Little Black Book

Shakti stared at her book and wept tears of joy knowing that she would never forsake her - she couldn't. She'd never before allowed herself space to grieve for all she had lost, her thin, calloused fingers cramping as she torqued them against the threadbare stained cover. Inside, her memories, her beloved letters from Jahad on tissue-thin paper, the yellow flower pressed by Mama when she was five, tucked inside as bookmark, were all she had left from another land and time. She knew the well-worn journal would protect her treasures, they had seen her through the worst part of the last trip possible here. The bittersweet anguish could not hurt her precious diary, nor the spider-webbed pleas she had etched inside day and night. This little black book was holy writ - and hers alone to carry forward.

"Precious Beloved, change my circumstances if it is right and proper. I turn my life, my will to you. Guide me as you see fit, I am yours to serve," Shakti murmured, her fingers loosening on the journal as her breathing calmed. None of the other travelers had heard her as she squeezed herself down into the small space she had been able to carve out of the immense hold. She was safe for now.

It had cost twenty-thousand US dollars to arrange passage through the black-market channels for herself, her brother, and her mother to travel. Now she was the only one left. They had both fallen, Mama first to illness and then Jahad in service of the machine as they fought those determined to keep them from their destination. Her brother had been sequestered into the Front Guard after the mercenaries supposed to be guarding them had deserted in the night, with all able-bodied males pressed into active service. Momma's lungs had filled with the silt the masks failed to keep back despite Shakti's constant care. They had paid for safe passage and found only death and hardship.

Shakti prayed quietly. Writing in her book was forbidden, of course, but she found time every night while the others slept to etch her hopes inside. If she was found out, she would be punished for daring to put down in written form anything but the approved doctrines she had been raised with. There was already a good book followed by all true believers and it was blasphemy to worship otherwise. Who was she to dare, to dream, to hope, and transcribe her own petitions to the light? Her talisman heart, her journal, was hidden amongst the small precious bundle she alone called hers.

As they neared the harbor looking out towards what was left of the city she had hoped to call salvation, she knew that her little black book, her loving thoughts, her prayers for all inside would keep her safe as she started anew. They had to. Their world may have fallen but she would open her heart and her writing to the Divine Beloved sharing and teaching others that love is indeed all they had. She would help others start their little book as well if she was able.

As the guards scanned the tickets and tags assigned to each traveler, she passed the armed checkpoints, glancing out at those on the other side of the barbed wire fence. Such hatred, hard angry fists, and raised placards screaming in rejection and fear at the newcomers. Already, the landing docks were filling with the armed guards that would push back the crowds wanting to deny Shakti and her kind entry. Such cruel vigor from such a simple species. They could not know the horror of the vast expanse of space, nor the hatred that they continued to breathe being so contagious.

Shakti clutched her book to her chest determined to serve mankind. Even if they would not help themselves, she would bring light and love to Earth with her writing and her eternal belief.

Sharing her little black book with all.