The Secretary of Life

So my friend Kate called me the secretary of life one time, and I was kind of intrigued as to what kind of character that title could make. Here is a short scene I came up with about a character who goes by that name:

"How'd all this get here?" The boy gasped in amazement.

I laughed softly, thinking he was joking like he usually did. But he looked at me puzzled.

I paused and watched him as he stared all around.

At my library.

I jotted a few notes down in my current volume. He really did not understand where he was.

"These books," He asked again, "The tower-What is it? Where did it all come from?"

I looked around, rather pleased with myself and my life's work. "I wrote these books, but this tower was given to me by the Creator Himself at the beginning of time."

The boy was astounded. Completely speechless.

"I thought you would understand these things better than you do, considering everything you have been through." I scoffed.

"Whoa now, how do you know what all I've been through?" He looked defensive and bewildered.

I answered, "I am the Secretary of Life. All you do, all anyone does, I record it in these books." His face displayed his complete disbelief. I was offended at his lack of faith.

He shook his head at me and changed the subject, "And the tower, what's up with it?" His pattern of speech was foreign to me. The tower was up, of course, although I was unsure of what was with it. I answered as best I could:

"The Tower is the keeper of the books. I began writing at the top, for that is the beginning; that is the past." I directed his gaze upwards to the candle-lit shelves and all the ancient volumes of historic records. "Now, I am making my way through the present, where we now are, heading to the future, and the end of time." I pointed to the dark expanse below us. There was hardly light to illumine the spiral stairway beneath our feet.

"What's down there?" The curious boy leaned over the iron railing in hopes of catching a glimpse.

"The future." I whispered ominously, "It is empty there. Not a single page has a drop of ink on it. Those are all the stories that are yet to be told."

He grew incredibly interested. I watched as his disbelief transformed into wonder.

"You mean you don't know any of the future? You can't tell me what I need to do?"

"I only know the history of your world. I can only show you what has already happened."

He stepped past me, trying to get down the stairs.

"No!" I screeched and grabbed his arm, "You cannot step past the present. It is forbidden." My body glowed a fiery orange, as it does when I am angered.

The boy was unaccustomed to my fury. He grew pale and allowed himself to be dragged upwards a few years.

My glow dissipated when the danger passed. His color returned, and he was able to speak again. "Can't you help me? I've got to find some way to save my family!"

"I can help you by showing you the past. That is the only way I know how you can find your answer."

His frightened face was relieved. As his voice swelled with sincerity, he thanked me. I bowed my head to him. He did have a noble heart. He had been through much having his family stolen from him, then trying to save them, and now taking the long journey all the way to my library. I was certain in the not too distant future I would be recording his success.

I led him to the time period I believed would be most helpful to him, saying as I took my leave, "You must excuse me now, I have some writing to do."