The books were piling up around him. He had been reading for years, studying, searching. It had to be here somewhere, he thought. Somewhere there must be answers.
So he read. He read, he thought, he felt. Then he kept reading.
One day, deep in the darkest parts of the old library, he found a book. The words pierced his soul like a summer breeze, like soothing honey, like bare feet in warm sea water.
He sunk into a world he had never known, he swam through knowledge and wisdom. He went deeper, touching the truth beyond it all. He knew there would be light in the end of the tunnel.
Two eyes stared at him. A creature of confusion and darkness, of chaos and lost hope.
He pulled back as the creature came at him, pulled out of the dream. It followed, grabbed his face. He tried to pull it off, to get loose. To the ground he fell with the book in his hands, fighting to keep it away. It was stronger than him. Stronger than anything he’d ever known.
His face touched the pages. They were soft like velvet, moist like some kind of moss. He passed through, fell in, floated through structures and illusions until he disappeared forever.