Writing Challenge Take Two: Day Three

This little endeavour of mine in getting my writing back on form before university is obviously just going to be a personal one as much as anything. I fully don't expect anybody to read this, it's purely, at this point, for my own benefit.

With that said (to future Lewis, most likely), I'll continue.

Again, a first sentence stick, writing for as long as a piece of string.

First Sentence: 'There I was, just standing there, when what I wanted to do was forbidden.'

---

There I was, just standing there, when what I wanted to do was forbidden. The Elders had decreed it so. Entry to the section of the library beyond the stained glass window (depicting horrors such that it was painful to look at. There was a lot of red glass.) was the most forbidden of all forbidden things in the Monastery.

I hadn't exactly made the best reputation for myself since I'd been there. I was just a visitor. The monks themselves were forbidden from speaking, so weren't much entertainment really. Therefore, I had to make my own entertainment. I'd put books back in the wrong sections in full view of monks, just to see what they might do. It was really quite amusing to see them attempt to convey their feelings on the matter to me without speaking. There had been some very aggressive pointing towards the alphabetised section markers on the end of each row of bookcases. Pointing which I pretended to pay attention to.

But thus far, my adventures had been harmless. Just some fun to keep myself from boredom until my father finished his business with the High Monks. Harmless, that is, until now.

I stood before the grotesque stained glass window, trying to avoid looking at it. The colours shining through it told of a powerful light source behind it. The vibrants hues played on the wall behind me, and, as I noticed when I looked down, on me as well.

I took one last, slow look around, to ensure that there were no monks around. Usually, there would be at least one stationed here to guard the section. But with a little trickery from myself, I'd ensured that the guard on duty for this shift had his guard duty swapped with another monk. A certain Monk Gibbonis. A name I'd made up on the fly. Slipping the duty-change form into the High Monks daily pile of batch-signed paperwork had been a doddle.

So here I was, about to step foot in where, I'd been told, nobody had walked in decades.

I took a deep breath. Then a step. I was beyond the window now. My feet pressed years of dust below them further into the carpet, leaving grey footprints. It was about four seconds before I heard the blare of an alarm. Apart from that, the usual silence, followed by the wordless patter of, by the sounds of it, several dozen mute monks. And so I ran, taking nothing from the experience but the dust on my shoes.

---

A short one today, I'm afraid, but the story wasn't really going anywhere. Laters.