It was early morning. A child sat on a bench near a wooden house. He was thin, his skin was pale white and his short, messy hair black. He was earnestly reading the book in his hands. His dark-red eyes moved rapidly across the pages before he snapped the book shut.
"Another boring one…"
With a sigh, Faust slowly rose from the bench and made his way to a small building. Stepping inside, he was met with the sight of books, dozens of them. It was a bookstore.
Larger than most houses in the village, the bookstore had dirt at the entrance and dust coating the few square desks scattered around. Rows of bookshelves lined with the wall, some with missing books, others old and nearly falling apart.
He walked up to a small wooden counter. There was an old man sleeping behind it. His face was reddish and his body fatty, he had a short white hair and a long beard.
"Hehe… don't run away again… come here…"
The old man mumbled in his sleep.
"This damned old man again!" Faust grumbled, his eyes narrowing in anger.
He got closer to the counter before kicking it. His kick was weak, but apparently, it was enough. The old man woke up.
"Shit… What?" He blinked groggily, before noticing the small kid staring at him from the other side of the wood counter. "Oh… It's you again kiddo. What do you want this time? If you're here for more books, forget it! I can't lend you any more. Scram, shoo shoo!''
The old man started pointing at the door and waving his finger at Faust.
Faust stood there, quietly, looking at the old guy.
"…"
The old man started stomping his feet in anger. "I'm being serious right now, kid. Go away!"
Faust was unmoved—staring at this old man coldly.
"…"
The old man grew more agitated, before finally letting out a sigh and calming down. "Alright kid… you win. But this time is the last! Since you come here a lot, I'll let you know, this place will be closed for the month. You better finish that book fast and bring it back in no more than two days."
With some effort, he stood up, walked to a big bookshelf, and took the book from Faust hands, placing it back in a random spot.
"Just pick one, and be quick about it. You have 10 minutes." He then turned around and got back to the counter.
Faust started searching the shelves one by one.
"All these books are so boring, none of them interest me even a bit. It's all just so repetitive…" Faust mumbled, his fingers gliding over the worn covers of dozens of books.
Then, they stopped.
A strange book caught his attention. The cover was heavily worn, to the point some parts were missing entirely. The pages were kinds of geometrical figures.
"This is interesting, I don't think I've ever seen this book before… Is it new?"
He grabbed the book and went over to the wooden counter, asking the man on the other side of it.
"Hey, old man! Is this book new?'' Faust asked, in a curious tone.
"My name is Carl, Carl! Not 'old man', you scoundrel! Kids these days really have no respect for their elders, unbelievable!" He rambled for a full minute before finally stopping.
"Let me see it kid."
Faust handed the book to him. Carl looked at the cover, flipped through a few pages, furrowed his brows, then shut it and returned it to him.
''Hm… I think so, kiddo. Probably bought it a while ago and just put it out recently. You can take it, but are you sure you want it?"
Faust took the book from his hands.
"Yes, i am! Thanks, old man!'' He said before dashing out of the bookstore.
"Did I really buy it? I have no idea why past me would pick that up, but... ah, whatever."
On the outside, Faust was looking at the sky. The sound of the villagers chatting and wind rustling through the trees brought a calming sense of peace. Even though the streets were relatively empty, the village was clearly alive.
"Oh, I almost forgot about! Mom asked me to be home earlier today!" Faust eyes widened as he realized it. Without a moment of hesitation, he started walking.
He was holding the old book with a firm grip, as he moved along the packed dirt road. The damp scent of wood of the houses and earthy aroma of the grass helped him relax a little. His pace was slow, deliberately.
As he walked, groups of children ran past him, laughing and shouting. Some waved, as he returned their gestures with a nod or a wave. Though it was rare for him to join their games or play with them, he was quite friendly.
A blonde girl with bright blue eyes, cute features, and about the same age as Faust, stopped in front of him.
''Hey, Faust! Where are you going? Do you want to play?" She asked with a smile on her face.
"I'm late for something right now. I also picked up a new book and have to finish it fast. Maybe when i'm done we do something." Faust said in a neutral, almost cold tone.
"Man, you are so bad at talking! Hahaha! That's why the others think you're weird. Weirdo." The girl laughed, teasing him.
"Well, It's not my fault they can't understand me. Hmph. Anyways, i've gotta go, Mickella. See you later!" Faust started walking again, even faster this time.
"This guy…" Mickella thought to herself with a shake of her head, before turning around and following the other kids.
After a while, Faust was in front of his house. Some sweat running down his forehead to the side of his eyes and then falling on the ground.
His house much like the others in the village, perhaps a little bigger. It had enough space for three rooms. On the backyard, a log rested atop a stump, with a axe leaning on it. A low wooden fence separated the house from the outside.
Faust walked up to the door of his house. As he pushed the door open, the sunlight poured in, casting some shadows across the main room and illuminating a worn wooden table at its center. Four chairs surrounded the table, two of them already occupied.
A woman sat in one of the chairs, her back perfectly straight, hands resting neatly in her lap. Her dark hair framed a face that could have been called beautiful, but the coldness in her gaze made it hard to tell.
The other chair was occupied by a man with light brown skin and dark red eyes, his body was strong and had some light scars on it, his face was fierce.
These were faust parents.
"Faust, quickly, come here!" The man voice was rough, but there was warmth in it, as he smiled at his son.
As Faust approached him, he noticed that the man hands were holding something. As he got a better look, he noticed it was a piece of paper, getting squeezed by the man's grip.
"Pa, what is that?" Faust asked, looking at him curiosity in his eyes.
His father smile was crescent, before finally speaking.
"This piece of paper is our next week! We're going to the capital. It'll be your first time, right? Aren't you excited?"
For a moment, Faust's grip on the book loosened, his expression softening just slightly, almost, almost forming the hint of a smile.
Then his mother's voice cut through.
"And the caravan is getting here in 3 days, so make sure you finish what you need to before then." Her tone was firm, almost distant, but the way her gaze lingered on her husband and son carried a quiet warmth.
Her expression was so much like Faust's.
Faust looked at his mother, walking over and answering in a tone as cold as hers.
"Okay ma, i will go to my room. I got a new book i need to finish before leaving."
He hugged his mother and walked away, opening another door and entering in his room.
"Hahaha! You two are so much alike." The man laughed loudly.
"Stop it, Rust. You know i don't like that how distant he is. Did you hear that? His first thought after finding out we're leaving is finishing a book rather than saying goodbye to his friends. I don't want him to be alone for the rest of his life." The woman said with a sigh.
"Don't be so dramatic, love. You know what, he is just a kid; he still has plenty of room to change. You changed too, well, a little." Rust said, trying to reassure his wife.
"Well, i hope you are right." She sighed again.
Faust sat on a wooden chair, the book placed atop of a small desk. His hands were passing through the yellowish pages, he had a confused expression.
"What is this book even about? Damn it, why the hell did that old man put that up? Most of the pages are just drawings, and the ones with text it's just some… gibberish."
Faust furrowed his brow, sweat dripping from his forehead and splashing onto the table and pages. His eyes looking intently at the images – a chaotic mess of geometric and three-dimensional shapes, one embedded inside another, with lines crisscrossing over them, forming almost incomprehensible patterns. Within these shapes were smaller figures that resembled letters.
One hour later, he was still trying to understand it. His eyes were bloodshot and he was completely drenched in sweat. It felt like a battle, him against the book, trying to unravel it but having no progress. Finally, after a few more minutes he slammed the book shut, his breathing was heavy and face dark.
He closed his eyes and leaned back on the chair.
"Is that what a real book looks like? That old man probably knew this would happen, giving me only two days so i wouldn't understand it. I will prove him wrong. I just need more time. That's all… just more time."
Contrary to his usual almost expressionless face, Faust mouth has grinning in an odd way and an excited look showing in his eyes.
Until now, Faust had only read basic books. Some were about culinary, others about tales, music and enternainment. Books about history, politics, or anything with ''real'' substance were reserved for high-ranking individuals, nobles, and those with ample monetary power. Someone like him would never get his hands on something like this.
After resting for a few minutes, Faust returned to the book. Even though he could barely understand it, he was determined to grasp at least something.
The pages had no numbers, but after counting them, he realized the book contained exactly one hundred pages. The paper was firm despite being thin, and each page had writing only on the front, nothing on the back.
The cover was plain, worn-out light leather with no notable markings or decorations.
He spent hours examining the book, focusing on just two pages. Unlike the rest of the book, which was almost complete gibberish to him, these pages felt slighly different, something about them made more sense, even if only a little. It was as if there some trace of logic behind it, something barely comprehensible.
He read it over and over again, but the more he looked, the more his heart hurt. When he pulled away from the book, he realized the room had grown dark, it was night time.
With a slow movement, Faust stood up from his chair and left his room.
In the barely lit main room, his parents sat at the table, waiting for him. The meal was modest: pieces of bread, a roasted chicken with its chest already carved, an assortment of colorful fruits and a jar of water resting at the center.
"You really liked that book, didn't you?" His mother asked in a low voice.
"Well, it's far more interesting than the other stuff i've read before! It's mostly gibberish, but somehow, it still makes sense. It's hard to explain. And then i tried to read in that way…"
Faust launched into an animated explanation, detailing every method he had attempted to decipher the book. For over an hour, his voice filled the room as he spoke about the book.
By the time they finished eating, Faust exchanged a few brief words with his parents before hurrying back to his room. There, he took one last glance at the book, flipping through its page as if expecting some newfound understanding to emerge. There was none.
With a tired movement, he set the book down, laid back on his bed, and drifted into sleep.
…
In their bedroom, Faust parents laid side by side, their voices hushed in the dim light.
"Is everything alright, Tiya? You look worried about something." Rust asked, turning to his wife.
Tiya lay still for a moment before sighing. "I like that he's enjoying the book, but at the same time, I feel conflicted. I always said I wanted him to be less... well, you know. But seeing him so excited about something like that, it's hard to explain."
"You almost sound like Faust right now. You shouldn't worry that much love, in two years he will be fourteen, an adult. He is making his own choices. Tell me, are you afraid he'll turn into some reclusive scholar?" Rust said while chuckling, getting closer to his wife.
"Maybe I do. I honestly don't know… But you are right, i think i shouldn't force him to change. That wouldn't be wise." Tiya said, in a sad tone.
"Exactly. And don't worry, love. He'll never be alone, not while we are around at least!" Rust smiled, pressing a reassuring kiss to her forehead before reaching over to extinguish the small oil lamp beside their bed.
Darkness settled over the room, and soon, silence followed.