So, I ventured along with a friend of mine to a second hand bookstore to buy inexpensive books a few days ago.
I was looking for old EC Comics (Vault of Horror, Weird Tales, Weird Fantasy, etc.) and some Lovecraft stuff as research for this project I'm writing for. The place is incredible; it was an old haunt of mine back in my initial Los Angeles reign and it's only amassed more literature in my absence. It has that dusty, old bookstore smell, and despite a recent relocation (and renovation), still retains that kind of classic shop look from the movies.
I snatched up some great EC Comics reprints of Vault of Horror and Weird Fantasy, but didn't have enough cash to buy these complete, hardcover sets of Weird Science and Weird Tales. I also picked up some Lovecraft works and essays - including old Arkham essays from the '40s enclosed in folder-looking binding (not the typical book binding).
I wandered into their occult and mythology section, which always has some interesting stuff in it. At the same time, we were trashing Funny People (which we just saw) and talking about the The Breakfast Club. Basically, it was agreed upon that Apatow is no John Hughes.
I found an old and worn witchcraft book, which had passages detailing how to do some crazy shit - like raising storms with a cat. Despite my curiosity to buy it, I put it back. That's when I spotted something odd on one of the top shelves.
There was a black book laying horizontally on top of other, neatly spined books. What caught my eye was that there was absolutely no lettering on the spine, and that there was also a faded, purple ribbon of sorts hanging from it. So I naturally picked it up. There was no text or lettering on the back, spine or front. Just a pentagram engraved on the front.
Yes, a pentagram.
At this point, both the curiosity of my friend and I was piqued. I open the book and find a penciled in price on the first, blank page. Then I flip the pages - I flip through
all the pages.
They're all blank.
I show it off to my friend, who begins to mockingly (maybe?) slowly walk backwards from the weird book. I put it back on the top shelf and surmise that it is a blank diary or journal of sorts. We did want to invite our other mutual friend to look at it, because I half expected him to flip through it and go, "What's the big idea? It's full of this old, stupid text!" Didn't have enough time.
Now, my friend blames me for the
death murder of John Hughes, since we were talking about him when I found the creepy, blank diary which Eric P refers to as the NECROBLANKDIARYCON.
Sorry, John.
