“Could we all be fictitious characters in a book?”

  The boy blinked. He trailed his fingers along the thick-casing of the aged book, a subtle frown defining his face. Reading the rather strange line evoked a sense of helplessness in him, and he turned to look at the Shopkeeper with a look of inquiry.

  The old man, with a deeply wrinkled face and calm temperament, merely smiled and said, “Go on, flip the page.”

  Hesitant, the boy returned his gaze to the fine letters dotting the yellowing pages. As the old man had urged, he flipped the page and stared at the bold ‘Chapter 0’ text, his eyes rapidly moving further down to see, ‘The Book.’

  “How odd…” He muttered. He had never, at any point, come across a book with a ‘chapter 0’ as the starting point. It was certainly unusual, as most authors would simply go with a prologue.

  But then, this was an antique shop. Whoever wrote this book lived in a distant era. Perhaps things were different then.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The boy had entered the shop with the intent to purchase a wall clock—an errand his mother had ceaselessly exhorted the day prior—but ended up getting intrigued by the neatly arranged books in the corner shelf.

  He spared the antique cups not a glance, nor regard the wooden toys in their fancy display. He instead found his heart compelled towards this particular book.

  His heart had further stirred when the Shopkeeper said, “If it's to your taste, you can take it for free.”

  The boy could've sworn there was a hint of sweetness to the old man's voice at that point. It felt dangerous, yet completely enthralling. Like a network of sweet-smelling webs slowly bundling upon the unsuspecting bug.

  He shook the random thoughts that squirmed into his mind and focused on reading, hoping to see if the book caught his fancy. It already did, in fact. The boy simply hadn't noticed how strongly he held the book, as if unwilling to part with its boundless knowledge.

  That was when he saw it. Another strange sentence which described his exact actions from a few minutes ago.

  The distant cathedral bells tolled.

  The clock struck three.

  …

  There he stood, at the edge of the street, the book spread open in his hands. He ignored the fixed-track carriages and crossed to the other side in a trance.

  He stepped into a dark alley.

  And he kept walking, consuming the text contained in the pages of the book as he proceeded into the darkness.

  Behind him, the building with the sign, 'Old Nelly’s Antique Shop’, vanished without a trace.

  Behind him, the world was slowly devoured by a choking gloom.