When I opened a vintage cursed book, I was shocked to find it empty. Nothing was inscribed on its pages; the only thing it possessed was the sturdy scent of old dust from the time of the descendants.
The book was called "Immense Library of Facts", but it was a myth too. No one but me had ever dared to look inside it, for people believed from folktales that whoever tried to open it would disappear forever.
When I went down to the village to buy some daily necessities, I happened to pass by a little baby girl. Although she wasn't begging, the way she was dressed clearly reflected her condition. I called her over and asked,
"Why are you so sad? Are you hungry?"
She nodded. I gave her some money, but she refused and instead asked for some berries from my bag. I handed them to her, and then she told me:
"You aren't allowed to believe myths. Someone is waiting for a reader to read."
"What? What are you trying to say?" I repeated. But before I could go after the girl, an elderly woman called me from behind.
"Young lady, don't follow that sick child. She brings bad luck to those who follow her. She always babbles fake words to catch attention. She is mentally sick."
Although I wasn't going to ignore her words, I honestly couldn't understand what she was trying to convey. Still, I left, because I had no choice.
At night, when I was heading toward the church—since there was no water available in my house—I saw a boy entering. It seemed normal, so I began filling my bottles from a stream about five meters away from the church.
In the meantime, I saw the boy leaving, clutching a long book in his arms, hiding it as if it were a treasure. I was shocked, for I knew it was the same forbidden book that no one was allowed to read. The boy was trying to steal it. I couldn't allow him to take such a holy book. Having no other choice, I screamed with all my strength:
"Thief! Thief!"
All the monks, who had perhaps been asleep because it was already late, woke up. The leader monk ordered them to chase him instantly, warning that the village would be destroyed within hours if he managed to open the book and read it.
As I tried to leave, an old monk stopped me.
"Why are you here so late, alone?" he asked.
"I was just filling my empty water bottles," I replied.
"That's alright. But… don't you fear the dark?"
"No. Why should I?"
"Oh, I see. But I must thank you for letting us know," the old monk said gravely. "And please, keep this a secret for me. Otherwise, everyone will blame us for negligence, and they will never forgive us for losing such a precious book."
"Be sure, sir. I will keep it secret," I promised.
On my way back home, I suddenly found the same book lying on the street. I picked it up, my heart racing. Now I was in a dilemma—should I return it to the church? …But wait. This book looked far too interesting. Perhaps I should read it.
I hurried back home and placed it carefully on my study table. I decided not to read it until the next dusk. Although I was certain that nothing would happen after reading it, I postponed, telling myself I might regret it if I rushed.
The following dusk, I sat on the only bench in my garden—a place where I always felt at one with nature. Birds flew freely without fear, and I often fed the little sparrows that visited me. It was complete peace, a kind of peace thousands longed for, yet I had chosen it as my world.
Holding the book in my hands, I lifted its heavy red cover. A vintage, dusty, withered thing—it looked ancient, like it carried the scent of forgotten centuries. But when I opened it, I was struck with shock: not a single word was written inside. Still, it felt as though the book contained thousands of mysteries, each one unsolved, each one waiting.
I was usually impatient, always eager to finish a book in no time, but this one resisted me. It wasn't a book—it was preserved paper, something hidden. At first glance, I had thought it was a historical manuscript. But now… I wondered. Was it magical? Or was it a secret someone had carefully preserved, meant only for a chosen reader?
After an hour, I grew frustrated. I turned each page of this giant book, yet I still couldn't find a single word. What is the use of this foolish book? I thought. I closed the book and decided to return it to the church authorities. Then I cooked noodles to save time and sleep early, because my eyes were exhausted and my body felt tired. To be honest, living alone is the best decision I ever made, but sometimes I also long to be loved.
Since Lucien left this house, I have always found myself in complete isolation, but I have to manage. When Lucien was with me, I used to think, If he ever left me, how would I live? But time passes, and with it, people too. Still, life goes on. Although I don't want to admit it, somewhere deep inside my soul I still hope to see Lucien coming back to me. But even if he returned, he could leave again—after all, he is only a fiction. I would get hurt once more. Sometimes I think—why am I real? If only I were a fiction too, then I could have met him, and his leaving would make no sense.
That night, I lay on my bed and slept. At midnight, I opened my eyes and saw blue light rays coming out of the book. I hurriedly stood up, scared. I opened the book and found only one sentence:
"Everything lost will be returned."
I couldn't understand its meaning, but somehow I knew what was about to happen.
In the morning, I decided to go to a faraway lavender field on the other side of the hills. I dressed myself in white—a reserved dress from three years ago—and left for the journey.
Seeing the lavender field from afar felt like I was going to enter a meadow of hope. I roamed for half an hour through the most beautiful view of my life. Then someone tapped my shoulder from behind. I turned around and saw a man holding a bouquet of lavender in a vintage style, just the way I liked, holding it up to hide his face. I instantly smiled with a glance of hope.
He slightly lowered the bouquet, looked at me, tilted his head to surprise me, and smiled. At that moment, I felt alive once again.
In the huge meadow of lavender, under the stainless sky, I was a white bird in a purple world. I had found my home again.
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