A Book

*Look at this prior to looking at my story* 

I actually will withhold from using that frightful symbol on this particular URL fully, not only in said story put forward but in all sub-writings of a sort shown. You may start now:

If you will, if by only singularly probability, stay and watch as I try to construct a paragraph or so with alluring but principally occult constraints, you’ll find it is a fascinatingly difficult task, a task that not only unfolds my own insight to a grand portion, but calls for having an option of back-up words, similar to a dictionary:

On a dubious day similar to this, all is bound to inhabit an agitation of foul mood. As I walk down a road, not noticing a lush but almost mournful world surrounding this locality, I pinpoint a rack on a brink of this footpath, as if it could slump into an abyss of mortar. In it I spot a baffling and awfully occult book, a book that tangibly has no folios. Upon additional analysis, its front consists of what looks as if it is a symbol of a sort. I must solicit my brain, as you might fancy: What could it possibly imply? Abruptly blown away by a thought of want for that writing (or lack of it), I clutch it tight to my bosom and confirm I will conduct any analysis or inquiry, as if it could act or inhabit a human’s spot, which I now think, significantly plausibly, is what it might truly hold. Such ramblings contrasting opinions might not admit (or wholly want to at all), but without warning I now think this must naturally stand as truthful; it visits my mind in a curious way.

My dysania following that occasion was brobdingnagian. A drooping kakorrhaphiophobia found my body, as though a yarborough could ruin this day, though such thoughts could inhabit a quixotic mind. Alacrity was obviously missing in my day. I was in a bilious mood, making my hands find a cup of java, pouring it onto my lips. This world was against my mortality on this day, fully ruining how I saw it. With nothing past this thought to do as my daily activity, my hands again found that book from last night, looking across it with analysis. I was scrupulous, and saw what could imply… a symbol? Four arrows pointing cardinal ways caught my vision on top of that book, in want of disambiguation. At that crux a flash caught my sight, instantly blinding my ability to watch. For only a snap I saw a ghostly shadow cross my room but it quickly slid away back into dark, as if it was only in my mind.