A Banned Books Week adventure

This is the beginning of Banned Books Week, so I decided I’d look for the official banned book collection.

Based on a tip from the drunken sage at the inn, I hiked over to the old, ruined abbey where the banned books were said to be held. The ancient stone building was overgrown with ivy.

I tried the front entrance, but it was barred shut. So I went to the other end of the building and lifted a window so I could squeeze in.

Once inside, I turned on my flashlight and, upon inspecting the western wall of the dusty, cobweb-filled room I was in, found a stone with a slightly different color than the surrounding stones. I pressed the stone and a section of the wall slid open - a secret door!

Behind the door was a mold-covered staircase going down. It was narrow and claustrophobic, but it was too late to turn back now, so I carefully descended. Could I detect the slight impression of footprints on the mold? I wasn’t sure.

The stairway went down for a considerable distance and ended at a large wooden door. Above the door was engraved, in the Common Tongue, the words “Chamber of Forbidden Books.” The door was locked, but the sage had given me a key which I turned in the keyhole. With a reluctant groan, the door swung inward, and I cautiously entered. I saw shelves and shelves of books going into the distance.

I went to the nearest shelf and looked at what was there. There were several of Dr. Seuss’s works. Next to them was Tintin in Africa.

On another shelf I found When Harry Became Sally and The Real Anthony Fauci.

Going further into the room to see more shelves, I was surprised to find some of the works of Shakespeare. The Merchant of Venice was in the anti-Semitism section. The Taming of the Shrew was in the misogyny section.

Suddenly I heard the door through which I had entered slam shut with a loud thud. Turning around, I saw the man who had closed the door, pocketing the key. Or rather, it was not a man, but a skeleton in black robes on which various ominous-looking runes were inscribed.

In a voice like the approach of death, the thing said, “is there some part of the word ‘Forbidden’ which was unclear to you?”

“An unarmed skeleton!” I shouted in derision. “Why should I fear you, since you are so easy to destroy.”

“Fool!” said the thing, “I am more than a mere skeleton, I am a Lich.”

“Are you a good Lich or a bad Lich?” I asked.

“I will not dignify that question with an answer,” answered the thing.

“Seriously,” I asked, “all kidding aside, what’s a Lich?”

The thing sighed, like the sound of the wind at night blowing through a cemetery.

“Have you not read the writings of the greatest horror writer of all?” it asked.

“You mean H. P. Lovecraft?” I said. “There are copies of his works right here, can I consult them?”

“No, imbecile,” said the Lich. “I refer to Ambrose Bierce, specifically his story ‘The Death of Halpin Frayser.’”

“I can’t find Ambrose Bierce’s works in here,” I said.

“Funny,” said the Lich, “we were supposed to get a shipment of Bierce. Maybe the banning hasn’t gone through yet. Oh, well -” and the Lich began a series of unholy incantations.

Suspecting that the Lich was going to put a spell on me, I turned and fled deeper into the room. With mounting horror, I heard the pitter-patter of undead feet pursuing me.

I just had time to notice the empty shelves marked “Reserved for anti-State propaganda,” when I came to another door, with an illuminated red sign over it marked “Depart, or Perish.”

Preferring the former alternative, I tried the doorknob, and was relieved to find that it turned.

I could smell the breath of the Lich behind me. I later wondered how an undead skeleton-thing could breathe, but at the time I was focusing on the dreadful odor of the grave emanating from the creature.

I desperately pushed the door open, rushed through it, and slammed it behind me. A bloodcurdling noise behind me indicated either that the Lich was angered by the escape of its prey, or that I had triggered the automatic alarm system.

Looking around, I found myself at the bottom of another stairwell. I rejoiced to see the light of the moon shining through a grate at the top. I rushed up the stairs and pushed at the grate with all my might.

I expected at any moment for the door below me to open and for the Lich to come through and pursue me up the staircase. But that thankfully didn’t happen - perhaps the Lich was magically bound to the Chamber of Forbidden Books and could not leave.

The ancient, rusty grate gave way, yielding to my pressure. I clambered up to the surface, rejoicing to see myself in a moonlit field from which a pathway led away.

The path led me back to the inn, where the drunken sage was still nursing his pint of ale.

I had taken some loot from the Chamber - Blanche Knott’s Truly Tasteless Jokes, volumes I-XIV. The sage believed that these were valuable collectors’ items, and gave me a bag of gold coins for them.

I think I earned those coins.