The Picture Book

Arthur hung up the incoming call without looking at the screen. He knew who it was, he knew the few words they’d mutter, then the torrent of anger that would follow when he told them the bad news. He’d tried so hard to get the money but even after pawning everything he owned he’d missed the mark by thousands. Now all he could do was sit on this warm park bench beneath the sun, and think about all of the things he’d miss. Hell maybe they wouldn’t kill him, but he definitely wouldn’t be in a state for any strolls through the park anytime soon. He watched the children playing, the ducks in the pond, and the gently swaying branches for a few more moments before burying his face in his hands.

Through eyes blurred heavily by tears, he saw a small black book. It looked nice, like one of those expensive ones that make the ideas flow freely. He reached down and opened it. Over the first page that had a small section for the owner’s name and contact info, the large words ‘Jessica’s Drawings’ were scribbled in green crayon with a wonky smiley face beneath them. Turning to the next page, Arthur saw a crayon drawing of a stick figure with a blank face, a black circle near their feet, standing over another stick figure with x’s for eyes and red crayon scribbled over their entire body.

“A bit morbid Jessica,” Arthur muttered.

As he turned to the next page he glanced around for the artist, wondering if they were still nearby. There were children playing in the park and some families walking by, but noone seemed to be looking for anything. He would leave the book incase anyone did come looking for it, but he was curious what other brightly coloured horrors the pages contained.

The next page showed two stick figures, one with the black smudge in their hand wearing a frown, and the other holding a knife looking very angry.

On the page after that, the frowning stick figure seemed to be running down a street with the black smudge, and the angry faced man was chasing him in a car.

Something about these images made the hairs on Arthur’s next stand on end. He shook involuntarily and looked around to see if this was someone’s idea of a joke. No one seemed to be watching him from behind any trees, and any hidden cameras for some prank TV show were too well hidden for him to see.

Might as well give them a show, he thought.

After the picture of the car chase, the next picture was of a smiling stick figure, but angry face man was drawn smaller in the background.

Then came a picture of a smiling stick figure outside a building that just said bank.

These aren’t so bad, maybe our little artist had a change of heart.

The next drawing was a stick figure standing next to a bush, and he was holding the little black smudge.

Turning the next page Arthur froze, jaw hanging open and eyes locked on the drawing that stared back at him. Roughly etched with the child’s crayon was a sketch of a stick figure frowning on a bench, blue tears falling down their cheeks and onto the grass. Beneath the awkwardly drawn bench was a perfect black rectangle, exactly like the book he held in his hands. Arthur tore his eyes away from the page to scan the park again. Surely this was a joke. Unsuspecting families enjoyed their family time, screams of laughter emanated from the play equipment nearby, but no one looked out of place. Besides the sad man sitting on the bench desperately clutching a children’s sketchbook of course.

The next page was blank, it seemed the artist had stopped here. Arthur flipped between pages and kept looking around at the park for answers. Eventually his eyes settled on a small group of bushes off to the side of the park. He flipped back to the drawing that showed the figure standing next to the bush, and in the background he saw a crude drawing of the bench in the background.

Ok, I’ll bite.

He stood from the bench, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and clutching the little black book. When he reached the bushes, he glanced around again, this time making sure no one was going to see an adult man frantically climbing into a bush in the middle of a park, and when he was satisfied he wouldn’t be seen he stepped in and started searching. It only took him a few moments to find a medium-sized black sports bag. He climbed back out of the shrubs, and crouched down to check out its contents. His heart rate shot up as he unzipped the bag, reached in and retrieved a stack of fifty dollar bills. He shook himself from his daze and stuffed it back in, not wanting to be seen with it. He retreated to his bench and started poring through the bag. There were more stacks in there, of different denominations. He didn’t know how much exactly, but there should easily be enough to pay back Harvey.

But wait, how did Jessica know about the bag? Did she put it there? Or a parent maybe?

If he took this money, Angry Face Man from the book would surely be chasing him. Though how could a child know that? Maybe the other drawings were unrelated? Arthur’s first thoughts though were to go to the bank to deposit it and wire it to Harvey, that’s exactly what the book said he would do. Wouldn’t anyone though? Of course that’s what a child would assume, you find money, you go to the bank. The drawings didn’t show the money though, but Jessica obviously knew somehow what would be in there.

Arthur pushed his glasses onto his forehead and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. Fortune-telling-twelve-year-old-artists aside, he only knew one thing for sure. If he didn’t get Harvey the money by the end of the day, he was done for. He had to use that money, come what may.

Arthur stood in line at the bank, clutching the bag and the book, glancing around at everyone else in the bank and doing an altogether terrible job of not looking suspicious. He was next in line, and barely had his story of ‘very successful garage sale’ together before he was called up to the next available teller. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket but ignored it, he didn’t want to tell Harvey he had the money before he could be sure it would work.

“I’d like to make a deposit, I had a garage sale and sold a few of my dad’s old antiques.”

The teller’s eyes changed from quizzical to concerned as she opened the bag. “For large amounts like this I’ll just need a manager to take a look and help me count it, it won’t take long,” she said in her best customer service voice.

Another woman joined her at the desk, and they began counting while Arthur reiterated his flimsy story. About fifteen minutes later they had finished counting and they handed him a receipt for a successful deposit of twenty thousand dollars. Arthur stared at the little slip of paper in shock for a few moments, before clearing his throat and thanking the tellers and quickly leaving the building. He could feel their eyes burning into his back as he left, but it didn’t matter. It had worked.

When he was back in the warm summer air he pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiped away the notification showing fourteen missed calls from an unknown number, and opened his banking app. There it was. The balance read $21,114.56. Then after a few more button clicks it read $114.56. It was done, he’d paid back the last of what he owed to Harvey, and he was safe. He took a deep breath in, and as he let it out he vowed never to deal with people like this again. His first breath of relief in weeks was cut short as a rough voice from behind him called out,

“Hey buddy.”

Arthur slowly turned and faced the man approaching him. He didn’t recognise him, and the man did not look happy to see him.

“I just transferred the money to Harvey, you can call him and check, I don’t want any trouble,” Arthur said taking a few steps backwards and raising his hands slightly.

“Harvey? Who is Harvey? That’s my bag.”

Angry Face Man.

Arthur turned and shot down the street. He heard the man yell after him, then the sound of an engine starting. Turning around he saw Angry Face Man behind the wheel of a nice looking sports car tearing down the street after him. Arthur turned down the next street and was pursued by the sound of screeching tires. He kept running but knew it was no use. Fitness hadn’t been his biggest concern recently, and besides, Jessica knew he wasn’t going to escape this. His mind wandered to the stick figure in the first picture, lying on the ground crossed out with a red scribble. He clutched the book tightly and turned into an alleyway. More screeching tires, followed by the slamming of a car door let him know his escape plan hadn’t worked.

He sprinted down the alley, sweat dripping from his forehead, his footsteps matched by the ones chasing him. He rounded a corner and came face to face with a red brick wall. Across the bricks was scribbled a large green smiley face, drawn in crayon. He swallowed hard and turned to face his pursuer.

Well played Jessica.

Angry Face Man rounded the corner and slowed as he approached his cornered rat, huffing and sweating as much as Arthur was.

“Enough, just give me the bag.”

Arthur threw the empty bag at the man’s feet. He kicked it away after realising it was empty and quickly stepped towards Arthur, producing a large knife from his back pocket.

“Where’s the money? Don’t you lie to me.”

“It’s gone, I deposited it and transferred it to Harvey.”

“I don’t want to hear the name Harvey again, how are you getting me my money back?”

“I... I can’t.”

Angry Face Man pressed the knife against Arthur’s throat.

“Not right now at least, I can get it to you but I just need time.”

Here was was again, trading demons for demons all because of a few dodgy loans.

“Not good enough.”

The blade began to draw blood from the side of Arthur’s neck. He couldn’t do this anymore, he was sick of these people.

Before he was sure of himself, Arthur ducked to the right and punched the man in the solar plexus. The man stumbled, gasping for the air that he still hadn’t recovered from the chase. Arthur grabbed the hand holding the knife and began wrenching it from Angry Face Man’s grasp. The knife dropped out of his hands as his assailant launched into him. The two crashed to the floor, Arthur cracking his skull against the brick wall and staring dazed at the wonky smiley face looking back at him. He heard Angry Face Man groan as he rolled off of him. The hilt of the knife was sticking out of his body, right where his heart should be. Angry Face Man coughed a few times, and then went still.

Arthur eventually picked himself up and stood staring at the scene. The sound of light footsteps came from the alleyway, and he looked up to see a young girl of around twelve approaching. She tugged on his shirt sleeve and said,

“Can I have my book back please?”

Arthur held it out, and Jessica skipped back down the alleyway leaving Arthur shaken, and wearing a blank expression on his face.