The Book That Wrote Itself Backwards

This is an excerpt from a short story that was inspired by The Little Black Book challenge. I began writing but got carried away, and is too long to submit to this challenge. The original text is not yet complete but can be found here. I look forward to turning this idea into a series of short stories titled The Journals of Curiosity.

I once found a small black book in a desk. There was nothing written in it. Nothing but two simple sentences:

I am leaving this book here. Maybe someone will find it.

Not thinking much of this, I decided that I would put it into the Lost and Found when class ended. Instead, however, I brought it home, nearly forgotten.

I almost got run over by a car, and I’m pretty sure that this book... saved me somehow. I tripped while crossing the street just as a car was passing and it seemed as if time had stopped.

I gathered my things and got out of the way, completely confused, but totally unharmed.

I noticed that this book was lying open on the pavement, and I decided to flip to the back of the book to read it again. This time, however, the full text read:

This book makes me uncomfortable… maybe I should just let it be.

I am leaving this book here. Maybe someone will find it.

I was confused but supposed I’d merely missed the first sentence somehow.

Again, that night, I opened the book and found new text. This time I was way too tired to read it, but I could tell that new words were there.

The strangest thing about all of this was that each time I closed the book, I’d notice my senses come rushing back to me, but they seemed amplified somehow. I could hear, and feel everything with a semblance of normalcy… but it was somehow much more pronounced, even painful at times.

Eventually, I began catching on to the fact that time was stopping when I opened the book. Because of this, I found it much easier to finish my homework on time or get enough sleep.

All I had to do was leave the book open until I was finished, and I could get as much sleep as I needed, or have as much time to do what I wanted.

I felt like a god or some sort of time wizard.

When I needed a breather, I could open the book and take one with no distractions.

When I wanted a break, I could take one whenever I wanted.

I didn’t notice it at first, but each time I opened the book there would be a new line written at the back of the book. It took me about a week to notice, but I didn’t care much to actually read it until a month had passed when about three-fourths of the book were filled out.

I discovered that the story seemed to be chronicling someone in a similar situation, though the ending always left me unsettled; it had this strange text near the ending, before the last few lines.

I guess you could say that I was… inspired by this interesting story, and I bought a black, pocket-sized journal. I began writing this, what you’re reading right now.

I guess I don’t know who’s going to be reading this… this whole thing sounds crazy.

Anyway, another week had passed and the book was almost full. I hadn’t bothered to reread it. I was beginning to become nervous to find out how the story ended… or, well, started, I suppose.

I guess that’s why I never bothered to read it. Either way, I was almost done writing in the journal I’d gotten for myself.

W̵͉͚͑̇h̴͇̃̈è̴̹͝r̴̘͑͛e̸͕̽̈́'̶̖͉̇d̶̨̉̓ ̴̳͑̾m̸͉̻̊͝ý̸̻͖ ̶͉̊j̴̹̕ȍ̴̰̏ú̷̗̅ṟ̷͉̈́͌n̸̖͉͋̇a̶̡͗l̷̡͉̑ ̶͇̓g̴̡̜͝o̴̧̧͘?̴̝́ ̸͔̱́̈́Ḯ̷̲̋ ̴̧̢̐͋c̴͚̾̉͜à̴̞͘ñ̵̹ ̶͖̬̓ó̸̳̿n̸̫̦̔l̸̯͒̽y̷̳̆̋ ̸̺͓̎̑f̵͉̐̿ì̶̖̌n̶̖̊d̴̗́ͅ ̵̘͕̋ţ̴͑̈́h̴̺̞͆i̴͉͠s̵̹̲̓ ̶̞͎͠b̴̧̪̋͒ǫ̴̯͌͠ö̵͚̮́k̶̗͍̂,̶̜̫̅́ ̸̡̼̓b̴̤̭̏u̶̻̽t̵̨͕̅ ̵̨̱̔̊i̴̛͙ț̸͊͂ͅ'̶̭͖̈́͝s̴̔͑͜ ̴̤͖͑̍a̷̧͂̾ḷ̷͛̇r̶̰̮͋e̵̹̘̔̚a̴̦͛̒d̷̺͓̽ȳ̷̭̞͑ ̷͖́f̵͇̮̐̕u̴̳͒̂͜l̶̲̝̅̂l̸̮͛͝.̸̬̩͋̏

I̶̧̢̪̥͔͎͈̓͆̿͌͛̑̇͝ ̸̨̻̘͍́̀̔̄ą̵̆͌̒̌͑c̸̡͔̼͓͎̓t̴̤̅̈̈́̓u̵̫̗̐ͅḁ̵̱͚̘̥͚͊l̷̢̢̦̬̦͝ḻ̶̨̰̣̼̰͐͐̿̈́́͐̇y̷̢̺̣͔̔ ̵̨̼̹̟̟̦͚̳͗̀͝é̴̳̭̩͎̒̄̏̀̂n̸̪͈͓̤͈̄̈́̈́͘d̶̳̳͓͔̰̦̪̃̍̈́̉̎̚͜è̶̢̽̔̀̀̋d̸̻͙̫̣̣͎̋̊̊̊͌͛̽ ̶̛̮̩̲̜̜̓̄̐̾̓̾ǘ̴̢̠̒͗̀͆̋͘͠p̷̤̔ ̶̢̳̺̳̟͈̺́͌̒͝p̶̡͚̈̑͛̂̕ư̵̖̞̦̍̈́̽̇̂̑͠b̴͎̭͇͚͈̿̑̀̕l̶̘̮̞̥̺̱̆̒̓i̵̳̯̼̻̞̫͆̓̀s̷̘̜̰̋̌h̶̨̿̉͛͐̀̾͌͝i̷̢͆̾̓̃ņ̸̹̠̱͂̓͜g̷̡̧̰̻̮̐ ̵̢̡̻̫̬̈́ą̵͎̥̥̼̣͖̗̎̃ņ̶̛͙͈̝̠̘͒̂͘ ̵̙̖͓̋̇̓̏̅̎͝a̷͙̟̓̾̇̌d̵̛͉̼̤̥̄̓a̷̡̛̟͉̅̇̐́̚p̷̧̖̫̹̱̉́͌̀̂̀̔͛t̴̠̲̓̀̍̏ǎ̷͎͓̊̉͗͜t̶̙̼̺̣̬̹̝̤͑̊ǐ̷̩͇̙͝ỏ̷̫͑̾̎͊̿n̸̺̣͗͗̆̄̀̐̉̚ ̵̖͐̌̿̃̈́̍o̸̰̖̠̣̦̐̀̏̚f̶̢̘͕̦̗͔̀̍͂͘ͅ ̵̳̫̆̓̉̄́͘t̴̡̨̛̙͎̚̚͜h̶̓̍̃͗̾͜ḙ̴̟̫̄̓͠ ̵̢̩͚̗̝̙͕͗́̓͑͒͛̋͌s̷̘͔̮̯̉̐̿̓͋̃t̶̡̯̦̞̞͂̓̓o̷̝̥̫͚̲̭͗ŗ̶̺̜̦̭̣̰̠͐̕ÿ̶̬͕͇͓͕̜͈̗́̆̾̎̈́̏̋͝ ̵͇͉̖͎̘̼̎͐̌̎͝I̷͕̮̜͆͑́͛͋̋̈́̚ͅ ̴̛͇̺͓̾͗͂ͅͅw̷͙͊̎͌̓͘r̷̨̘̈ǒ̵̡͉̣̖̻̓͛̕t̵̛̯̥̑ę̸̞̰̲̗͔͊͛̍̑͐͘ ̶̳̇̓̅̾ḯ̴͇̆͐͐n̵̡̩̔̂͑͊ ̵̢̧̧͚̩̓̏͆m̶̧͋y̶̮̹̿̽̽͐͋̑̕͝ ̷͓̇̆̃̏̊́͝j̶̯͉͍̠̰͖̔̋̉͘ŏ̸̙̄͛̓̅ȗ̴͎̱̟̹̐̀̑͛ŗ̶̣̬͍͕̓̍͐ņ̶̇a̸͇͔̙͖̎̀͗̄̈́́l̸̨̡̹̖͉͙̫͚̈́̇.̴͈͉̖̲̘̳̎̐.̷̢̯̠̦̀̐̈́͝ͅ.̸͓̼̈̀͊̎͐͘ ̴̛͔͙͖̳͎̃̓́̅̕̚w̸̧̛͔͂͛͝h̶̛̙̊̊͗̇̉͝͝e̶̡̖̫̜͓̠̓̑̈̽̍̈́͜͜͝r̵̯̓ẻ̷̛͍̘͇̪̹̹̇́͑͗͗'̵̡̛̘̲͎́͑́͛d̵͈̦̈́̾͗̑̓̔ ̶̧̗͔͎̩͚͆͊͋̄͂̏t̸̨̥̎̆̒̑̽̚͠h̴̞̘͚͝a̵̱̻̮̐̒̿͛ṱ̸̓̔͒ ̶̛͙̞̗͍̦̫͇́́̀̓͘͘ͅg̵̖̻͎̭̙̽̌̈́͘o̴̢̧͉͕̟̼̊̍̌̀͛͌͠?̵̛͇̥̪̜̭̜͚̈́͊̑̿̾͝͝ ̶̜̟̫̏̔̈́͒̾̈́A̵̖̟͉̻̺̟̐ͅn̵̮̻̦̮̼͊͘y̵͖͙̖̹͓̞̺͙̅̚͝͠ẇ̵̦̃̓͂̒͌̇a̶̯̜̯̰͉͔̽̊̍̏͘y̸͖̔,̷̨̪̥̖̰̠͗̄ ̸̛̣̜̤̣̠̩̑̊́͊̃̾̒͜Į̴̼̞͎͋̑͐͗'̴̝̰̒̽͐̾̿̈͊̐v̸̼̰͙͌͒e̵̠̖̦̘̪͊̔͐͆ ̴̼͈̩̲͓̦̗͗̀͠ą̷̨͉͌͗̅̾͘l̷̨̜̩̭͙̎̐r̵̗̓̏̈e̷̖̭̫̭̐͘à̶̞͓͇͈̖̠̝̓̐̕͘͝d̵̪̏̀̊̕y̶̢̺̮̠̼͆̆̔̐͛̂̚ͅͅ ̷͍̠̫̥͇̔͛͗̾s̶̱̠͒̎̈́͐o̴͚̺̩͉̿̋͆̌̈͘͠l̸͓̖̾d̷̖̑ ̸̡̩͇̖̻̲̹̭͊̉͝ț̷͆͠h̷͔̩͎̹̜̙͖̬̒͐͠͠o̵̳̙͌̇͋̆ṷ̸̻͉̘̓ͅͅŝ̷̢̤̲̆̈́̅̈́̉ȃ̷̳̼͉̗̓͂͝ͅn̸̩͍̩̮̬̎̃̀̈d̷̢͓̘̱͙̲̗̥̂̃̇͛̊s̸̲͋̔̈͜ ̴̖͇̾͆̍̂͂́͌͑õ̵̫͖͎̓͜f̵̧̰̘̰̜̿̆̈́ ̴̩̣͓̻͊̿́̄̓̔͛c̶̨̙͔̟͚͚̥̳̓̑͛̒͘͘ȍ̵̢̯̬̒̿̿̌p̷̨̯̞͚̫̺͔̀͆͆̐̅̀̊i̸̢̥̳̟̪̲̹͛͛͋̈̃͗͘ͅẻ̶͇͕̩̖͎͑̆̉s̶͈͔̰̫͖͐̈́͝.̵͍̯͙̳̱̂͗͑͋ ̴͇͉͕̃̀́The amount of money I've made is honestly ridiculous.

W̴͛͜ë̸̹ḷ̸̎l̵͈̄,̵̧͊ ̴̢̒á̸͉n̶̰̓y̷̾͜w̷͕̓a̸̻̔ỳ̴̗,̶͈̏ ̷͔͋t̵͍̅h̵͖͠î̶̝s̸̞̾ ̷͚͝b̷̮̎ō̶̳o̴̘̓k̷͔͐ ̴̨̂i̴͍̐s̷̩͝ ̴̻̈b̷̰̿ě̷̞g̵̦̍ḯ̵͜n̵̗̑n̶͍͘i̴͚̅n̶̜̈́g̸̙̍ ̸̥͠t̷̳͐o̵̦͌ ̷͉̂c̷̬̓r̸͋ͅĕ̷̘e̸̘͂p̶̱̊ ̶̣͆m̷̻̀e̶͎̋ ̷̭̚o̵̡̕u̸̧̾t̷̠̂ ̷̘̈́à̷̯ ̸͖̈b̶̦̈́i̶͎̒t̷̼̑.̶͓͋ ̷͈̈́I̸̻̎'̷̻̕m̷̝̅ ̴̱̓k̸̟͠i̵͍͂n̸̟̽d̸̝̐a̶͓͆ ̴̟͂w̷̖͘o̸͍̍ṟ̴́r̸͚͠ḭ̶̀e̴̓ͅd̵̨͌ ̵̭̄ṯ̴̈o̶͖͒ ̶̩͑f̸̞͐i̵̛͙n̴͓̉ḑ̴̛ ̷̰̈́ơ̷̼u̵̦͘t̵̪̆ ̴͓̉w̸̻͠ȟ̸̩a̷̝͂ț̸̈́ ̶͖͝h̷̲̔à̸͙p̶̙͒p̸͉̂e̶̜͆ṋ̵̔s̸̙̈ ̷̨̐ẃ̸͓h̵̩́ḙ̶̀n̸̤̒ ̷̖̅ṫ̵̰h̸̥͝ë̴̩́ ̶̺͋b̷͉̂o̴̫͒o̸̦̓k̸̟͘'̴͓̽s̶̭̍ ̵̮̄f̶̬̍i̶̜̽ṇ̶̈́i̴̞͠s̸͈̾h̸̯̋e̴̱̓d̸͚̉.̵͙̓.̴̻̿.̵͎̈́ ̷̼́o̴̧͌r̴̗̚,̴̭͠ ̵͕̄w̵̞̎e̵͇̿l̷̝̊l̷̗̂,̸̻̾ ̴̻͌s̴̢̄ṱ̵̽å̸̻r̴̳̒t̷͙͝ě̷͚d̴̢͋.̵̛̻

I̵ ̴t̵h̶i̴n̴k̷ ̴I̶'̴m̴ ̸g̶o̵n̸n̶a̶ ̸s̸t̴o̶p̴ ̶w̵r̴i̴t̵i̷n̷g̸ ̷i̷n̷ ̶h̵e̵r̵e̸ ̷n̶o̷w̶.̸

I’m just going to put this book back where I found it to begin with; back in the desk.

This book makes me uncomfortable… maybe I should just let it be.

I am leaving this book here. Maybe someone will find it.