The Unchosen Gift

The air was thick with dust, and the scent of decaying stone clung to everything as Emily and George walked through the abandoned site. The building loomed before them, its once-imposing walls now skeletal remnants of a past era. Ivy clung to the stone like fingers reaching out, trying to keep the old structure tethered to a time long forgotten. The windows were vacant, like empty eyes, staring out into nothingness. Despite the silence, there was an underlying presence, a feeling of something left behind, waiting to be uncovered.

Emily's footsteps were slow as she passed beneath the half-down parabola gates. They loomed above her like silent sentinels, their jagged curves giving the space an unsettling aura. The circular design of the walls around the structure made it feel like a prison, yet it wasn't meant to contain anything—it was simply... unfinished. Or maybe, it was something that had been left behind on purpose.

"Looks like the kind of place that's haunted by more than just ghosts," George said, his voice still light but his tone shaded with a rare seriousness. He was always the witty one, but even he couldn't shake the odd feeling that clung to this place.

"Yeah," Emily murmured, her gaze scanning the perimeter, focusing on the structures and gates. "Maybe haunted by regrets, not ghosts."

They continued walking, moving deeper into the abandoned space, with the crunch of their footsteps against the gravel echoing in the oppressive stillness. Emily couldn't help but feel that the walls around her were watching, waiting for something—perhaps the answer she was desperately searching for.

There was no denying that the book had led them here. Everything about it, from the haunting visions to the strange way it had appeared in her father's collection, was tied to this place. And it was no coincidence that Robert's name kept surfacing. There had to be something about Robert's connection to her father, Michael, that made this place so significant. 

George's voice broke her thoughts. "You know, I still don't get it. Robert and your dad—what's the connection there? Why would Robert give him a book that could drive someone mad?"

Emily glanced at George, trying to collect her thoughts. "My dad loved antiques," she said, her voice steady but soft. "He always sought out rare, unique pieces, things that had stories to tell. And Robert… he knew that. Robert was an ex-military captain—tough, and resilient. But he started travelling after his arm got injured on a mission. That's when he met my father. Robert never seemed like the kind of guy to get mixed up in anything supernatural. But he was the one who gave that book to my dad."

"And your dad—he never had any visions from the book?" George asked, sounding sceptical.

"No," Emily replied, her brow furrowing slightly. "Robert gave it to him, but there was no sign he was affected by it. He had no visions like the man who originally wrote it, the one who went mad. Robert didn't seem to be cursed by it. He just… he just had this overwhelming urge to give it to my father. Like it was meant for him. It doesn't make sense."

The words hung in the air between them. It was clear to Emily that Robert's gift had been intentional. But why? Why had Robert chosen Michael? What had he seen in her father that made him think the book should go to him?

They walked deeper into the ruins, exploring what was left of the structure. Everything was left to decay—broken windows, fallen stone, and overgrown vines—yet there was an underlying feeling of purpose to the place. As if whatever had happened here had been important, and the answers lay hidden, waiting to be uncovered.

After a while, George stopped in front of a metal crate that had been half-buried under some rubble. "Hey, Emily, check this out." He brushed aside some debris and uncovered a rusted metal box. The box was intricately decorated with strange, unfamiliar symbols, its surface worn but sturdy. It looked ancient, like something that had been buried for centuries. 

Emily crouched beside him, her fingers brushing against the cold metal as she examined the box. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the symbols etched into its surface. They were the same markings she had seen in the margins of the diary—the ones that had been inscribed by the original owner of the cursed book.

"This... this is it," Emily murmured. She could feel the weight of what she was holding in her hands. She wasn't sure if she was ready for what was inside, but she knew that she had no choice. She had to know the truth.

With a slow breath, she lifted the lid of the box. The creak of metal echoed in the stillness as the contents were revealed—a bundle of yellowed pages, tied together with a frayed piece of string. Emily's hand trembled slightly as she reached for the first page, her heart racing.

The moment her fingers touched the paper, she felt an odd sense of recognition. The handwriting was strange, not in English, but the language somehow felt familiar, almost as though she'd seen it before—she had, in her dream. It was the same swirling script, the same alien shapes that had filled her visions in the nightmare that had haunted her for weeks. She hadn't been able to understand the words back then, but now, as her eyes scanned the text, it was different. She could understand it.

"This is... this is the same language from my dream," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke. "But... I can read it. I can understand it."

George's brow furrowed, clearly confused. "The same language from your dream? That's… that's impossible, right?"

Emily nodded slowly, her mind reeling. It didn't make sense, but she couldn't deny it. She could read the pages, and decipher the strange symbols, even though she had never studied the language in her life. The words flowed to her mind as if she had known them all along. The more she read, the more vivid her memories of the dream became, as if they were tied to this ancient text.

She began reading aloud, her voice steady despite the eerie circumstances. "The shadows... they follow me. The weight of the knowledge grows heavier with each passing day. I can feel them inside me, whispering in a tongue I cannot name. The truth is inescapable. The book is a curse. But it is also a gift. Whoever reads it is bound by its power."

As Emily read, she could feel the presence of something lurking at the edge of her awareness. The words on the page seemed to bleed into her consciousness, and she was certain she wasn't alone. The shadows were close, as close as they had been in her dreams. She could almost hear them whispering.

"The man who wrote this…" she murmured, "he was losing his mind. He was trying to warn someone. Maybe my dad. But… why?"

She flipped to the next page, reading the next entry. "I cannot resist the urge to write. The shadows grow stronger, and I am powerless against them. I have seen the faces of those who came before me, those who were consumed by this knowledge. They are all here, in the dark corners of my mind. The book is a prison, and I am its prisoner."

The entries continued in the same frantic tone, each one more disjointed and desperate than the last. The man's descent into madness was clear—he was being consumed by something he couldn't explain, something he couldn't control. The diary became an outlet for his torment, his attempt to make sense of the horrors he had seen and experienced.

But as Emily reached the final page, something struck her. The name at the bottom of the entry wasn't Robert. It wasn't anyone she knew.

The writer wasn't even from their time. The date at the end of the page was from the 1800s.

"I am not the first to be touched by this book. I am the last. The shadows have already begun to spread. The book is a gift and a curse, one that binds the reader forever."

Emily's heart raced. She read the words again, but the sense of confusion only deepened. This man, who had written this diary, had no connection to Robert, to Michael, or anyone she knew. He was from a different time, yet somehow, his words had travelled to her.

She closed the diary with a heavy sigh, her chest tight. She had come so close to understanding, but now, she felt even more lost than before. Robert's relationship with her father hadn't just been about shared interests. There was something deeper, something that tied them together. And it was in this abandoned place, surrounded by old memories, that Emily realized the truth was waiting for her.

It wasn't just the book. It was everything that had come before it.

The answers were here. She could feel it.