That book... What is it?

That question came to be hard to answer since it had no title or anything written in it whatsoever. The dark appearance of the book came as dangerous and threatening to Aydem's senses, but that was solely based on the feelings and not backed up by any actual evidence.

Humans are afraid of the unknown, of the darkness, where they can't see, and therefore, can't know what lies before them.

Sure, there is the creepy voice with those whispers, but that doesn't mean it's actually dangerous, he thought, convincing himself that it is indeed safe to keep and play with the book.

He had found it under his mother's bed, so it would be natural to ask why it was there and who had put it there, but apparently, those questions escaped Aydem's mind as he was too busy thinking about how to activate the power of the book, using it to his own advantage.

Turning to check the door once now and then, he persistently stared at the bed, or more precisely, at what resided under it. Although those ominous, seductive whispers no longer disturbed him, his eyes still stayed focused on where the book lay.

Aydem had not witnessed any paranormal or magical incident of any kind. The world forced upon him the life of a normal 3-year-old boy, born in a peasant family, spending all his time in a rustic house within a rural town. There was no magic to see or adventure to go on.

For those reasons, the tempting voices of the book mesmerized Aydem, to an extent that he failed to notice the sound steps behind the door.

Interrupting his thoughts and constant stares, Emine entered the place while holding Aydem's toys. She put them on the ground, coming closer to him. "Here's your toys, sweetie," she said, sitting on the bed, "so you won't get bored here. I have something to do downstairs. If you feel tired, go ahead and sleep or play with your toys."

Following the usual kiss on the forehead, she left the room, leaving Aydem alone. He immediately jumped into picking up the book from under the bed and examining it.

"Every single page is blank," Aydem said, flipping pages of the seemingly empty book, before an idea occurred to him.

Oh, maybe something happens if I write in it.

However, there was no pen and ink in the house. They had paper, but only used for other purposes, like covering the goods with it. Most of the people in the town didn't know how to read, let alone have the skill to write. Not even Emine possessed such tools at hand as Aydem never saw her writing anything.

"Well, I have to get some ink somehow," he said, his voice growing yawny. Still tired from the long travel, Aydem rested his head on the pillows and went into sleep, forgetting to put the book back under the bed.

Opening his eyes in the realm of dreams, a vague photo came into view, framed with red trims of flowers and trees. It was the photo of a dark-haired man, standing before a small child, next to a tall blonde woman, having double the size of the man, who held the head of the child in her huge palm. Aydem failed to identify the child's face no matter how hard he tried.

The child's picture turned bloody red until it was completely cloaked by blood. The part of the photo that previously included the child's picture started to burn ferociously, leaving a burnt hole in the photo.

Shocked and scared, he woke up. What was that nightmare?

Aydem hadn't experienced nightmares like this for a long time. These dreams totally took him by surprise and made his heart beat violently. This time, in addition to feelings of shock and fear, he also felt an intense headache.

What is this pain? It feels like my skull is getting crushed.

Minutes had passed until he realized the dark setting of the room, except for the warm, yet shaded light coming from the fireplace, indicating it was already night. Aydem found himself in the bed with Emine lying next to him. She was sleeping on her side, with eyes shut and arms holding the blanket up to her shoulders.

At that moment, he heard the usual whispers, coming from the below. Slowly and carefully, trying not to wake up Emine, Aydem left the bed and checked for the book under it. Although he couldn't see anything in that darkness, he searched for the book following the whispers, moving his hand around to touch it.

His hands touched a cold object in the darkness, possessing the same shape and texture as the book. Aydem grabbed it and came outside. Despite the absence of proper light to illuminate that part of the room, Aydem knew what he held at that moment was indeed what he had aimed for.

As the whispers grew weak until dying out completely, Aydem stepped toward the fireplace with the book in his arms.

What if I burn some of its pages? I wonder what happens.

Ripping one of the book's sheets, he dropped it over the firewood in the flames. The piece of dark paper started to burn as expected, but the whispers once more came to disturb Aydem. This time, however, they had a higher, sharper pitch, one that resembled a keen clogged scream.

Looking deep into the fire, Aydem saw the ashes of the paper disappear into thin smoke and tiny sparks. The sharp whispers continued piercing his ears, before they turned into dim mutters, hardly recognizable even by giving one's full attention.

Aydem expected something magical to take place, but nothing happened. The book hadn't changed, still dark, still lightweight, smooth on the surface, except for the torn pages here and there, which were cut off and burnt.