Standing in a doorway of a room not touched in years, a solid door opens with difficulty on its squeaky hinges. And now with the door open you see around the room by your torch light, on the left is a closet with dust covered garments next to that along the left wall a bookshelf, covered in years of dust stands, awaiting a maid to clean it on the dusty shelves sit hundreds of musty books from long ago. At the end of the bookshelf is a perfectly made bit with grey sheets. Across from the doorway that you stand in a dark window is letting in grey light of a dirty pane. At the right stands another long bookshelf of dust and books. A straight hard back chair sits in the centre of the room, with its seat facing the opening, just waiting for someone to clean off its red velvet seat cushion and recline in it. The whole floor is dust grey. There is neither draft nor stir within this ancient room. As you enter you can see in several places on various shelves a few candles, and now as you look around you notice a candle stand on the wall holding a very short candle and the waning drips of the hundreds of thousands of candles to rest there before. A quill pen with dried quill and an old yellowed manuscript are on one of the shelves surrounded by several candle stubs. On one of the shelves lay several dice, on another a sort of cribbage board, on another several small elk statues. On leaving you have decided that it must have been the study of some great philosopher who slept and studied here long ago in this ancient room.
~ By: Caleb Patterson