Encountering the Undead for the First Time
Impatiently, I sat with hands in my lap, awaiting my answer.
The skeletal librarian cleared its throat and adjusted its glasses, making soft murmurs as it pursued the book in front of it— a book, I would add later in telling this story, of indescribable beauty. “I don’t mean this as a storytelling charm,” I would breathlessly explain many years later to my fellow adventurers. “This book was — oh you just had to be there. But to the story at—”
Sensing my stare, the skeleton looked up. “You must be patient. These things take time to find.”
“N-no, sorry, it isn’t that. I was just— wondering—”
“—why do you wear glasses,” I asked the skeleton.
“Yes. But. You. Have. No. Eyes.” I somehow managed stuff the six words into a horrid log jam of sentences.
“I see. And the glasses help.”
I fidgeted under the eyeless stare. “How-do-you-speak-too-how-is-any-of-this?!”
The skeleton cleared its throat column, ignored my question, ignored my vacant stare as I realized it also lacked lungs, and returned to its research.