I’m planning a short story, sneak peak

The Book Nobody Couldn’t Like

Agreements were found and discrepancies were solved. One thing everybody liked and a million answers were discovered. It didn’t make sense. What was the problem before then? What was the problem before this unworldly book? It didn’t matter though. People were finding new ways to live. It provided so much relief! But it became dangerous.
He was just sitting with his terrific book in hand, reading over its pages. The slams at the door didn’t faze him. The roar of screaming fans didn’t sway his dedication. He read the lines. The way I remember him reading the lines is what really caught my attention. The way he read those pages was enough to stop me from listening to the roar of screaming fans and stare back. A sparkle was always evident. It was different though. Not the sparkle of a child. It was filled with more knowledge and it was more constructed. It was worn out, like he was just trying to make sense of something.

The fires wouldn’t cease. The incessant cry and pleads of tortured children got louder and louder. They cried to know, everybody was crying to know. People wouldn’t leave him alone. That’s the bottom line: people would not leave him alone. I saw this man write me. He was at such peace and now he could not be alone for one minute of his life. That’s one of the worst tortures of all. Everybody needs to be alone at some point. But not him, he was never alone. People were getting hurt and sick, he was threatened for his life every day, but he would not speak.
Words had not escaped his lips for what must have been a decade, maybe two. His lips were cracked and broken. The skin was split, every cut side by side. They were dry and white. They had no color and no life. The only way he had spoken is through ink, but he couldn’t do that either. He stopped after his damned book was written.