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Dreams in the castle library
I had made my way through the overgrown castle garden and now I stood in front of the main entrance of the castle, which sparkled bizarrely in the evening sun. Built in the Empire style, this rural palace reflected all the disgusting kitsch of that era. Even a stylized death mask of Napoleon had the interior to offer. The proud owner, who liked to call himself the emperor of his small empire, obviously identified himself with this mask - or rather with Napoleon.
I remember my last visit all too well. The lord of the castle led me through the rooms of the castle, which were not to be surpassed in bad taste. However, to go into more detail would make me extremely uncomfortable, so I decided not to go there.
As the industrial mogul of the leather industry, Mr. Knut - as the vain rooster was called - was happy to satisfy the unpleasant urge to show off his wealth unambiguously.
But I was not interested in this Mr. Knut, nor in his ugly building in which he presented himself dressed up. Fortunately for me, he had travelled to Paris for a few days and had allowed me to do further research in his library. So I only had to put up with the ostentatious building, but not the vain peacock in human form.
The elderly and silent steward opened the gate for me and nodded dismissively in the direction of the library, which was located in the only tower of the castle. This simple-minded fellow could certainly not do anything with books. From his eye sockets the monosyllabic stupidity of a Neanderthal came out noticeably.
I paid no further attention to him and walked directly, through the hidden corridors of the servants, up to the tower stairs. Now I opened the heavy door and a mysterious smell penetrated my nostrils. Sweetly yellowed paper, tart leather bindings and the heavy precious wood of the shelves formed the olfactory frame in which my passion immediately began to flare up.
This superficial industrialist had failed to notice the treasures hidden in his randomly assembled library. While he obviously assumed that I would research the history of the foundation walls of his renovated castle for him, I actually hoped to snatch a rare edition of the Necronomicon, the existence of which this nouveau riche fool did not even suspect. It seemed particularly funny to me that Mr Knut must even have a professional interest in the book, as the binding was once tanned from human skin. By coincidence I had come across the Necronomicon directly during my first visit to the library and wanted to use the opportunity to recover it.
The interior of the library was unusually asymmetrically shaped. The view to the ceiling could be confusing, as neither a foreground nor a background could be clearly identified. The stuffy smell of the dust, which lay on the books like an unsweet sugar crust, had an additional numbing effect. It rushed inside and some of the old books even showed rat food
At that moment, one of those hideous rodents scurried past my feet, stopped at a spot on the shelf as if it wanted to show me something. The air around me became heavier and stuffier as I moved towards the rodent. The dizziness took hold of me and I sank to the floor, and I realized that the rat had a human face. The creature looked as if it had the face of Mr. Knut; only distorted by the massive rodent teeth that covered a large part of the lower lip.
With human-like hands, this horrible miniature pointed to the book, which was now right in front of my nose. An indescribable horror seized me, because everything familiar sank into a whirlpool of madness. I was connected to an ancient world, an enchanting smell on the one hand, which made promises to my inclinations to adventures and unfathomable mysteries - and on the other hand the pure visual horror.
Surrounded by demonic figures and a rat gnawing at my body, who constantly said: "Do you really think I did not see through you! You pitiful creature! I am the emperor of my empire," I sank into a deep sleep, carried away in sweet-spicy popcorn wokers, trapped in the memories of an intruder