Little Black Book

I was ten and in the fifth grade. School was boring, so I spent a lot of time reading books that I found around the house. My mother was an avid reader, and we had books everywhere and on all kinds of subjects. One afternoon when left on my own, I snuck into my mom's bedroom. Sometimes I would discover things that I was not supposed to find.

My parents had two closets. One long one took up an entire bedroom wall and was full of my mother's clothes and belongings. It was full of colorful outfits, hats, shoes, purses, jewelry boxes, and other surprises. Best of all, it smelled of EVENING IN PARIS, the scent that everyone knew my mom wore. I loved to sneak in and play dress-up with her things. She would scold me, but I think she wasn't outraged as she always had a kind of grin on her face.

On the opposite wall, near the window, was a much smaller closet that held my father's suits, shirts, shoes, and so forth. I never bothered to look inside it because nothing interested me. Besides, it was very, very deep and very, very dark. The only light inside was a bare lightbulb hanging high from the ceiling.

But it was dark and rainy outside, and I was bored. I had just finished reading a Nancy Drew Mystery and felt like exploring someplace new. I knew mom kept a flashlight in the drawer of her nightstand in case of an electrical outage, so I ran and got it. At first, I couldn't find it as it had rolled to the back of the drawer. I tried it out, and thank goodness the batteries seemed new, for the light from the flashlight was bright. Standing up tall and picturing myself like the Nancy Drew character in so many of the books I had read, I started on my adventure.

Turning on the closet light, I saw little beyond the hanging clothes of my father. Unlike the colorful clothing hanging in my mom's closet, my father's clothes were subdued greys, browns, and blacks. The only bright colors were the white or blue stiffy starched shirts and striped ties. The smell of his clothes was a little medicinal as he was a doctor. It wasn't entirely unpleasant because they also smelled like, well, like my daddy. Being that the closet was smallish, his clothes were pretty tight, and I had difficulty pushing through them to see what was behind. Luckily I am relatively slight and could push through a couple of suits.

How far back did the closet reach? I couldn't even see the back wall. There were musky pieces of luggage stacked as tall as me, bearing colorful stickers of exotic places my parents had traveled. Hanging on a rack was what must have been my father's old army uniform. Carefully folded beneath was a rough-looking blanket with brightly shined boots placed on top of a brown paper bag to not dirty the blanket.

A little further back, the closet seemed to expand length-wise. There was a small table with a single chair, an electric lantern, and an assortment of things. How very curious, I thought. Turning on the lantern filled the area with light. I put down the flashlight. On the table was a gigantic ledger, like the kind I saw my father writing in at his desk in his office, a glass full of ink pens, an old, stained coffee cup, and a small little black book.

Now in Nancy Drew mode, I thought to myself, "Something is quite off here. What is this hidden little room inside my father's closet?"

I sat down in the chair dumbfounded. Then, once again, trying to picture me as Nancy Drew, I opened the ledger. There were dates and names and medical terms that made no sense to me, so I quickly discarded it. Then I picked up the little black book. It was full of funny words that were sort of like short poems or rhymes.

"Oh goody, I thought. I love reciting rhymes."

Reading quickly through the book, looking for one to pique my interest, I came across HOW TO DISAPPEAR.

First, you stand and jump three times

Turning around, recite this rhyme

Think of where you'd like to be

Say aloud, 1,2,3

Close your eyes, repeat the spell

If you are gone, you've done it well.

I read the words from the little black book several times to make sure I had them adequately memorized. Then I suddenly thought, "I need a proper costume."

I pushed back out of the closet and ran to my mother's, where I rummaged through her long silk scarves, throwing the rejects on the floor. At long last, I found the orange feather boa that I knew would be perfect for my performance. I grabbed it and a hat made of pheasant feathers. Then I spied the satin slippers Mother had bought the last time we were in Chinatown. They were brilliant with golden, red, aqua, and purple thread. I unlaced my oxfords and slipped my feet into them. They were too big, but I shuffled back to my father's closet and pushed back through his suits towards the lit lantern on the little table in the back. Somehow the closet seemed even deeper than the first time I, Nancy Drew, began THE MYSTERY OF THE CLOSET.

Picking up the little black book, I refreshed my memory of the little rhyme. I no longer was Nancy Drew. Now I was a famous stage actress. Throwing the feather boa around my neck and placing the hat on my head, I stood facing my father's hanging clothing and began.

FIRST, YOU STAND AND JUMP THREE TIMES

TURNING AROUND, RECITE THIS RHYME

(which I demonstrated as reciting the words - twirling the ends of

the feather boa)

THINK OF WHERE YOU'D LIKE TO BE

SAY ALOUD 1,2,3

( As I repeated this part, I said aloud, a candy store, a candy store, a

candy store)

CLOSE YOUR EYES REPEAT THE SPELL

IF YOU ARE GONE, YOU'VE DONE IT WELL

(I closed my eyes and repeated the first four lines, and when I

opened them I was surrounded by all sorts of delightful treats)

How could this be? Did my father have a little black book of spells?! What did I care? Surrounded by candy that I didn't even know existed, I was in candy heaven. I walked over to the lady at the counter to explain that I didn't have any money, but I am sure my father would pay for anything I ate, but she didn't seem to hear me. I repeated myself quite loudly. Then it hit me. I was invisible.

Happily, I skipped throughout the store, stuffing my face with all sorts of chocolates, sweet candies, tart candies, sugared nuts, lollipops, and caramels. As wonderful as it all was, I was starting to feel sick to my stomach. I needed to get back home where my daddy would know how to make me feel better. But I couldn't remember the exact words of the spell. No matter how hard I tried, I must have mixed up the words. Or maybe the magic only worked one time per user. Was I destined to be stuck forever in the little candy shop? Frantically I ran to the door, thinking that once outside, I could find my way home. When I tried to walk through the open door, it was like running into a brick wall. Falling backward and towards a woman and her little boy, I expected us all to fall to the floor. But I didn't even knock them over. They just walked through me and out the door. I tried to follow them but could not leave the store.

Day after day, I wandered the aisles of the candy store. After a while, the sight of candy made me sick to my stomach. Luckily the owner and his wife would have lunch in the back of the store, and sometimes I could steal a little from the basket of goodies the wife brought in daily. They also sold small bags of things like chips and jerky. Not a great diet, but it kept me from starving. At Halloween, there would be candy apples. I never thought I'd be so happy to eat a piece of fruit.

Through snatches of conversations that I heard throughout the first months, it appeared that my parents came home and, upon discovering the mess in my mother's closet, thought me kidnapped. The police and locals searched everywhere, and my parents even offered a reward for my safe return. People spoke about my 'abduction,' and my parents even gave $20,000 to a grifter who claimed he could lead them to me. They never saw the grifter or the money again.

Years went by. How many I don't know because I remained ten. They tore down the candy store and had a bank built in its spot. Or I should say, MY spot. I thought that would break the spell, and I could leave, but it just left me stranded in a different building.

At least the good thing about not being seen is you can do whatever you want. I happened to "borrow" $20,000 from the bank vault. Luckily being invisible didn't keep me from being able to touch and use things. I bundled the money up, wrapped it like a package, placed it among the mail for morning pickup.

I sent it to my parents—sort of my way of repaying them for the money they lost trying to find me. I enclosed a note telling them how sorry I was for being a bad girl. I didn't mean to cause any worry or trouble and that I loved them. Being ten, I didn't think to explain anything else to them. Since I didn't know how much time had passed, I hoped that they were still alive and still lived in the same house.

So dear reader, if you can read my story, heed my warning. DON'T pick up and read ANY little black books that do not belong to you. In the end, you may disappear.