Diary 2, DeYtH Banger [recommended ebook reader .TXT] 📗

with each title she read, clearer and clearer their meanings became. They were stories of redemption, of romance, of adventure. The mere titles brought tears to her eyes, elation to her heart. They were tales with both familiar and alien themes. Something within her longed for these stories, just as we all long for answers to our questions and solutions to our problems. 

The temptation to read them became greater and greater, almost unbearable. Her curiosity was like a great weight on her shoulders. She saw no harm in pulling a book out and skimming through it. The words were unknown to her, but the image of the story manifested itself. Soon enough she knew the story and carefully put the book back. In place of her burning temptation was an odd certainty. 

An old blind man dressed in a single white cloth approached her and asked for her library card. The Seeker gave it to him. He put it away. 

"What is your story?" asked he. 

The story she had read spilled from her lips against her volition. The words she spoke were in the language that she had read. Even when her tongue twisted and cramped, she spoke on. The last word of the story was the last word she ever spoke. 

The old man returned her library card. In place of her name was the last word of that story. She accepted it and returned home. Her path had been chosen and she knew what to do. 

It attracted Them. She could neither scream nor beg. 

The End. 

--- 

Once upon a time, there was a Seeker who got himself to a library and asked the librarian for the one who calls himself "The Holder of the Story." The librarian disappeared underneath the counter and came back up with a library card. On it were written unrecognizable words in an indiscernible language and the Seeker's name written in his language. He accepted this gratefully, hiding the surprise and dread that lay thickly in his stomach. The librarian then pointed him to a section of the library that he had not seen before and walked away without a word. 

The Seeker made his way to this section. Its shelves were lined with old tomes bound with the skins of creatures unknown to him. Their titles were in languages unknown to him, but with each title he read, clearer and clearer their meanings became. They were stories of redemption, of romance, of adventure. The mere titles brought tears to his eyes, elation to his heart. They were tales with both familiar and alien themes. Something within him longed for these stories, just as we all long for answers to our questions and solutions to our problems. The temptation to read these stories was almost unbearable, his curiosity a great weight on his shoulders, and yet he still continued on. 

Soon enough (and yet it took too long), the Seeker came upon an old blind man dressed in a single white cloth. The old blind man asked the Seeker for his library card. The Seeker gave it to him. The old blind man put it away. 

"What is your story?" asked he. 

"I have none," was the response. "Tell me His." 

The old blind man smiled. From his mouth spilled a story never before conceived by any author. It was spoken in a language that the Seeker could not understand, but the meaning was very clear indeed. But the Seeker's mind was weak. It was easily broken by the Story. Upon the last word, his sanity fled him. But the Story remained in his mind and still does to this day as he wanders the maze-like shelves of the hidden section of the library. 

The End. 

--- 

The Story is object 330 out of 538. It has determined many ends, but it is up to you to determine its own.  Holder of The Game

In any city, in any country, go to any elementary or grade school you can get yourself to. Wear sturdy, comfortable gloves and have your egress planned. Confidently enter and seek out the classroom with the youngest children inside. Ignore any who question you or attempt to impede you in any way. They seek only to delay. Let nothing and no one stand in your way. Once in the classroom, approach the instructor, stand face to face, and demand to see the "Holder of the Game." If the instructor says anything or does anything, flee. Your freedom is at stake. If, however, the instructor stops abruptly and stares intently over your right shoulder, you are in the right place. Do not turn around. Instead, announce with as much confidence as you can muster, "It is time for the game." 

Behind you, you will hear many skittering sounds interrupted by the occasional thud of stone hitting sand. Resist all temptation to turn and look. It would only serve to unnerve you and you will need your wits about you soon enough. Instead, wait until the sounds have ceased. Wait patiently; it could take a while. 

When the sounds have passed, remain motionless. The instructor will announce, "It is awaiting its amusement." Then, and only then, turn slowly around. The scene before you will, quite to your surprise, be much the same as when you entered. The only change being that the desks have been moved against the wall. The children will have formed a circle and will be sitting facing the center in absolute silence eyes shut tightly. The effect may be unnerving, but do not let it deter you. You must quickly enter the circle. Be assured, this is not the same room that you entered. It is no longer safe. 

The inside of the circle, on the other hand, is safe, so feel free to take a moment to gather yourself. Regain your equilibrium and perhaps even stretch in preparation to run - you will be, soon enough. When you are as prepared as you are able, approach any child you choose and stare at its eyes, shut as they are. Calmly ask, "How does it entertain?" 

Stare intently into the child's eyes for the response. If there is no response, move to the next child and repeat the question. Depending on the state of the game, it could take as many as eight trips around the circle or as few as none. There is no rush here. When, eventually, a child opens its eyes and you find yourself staring into empty black sockets, then you must prepare for the Game. After a pause, the child's face will contort into a look of rapt excitement. The Holder is coming. 

Behind you, you will again hear the sound of skittering and stone on sand. This time, however, you will hear the sound of running feet. Resist the urge to turn and look upon what is rushing so eagerly towards you. It will not take long to arrive, for it enjoys the Game and will be eager to play. 

Its arrival will be announced by a high shrieking laughter. The laughter will continue until you turn. When you do, you will find yourself face to face with the Holder of the Game. The Holder of the Game can appear as anyone who was ever a child - don't be fooled; this does not mean that it is one itself. It will be dressed conservatively in whatever clothes are appropriate for its guise. The only distinguishing mark will be the wild look in its eyes. It is a look of complete and utter exuberance. Do not meet its eyes if at all possible - you'll only be distracted, and you really can't afford that. 

The Holder will extend its right hand while keeping its left tucked behind its back. It will ask, "Shall we play?" Ignore both its words and its offer of greeting. Instead concern yourself with its left hand. Gloves are a necessity, for if any part of the Holder's hand should touch any part of you, you will be doomed to the circle for eternity - thus is the nature of the Game. Carefully remove the object from the Holder's left hand. The Holder will make a great show of resistance but you will find it surprisingly easy to retrieve the object, a simple red rubber ball. 

Once you are holding "The Game," the Holder will stop immediately and begin staring at it with rapt attention. When you feel you are ready, remove either glove and hold "The Game" firmly in your bare hand. Bounce it once on the floor and catch it. You will feel great joy and it will feel as if all of your cares are lifted. Do not allow yourself to stop and enjoy this feeling. Turn and run for the door. 

From behind you, hopefully from far far behind you, you will hear the sounds again. "The Seeker approaches," will echo in your ears. The halls will reverberate with the sounds of every child in the world counting. "One... Two... Three..." Do not concern yourself with the counting. Do not concern yourself with anything. Merely clutch your prize and run, using whatever means you possess to travel as far from the school as possible. 

The Game is Object 185 out of 538. When the counting stops, the Holder shall become the Seeker and the Game will truly begin. 

Holder of War

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Gaze at the ceiling with a bored expression as you walk up to the front desk, and with a voice that sounds like it is distant and indifferent and ask to see the "Holder of War". You will get a light tap on the shoulder; it is now safe to look down. The attendant will smile politely and begin walking, giving a speech that sounds almost mechanical as he describes the history of the asylum. Do not react to his speech- it is insanely bloody and filled with rather graphic descriptions, but reaction at this point means a one-way trip to hell. 

After some time of walking, you will come to an elaborately carved door of mahogany and gold. Stop in front of it. Keep your bored expression on your face, possibly adding a blank grin, but do not react as the worker grabs you by the back of your shirt, or he will change his grip and you will be without your head. 

The worker will pitch you through the door, and you will hear it slam shut behind you. You are on what might have once been fertile farmland but is now a