The Little Black Book

The surrounding buildings blurred together as the rain slipped off of the foggy subway windows. While the train sped past, I stared out at the gloomy world, my head resting on my arm and a sigh leaving my nose. I had barely gotten any sleep lately, vivid dreams and nightmares leave me exhausted as soon as I wake, leaving small shadows under my eyes. Work was going to be fun today, I thought sarcastically. The subway car air was cold and damp from the rain-soaked passengers and my eyes wandered from face to face. Some seemed content, and others already weary so early in the morning. Mondays.

My stop finally approached and I made my way out the doors. The chilling rain of February was unrelenting, forcing me to zip my coat all the way up to my chin as I clutched myself tightly. The strong winds didn’t help, I lost many umbrellas to such weather. I grumbled and proceeded through the park as I always do on my way to work. It was usually pretty quiet, only a few people cross the park at this hour and today was no exception. Passing by the sheltered benches, something caught my eye, stopping me in my tracks. On the bench sat a small, black book. A feeling of déjà vu washed over me as I stepped closer to study it. It was leather-bound and looked worn from years of use. I popped out of the shelter to see if anyone was nearby. Was there a possibility that someone had left it just before? But the park was empty. I could have sworn that there had been a few passersby, but now there were none. My gaze darted back to the book and I decided to take a peek. Perhaps someone had left a name and address? I picked up the aged leather book and opened the cover, no name, no address, nothing. Shuffling through the pages, there was not even a single line of writing throughout the book that could be seen. But what looked like an envelope stuck out from the center of the book. I flipped to the envelope and pulled it out. It appeared brand new in comparison to the book, but nothing had been written on the outside. The nearby clock tolled as the new hour had begun and I was instantly pulled from my curiosity. My eyes stuttered as I looked up and realized that I was going to be a few minutes late. Damn it. I ran into the bookstore, unzipping my coat as I cleared the threshold. “Sorry I’m late!” I called, rushing over to the owner. I hung up my coat and sat the book on the shelf next to the desk. “No problem, just don’t make it into a habit. Today’s weather is really nasty huh?”

The rain continued throughout the day, causing time to slow and eyes to become heavy. As one could imagine, this weather wasn’t good for business. I walked around the shop reorganizing books, old and new, but one book in particular kept coming to mind. I felt restless wondering what could be in that envelope. Could it be the name and address of the keeper, or could it be something more intriguing? I could hardly wait to find out. Once lunchtime had arrived, I quickly grabbed the book and slid the contents of the envelope out into my hands. Inside was a letter.

“Hello dear finder of this book”, It began. “This book is now yours for the taking. You may be wondering why there is nothing written, well that is because this book is unlike any other. Whenever a fresh pair of eyes is presented with the book, all that was written disappears. It resets. You may also be wondering why one would pass such a book on and with a check no less.”

A check? I turned the letter, making sure it hadn’t gotten stuck and then looked back to the envelope. Inside was indeed a check that I had not noticed. I pulled out the check to find that the amount written said, $20,000?! What?! I looked around in sheer shock and went back to reading the letter.

“This book is a strange one. One that writes its own story, and you could say that the check is an incentive of sorts. Do whatever you please with the money, but I beg of you, find a way to destroy the book for good.

Good luck,

S.”

Dumbfounded, the letter in one hand and the check in other, I sat slumped on the floor. I blinked and rubbed my eyes wondering if this was one of my realistic dreams. I would be able to tell if I were dreaming right? While I gazed down at the book on the floor, I suddenly remembered why I had a sense of déjà vu when I saw it sitting on the bench. In my dreams, there was always a little. Black. Book. Am I imagining things? I shook my head and decided to forget about it for now. Rising off of the floor I put the letter and check back in the envelope just as it were before, and hid the book for later.

The rest of the day slowly dragged on but I was able to take the book off my mind for a few hours. When I had returned home, I decided to investigate the book, opening the cover once more. I stared at the blank page, thinking about what the letter had said. A book that writes its own story? I wonder what they meant by that. As if on cue or perhaps it could feel my stare, words began to scrawl themselves across the page, letter by letter.

“Hello,” it said, its letters small and delicate. “You must be new. I can feel your curiosity. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

Looking down at the book, wide eyed, I had to face the reality that this wasn’t a dream. How could a book like this exist? And for what purpose? Why did it need to be destroyed? Questions kept coming to mind and I had a feeling that asking the book wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Well?”

It had been waiting for my answer. Bewildered, I blinked repeatedly in confusion and scratched my head wondering what to do. “Can you hear me?” I asked aloud, testing the book’s abilities. No answer. I took a pen and began to introduce myself, asking the book to tell me about itself as well.

“My existence is of no concern for you, I am merely a journal that has the ability to communicate. Think of me as a personal therapist.”

Nothing but vague answers were given, I had begun to understand that this book was much more than it let on. I thought about what could happen if I did as it said. Would there be terrible consequences? It is just a book after all, what could happen if I complied? And so, I wrote to it. A week went by as I told it about my day and my current thoughts about life. I still had the check, but for some reason it felt wrong to cash it. What would I use it for? Over the week, nothing changed in my waking life, but my nightmares grew in number. Another two weeks had gone by and I could feel a change within myself. Now I was sure that my nightmares were no coincidence. They had become so graphic, so sinister, that I would awake in a cold sweat, my body unable to move for several minutes. The book’s responses had also become more aggressive. Instead of asking simple questions about how I felt, now it was asking about my darkest fears and my deepest desires. I gave somewhat vague answers which were met with passive replies, as if the book were annoyed at my lack of detail. By the sixth week, I felt a steady descent into whatever madness this little black book was causing. I looked in the mirror and couldn’t recognize the reflection staring back at me. What was this? My boss had also seen a change and would ask if I were alright, but all I could say was that I had been feeling under the weather. At this point I had forgotten all about the money, none of it mattered, nothing mattered. Time had somehow slipped by and the seventh week had already begun. I became increasingly paranoid. I thought that I saw shadows in my peripheral vision, and time was a concept that I could no longer understand, slipping between my fingers like sand. My sleep paralysis had also gotten worse. At this point whenever it occurred, a dark shadow would creep in and out of my vision, slowly getting closer to me. It felt as if I couldn’t even breathe. And then there it was, looming over me and I couldn’t look away. The unsettling nature of not knowing what will happen was terrifying. All I could hear was my heartbeat in my eardrums as my fingers slowly twitched, bringing motion back to my body. The shadow grew closer, and I would fight against my paralysis until I finally broke free, running across the room.

But tonight was different. Even though I fought against these invisible restraints nothing happened. I couldn’t move beneath the shadow. It reached out its hand, touching my face. I could feel the cold fingertips while the rest of my body felt as if it were on fire. It brought its face closer to mine and tears filled my eyes. Was I going to die? My eyes darted over towards my desk where the book lay open, and back to the creature that loomed over me. I decided to try to break free one last time. I fought with all the strength left in my body and tore away from my bed as fast as possible, picking up the book along the way. I ran to the lit fireplace and tore the pages out as quickly as possible and threw them into the fire. I didn’t know if this would work, but I didn’t care. I wanted the book gone forever and far away from me. As I tore the pages out, I could see the book scrawling words as fast as it could, the font, large and erratic. No longer the delicate script as it was before. Now it was angry and scared.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!!!! I’M THE ONLY ONE THAT UNDERSTANDS YOU!! STOP!!!...

Look what you’ve done...”

I ignored its pleas. I tore out the last of its pages and threw the leather shell into the hungry flames. A weight had lifted from my chest and shoulders as I saw the flames change color, eating away at the leather binding. I quickly looked around in case the shadow still lingered around me, but I saw nothing but the room lighten up as it did just before sunrise. I breathed a sigh of relief, crumbling to the ground. I blinked slowly and contently, watching the fire continue its feast. A restful sleep that I hadn’t had in months took hold. With the money from the book, I decided to move away and take a break from the stresses of life. I had finally gotten everything settled in my new apartment and was falling asleep in my new bed when the nightmares returned. The shadow stood before me, a grin crossing its dark face, “You really thought that fire would stop me?” It chuckled, “I only leave once you’re no longer breathing.” and shoved the book into my chest. Terrified, I awoke in a cold sweat and looked down at my chest. In my hands I clutched tightly, the little black book. I opened the cover and words began to form.

“Hello again,

S.”