Oh little book

The book had arrived only a week ago and now a relative I never knew about was dead and I was $20000 richer. My logic is telling me that it can’t be the book yet my senses are screaming at me that it was the book.

It couldn’t be the book, even if there was no return address on the package. Even if the book though New looking had a feel of years on it. Even if I swore I saw a puff of smoke when I opened the package. It couldn’t be the book I was just being paranoid.

Yes I couldn’t figure out what to do with it. Yes my pen hit the page multiple times yet nothing felt worthy. Yes a voice in my head screamed for me not to use it. Yet it’s a clean book waiting to be etched with the myriad of ideas that threaten to erupt forth from me.

The pen felt like it had a life of its own as the words began to inscribe themselves on the page. The first word singular…

“I”

The one that followed a chance to dream…

“wish”

I paused my heart racing my hand trembling yet onward it went…

“for”

And finally

“$20000”

As my breath quickened and my heart tried to burst from my chest.

Who wrote this? Was it I? Yes $20000 would really help out but why that specific amount. Why did it not feel like I was in control? Why did I slam the book shut and throw it across the room, landing where it has stared at me for the last week?

Then I get this message that my uncle Rodrigo has died and he has left me the sum of $20000. Exactly what was asked for in the book. The book that now sits in the dark corner of my apartment. The corner that I don’t remember being so dark. For that matter an uncle that I did not even know existed.

I could swear the book is mocking me calling to me to pick it up again. Tempting me to see if this was a fluke reaching for me to write again. I step closer and it feels like I am not in control of mine own legs. Another step followed by another til I hold in my hand the cold little black book. I open to the page I wrote on only to be greeted by…

Nothing, no ink, no words, nothing but the frigid empty page.

This time I muster the courage to write something impossible. This time I write before i am compelled to write. This time..

“I wish for a chance with Ersatz.”

I laugh at the very ludicrous thought of it, that is until my phone rings.

It rings again and I can feel a rush to my head that threatens to lead me to dark oblivion. I walk toward the phone my heart making my head throb. It rings yet again and I look at the phone to read …

“Unknown Caller”

I pick up the phone and stutter…

“He he hello?”

Only to hear a voice I’ve heard a million times in my head say,

“Can I come over? I could really use a friend right now.”

I say yes even before what transpires is allowed to weigh on me. Even before I can realize the full extent of the insanity. Even before I ask if I am losing grasp on reality. This can’t be possible she can’t be coming to my house. It must be a dream… that’s it it’s a dream…

Knock Knock Knock.