Escridades

I stumbled upon a mysterious locked box that caught my interest in an old antique shop. The box is poorly etched with the words reading, Escridades. I wiped off the dust from the box and found a hidden panel at the right side of the box. With this, I carefully moved the panel covering the right side of the box. The panel houses  a key, and a piece of cloth. I reached out for the piece of cloth, it's a note that reads, “This wooden box is written and collected by the order of Escridades. It houses a particular set of documents that are only meant for those who are ready to indulge and soar upon the inner extremities of the human soul.” And so, with the curious heart that I possess, I grabbed the old dusty key and opened the locked box of Escridades. Inside the box, I saw a set of papers that are bundled separately with trinkets that possess a mysterious scent of the past that has been forever lost in time. Thus, I picked and read the first bundle of papers that are filled with pressed flowers and lepidopterist items. 

As I was done reading the first bundles of paper within the Escridades box, I wondered if the writers were still with us to this day? Who knows? Perhaps these are antiques that are decades old, centuries even. Then again, why did the Escridades even write? And who were they writing for? But, I guess one thing's for sure, these papers are far more important than they seem. As I kept questioning the existence of the box and these papers, I laid my eyes on the second pile of writings. It has a hard leather cover in the front, as if its intended to be a book even though the latter end of the pile seems to be missing some parts. As I skimmed through the body of writings within the second pile, I noticed a particular theme of events that make up the entire so-called book. I would say that these are writings intended for the higher beings that man hasn't still experienced nor seen in history. The events contained within these papers are like a part of a greater mythology that is waiting to be finished.

The flashes of fiction kept wondering around my head as I kept on reading till the very last page. By the end, my curiosity grew and my thirst in uncovering the secrets of Escridades still dwells in my heart. I looked back at the box and there are still plenty of papers left unread. I kept staring at the stack of papers inside the box and I had no choice but to pick up the next set of bundled pages. As I collected the third pile of papers, I touched the first page of the tinted writings and my mind suddenly went blank. I saw a vision of something that was out of this time as if it was a lived in memory that no one has touched for centuries. Was I dreaming? It surely wasn't a dream and I'm sure of it. I saw a person's life right in front of my eyes, I felt their happiness, fear, guilt, and sorrows. I felt like I lived a million lives.

I'm in too deep. These papers, these words, these memories seem so senseless and yet they pierce through my heart and soul. Is this witchcraft? Are the Escridades even real? The ink and tear stains are still intact within the surface of the papers. I should stop, reaching and finding the Escridades isn't worth my sanity. I packed all of the papers that I read and as I was done tidying up, a voice. A faint voice called out to me. I quickly stood up and walked towards the voice and as I was pacing closer and closer to the voice, it lead me to the Escridades box. Some of the voices were whispering, laughing and arguing but they seemed to also be crying at the same pace and time. I checked inside of the Escridades box, there were more papers left unread. I picked up the bundle of smaller sized papers inside the box, the voices stopped and the writings of the small pages were surprisingly poems with trinkets of a wooden cross and a pocket watch that bizarrely turns in a counterclockwise motion. Am I still dreaming?

The poems that I held and read slowly drained my soul, I still have the energy to keep on reading but my mind hinders my thoughts. Halfway through the muniment of poems, I reached a divergent point. There were an abundance of scrambled letters, I tried to make sense on the remaining leaves of pages and I arrived at nothing. Are these just scrambled thoughts that were just randomly dumped in a piece of paper? I squinted out of utter disbelief and as I close one of my eye, images that are compromised of words appear. The Escridades were testing me but I still ask why?

The Escridades box has one last pile of writing left. As I reached out for the final pages, my puzzled thoughts are slowly coming together and I just need the final pieces of this mystery. My mind is at the edge of its idiosyncrasy. I skimmed through the last clump of papers and I saw a script. A script that is full of still words with undeniable movements. Were this meant to be played by actors? The Escridades are a group of actors? As I kept on reading, my mind went blank once again and the only thing that I feel is happiness, anger, confusion, and sadness. Am I the puppet of Escridades?