When Christopher, a miserable man who had spent most of his life working in the local library, finds an old book with some of its pages stuck together, his life is about to change. Having a plan that will hopefully save the world, he ventures on a journey to find the Sacred Necklace...


2. Chapter Two

Struggling a while with finding the correct key in his vast bunch, he finally swung open the door, his head nearly exploding from excitement.
He hadn’t felt so alive since he was a boy; he was giddy with the thought. What was hidden inside those glued pages? Why would somebody glue them? Was it a part of Mythology that wasn’t allowed to be read? Or maybe someone wanted to keep the information to themselves?
What is it, what is it, what is it??
He flung his keys on the shelf by the door, nearly knocking over the antique glass lamp, and hurried to his study.
Forgetting to change into his normal clothes, getting rid of the dust from his hands, and putting on his slippers, he walked up two flights of stairs, along three corridors, and passed seven sets of oak doors (each made on demand and fitted perfectly into their frames). Finally, he reached the small room at the end of the hallway situated on the third and last floor of the Victorian house.
The room had no door, seeing that it was unnecessary as it hadn’t been used for anything but storing boxes of unwanted things (Christopher wasn’t fond of throwing his things away, so simply packed them in cardboard boxes and carried up to the storage room – what used to be the study).
He had lived in that very house ever since he can remember. Precisely, from the very moment he moved out of his parents’ home in South Canada (at the age of twenty-three). As you can guess, his memory was not very dependable for a forty-seven-year-old.
As Chris, excuse me, Christopher, reached his study, or what was left of it, he looked around. The once beautiful oil paintings were now covered in dust and had lost their colour almost completely. The wooden desk was hiding underneath a thick layer of dust and remainings the paint that was falling off the ceiling. Not to mention the endless amounts of boxes, old garments, antique objects and practically anything one could imagine.
‘Well, hello. How long has it been? Seven years, at least, huh?’ he whispered into the room.
‘Hmm… maybe a little makeover?’ Christopher said to himself, but stopped his architectural ideas flowing, ‘no. I can do a makeover after I deal with… where did my book go?’
A few minutes passed before he fished the book out of his leather workbag (again, his memory wasn’t as good as he wished it was).
He looked around again. ‘Could do with some light’ he thought, as he pulled up the light green blinds, revealing a wide window (let’s ignore the giant crack straight across the middle of it, shall we?), and sending in the last rays of the setting sun into the room. Just for comfort, Christopher turned on the standing lamp that, miraculously, still worked.
He headed for the chair that stood against the wall.
With one swift movement he swooped all of the old decorations off the chair, not caring a bit about his mother’s vase that he had just crashed, blew off the excess dust, and pulled it towards the desk at the other end of the room.
‘Ah… my desk…’ 
It was hard to recognise under all that dirt, nevertheless Christopher took a deep breath in, ready to blow off the dust once more…
‘Oh, dammit!’ he cursed between coughs, ‘who would have thought you could have a coughing fit from a bit of dust!’
‘Well, that’s not gonna work…’ he mumbled, looking for a sensible material that would do for a temporary cloth.
A while later, the desk was reasonably clean, the old piece of a checked shirt lay on the floor, and Christopher happily seated with his book wide open on page 174, the glued page.
Already equipped with a razor-knife that he had found amongst other stationary things underneath all that dust, he carefully slid the sharp object between the two pages, slowly moving it left and right in order to separate them…

The moment of truth…

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