The Disenchantment

It was a postcard-worthy golden leafed autumn morning in Tasmania’s Coal River region. Hopeturn Village was picturesque in the soft morning sunlight. The main street, lined with quaint specialty stores packed with goods to tempt even the most frugal tourist with quality keepsakes, was a symphony of Georgian sandstone. With all its charm, none would have guessed at its colonial days of bondage and unhappiness. The moody, romantic tones of La Vie En Rose were softly floating out of the Antiques & Oddities Emporium, as a smartly suited man strode toward its doors.

Tall and stalwart with real estate charisma, William Ashby entered Vivi’s store with confident steps. The walls and floors were heavy with history. It smelled like nostalgia and dusty memories. William was not crazy about antiques, but the same could not be said about his feelings for the young lady owner, Vivi Davis (pronounced with a French accent because she was, in fact, Parisienne).

Despite the dimmer light inside and the wall-to-wall antique furniture, William’s glance quickly found Vivi’s petit feminine figure among it all. As usual, she was wearing black and white, but this morning her vintage dress which elegantly accentuated her waist, was like a breath of fresh air to William. She was standing in the back corner of the shop’s front room, behind a large antique desk that served as the shop’s counter. Her eyes cast down, her brow furrowed with what William read as confusion or was it concern, perhaps even disdain? She was looking intently at a small, black leather-bound book lying unopened on the desk before her.

“Good morning?” he called from the front door. His voice was rich and warm, like melted dark chocolate.

Vivi started and looked up abruptly with the awkward surprise of one unexpectedly shaken from deep or secret thoughts.

“G-good morning,” she stammered.

William was moving towards her, across the polished timber floor, mostly covered with large dusty ornamental rugs.

“I’ve got news, fresh off the press,” he said, his winning smile on full display. “You heard it here first.”

As usual, he was distractingly handsome, and Vivi could feel her cheeks warming, her dark eyes widening. The delightful trio of affection, attraction and intrigue felt like magic pulsing through her blood. In the past month, William had taken to walking through her doors every time he passed by and Vivi relished his attention.

He was close enough now to smell the gentle scent of Vivi’s nectarine and orange blossom perfume.

“I can’t imagine what it is,” Vivi replied. Her innocence expression and curious eyes made William wish he could reach out and touch her hand. It was draped across the black book in front of her. His smile widening even more, as he noticed the small string of pearls encircling her delicate wrist.

“You remember my sister Adele who moved to Melbourne?” he went on.

“I still can’t believe it!” he said, shaking his head, unable to contain his excitement and disbelief.

“She called me yesterday afternoon to tell me that she won $20,000 on a game show!”

“That’s wonderful!” Vivi said, clasping her hands together.

“It’s only a secret until the show airs, and she gets paid. Then she’ll be off to France!”

As William spoke, Vivi realised her feelings for him had only begun to grow when she had started limiting her dependence on the little black book.

The voice who spoke to her in prophetic promptings from its pages had never been a fan of William Ashby’s.

William's mention of France made Vivi's heart twinge with homesickness. The book opposed her going back there, even though she needed to make peace with the haunting, tragic circumstances that had brought her to Hopeturn as a child.

Above the soft, soothing strains of French jazz, there was an intruding noise. It was like someone fanning through the pages of a book, and then what sounded like the cracking of a complete set of knuckles was audible.

“What was that?” William asked, his eyes searching.

It’s ‘Little Black’, Vivi thought. That had been her nickname for the little black book she had once thought was her saviour. She felt her jaw tighten and fixed her gaze on William.

She knew the book had slyly and silently fanned itself open. The cracking noise had become familiar recently as the book angrily bristled its spine more and more often, but the sound of fluttering pages was a threatening new warning.

A loud chiming bell sounding 9 o’clock disrupted William’s search.

“If only we could stop time and didn’t have to work,” William joked, glancing at his watch before looking longingly up at Vivi. “I’ve actually been meaning to ask you out for coffee, or lunch or dinner...”

“Can I let you know tomorrow?” Vivi whispered, cutting him off. Her lips were quivering, her complexion white, and her eyes had turned cold and dull.

William searched her face for answers, somehow in the last few minutes, he had lost her. She had reverted to that scared little French girl, anxious and unreachable, which was his first memory of Vivi.

“Yes, of course,” he said gently. “Let me know when you are ready.”

A nervous smile flashed and then disappeared as he reluctantly turned to leave.

Vivi had never seen William uncertain or awkward, but he was now as he walked away. He glanced back at her one last time, his handsome face creased with bewildered concern, and then he was gone.

The book began bristling its spine again, louder and louder, taunting her as it slowly flipped through its yellowed, tattered pages. Vivi swiftly snatched it up by its front cover and slammed it closed with angry force against the solid oak desk.

*

When the clock chimed 5 o’clock, Vivi was relieved the day was over.

She checked the fireplace near her desk. It was full of glowing cinders waiting for their remaining brightness to die.

Vivi knew she had to act quickly before she lost her resolve.

That little black book had behaved threateningly towards her in front of company for the first and last time.

She was clutching ‘Little Black,’ holding on to it with an oppressive grip. Then she slid open the top draw of her desk, swiftly swiping up an ornate antique paper-knife.

Vivi would never forgive ‘Little Black’, for threatening to reveal itself and her secret shame. The book had become bold in the last month as it felt itself losing control, but today’s antics had crossed a line.

The last month had been a painful process. Vivi had felt like an addict withdrawing from the poison that bound her to a lesser life. She had fought for her freedom from ‘Little Black’s’ enchantment, battling temptation after temptation and crippling self-doubt. Now, after twenty-five years of bondage, she meant to cast off fear and take hold of her future.

As she mounted the stairs leading to her home above the shop, Vivi recalled her fateful first encounter with the little black book.

It hadn’t even been a week after her arrival in Hopeturn, that she had discovered ‘Little Black’ in an incredibly dusty bookcase under the stairs. Sitting on the lowest shelf labelled ‘Curious Books – Blank Pages Only?’, ‘Little Black’ was the smallest, dustiest and oldest of all the books, but its gold embossed title was mysterious and inviting, Enchanted to Meet You, it read.

With the benefit of hindsight, Vivi now wished to heaven that she had not opened the front cover to see if the pages really were blank. It had been a crisis of curiosity that she been paying for ever since.

Fanning through the pages, it appeared that the shelf label was correct, or was it? Her ten-year-old self was sure she had seen a word somewhere in the opening pages.

Maybe it was someone’s diary, she thought.

She made her way back to the front page.

Welcome, Vivi, it read.

She turned the page.

Here, in these pages, you will always be at home. Let me guide you. I will lead you on a safe path.

Consult only me. I am your only friend.

Experience had shown her that ‘Little Black’ was no friend. He was a foe with a dragon’s heart, vengeful, poisonous, jealous and possessive.

Vivi had always been bewildered at how ‘Little Black’ was always with her. The book began appearing in her school bag as a child and then in her handbag as she matured and became a woman. Ever present, it had become her security blanket, the assurance that nothing unexpected and unpleasant like death would ever creep up on her again.

That charade had ended when Aunty Essie died recently, and Vivi had been forced to take complete responsibility for the Emporium. While Vivi was grieving, she had recognised ‘Little Black’ for the fraud it was. It couldn’t keep her safe, and its guidance only isolated her. It was like a parasite. It fed on her fears which allowed it to craft its prophecies with accuracy aimed at exploiting all her insecurities. She was determined that it would end tonight. William Ashby was a wonderful man, and she wanted to at least have a chance with him.

Thoughts of how to destroy the book had dominated Vivi’s thinking all day. Eradicating the book’s influence was vital.

As she reached the top of the staircase, she paused before turning the doorknob and stepping inside.

She walked to her desk, gripping ‘Little Black’ tight in one fist and the paper-knife in the other.

Sitting down, Vivi closed her eyes, opened the book, holding it firmly against the desk. She cut as she slid the tip of the paper-knife down the length of the first leaf, where the paper meets the inner spine. The book bristled and fluttered its pages in protest, but Vivi was undeterred. She pressed on, sliding and tearing page by page.

She heard a splash and something trickled onto the floor. Looking down, there was a thin stream of blood dripping from the table top.

Vivi felt outsmarted.

It knows I hate the sight of blood, she thought.

Vivi could smell it now too. She slammed the book closed.

The fire, she thought. I’ll burn it.

Snatching up the book, she marched downstairs to the fireplace with gritty resolve.

Vivi added fresh fuel, prodding the remnant embers until the promise of a full blaze began to glow.

With fiery tongues burning high, crackling at the expense of the fuel, Vivi thrust the little black book into the flames and watching with satisfaction as they licked hungrily at its cover. As the fire swiped the lettering from the front cover, the book burst open.

Each arm of the book’s cover was pulsing with energy.

Up and down. Up and down.

The book was building momentum until the covers beat like flapping wings.

It sprung up, rising out of the flames.

Vivi jumped back and ducked as the book winged with violent fury towards her head.

‘Little Black’ was wheeling around the room engulfed in flames, brushing against whatever lay in its wake in a fiery fly-by that lit everything it touched.

The book circled the room, before the wild winged book made yet another beeline for Vivi.

She dropped to the ground.

Get out of here, her thoughts screamed.

Vivi crawled across the floor, around settees, under tables and between legs of chairs.

The book was still circling and burning furiously, dropping pages to set the antique furniture alight as if the room were its own box of matches.

Vivi’s panic-stricken, adrenalin-fuelled crawling, ducking and weaving through the flaming antique obstacles earnt her way to the edge of the rugs.

Vivi stood and ran, looking back, she saw the book spiralling toward her. Her heels beat across the wooden panels. Reaching wildly, wrenching open the door, she slipped out and slammed it shut.