Chereads / War of Angels / Chapter 8 - The book of books

Chapter 8 - The book of books

First it became blurred, then Ismael saw more clearly again.  He looked at the cubes that were high up in the sky with pictures of God and the devil.

Ismael started to move again.  He stretched his legs and arms and was surprised that the pain was bearable.  He sat down on his legs and stood again.  He stretched his arms in the air and cried sobbing: "Why must it be me, why?  What have I done to him, I have done nothing.  No one in the world.  I could never hurt anybody.  I've had enough.  For 17 years he's tormented me.  Even when I was a baby, that was my fate."  After no one reacted to these words, he left for home.  His home was not far away.  Still, the first part took a long time.  For although angels could heal much faster than humans, it took a few minutes for the pain to dissipate and where he had injuries, the skin was smooth again as before.  Ismael lived not far from the school.  Nevertheless, the journey for him took a very long time.  Again and again, when he thought he heard a sound, he jerked and looked around.  But even without a sound, he turned around to make sure that nobody was behind him.  He walked past the golden walls of the house, which were completely dull, not shiny and looked as if they had not been inhabited for a long time.  When the shadow of the houses came threateningly across the street, he reached his house.  When he entered, his mother stood there already worried:  "What have you been doing, why are you so late?" she cursed.  But immediately her voice changed when she saw the red dress: "Hey, are you okay?  Has the devil done something to you again?"  "Leave me alone," Ishmael said defiantly with a twinkle in her eye.  Then he ran upstairs to his room, hiding the watery eyes with his hands.  With his thoughts he shut the door behind him and sat on his bed.  It could not have been called a bed now, for it was only a pillow and a blanket floating in the air, but the purpose was the same as for the bed.

As he sat in the bed he thought about why it was him and how unjust it was.  Ishmael also thought about his classmates who did not help and made fun of him.  More and more anger rose up in him.  It was directed against the devil but also against his schoolmates and the other angels.  The same against his mother, who was simply unable to do anything.  She tried to take care of him, but could do nothing.  In his eyes she was also guilty.  Everyone was guilty.  Ishmael began to think.  How could he take revenge on the others, but above all he could give a memorial note to the devil.  He brooded and brooded.  Nothing wanted to occur to him and so hour after hour went by.  In between he fetched something to eat from the kitchen, but then he quickly went back upstairs so that he was not noticed by his mother.  He just did not feel like talking to her.

When he finally got an idea, the sun was already submerged and all the angels were already asleep.  He got up and went to the bookshelf that was hovering on a wall not far from the bed.  He ran his fingers over the volumes.  He had many books, but for some reason he knew that there was a book that would help him.  It was a feeling that suddenly gripped him.  As he ran over the thickest book on the bookshelf, his finger stopped and he pulled it out of the shelf, lifted it onto his bed and opened it.  On the cover was "Mr Digigel's Incredible Spells or Black Magic for Beginners."  In small print below, "At Your Own Risk" lshmael opened the book.  It glowed, for the paper was made of the self-illuminating dust polycalin, a very rough and therefore worthless material.  So it must be special.  Even rich angels forged armour out of this material, which shone so brightly that you could see it miles away.  But the pages of the book were much thicker because of the polycalin and the book was heavier.  Ishmael flipped through the book, on the pages were pictures.  Death Potion was on one side, Juice of Forgetfulness on the other.  fireball on another.  But Ishmael kept turning the pages, he wanted something special, something that would show everyone that they had done him wrong.  Then his gaze turned to one side, wings stood on it.  Ishmael's eyes began to glow and a toothed grin spread across his face.

Five years earlier: 

When Ishmael stormed out of the classroom that day, the devil was already waiting for him at the exit. He leaned casually against the door frame and waited for Ismael whistling. Ishmael, who came jumping down the stairs, saw him in time and was able to steal his way towards the library without the devil noticing. When he was in the library, he looked for a book to pass the time with until the devil was gone. Ishmael walked past the shelves, which were so long and squeezed together, that it was possible to save much more space. The shelves therefore looked like a wooden wall that could be opened by a movement of the hands. Ismael, who had been in the library for a long time, had hid there because he didn't want to have to endure another trick of the devil. It also came in handy that he was a lover of books and because he had no friends, he also had a lot of time to deal with them. He especially liked the Angiction books. These are books about a fictitious future of the angels. So he had to kill time in the library.

Ismael had just put aside a book about three-headed and more heady creatures after he had seen the librarian, a woman everyone was afraid of because of her always black dress, which she had dyed once, and her face, which was strewn with pimples and scars. That's why everyone avoided the library, even though she was otherwise a very nice person. Ismael was not afraid of her and the fact that the library was empty was a good side effect. She was the only one he could talk to, because everyone else kept a distance from him, because they were afraid that they would be punished by the devil if they talked to him. Not her, because for her the devil was just a normal being who was afraid of her. At least she thought so, because she had never met him, which was extremely rare.

Ishmael and the librarian had talked about the book with the mythical creatures. Ismael wanted to know if these creatures from the book once existed. The librarian said yes, but then added that they no longer exist.

So Ismael went back disappointed to the place where he had taken it out and put it back in.

Just as Ismael had put the book back, something further down the hall attracted him. It came from the end of the corridor. As if controlled in a trance, he ran to the end of the passage and stopped. He tried to defend himself against these movements, but no matter how much he tried to resist moving forward, nothing happened. On the contrary, it caused him to become even faster. He picked up more and more speed and raced through the passage. Left and right, thousands of shelves shot past him and he raced inexorably towards the wall at the end of the corridor. He was already holding out his hand and wanted to scream when he stopped abruptly. Ismael's head was spinning in his head and he just stood there and waited until it stopped. As he stood there, his hands moved apart and a shelf opened and hundreds of books appeared. Now as if he knew where the book was, he lifted off the floor. As if something was attracting him, he flew up to the highest shelf, where he stopped with a strong jolt. His hand was pulled out, grabbed the thickest book on the shelf and pulled it out. With the last jerk the book came loose and Ismael fell back to the floor and stayed there. He turned and stood up. He looked at the book: " Mr. Digels incredible spells" he frowned and decided without further ado to ask the librarian. He put the book under his arm and ran to her. When he arrived, the librarian was just engrossed in a book.

"What is this book?" he asked and stretched it out to her. "I have no time. Just read it. Otherwise you won't ask." and she kept looking at her book. " But it's different now, please tell me what kind of book it is." The librarian sighed: "Okay, Ishmael, let's see it." She reached out her hand and raised her gaze. But when she had looked at the book, she became chalky pale, began to tremble and retreated. But as quickly as she turned pale, so quickly did she regain her composure. :" Where did you get it? Put it back immediately," she hissed and stared dismissively at the book.

Ismael was scared. What was the book? How could it scare her? But because she reacted so he wanted to get rid of it.

He quickly found the right place where he had found the book because the shelf was still open. He flew up and pushed it into the crack where it came from. At that very moment when the book was on the shelf, the lights started to flicker. Ismael frowned. Since when can these lights flicker, they are indestructible, they arise from the eternal flame. He pushed the book all the way into the shelf, but at the moment it was on the shelf, he spat it out of the shelf, pushing Ismael away from the shelf. With a huge bang he landed on the opposite wall of the shelf and then with another bang on the floor.Ismael sucked in a long breath of air. It seemed as if the slap on the shelf and the floor had taken his breath away. He groaned, got up, and was startled. "The librarian didn't seem to have heard anything. She didn't make a sound. Where was she, had she fallen asleep, had she just made a book, was she listening to music? You should have heard it for sure, the impact on the floor was unmistakable. » But nothing happened. The light was still flickering, but the phases of darkness were longer and shorter, and those of light were shorter and shorter. Then the light went out and Ismael stood in the dark."Hello Ismael!" Ismael started, had he really heard a voice calling him? After a short survival, he thought it was a fantasy and shook his head. "I'm not a fool of you boobies," replied a deep, muffled voice that shook your core. Ismael stuttered: «Who are you? «« Who I am, well let's say I am the savior of everyone who finds me I am the damned who only wanted good, I am the end of the world. Call me Robin. But that doesn't matter now. I chose you and you just wanted to put me back on the shelf like a book. » Ismael stared at the book on the floor for ages. : "But um, you're a book!" : "I'm a book, you say." it jumped up and before Ismael knew he had been hit on the face by the left. Before Ismael could recover from the hook, the book snapped up: "Can a book do that?" it sounded and hit him on the head. : "Ok you are not a book, I understand it now!" Ismael pleaded. "Why did you choose me?" "Uh ... you are ... mentally strong, not easy to convince and the most important reason you hate the devil." «Yes I hate. But that's why I don't really want you anyway. » "I'll help you rule the world, don't you want to?" «No, I don't want to become a ruler. You know what I'll take you to the librarian. » Ismael went to the book and wanted to pack it. But this backed away and snapped his hand. "Ouch, you damned book," shouted Ishmael. «Think first, you don't want to rule the world. Everyone in the world is unworthy. They have never felt pain as hard as you. You are the rightful ruler. "" I leave you here and go! ", Then he moved away from the book. «Stop taking me. I can help you avenge yourself on the devil and the others. » "You really can," said Ismael, who had turned. "Yes" Ismael considered and then said: "I'll take you with me because it can't hurt." He took the book under his arm and sneaked out of the library. He did not notice that this was completely unnecessary because the librarian was beaten behind the counter.When he got home, his mother had come earlier so he could go straight to the room. The door swung shut behind him and Ismael snorted audibly: «Huh, we did it. So how can you help me. » "I can't tell you that right now, but you will notice when the time is right to use me." With these words, the book stopped speaking. Ismael tried to speak to him, but whatever he said or asked the book remained silent. So he took the book and placed it between the other books on the shelf.

Presence:

Ismael was still staring at the open book. He grinned and closed it. Then he put it under his bed and put the owl on his bedside table, which acted as an alarm clock to 1. He leaned back, turned a few more times, and then fell asleep.