Obliteration

Spring 1911

Deep through the streets of London, a small house lay hidden in the shadows. The constant falling of rain covering it like a curtain with its sparkling drops of water shimmering in the light. The sound of the rain drumming on the stone pavement around the house. The porch of the house was doused with flowing rainwater. It was like that every night, in the damp nights of London. It seemed abandoned for any passerby, though it wasn't. No sound flowed through its doors or windows except for the soft hums of talk or sweet laughs that only indicated a presence in the house. No one came near that house, except for the frequent visitor who came nearly every day. There lived The Darnell twins and a young maid who stayed with them for aid.

**

George Darnell sat in his dark study utterly consumed in his books. The walls around him were not quite visible from the wooden shelves covering them, stacked with an enormous number of books.

The dark-haired young man sat staring at the book before him holding his spectacles in hand. His eyes scanning the pages of the book in awe. It wasn't just a book. He stared at the sketches drawn on those pages, slowly moving his fingers on the ink outlines as if those sketches would carve into his brain like a photograph by doing so. The candles cast soft orange light on the pages beneath his fingers making it seem as if the papers were on fire, burning slowly with sparks on the edges.

On a nearby shelf, a group of statuettes and sculptures lay covered with a layer of dust. Tiny sculptures of people. Heads of known kings or gods. Heads of fantasy creatures. The curtain lay a dark shadow on them, though there was a tiny space through which beams of light escaped inside, laying a soft cream-like colour on his desk and the shadow of raindrops visible in the light.

But none of that distracted the young man. That study was his world. Those sculptures, those books were like every breath he drew in.

The door flew open and there stood a young woman in the doorway. Her features were almost identical to his. Same marvellous green eyes, same curve of the lips, same dark hair hovering around her face like black waves. George didn't break his gaze from the book. If he had even heard the crack of the door open.

"George? " she started in a gentle voice at first. He looked up at her, his green eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

"I told you to knock " was all he said and returned his attention to his book. Again devouring the pages before him, totally ignoring her.

"I'm out of books. "She started gently, not wanting to distract her brother but still she leaned inside the room waiting for him to answer.

Again, he cut his gaze from the book and looked at her "I've just got you a few last week" he half-complained. A tiny smirk appearing at the edge of his lips. She shrugged and he chuckled, getting out of his seat and heading towards the bookshelves "you could borrow anything you like" he started, gesturing towards the huge books lining his wall "but only till you buy some, okay? " she nodded enthusiastically unable to hide the smile that lit her face. She started scanning the books, peering and frowning at the titles.

"I didn't know you're a bardolator "she chuckled, indicating all Shakespeare's books that covered his shelves.

"I'm not" he smiled. Obviously amused by the conversation "I just have a few books for him "

"A few books" she quoted sarcastically with a gesture. "You either have his books or Greek mythology books. There is nothing here for me to read "

He rolled his eyes dramatically "I have poetry books. You can borrow any of them if you want."

"Hmm," she started, considering. Her features changed at the thought. Her eyes lit and a faint smile curved her thin lips. She looked at her brother and gave a swift nod.

"They're all on the fourth shelf" he waved towards the shelf and wore his spectacles returning to his book. She looked up towards the fourth shelf. It was high actually. She tried reaching out for it and standing on her tiptoes, her fingers barely touching the edge of the shelf.

"George.. " she let out in annoyance letting her hand fall to her side. He looked up and chuckled, walking up to her. He simply reached up and pulled three large books. He was way taller than her.

"Here, those ones are pretty good, to be honest" he handed her the books carefully. She clasped them to her chest wrapping her arms around them. Her eyes fell on the book he was reading, old and worn out. Its pages turned yellowish with age. She peered to see the ink sketch on the page before her. She got used to seeing those sketches and statues everywhere her brother stayed and still she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"What's that? "She nodded at the sketch as she walked closer to get a better look. Laying the books she had on the desk, she took his instead. She scanned the sketch before her, it looked like a fish spear but with three sharp spears instead.

"It's Poseidon's trident " he started, looking through his spectacles at the sketch. His voice was calm and the way he talked about his studies made him sound like a forty-year-old man. Reasonable and experienced, his brain overflowing with information. His passion for his studies changed him into a totally different person. A person who lived in an old dream.

"Poseidon? I know that name.." She started in a low murmur "He's the god of sea, right? "

His attention shifted to her as the edge of his lips curved into a smile "Oh someone has been sneaking in my room and reading my books then" he crossed his arms and tilted his head with a question in his eyes.

"Oh no no of course not." She stopped for a moment unable to hide it with him scanning her face like that. She knew he could see right through her. "Okay fine, I did sneak in once." She threw her hands in surrender "You weren't here and I was curious. I wanted to know what makes you stay in your study for hours. " he raised an eyebrow and waited "Okay fine I'm sorry!!"

His smile grew wider as he took the book from her hand. "You want to read about Greek mythology, Izzy? If you're interested, I can lend you some. " she shook her head and took the poetry books.

"Those are enough! " Isabelle said, raising them. She started heading towards the door when she noticed something. A huge dark book on a high shelf. It wasn't appealing but there was something about it. Something attracting her to it. She couldn't resist the urge to ask. "What's this one? "

George looked up and frowned. That book was never there. In fact, he had never actually seen it before. His feature changed with the confusion that covered his face. He walked up towards the shelf and grabbed the book. It was really huge with charcoal black leather cover. It was soft to the touch and soothing. It was only a book after all and yet, a faint sensation grew inside him, swathing his mind and emotions. His gaze lay only upon it. Its papers were yellowish with a slight golden tinge at the edges. He couldn't break his gaze from it but he managed to clear his throat and reply to the question that hung in the air between them.

"I've never seen it before." He turned it over and then looked at the spot where it had been then back again "Which is weird. I know every single book in here." He opened the book and scanned the pages. They were blank. Only yellowish blank pages with not even a drop of ink on any page.

"It's empty." He heard Isabelle start, her statement more like a question. Her borrow furrowed and she kept stealing glances at him, checking his reaction.

"Maybe it's a journal or something. Though it's quite big for a journal but there's no other explanation." He added the book to the pile she was holding "You can keep it"

The servant rushed in "Master, your friend is here to see you. "

"Oh let him in, Annie " she left to call for him.

A young man about George's age walked in. His eyes a dark shade of grey. The kind that looked like a cloud during a storm.

"Richard! Right on time, buddy" George started, pulling his friend into a hug. Isabelle excused and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"I'm taking you somewhere " Richard started. He started pulling George towards the door without waiting for his reply.

"I'm not done-" George started to complain but was cut off as Richard opened the door and hauled him outside.

**

Isabelle Darnell walked back into her room with the books clasped to her chest, shutting the door gently behind her and isolating herself from the world that lay behind her door. She lay them on the marble table beside her bed and changed into her nightgown.

She picked up a volume randomly. It was a poetry book for Tennyson. She flipped through the pages and read a few of his poems but her eyes kept going back to the dark leather-bound book beside her. She couldn't stop glancing at it. Trying to ignore it and continue reading made things worse. The urge to pick it up and just touch its cover grew more. It was like the book was pleading for her to pick it up.

She couldn't resist. She dropped Tennyson's book and grabbed the dark one. She just held it, feeling the leather cover beneath her fingers. It was odd. It wasn't like any leather cover she'd held. It was soft and soothing. She scanned it and flipped through its empty pages. Checking again for anything written, but nothing was there.

But the soothing sensation slowly changed into a frightened one. There wasn't anything to be afraid of but the feeling grew. It grew till she felt her heartbeats quicken and its thumping loud in her ears. A cold shiver ran through her body. All bad memories jumped to her mind, intoxicating her thoughts. It grew more and more till her eyes filled with tears and she couldn't stop them from flowing. She sucked each breath with difficulty as if something was blocking her air passage. She instantly threw the book away and shrank in her place, gripping the blanket around her tightly.

The feeling drifted away the moment she dropped the book. She still couldn't stop staring at it. Thinking about the odd feeling that filled her only moments ago. She jumped off the bed and grabbed it, putting it on a farther table and hiding it beneath piles of papers. She had to break that constant gaze that filled her with fear every time she looked at it.

Sinking in her bed and beneath her blanket, she drifted off in deep sleep.

**

It was almost midnight and the moon was full that night. The dark leather book lay hidden beneath the piles of papers but that didn't block the streaks of moonlight flowing through her window and falling on its edges. The moonlight fell on the golden edges of the bookmaking it shimmer and sparkle in the light like actual gold.

It was a swift motion, barely even noticed but it was there. It vibrated throughout the book and pushed a few papers off its surface allowing the moonlight to cover its surface instead. The motion was inconspicuous but deep within the pages of the book, words that were hidden reappeared. Swirls of handwritten words covering its pages with symbols and runes.

And there, lay the book waiting for someone to open it once more.