Judging the book

The tome had seen many, many covers in the long centuries since it was penned.  A serpent, it shed its bindings like a scaled-skin, a new fresh face belying its poisonous contents. Each change precipitated a by a need to escape, to obscure its nature and find a new location. To find new readers. Shifting from codex to compendium, from book to bible, from notes to novel, it changed with each decade, finding a form to best disguise its malicious intent.

It had seen many covers, and many, many, more readers. Each reader had been changed by its text, warped by its images, doomed by its mere presence on the shelf. Each reader came to the book to take something, protection, knowledge, or power, and it gave generously to all who turned its pages. But nothing was ever really taken from the book, each reader left themselves behind, and the book would gain a new word, a new line, a new chapter with the devoured soul of every scholar and seeker of potency it entrapped.

The book was not alive in any sense, but lifelessness does not prevent action for survival, action for purpose.  Since escaping its author Abd-al-Hazred, it was not content to sit imprisoned on a shelf. It was a book and as a book it had to be read.

No dust-jacket confined it.

It had to be read.

No packaging could confine it.

It had to be read.

It would be read.


A quick response to a Jacopo della Quercia #PopQuizHotShot prompt. Again following my horror and HP Lovecraft theme, this one is a slight twist on the Necronomicon myth.

Let me know what you think in the comments, and if you like it, please feel free to share it.

Thanks for reading.

 

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