A world in where you find a journal

When cleaning out your attic, you came across a gift wrapped with your name on it. It was in simple brown packaging, tied with string, your name was written in sharp, black letters across the side. It did not say who it was from, and you could not recall ever receiving a gift that looked like this.

Ripping the paper open, you found a black leather bound journal. There were carvings of moons on the front and a blue stone was set in the center. You latched open the journal, flipping through the rough yellow pages. It was empty.

You turned the paper over again, and out fell a striking blue quill and ink pot. You ran your fingers over the quill, pausing to turn over a note tied to it.

What you write within these pages shall take root,

And grow to shape your world, absolute.

So pen with care, and speak with thought,

For all you write will soon be brought.