A Forbidden Copy
GiaB writing prompt #2–11 books
Brother Iacomo squinted as he stepped out of the dark and cavernous writing room, and into the sunlit courtyard of the monastery. Warmth bathed his face as he tilted his head skyward, ink-stained hands at hips, and stretched his back. He sighed at how good it felt to be outdoors. He believed the sun kept away dark thoughts, such as those that befell some fellow scribes. But now he had his own troubling thoughts to contend with.
He watched other monks in the yard tending the garden, trimming bushes, and pulling weeds. Iacomo’s talent for Latin consigned him to the damp, candle-lit interior, surrounded by fellow scriveners as they meticulously copied heavy tomes in silence (except for heavy breathing and the occasional fart.) He felt a slight pang of jealousy of those working outside, but quickly pushed that away and made a note to pray for forgiveness later.
To his right Dean Loffredo exited the rectory, hands clasped behind his back. He solemnly approached Iacomo, the edge of his simple, gray robe barely touching the path, sandals crunching crushed limestone.
“Idle hands, Brother,” the dean greeted dryly, coming to a stop a few feet away. “I trust you continue to find your work fulfilling.”
“I humbly serve the lord.”
“Then why have you stopped?” he asked. “Last time I checked only a few pages were complete.”
“I am…unsure,” he answered carefully.
“Of what?” The dean took a step closer and insisted, “Speak plainly!”
“The tome I am blessed to copy is…unusual,” Iacomo struggled to explain. “I hear that the book is not of this world. I fear that the art contains unnatural markings. And the tales I transcribe are…obscurum.”
The dean raised an eyebrow.
“Maligno,” Iacomo whispered, a slight tremor in his voice. Evil.
The dean stood back as if shoved, released his hands from behind his back and held them open at his sides. He seemed unsure of how to react or respond. After a minute he cleared his throat, straightened his pose, and reclasped his hands behind his back.
“You are blessed with the chore of copying sacred books,” he explained calmly but with an unmistakable authority. “Selecting which books is above your station. Do you doubt God’s will?”
Iacomo bowed deeply at the waist in full supplication. “Never!”
“Then return to your work. Pray for forgiveness. And do not speak of this again!”
Iacomo straightened, offered another curt bow to the dean, then turned on his heel to scurry back into the shadows. A few monks lifted their heads, quills raised above the page, to see what the commotion was. Then they resumed their work alongside Iacomo in relative silence.
Once alone, Loffredo released a shaky breath as he turned to survey groomed courtyard, waiting for his heart and mind to calm. He sincerely hoped the coin received from the mysterious woman with glowing green eyes was worth it.
This was inspired by the Genius in a Bottle writing prompt Books. Thanks for reading!
