Instead of a moderately spacious building, as it appears on the outside, the door opens on a small antechamber of grey stonework. Across from the glossy glass outer door is a square arch, scored with possibly symbolic markings, which are so old one can no longer tell if they were put there originally or were the work of vandals.
On the walls on each side is a bracket holding an anciently burnt out torch. A smoke-stained painting is hung on each bracket, not by a cord, but by smashing the bracket through the painting where would be the nose of the portraited gentleman.
Beyond the arch inwards a narrow stone stairway screws sharply out of sight and downwards, into a prickling mass of suspiciously mobile and turbid shadow.
The light from outside the building does not make it many inches in from the outer threshold, before it dies and turns grey as the stone it falls on.
This is a place in the world called “Tomebook”.