You begin ascending the stairs, which compress slightly with each step, emitting awkwardly loud creeks. Reaching the top, you find yourself in a sparsely adorned room, although various unrecognizable symbols cover the walls. You spot a desk in the far corner, and cautiously walk over to it. Opening one of its drawers, you find a journal.
Peering through it, you discover what appears to be the mad ramblings of a deeply troubled man. His style is mostly stream of conscious, so you find it difficult to keep track of any concrete narratives, but he makes frequent allusions to the “elders” and his suspicion that the townsfolk are “pale imitations.” He details quite extensively the times he believes he catches their “masks slip” when attempting to engage in pleasantries with them, and takes great pride in being able to successfully predict the paths of conversation they tend to lead him on.
Placing the journal down, you turn around and see a man before you. He is wearing ruddy clothes, and sports a disheveled comb over. He is staring intently at the tome peeking out of your satchel. He asks if he can see it. What do you do?
James Shortly - Copywriter 