Endymion Spring

Blake turned over one page, and then another and another, looking for a way into the story, but he couldn't find one. There were no words to guide him — only a series of black pages that led like a spiral staircase into the unknown. He let his mind follow them for a while, wondering where they would go, but they seemed to be leading nowhere, over and over again.

He felt disappointed an yet exhilarated too, as though he had embarked on a quest to find something. But what was he looking for? And how would he know when he found it? He was just an ordinary boy who wasn't particularly good at reading. And yet he felt certain that the more he explored, the deeper he delved, the more likely he was to uncover something — some secret encoded in the paper perhaps — that would lead to an even greater discovery.

But how, he wondered, could anyone read a blank book?

In the end, he closed the volume and returned it to the shelf, little realizing that the story was already writing itself…