On a bitter cold evening the woods creaked and moaned with agony. Covering the ground was moist green moss, varieties of mushrooms and ancient roots that receded from the soaring oak trees. In the branches silhouettes of creatures dashed from branch to branch. Distant chimneys created a slight smoggy smell in the air. The tallest oak of all towered above all others like a giraffe above lions. The bottom of the tree was cloaked with knobs of all shapes and sizes.
A mysterious old man emerged from the darkness. He wore a deep purple cloak that dragged along the wet ground behind him, his face was impossible to interpret because of the shadow from his hood shading his face. He slowly ambled around the towering oak, inspecting all the knobs. “No… No… No…” he mumbled. The old man was looking for something on the tree. Finally the old man came to a holt after circling the tree for at least a minute. He leaned toward a large circular knob at the height of the old mans chest. He felt around the knob then pushed it inwards.
A clicking noise came from in-front go him as the tree formed a door that creaked open with no rush what so ever. Behind the door was a twirling stair case that disappeared downwards towards the centre of the Earth. The old man strolled down the stairs with a bit more bounce in his step now because he had found what he was looking for.
Looking at his watch once he reached the bottom the old man realised that it had taken him exactly seven minutes and thirty three seconds. “Hmm,” he mumbled. The old man took note of this time in his leather bounded journal. At the bottom of the stair case was a long arched corridor around two times as tall as the old man. He ventured through the corridor, examining every crack, crevasse, chunk of mould even every spider web. This man was a curious man. He knew everything yet wanted to know more.
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