Inkheart tells the story of a gift among humans who are called Silvertongues, who can read characters out of books, though at the price of pushing someone back in to balance the scale.
In my story, the world was being set upon a horror that had no voice, no face, no form, and the world had no way of fighting it. My friends and I found a portal, or a magic spell, or something (one part that I never fleshed out) to a world where any book that we brought with us manifested. The world we fought in was a blank slate, yearning to create some form, but the concepts in our minds were not solid enough, it needed the written word.
We brought a choice selection with us (a list never finalized), and banned each other from a certain selection. Neon Genesis Evangelion and Ragnarok came with, while Harry Potter was banned; Monster Rancher came with us, while Death Note was banned; and I could never decide whether to bring with or ban dot.hack, as it had magics that I was familiar with, but hacks I did not want the enemy to gain access to.
My gift with words may soon be adept enough, if it not already, to write this story, though I still yearn for a group of peers to write it with me.
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