This choice: A hugely fat woman, being fed by everyone around her! • Go Back... It should not have been a surprise to her that this was no ordinary book, yet Dakota's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as she saw the strange illustration that occupied the pages. It looked like her… sort’ve. Actually, it didn’t at all. The woman in the picture was this enormous blob, seated at a throne of fantastic dimensions while people waited on her hand and foot, a content smile gracing the corners of her mouth. With the archaic illustrations, there was no real reason that Dakota should have thought that the woman in the book—the blimp between the pages, so big she was literally spilling into the bleed—looked anything like her.
But somehow, she did.
Somehow, Dakota saw something familiar in this enormous illustration that reminded her of herself. The sketch had been done in fine lines without any color, but the dark hair could have easily been brown. The nose was just right, and there was something about the curve of her face that reminded Dakota of an old photo. Maybe a yearbook picture of hers. There was, of course, nothing else remotely the same between the her and the illustrated hog, but what similarities were there kept Dakota glancing back and left her with a strange mixture of unnerve and intrigue.
“Weird…” she whispered, picking the surprisingly thick paper between her forefinger and thumb.
On the next page, behind an illustration on the other side that detailed every fold of the woman’s vast rump and rolling hills of backfat, Dakota finally found text—the title page, more specifically. the Liponomicon was written in a fine cursive script between two laurels, with a list of names written underneath in various handwritings. Abigail Goodwife, Mary-Beth Williams, Jezebel Polluck, Achak Deerstalker, and a few other names that were a bit more illegible thanks to time.
How old was this thing?
Dakota paused, feeling her heart beat inside her chest. She glanced over the names, running two long fingers across the dried ink. She traced the name of one of the Liponomicon’s previous owners idly, feeling a chill go down her spine. She paused as she reached the ‘e’ on Abigail Goodwife, her breath short. She glanced around, in search of a pen…
Dakota Johnson quickly joined the list of names, her curly-cue script standing out as somewhat more modern than the archaic handwriting and faded print. She smiled satisfactorily, and flipped the page…
A foreword…
Hark those who may readeth this tome—a warning ere thee continueth. This not be a simple text written for those common folk, but a work of works meanteth for him or she who has't a most wondrous fortune and power that lie ahead.
Unlimited riches lay inside, and power enough to fill thine appetites.
Dakota couldn’t believe it, this was… this was a spellbook! An actual, honest to goodness spellbook—that actual witches had used! With annotations from previous owners, and recipes and incantations and spells! This… this couldn’t have been real, could it?
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