The Lost Lucifer Letters by Will Edwards

The shop, located in the heart of the old city, was filled with the odour of books; that curious, heady cocktail of woody, smoky essence with an unmistakeable tinge of vanilla. In the far corner of a dark basement room, I discovered a section that contained some large, water-stained volumes in very poor condition, some without their covers, and there were many loose pages and folio leaves lying about all over the floor.

Amongst this veritable treasure of old documents, I came across a collection of letters that appeared to be hand-written on tattered paper, yellowed with time. As I picked up the first letter, the document fell apart into a number of separate pieces in my hands, so brittle and fragile was the paper. The ink was very feint and the archaic script was extremely difficult to read, even more so than you might at first suppose, as the words were composed entirely of consonants. But even as I began to decipher the first few paragraphs an eerie feeling came over me.

The text was like nothing I had ever encountered.