The Scribe

It was a slow day, as always.  I sat in my comfy chair, absorbed in a copy of The Great God Pan.  I wasn’t expecting any visitors, I never had visitors, so I never heard him enter.  I was startled by the man’s deep, commanding voice.

“You are Mr. Ben Neriah, yes? The proprietor of this establishment?”

It was a friendly tone, but his appearance wasn’t quite what I’d expected.  From the accent, I had expected a British gentleman, but instead I was faced with a rather dark-skinned Egyptian man.  I sat there for a moment, but quickly regained my composure and greeted my guest.

“Oh, yes, that would be me,” I flatly intoned, “welcome to Neriah Bookstore and Bindings.  Is there anything you’re interested in today, Mr-?

“Hotep, Nick Hotep.”

“What brings you to Algernon at this time of year?  Most people avoid the mountains in the wintertime, and few come here at all.  You’ve certainly gone out of you’re way.”

Mr. Hotep reached into his satchel (how did i miss that?) and pulled out a book.  It was thick, and obviously very old.

“I recently acquired  this book from a friend of mine.  He was affiliated with the Church of Starry Wisdom, and caught wind of a police raid going down soon.  He feared for the books safety, and requested that I secret it away for a while.  I was led to understand you had done some translation work for Miskatonic, so I was wondering if perhaps you’d  be interested in translating the text for me.  You would, of course be paid, i would get to keep a copy, and it would be out of the way long enough to satisfy my colleague.  Would you be at all interested?”

His voice was mesmerizing, and I found myself intrigued.  I accepted the book, and noticed he had an elaborate tattoo of a striking cobra on his hand, which appeared to extend up his sleeve.  It almost looked as if it wanted to strike at me.  I gave the book a look over, and noticed that it was written in Arabic, and in excellent condition for a book its age.

“Al Azif?” Never heard of this one before,” I murmured.  Mr. Hotep chuckled heartily at my comment, and I found myself wondering why I hadn’t noticed he was so tall.

“I’m sure you have heard of it.  I won’t spoil it for you, since you should realize soon enough once you start, but I can assure you it is a very well known book.”

And then he left. I realized that I never actually agreed to anything, we never discussed terms, and I had no idea when he would return.  Oh well, I had been needing a new project anyway, and this seemed like it could take a while, at least.

Author's Note

i generally have issues with dialogue and pacing, and as such have decided to post this in segments as i finish them. i am particularly interested in advice on improving my dialogue. please keep in mind that this is a rough draft, incomplete and subject to change as the story takes shape. though i already have a clear view of where the story is going, i am as yet unsure of the minutiae.