Josh’s Point of View

Page 2: The Grimoire That Shouldn’t Be

'The attic was hotter than hell and smelt worse. Josh kicked the hatch open and hauled himself up like a pirate pulling aboard a ghost ship.'

Josh "Land ho! The loft of lost legends awaits!" His voice echoed off the rafters, followed by a loud belch.

He took a long swig of warm beer, then wobbled forward, boot catching on something soft. He tripped, hit the floor with a thud, and spat dust.

Josh "Son of a soggy bollock—" He sat up, coughing. Shoved a broken lamp aside. Then staggered deeper in, humming a chaotic sea shanty through the madness.

Josh "Oh, the sea took my pants and my dignity too—

Now I drink with the ghosts in a house full of poo!" He tripped again — this time on a doll missing half its face.

Josh "Jesus tap-dancing Christ! Who keeps this shit?!"

'Every step sent up clouds of dust. His torch flickered. Shadows moved in the corners. His head spun. But then — in the far corner, under a heap of crumbling boxes and forgotten junk — he saw something.'

'Something wrapped in linen. Old. Faded, yellowed with time. It stank like mildew and mouse piss.'

Josh "Ugh. It’s cursed laundry. I knew it." He gagged.

'But something was under the cloth. Heavy. Solid. Box-shaped.'

He pulled the wrapping off.

'A chest. Small, but weighty. Covered in carvings that didn’t quite make sense. Like the wood was trying to forget it had ever been touched.'

Josh "Treasure, lads. I’ve got my bloody loot."

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

He dragged it down, step by step, banging every stair, shouting:

Josh "MAKE WAY FOR THE KING OF THE CURSED LOFT!"

Peat poked his head out from the kitchen.

Peat "What the hell is that noise?"

Josh, panting and covered in dust, raised the chest.

Josh "IT’S VICTORY!" He reached the lounge and dropped the chest in front of them.

Josh "Check out my beautiful box, boys!" He kicked the rusted lock.

CLUNK. It popped right off.

Peat leaned over.

Peat "Is that... cloth?"

Josh peeled it back like a dramatic magician.

'Inside: not treasure.

Something stranger.'

A book. If you could call it that.The Grimoire That Shouldn’t Be

Just a cover of bone, wood, metal, and leather strips — woven together like a relic someone tried to forget.

Inside, no stack of pages.
Just two sides:
Left Side – The Warning
Etched into the inside cover:
THE THREE GOLDEN RULES
The words fade. The wish becomes reality.

1. Whatever is written shall come true.
2. It cannot create or destroy love. (Some things go beyond magic.)
3. It cannot kill. It cannot bring back the dead.

Life and **** remain untouched.
Write carefully. Words are sacred.
There are no second chances.
Right Side – The Page
A single page — glowing, shifting, and not made of parchment.
Something ethereal.
Like fog and glass become one.
The page is embedded into the back cover.
Whatever you write disappears.
Whatever you write becomes real.
The Quill
Resting in a carved groove within the cover.
It does not roll.
It does not fall.
Gold tip
Dark wood shaft
Red feather, sharp and vibrant
Despite the materials, it’s light as air — like it wants to float.
It was made only for that one page.
Nothing else will take its ink.
And it never runs dry.

Josh stared, wobbly, eyes too wide.

Connor stepped in, brows furrowed.

Connor "Alright, maybe don’t touch that yet. Read it properly."

Josh had already picked up the quill.

Peat squinted at the page.

Peat "Whatever you write comes true?"

Josh laughed.

Josh "Right. Let’s see if it can handle a proper wish."

Connor "Josh. Seriously. Be smart about this."

Peat raised both fists in triumph.

Peat "BIG JIGGLY TITTIES!!!"

Connor "Peat, shut—"

Peat "BIG JIGGLY TITTIES!!"

Josh snorted, leaned over the glowing page, and drunkenly scribbled:

Josh "I wish I had a pair of tits to play with."

The ink disappeared.

They waited.

Josh frowned.

Josh "Nothing happened. See? Bollocks—"

He suddenly staggered.

A weird pressure pulsed through his chest.

His shirt stretched.

Josh "Wait—wait—what the fu—"

His top pulled tight, fabric warping as his chest expanded, pushing outward like someone had stuffed balloons under his ribs.

'Double Ds. Real. Heavy. Bouncing with every shaky breath.'

Josh stared in horror.

Peat shrieked with laughter.

Peat "BIG JIGGLY TITTIES!!!" He fell backwards, rolling, tears in his eyes.

Peat "BIG JIGGLY TITTIES!!!" Again, barely breathing.

Peat "BIG JIGGLY—TITTIES!!!"

Josh looked down. His shirt now skin-tight. His arms awkwardly trying to fold across his new boobs — but there was no comfortable way to do it.

His face twisted in panic.

Josh "No, no, no, no—NOT ON ME! I meant someone else! A woman! A person! Not—ME!"

Connor didn’t flinch. Mostly from shock.

'What... the actual fuck.'

Josh sat down hard. His new tits jiggled violently, making him swear louder.

He tried to cross his arms again. Failed.

Josh "Why are they this bouncy?!"

Peat rolled onto his back, wheezing.

Peat "I can’t breathe! This is better than therapy!"

Josh, red-faced, grabbed the book and stood.

Josh "I’m undoing this. I’m reversing this. I am not being a walking porno!"

He bolted toward the door, book under one arm, breasts bouncing violently under his stretched shirt.

Peat, through laughter, shouted after him:

Peat "COME BACK!! I WANT TO PLAY WITH YOUR TITTIES!!"