Darkness in the Library
It was late at night, and there was I, flipping through the pages of an uncountable amount of books bigger than the thirst for power of a corrupt politician. I was sure that somewhere within those paragraphs I would find the answers I was looking for. The darkness governed the archive, as every single bit of light, except for my personal lantern, had extinguished and nothing stopped the obscurity from taking over all of those tomes full of information. Why would anyone keep such a place in the shadows?
Just when I thought that I had found an encrypted message in an encyclopedia, which would have definitely led me to solve this gigantic puzzle that lied in front of me, the whole place started to shake. I struggled to maintain my balance, and eventually fell. My lantern fell right next to me and luckily survived the impact. The loud and strong noise of the books and shelves falling to the ground reverberated throughout the room, but what I didn’t know back then was that the chaos of the room prevented me from hearing the fearful voices of the people on the surface. The shaking continued, and the roof began to fall apart. All the documents of the Vatican’s secret archive were suddenly gone. Was this a sign of fate, trying to tell me not to be too curious?
I was lucky to make it out alive. Unfortunately, all those secrets I was about to discover were buried, literally. “I guess I’ll have to wait a bit more if I want to find out the truth behind Pope Benedict XVI’s abdication,” I thought as I returned to the illuminated surface of the Vatican City. Then, all of my thoughts shifted to what at the time thought to be an apocalyptic catastrophe. Was it the end of the world? Tourist, priests, security forces were all running for their lives. Rivers of screaming people flooded the streets. Although my intuition told me to run from the eminent dangers, my curiosity didn’t let me. Why is it that I have this insatiable curiosity? It forced me to hide where I could take a look at the prosecutors, which, due to their size, could have been anywhere really. But with the chance to see the attackers, I also saw a sea of innocents in pain and fear. Why is it that the truth is always so painful?