Story maps and a sandbag or two

(Chapter One) It isn’t hard to see where everything went wrong. What is hard to see, is why it wasn’t visible before. That is the way of things, they are much more clear afterwards. When it matters less.

The old place that will become visible in this story, is very much like that hindsight issue. The place does exist, it’s not a physics lesson or oddity. It’s a little tough to spot if it isn’t on the radar. That is why being there is so much more intense, than reading about it, but most things are.

The first thing that sticks out about the place, is its sheer size. Some places are large with much space unseen. This place is large, as seen from the outside, and boldly fills space with its jagged lines and unusual form. A deliberate design, that observes function, over form. This place is important, in the sense that it is where things are located.

The place reeks of age. Long since forgotten age, and it has a vibe of mystery and long ago dreams. It isn’t a public building though it easily could be, and should be.

Story Maps

Not that it is easily found, it is not, and that is by design. It is a place one must know about, or it will be missed completely. It has been many things in its years and years of existence, even a school at one time. This is important because it proves the enchantment of time, isn’t imagined. It proves more than that, but this is early in the story and all that, will come later.

The old place sits deserted today. Beams of sunlight filter through the old worn blinds at the windows. Particles of dust float lazily through the jagged beams of light, and the effect is hypnotic on the eyes. There are many windows in this place, a design inviting an abundance of light.

The elegant beams of sunlight dance lightly across thousands and thousands of exquisite and ancient books. They are of every imaginable condition and size. Some more ornate than others, and some thought lost, long ago.

There is one that lays open, on a table, in the cavernous room. A small slivering of sunlight illuminates words upon page. Old words, from another time. They are both simple and complex ~ Incipimus iterum.