"Good afternoon, dear reader," you hear as you enter a dimly lit foyer with classical chandeliers in place of the bulbs you're normally acquainted to. The aesthetic of the room was quite welcoming , albeit slightly old-fashioned, what with the mahogany decorations and the intricately patterned hickory wallpaper.
The room was eerily silent with nothing but the sound of coal crackling and hissing coming from the placid hearth. The distinct scent of jasmine flooded the air, triggering a wave of nostalgia that subdued you and almost made you stumble over your own feet. Your fingers clutched the nearby staircase as you regained your composure. You trickled them over the rounded handrail gently before edging closer to the voice's source.
"Come on, come, sit with me beside the fire," you hear a voice say as you step into a spacious library of sorts.
Bookshelves line each wall, stretching upwards into the forever blackness above your head. You step further inside, avoiding pens and papers scattered about the floor, each filled to the brim with random scribbles and exclamation marks that appeared to make no legible sense.
Sitting in the midst of it was a single figure. Their body looked haggard with thin arms, a sunken face and tired bags underneath their eyelids. Had you not heard them speak only a moment ago you could've assumed they were just a whisper away from Death's grip. But their eyes betrayed their outward appearance for so full of life they were. They were giddy little things, wild and skittish and seemed to focus on nothing and everything all at once. They were filled with a fiery determination whilst also laced with an innocent curiosity the likes you'd never seen before.
"...Or good evening or good morning. You get the gist anyway. It's difficult to tell, being stuck in this fragment of time in this small pocket universe of mine."
You watched them laugh to themselves as you lowered yourself into the leather upholstery by the fire.
"Apologies, I haven't even introduced myself. I don't get many visitors round here so I've unfortunately no name assigned to me. Rather than go through the trouble of making a real one myself, I've decided to name myself 'The Author'."
They seemed proud of themselves as they continued, "You see I wasn't always residing here. There's a whole world outside this little box of mine, one of wonder, of terror, of shock, of lust. Outside there I wasn't much to behold, would you believe it. All I did was stand and watch, marvel at the inexplicable happenings circling around me, ones of magic, of mad science, transformations of the scale that cannot be truly verbally replicated, borne from the wills of curious souls or nefarious ne'er-do-wells. I've witnessed ancient beings, modern and classical alike, with power that would melt your mind to mush if I attempted to explain it all. That's why I write it all down, sensationalise them to become easily digestible stories that won't explode your tiny human brain."
"Why...why tell me this?" you asked.
The Author chuckled.
"You ask a question you already know the answer to."
You watched him rise up in his seat, leaning forward so you were eventually almost face-to-face. You felt a cold shudder pass through your body. Even the fire seemed to stop for a moment as the bristles on the tip of your skin raised in anticipation.
"I'm going to tell you a little account of what I've seen so far. Here's hoping your brain won't melt. So..where should we start?"
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