In any city, in any country, go to any school where art classes are offered. Approach a female art teacher sometime when school is not in session, and ask her to see her finest piece of art. If she giggles a bit and points you to a piece on the walls, feel free to leave right then. This Holder obviously doesn't want to see you right now. If, however the lady nods once, and leads you to a door in the far back of her classroom, follow, as you have been deemed worthy to continue.
Enter the room, and don't be concerned with the way the door slams shut behind you. You will be alone, as the teacher can't be bothered to continue with you right now. On the floor will be a large depression, of undeterminable depth. It will be filled to the point of spilling over with sapphire blue ink, swirling slowly. Test it with your hand, ignore that it will stain. If it burns like acid, wipe it off on something, your shirt if that is what's closest, before your hand disintegrates, and turn back. There is no point in continuing.
Only if it is cold, but not icy, dive in. Keep your eyes shut, as the ink will dissolve them if nothing else. Stay under until you feel like your lungs will burst, then swim to the side of the pool. Feel around until you find a cloth; use it to dry off your face. If you look at yourself, you will see that only your skin has been stained, and your clothes are dry.
You will find yourself in a different room. The pool of ink will have vanished, and with it, your only chance to turn back. The room will be black, and seemingly endless, but you will be able to clearly see yourself, and a figure lying in the center of the room.
Walk over to the figure. It will be a beautiful woman, seeming to be sleeping or dead. She will be somehow familiar, making the task that much more difficult. Next to her, there should be three objects: A quill pen, a small jar of green ink, and a knife. If they are not there, you will be trapped in that room until dehydration finally claims you, as there is no other exit.
Assuming they are there, dip the quill in the ink, and write on the Holder's, for that is the beautiful woman's true nature, forehead, "Are They beautiful?" in your neatest handwriting.
They ink will blur and reform the instant you set the quill down. If it forms into anything other than "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," close your eyes and send a quick prayer to whatever entity you believe in, for the ink soaked into your skin will dissolve you in a few seconds, and you will claim your spot in the deepest levels of hell.
But if it shows the correct message, close your eyes and picture something that gives you strength, that gives you inspiration. Then take the knife, and slit the woman's throat. If you did everything correctly, the blood that spills out will be ink, of many and ever-changing colors. Pay attention to the colors. If it ever changes to black, pour out the jar of green ink. The next color it changes to will be white. Fill the bottle with it, and seal it with a chunk of the woman's skin.
The room will seem to shrink, and form definite boundaries. The ink pouring out of the lady's neck will gush, filling the room. Close your eyes as it covers your head, and keep them shut until you feel cool, fresh air on your skin. You will be standing outside the school, unstained, holding the jar of ink.
The ink in the jar is object 639 of 2538. Remember, it was once used to sustain life.
Credited to Anonymous