A book

From the compartment he pulled out a book. It was quite a unusual book. It was large and thick, but the weight was oddly light. Examining the outside of it, he took note of the leather cover that encased it. The entire book was quite worn, the papers looked aged. No title nor inscription appears either on the front, the back nor the spine. The edges of paper, despite appearing jagged held a gold like tint to their edges. Loose papers were somewhat sticking out like some the papers had lost part of their stitching that held them in. Standing up, he began to open the book when the light inside of the attic flickered and began to sway. The brief darkness startled him and he turned around as the light flickered more.

The temperature seemed to dip down low and he began to shiver. He hadn't bothered to put on any kind of layers since he had just gotten out of bed. All he was wearing was a pair of cotton boxers and a white shirt. He had stopped the opening the book halfway during this ordeal and he could feel some type of pressure trying to push the book open. Giving away from what ever it was, the book opened fully and soon the pages began fan open. Again the light in the attic flickered wildly and the temperature plummeted again. The pages stopped finally and looking down, the writing read like a foreign language. Confused by the text, he could see the words seemed to rearranged before his eyes as they went from a gibberish array of letters to some sort of clarity of writing. Once the words ceased moving around the page, Jack began read the passage that was now on the page.