The Library of Unwritten Lives Behind a quiet mosque at the edge of Ibadan stood a building no one seemed to notice. It had no sign, no noise, no visitors—just a single wooden door that always looked closed, yet never locked. One afternoon, a boy named Idris wandered behind the mosque while waiting for his friends. He noticed the door slightly open, as if inviting him in. Inside, the air was cool and still. Shelves stretched endlessly in every direction, filled with blank books—thousands of them. At the center sat a man, calmly writing in one of the books with a fountain pen. “You’re early,” the man said without looking up. Idris frowned. “Early for what?” “For your life,” the man replied, finally meeting his eyes. Confused, Idris walked closer. “Why are all the books empty?” “They’re not empty,” the man said. “They’re unwritten.” He handed Idris a book. On the cover was his name. Idris’s heart skipped. With shaking hands, he opened it. The first few pages were filled—his childhood, his memories, things he recognized. But the rest… blank. “Why hasn’t the rest been written?” he asked. The man smiled slightly. “Because you haven’t lived it yet.” Idris flipped through the pages. Endless blank space stared back at him. “Can you write it for me?” he asked quickly. “Make it good. Make it successful.” The man shook his head. “I don’t decide your story. I only record what you choose.” Idris looked down again. “What if I make mistakes?” “You will,” the man said calmly. “But even mistakes become part of a meaningful story—if you learn from them.” The pen on the table glowed faintly. “Can I try?” Idris asked. The man nodded. Idris picked up the pen and hesitated. Then, slowly, he wrote a single sentence: ‘He chose to take his life seriously.’ The moment the ink touched the page, the room shifted. Suddenly, Idris was back outside, behind the mosque, the door gone. In his hand was nothing. But inside him— A story had begun. And for the first time, he understood: Life isn’t something you wait to read. It’s something you must write.
