To Defenestrate a Codex

Looks like I've been gone for a while. I guess you could say I took an unintentional break from writing in that time. I need to start finding a schedule and routine for doing this stuff again. It's important to me, and as such, I had ought to make time to do it everyday just to make it a habit.

Anyways, here's a little something inspired by today's prompt over at Creative Copy Challenge. Hope you enjoy!

Arne walked to the other side of the room and raised his hands above the table at which he had stopped. His hands hovered until they found the codex, and his fingers seemed to float in the air a minute before he raised the tome from its position. 


He knew he had to free his student of this volume. The other nine of this edition were fine, but this one would turn his student into a cynic. The teacher looked desperately to the window. He momentarily thought he could simply defenestrate the book but shook his mind out of it when he realized it would be in vain. A farmhand would surely discover it in the morning amongst the chickens below, and the book would likely find its way back to student's hands by the time he sat to lunch for chicken gizzard. That wouldn't work.

Maybe he could just take it. It would be a crude lesson in headology for Arne's student, but that's life. Where one found optimism, another could easily find pessimism. Arne couldn't let his student know those gelid feelings lest he risk them draining the boy of human emotion as a catheter drains a body of liquid. That process would be too painful. 


If the boy really was the reincarnation of the Great One, he would need to know suffering and sorrow, but nothing to the measure he could find in the codex. Anything there would shazam him into a monster. The prophecies foretold it. So if the teacher wanted to prevent that bleak future, he would have to teach his student resilience, lest he burn later in the destruction of the world.