6 Chapter 6: Scribe (1/2)

I stumbled for a while. The teleportation threw me for a loop. How did I end up back in ”The Endless Hallway”? Turning around in circles, I inspected the area. The silence in that place was haunting. There was a constant low humming wind, but on my own, I could hear my footsteps clear as rain.

I was ready to repeat my first visit to The Hallway by opening a door and looking for a way out, but suddenly I wasn't alone anymore.

Its presence was unmistakable and made me jump the moment I felt he was behind me. It was a faceless figure made up of written pages swirling and clinging together as if by a controlled wind. No clothes, no skin, no eyes, just hundreds if not thousands of varying papers stood before me if I could even call it standing.

It was terrifying until it wasn't.

It didn't move, though it had the shape of a body with human legs. It didn't speak, though its pages carried many words. It didn't move, but I could feel it vibrating. As my fear deteriorated, I grew bold enough to approach the figure. There was hesitation, of course. Upon further inspection, I found that there was nothing but light glowing beneath its sheets. It was almost mesmerizing after a while, but I couldn't waste any more time in that hallway.

I turned away.

”My apologies,” it finally spoke.

Its voice was clear and warmer than expected. Nonetheless, it prompted my attention to be focused again.

”You speak?” I asked.

”I do. Forgive me, its been ages since my last conversation,” it said with a half bow.

I kept my distance.

”Did you bring me here,” I questioned as I stood tilted away.

I was still in my underwear. Knowing that thing was conscious and aware made me self-conscious and aware of my lack of clothes.

”Yes, I missed you during your first visit. I had to let you go so that I might better pull myself together,” it said.

”What do you want with me?” I bluntly spoke.

”I was created by the first magicians of history and given an important duty, to archive and scribe,” it spoke like an old man starting storytime.

”Archive and scribe what?”

”History, culture, knowledge,” it said with such whimsical energy a few of its pages were knocked free from the arid body before flying back like magnets.

It transformed from a static object into something hyperactive and living. It happened over the span of a single heartbeat if not two. With its lack of a face, I had to assume when its pages became chaotic it was feeling something.

”My creators perished long ago, but I remained in this place. For centuries I was a ghost haunting rooms with no master to serve,” the odd creature informed me.

”You brought me here to be your new master?” I asked somewhat sarcastically.

I was tired enough to believe the entire interaction was a dream, so I was less than serious.

”As time grew old, even I became mad in this hallway until irony pulled me from that dark place,” it was becoming more of a showman with animated gestures to compensate for its shortcomings.

It might have been the opposite of a mime, or the best mine, had it not spoken.

”I'm still missing how this has anything to do with me,” I argued with a yawn, likely making my displeasure come off as boredom where I meant to express irritation.

”There was so much knowledge, so much wisdom and life collected here. After lifetimes of loneliness, I found myself delving into books and stories. Finally, I understood my former master's obsession. I grew to have my curiosities and romantic relationships with learning,” it continued, and its papers swirled.

It was a compelling story, but I wasn't moved enough to omit my being kidnapped. I couldn't tell for sure, but as the unnamed creature's pages recollected and solidified back into its humanoid shape, it seemed my disinterest was finally apparent.

”I was created to archive and scribe. Thus this function shall always be a part of me, but I have brought you here like I have every firstborn to an original species so that I might learn all there is to know about you,” it finally answered my question before returning to a static statuette of a thing.

”That's all?” I asked with 50 percent relief and 50 percent confusion.

”Yes,” it answered.

”So, you want me to answer a few questions about being Danger Rabbit?” I pressed further.