Intuition

She moved her hand over the smooth tiny crevasses in the leather of front of the small black book, her fingers tracing the spine of the book.

This is it, she thought, pacing back and forth she could practically hear the murmuring of the old woman’s voice echoing loudly in her head.

It doesn’t really feel how I imagined it would.

The creaking of the dusty floorboards beneath her startled her back to the present.

She didn’t have much time, she could hear crashing off in the distance and the looming hint of nightfall had begun to envelope the sun kissed sky.

Her fingers moving across the page, almost as quickly as her feet across the asphalt.

Come on, come on, she whispered hurriedly.

Without a moment to lose she stuffed the small black book into her back pocket.

It was moments like this that made her feel alive, like she was connected to this giant portal of energy.

What should I be seeing? What is it that I should be seeing here, she wondered as she made her way deeper into the dark.

The notebook fell from her pocket. Before she could scope it up she noticed something, something tucked in the very back of the book was now peaking out, it was too dark to make out what it was, so she tucked it back into the book, put it all in her pocket and kept running.

...

It was an odd day, no more odd than any other. But on this day Mattayus felt the urge to do something different. Not one to deny himself the mystery of following his urges, he set out to honor the odd, a phrase his family has lived by for as long as he could remember.

Past his favorite coffee shop, next to water, he sat down and pulled out his pen and began writing in his little black book.

He chuckled to himself, his poetry had not improved but he had. The idea that he could laugh was all the proof he needed.

Opening his wallet he took out the contents, a piece of paper no bigger than an index card rest in his palm. On the top he scribbled 20. He crossed it out and then put 20,000. It felt really good but he didn’t have time to do much else, he quickly gathered his things, tucking the notebook into his back pocket. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was to do with it, or even where to leave it, but alas the day was calling.

....

Finally at a place where she could rest she quickly pulled out the book and flipped to the back, a small piece of paper fell in front of her. She flipped it over, her eyes in disbelief. This note is legal tender, she read.

The voice returned, she squeezed her eyes shut.

She had only heard of pieces of paper like this. Paper that contained the power to determine how one must lived.

She opened her eyes and flipped open the book. There was something written there that wasn’t there the day before,

“An ode to this day, I’ll chose work instead of play, isn’t it all the same anyway.”

Her face marred with confusion, poetry? she looked at piece of paper, her fingers tracing over a crossed out 200 moving down to the 20,000. The value changes with the wind she thought, odd, she smiled as she tucked back in its place.

Running back into the darkness once more, she couldn't help but smile, 20,000 dollars, she wondered if that was a lot or a little.

....

There he sat, his eyes gazing at the ceiling. His mind was as empty as his to-do list.

He felt around in his back pocket, pulling out the book, something felt different. Like the book was warm, like it had aged, he opened it to finish his poorly written poetry, turning to the page he left off, but instead of his words he found a tiny hand drawn map.

Before he could make sense of his shock two foot prints appeared and began to move along the page. They were moving quickly, as if someone was running.

He dropped the notebook, as it fell on his feet he noticed, the tender slip he tucked in the back was missing.

Not sure what was more alarming he picked up the book and sat it on his desk.

After staring at it for what felt like hours, he took out his pen and wrote, his head hung low hovering over his pen.

...

It had been four days since she left. Five if you count the day she spent at the old woman’s house, even still, she had yet to make sense of the directions she told her before shoving this book in her hands.

As she opened the book, she noticed on the very first page, the book was called “intuition”. What a weird title, she thought, yet every time she read it she felt more and more pleased.

Now what, she thought.

The book fell open to a page with a sketch of a sad looking man at his desk.

The sadness in the mans eyes called to her. She touched the page, letting her fingers trace his eyes.

Her eyes scanned the tender slip, this slip is worth 20,000, what would she do with it?

Nobody she knew had ever even seen one of these before. She imagined, for a second, what would someone with a tender slip worth 20,000 do?

The sketch began to move, alarmed she threw the book on the floor, words filled the page and the next one and the next.

...

He was too lost in his own curiosity to notice that the footsteps had stopped, that the book was now glowing. He looked up, "follow me" had appeared on the page before him. He snapped the book shut, terrifed, and maybe a little curious he put the book in his back pocket and rushed towards the door.

....

She picked up the book, the man had disappeared, in his place were only words. She began reading, each word disappearing as she read it, now what, where had the man gone, his sadness still etched in her heart. She shoved the book deep back into her pocket and continued running.

...

He ran and ran following the footsteps, tracing the steps outlined in the book, though nothing looked familiar, everything was different yet the pacings were the same. He turned to go home, taking one last glance at the map in the book, the feet had also stopped right where his home was. He ran inside to greet his children, his daughter was playing in the backyard, and she had found something she wanted to show him. She ran over and thrusted a small slip of paper in her dads hands, "here", she said, it has your name on it.

...

She stopped, this was where she decided to rest. It felt familiar, like home, like she'd been there before. Had she? Her hands traced over the 20,000 tender slip, she decided that this would be her home. She planted the slip in the grass and smiled.