I have never known who I am.
Now in my reach is everything about me, everything that has been and will be.
I question myself, do I really want to know every detail of my life, to be one step ahead of fate?
I shake the doubt from my mind and grab my book before I convince myself this is a bad idea.
The spine of my book is worn, weak. It feels like it could fall apart in my hands, but I handle it with care for a different reason, I’m holding my life.
I know I can’t be too long, the Scribes check the library every half hour and if they find me I’m done for, my book will be burnt and me with it.
I carry it over to a large marble surface that rests in the centre of the room, this must be the alter, the place where the sacred texts are decipherd.
This is it, all I have to do is open the book and every possibilty will be mine.
I lift the cover slowly, hesitant about what I will find.
What I find tears my world into. It’s blank.
Wheres my story?
Before I can comprehend anything, the Scribes return. What now?