my dad said ten years he meant ten years to the day he originally made a deal with a misguided soul.
As I left I vowed to myself that I would sneak back later. Maybe that book held the answer to my problem.
Crowley picked up the book entitled Prophecies, Destinies and Fate before sighing,
"My poor poppet."