Little Black Book

Archie walked up the creaky stairs to his stronghold, the attic. Up there he could nod in his rocking chair and smoke his pipe in silent contemplation over daily events and past times gone. The attic had a smell of old oak and above him the timber beams had been overtaken with spiderwebs and dust. Filled with storage boxes that had been left unopened for decades, the place was in a disorganised mess. A workbench stood in a dark corner strewn with different sizes of blown glass creations and half-finished pieces. Opposite, shelves of books and antiquated gadgets and instruments covered an entire wall. Next to his rocking chair was a wooden treasure chest. A vase on top held forlorn tulips that hung, weeping, over the edge. The chest mostly served as a table for his tobacco, pints and papers.

As he arrived on the last step of the stairs mumbling a hoarse little tune to himself, he walked over towards the rocking chair. To the left side of the chair was a bucket half full of water, coming from the dripping ceiling. With one hand he loosened the clasp of his cotton shoulder bag and then put it down with his bodhrán, an old Irish drum made of goat skin, leaning them next to the wooden chest. Then he put down a pint of dark stout, with a thump. The move almost knocked over a collection of empty and half full pints and tumblers. He stacked a few glasses together and put them whimsically on the floor. As he swung around to take a seat in his chair, he managed to kick them out and gave out an angry “Oh… Archie, get a grip of ye’self!”.

Ignoring the mess, he sighed and lit a match to his pipe and inhaled deeply. Straightening up his crooked back and looking out the skylight, he suddenly got a deep cough. Once he had collected himself, he took another puff. He had made a living as a troubadour and glassblower. Despite the fact his lungs might stop before he got to his senses, he wasn’t going to stop his vices. A blackbird’s song came through the open window above his tiny nook. It was early in the autumn and the noon sun let in a dim light beam through the branches from the outside. Closing his eyes while waving back and forth on his feet, still standing, he slowly surrendered into a dream, and sunk hazily down into his sheepskin covered rocking haven.

“Aah… that’s right, let me lean on you ol’Bettie” he whispered.

Satisfied he could finally sit down and enjoy some down time he soon fell into a light sleep. The next half hour, sun beams moved across the room dancing over Archie’s body and the dim floor. A blue tit flew inside to nibble some old crumbs atop the treasure chest. It jumped up on his head and trotted about on his skewed beret moving slowly under his snores. In a quick flit the bird then made its way out again through the open window.

A few moments later a big loud noise rattled the walls of the little building. Archie woke up disturbed and loudly muttered to himself “Those bloody bastards on wheels! Just sod off... tossers!” Half-awake he looked around him in angry confusion. Suddenly the door downstairs opened. Quick steps that sounded like someone taking two steps in one up to the garret, a young woman emerged on the attic floor.

“Archie? Hello!” She panted, “I mean pardon me! You look like I just woke you, I’m so sorry” smiling timidly she held one hand covering her mouth feeling guilty, then she continued “I found the books we were talking about last week. I came across a little black notebook in the pile as well, however I’m not certain of its origin, it looks very old”. She skipped towards him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

In a raucous voice Archie exclaimed, “Vega! Pleasure to see you!” Having forgotten about the cursing of bikers just a moment earlier, he was delighted to see one of his young companions. Unzipping the biker jacket, she handed him the small pile of books and sat down on a small red stool opposite him.

“How are things faring?” He asked her, knowing she’d had a tough past year. She looked as if she’d had little sleep but carried an aura of a calmness he’d not seen in a good while.

“Things are better, thank you! I’ve been camping in the forest for a few days. The bike broke down last week, so I had someone pick it up and repair it down at the garage in Abbeyfield. I think maybe she’s run her last mile to be honest, I’m not sure I’ll get her back.” Thoughtful she continued, “In the meantime I’m just borrowing David’s Guzzi, it’s a bit more rowdy” she smiled in an excusing way, knowing Archie’s disdain for bikers and tourists that came to the area on them.

“Doing this trip has been great for heart and mind. I think I’ve cried by several rivers and spoken to a few squirrels without knowing if the world will ever make sense to me again. Or if I will make sense to myself again” she grimaced in a soft way and met his eyes. “Why is it that... in the depths of grief we feel there is no end to it, and no wilful attempt of bringing ourselves out of that pit of despair? The only way to reconnect to womanhood again - the inner sanctum, for me... has been to lay under the canopy of the trees and the night sky. To listen to the sounds of the forest. Purging all that I thought I ever was. It’s like perhaps, there are invisible spirits around me reassuring me of something larger. Earth is so alive in the nocturnal hours, in the darkness, like another realm. After having succumbed to numbness for so long. I’m finally starting to sense a new dawn within. Free from blame and that inner dark mass that has been so… suffocating.” Speaking with an undertone of sadness, Archie could sense there was a great vehemence in her words too. “The whirlwind I’ve felt internally has brought me through a black void, a silent war … I can’t quite explain it”. Given up, she took a deep breath and tilted her curly head up towards the window.

“Anyway um...“ Scared she’d shared too much she went on “I think there is something bigger at play in this world than what most people comprehend, but I never used to be open to that school of thought before”. Glancing over towards the faded flowers in the vase, she said “I’ve certainly felt like your darn tulips for far too long!” and smiled with a sigh.

After a little while, Archie said softly “My life has been total shambles too, at times. I’ve made bad choices and many people, move through our lives. Aye, it is through transcending our experiences that we milk the true richness out of life. But beware of those that can not shapeshift their perspectives into empathy for others. They are the cockroach souls!” he raised his fist into the air, “Leeches, that leave you dry. I’ve fought them and I know, I know! Greed is the venom in mankind.” He paused then continued with a scottish accent, “I dinnae’ have any money to fix me roof but still I am glad for you, me bonny lassie, that has graced me path with ye comp’ny…!” She burst out in laugher.

Vega always enjoyed their afternoon chats. Archie had lived an abundant life and always had good advice that was close to untainted by personal opinion, depending on how many stouts he’d had of course.

“Fortitude, Vega, is key to overcoming, perhaps there are angels assisting us, or call them what ye like… spiritsss”. He prolonged the letter to be theatrical. Clearing his voice and scratching himself under his chin he went on, “The earth is full of magic, I know it! But I do not depend on it – I believe in it. The beingness in believing, is where it happens, my lady. Aye… the earth and the trees, they listen.” He lit his pipe again. “Thank you for your kind words” she said and put her palms together as in prayer and smiled.

They sat in silence, listening to the birdsong and the wind moving outside. A bicycle bell rang in the distance and some children yelled and laugh. After a while she and leaned over and took the little black book from the pile in his lap. Flicking through some empty pages she found just one written page, “There’s something written in this book, it looks like a poem. I’ll read it, if you like?” Archie nodded, with smoke coming out of his pipe. “Go on.” Tilting his beret in a little nod, he motioned her to begin. She read out loud.

“In a world so impenetrable and grey,

few run, few truly yearn escape,

A kind of self-taught treason,

‘tis nonsense for no reason,

In a place where fear is the enemy of the mind,

I tell you, regret will never pay you in kind,

In the betrayal of others I have betrayed myself,

I have felt the loss of trust, the meaning of true wealth,

No one can help you forgive yourself, no one will set you free,

Mistakes we make in life are ruining, from the guilt one cannot flee,

Gaily shadows will grasp to try and get to the sword of your heart,

And still, you must not give up, don’t let your faith in life depart,

Many a fools’ choice will create lessons to be learned,

But you will find, life sprouts again where the ground once burned,

Infinite knowledge and wisdom will always be found,

Through the womb of woman and on mother nature’s sacred ground.”

Archie smiled with closed eyes. He was just about to say something, when Vega interrupted, “Hang on, there is something more here in the back… It reads”

“The sum of 20,000 is put in trust with law firm Clyde & Co. in Aberdeen, for the bearer of this little black notebook to do with as they will. I believe you will make a good difference. Sincerely, Mr. A. McFadyen.”

Stunned, they looked up at each other. Archies pipe now in his lap.

Slowly, a white feather cradled itself in the air and landed on the open page in the little black book.