I'll Know What It Says

"It can't, but it is. It's here, but it can't be. Why can't it be? Why can't there be something that only I can see; an item that only I can hold. What makes that so radical? Why do I bother rationalizing the fact? The only proof I have of it, is that I am experiencing it within my perception. No one else can see it. No one else can validate its existence." You were holding a book, pacing, and ranting like a mad man.

Well, you perceived yourself as holding a book, or maybe you really were holding a book that only you could see. Either way, it was real to you. Should it exist or should it not is truly just a question of theology. Not that it would matter either way.

"I wish I could read it. Is it an alien book? Is it an ancient book? I will copy it. I will perfectly document every mark. I will have my validation. I will get someone to transcribe it. I will read the book. Someday I will know what it says" You speak out loud despite the fact that you are alone.

You walk over to your desk and pull out a notebook that has many blank pages of paper. You crack it open and begin to copy the contents of the book exactly to the pages in your notebook.

Hours slip by as you soldier on. You don't eat or drink or sleep. It's questionable if you were breathing adequately. Your body grows weary. You continue to write long past what you are actually capable of doing so for.

You admire your work as you copy the last marking onto the notebook. As soon as you finish, your flesh begins to seer with the agony of flames melting it away from your bones. You would scream, but you can't. Every cell in your body is overheating at exactly the same moment. You experience a level of pain that no one survives from.

Your body turns to ash and your soul descends to Hell. You copied word for word a contract signing over your soul to Satan for all eternity, and you were kind enough to do so in his own language.