The Book of Wonder

As the stench of rotting sewage waded down the passing alleyway, violating my nostrils along its way, I had reminded myself;

“Today is a good day Taffy. Think of all the tips you earnt. Not the smell of rotting corpses emanating from what is clearly Murder Alley.” I began walking more briskly in an attempt to keep my imagination from further running away with my anxieties, only to notice something abandoned at the sticky front door to my apartment block.

“A…small, black…..notebook?” I cautiously picked it up, brushing aside a wayward curl that had fallen into my face.

It looked rather dapper. Neither old or new, but timeless. I relieved the elastic closure of its duty to inspect the book;

The chair had groaned as I slumped at my dining table, having freed my feet of their prisons, I paused to ponder;

Why couldn’t I see what was once written under the redaction, despite my attempt to use the sun as a form of x-ray vision?

I wondered what the reward was?

Flirting with the owner’s right to privacy, I cautiously dug deeper, convinced there was no other way to know why the reward was hidden. Perhaps the book was not intended to be found by a random waitress on her way home that day.

“ Page Contents

_________________

Personal Goals VII

Group Goals IX

Project Planning X ”

So on and on. All left abysmally empty.

I joined the groan with a sigh of my own, my gaze focused on the tarnished reflection of my green eyes in the toaster.

“ Well, you’ve come this far. ”

I turned each page until I stumbled across a piece that read much like an advertisement;

“ Seeking good fortune? Want to shape your destiny? These 10-Minute Magic Spells will show you how to tap into your inner power. Designed especially for you, these simple spells and practices can be performed in minutes. Learn to put magic to use for you! ”

With a dense air of skepticism, I nodded;

That was a waste of time.

It was then that the listless undertone in my soul begun peeping through, causing pages to turn more abrasively. Only stopping on the most beautiful depiction of a butterfly, with delicate and ornate wings. The swirls forming it brought memories of my favorite plant, a vine called bleeding heart. A far more beautiful and less gruesome plant than the name implied.

As my mind wandered to my own potted vine on the balcony, I could practically smell the blooming flowers covered in early morning frost… A quick breath snapped me back to reality. It was mid-night in the middle of summer. Hot, sticky and sauna like.

Inspired by the memory, I attempted the spell. As I ran my finger down the list of ingredients I realized, like most things in my apartment, they were all within reach.

- Paper,

- Pen,

- white candle.

I drew the insignia on the paper and patiently copied the words of another language. If this spell was to work as the book had claimed, the butterfly would spring to life.

With my eyes shut, the flicker of a flame and the feeling of wet ink over smooth paper at my fingertips, I began to recall the frosty spring morning light that danced through the trees.

I waited, though my doubt did not. Impatiently, I opened my eyes, snatched my hand back and saw, the butterfly was gone! Where did it go?!

My eyes darted around the room while an ever present sense of guilt bloomed, had I just ruined the book? My stomach began to sink. Until I saw something move! Without a breath I observed, the butterfly sat neatly on the glass sliding door, begging to be let out. I couldn’t believe it.

As I moved to let it out, the butterfly landed on a leaf, spread its wings and melded into the plant. Until nothing remained but a newly formed flower bud. A moment of stunned silence passed before a car horn jolted me into action.

I must try another!

Flicking through the book once more, my inner economist caught sight of its next target. It read;

‘ Money Spell. ’

Soon after, the cold coins clinked as I loosely counted them, confirming my reality. The ingredients I needed to purchase for the spell would sacrifice the money intended to complete the month’s rent and afford a few groceries. The conundrum had me walking lines into the ground before ultimately coming to the conclusion;

Twirl a pencil.

If the eraser side faced me, I would save my money, if the pencil side faced me, I would attempt the spell. It spun and spun before slowly coming to a halt…

With the eraser side facing me…

…

After some glaring, “ Aghhh, Screw it! ” Was the last thing I said before returning home with three bags in hand.

Using the ingredients was mostly a simple affair, but the sugar made a mess and ‘sacrificing what is most valuable’, our last family photo, broke my heart. Yet, it wasn’t until I opened my desolate fridge that I remembered the future I had gambled.

However, my heart truly sunk the furthest when, upon checking, I was barred entry to my bank account by a notice of website maintenance. I had no way of knowing if the spell had worked. Peace and clarity did not grace me that night.

The next morning my eyes shot open with the same speed that propelled me out of bed. Grabbing my phone, I logged in as quickly as the internet allowed. Only to drop the device and raise my hands to my face, weeping uncontrollably. Recalling how hard I had worked for the little I had. That I had gambled my rent, my job, my survival, all for words in a notebook. Through widened gaps between my fingers I confirmed; I was $20,000 richer. It had worked! The tears flowed like a river of relief. A snotty river that required a tissue. Which, while grabbing, caused me to knock the book of wonder, releasing a photo from its back pocket.

A sepia woman posed next to a child. The large grin plastered across her face was only bested by her cotton candy curls, as she boastfully held a potted seedling. I should return the book.

The pang of guilt hit harder than I expected. Clearly the book was important to its owner, but it had awakened something in me that I didn’t want to give up. Placing the photo back in its sleeve, I found myself standing in front of my old printer scanner. A useless thing that on occasion, with much praise, did its job.

Eagerly scanning the first page I noticed… it was blank? I tried again. Still nothing. Deciding the scanner had gone on strike I pulled out my phone and took a photo instead. With the light of life, I opened the app and signaled to the camera to do its thing. However, when the preview popped up, I realized the book had photographed but the pages were blank.

Again!

With frustration rearing its head I collected my thoughts, arriving at the only conclusion I could muster. It’s magic. Magic must not work with technology. That’s a thing in comics, right? Shifting my gaze to the pen laying in front of me, I let out a breath of pre-emptive irritation. Once more, setting off on what had now become my mission, I relieved my body of its tension as the sentences were slothfully but successfully, noted down. Having reached the bottom of my first page I ensured nothing had been lost only to observe the writing fading to nothingness! Mumbling words of resentment, I relented.

Google informed me that ‘Karasi Holistic Healing’ was merely a short bus ride away. One I could now afford. Because of the book.

With one last look at the utter exuberance of glee the little girl displayed in the photo, I grabbed my shoes and made my way there.

I arrived at the bottom of a stone pathway, the spaces between filled with flowery moss. As an elderly woman with braids that reached for the ground opened the front door to the cottage style house. Making my way down the path with great care for the delicate flowers, she noted,

“I see you like nature.”

“Yes, I wish I could live somewhere as beautiful as this.” I replied, beginning to search my bag for the book.

Seeming as though she had been expecting me she said, “Come in darling, let’s have some tea.”

Startled at the invite of a perfect stranger, I peered inside to see if the cottage looked like it would bring my demise. It didn’t. Which was equally suspicious in the eyes of my anxiety. Nevertheless, I reminded myself not everyone is dangerous and made my way inside.

“ Thanks but, ” I said, uneasy with my decision to enter. “ I’m only here to return this. ” Placing the book on the table, her facial expression softened. Gently touching the cover, she confirmed in my mind, I had done the right thing.

Placing a cup of tea in front of me she asked “ My name is Karasi, and you? ”

“ I, ” I stumbled, realizing tea was compulsory. “ I’m Tafariah, but everyone calls me Taffy. ”

“ Tell me Taffy, are you happy with your life? ” she shot the question with eyes like a bow and arrow that never missed its mark causing my anxiety to scream ‘I told you’.

“ It’s alright. ” I attempted to dodge.

With one eyebrow raised, and seemingly reading my mind she asked, “ Want to learn magic? ”

“ Sorry? ” I spluttered, recalling that childhood feeling of being found out. Of course she must know I had attempted some of the spells. The book must speak to her and ratted me out. Despite my returning it. Ungrateful.

Her poker face collapsed as she began laughing incessantly and I realized I had given myself away. My anxiety switched to annoyance.

“ I don’t understand.” I said, turning my body away and sipping some tea.

“ Sorry Dear, ” she said wiping away her tears, “ The look on your face was priceless. ” the cackling starting up again. “ Don’t worry, you haven’t done anything wrong. As I’m sure you already know, the book is enchanted. For centuries it has chosen people who have an innate ability to use magic. Have you seen the photo in the back of the book? ”

I nodded cautiously.

“ That’s a photo of my teacher and I on the first day my spell worked. Back then the book had chosen me and despite my attempts over the years to get rid of it, it always found its way back. That’s why, even if I tried to take that book back it wouldn’t stay. It’s chosen you. ” With eyes on her tea, a brief silence passed. “ Anyway, ” She returned to the moment. “ you could commute here and continue to live in your concrete block. or,” She paused “ You could rent the spare room? Training start at seven every day, including weekends. Any questions? ”

Baffled at the offer, I begun contemplating. Technically I could afford it. Now. Though, it would involve an upheaval of my life. It is pretty here. But I hardly know this lady. Then I remembered,

“ I do have one question.”

“ yes? ”

“ What was written in the reward section? On the first page of the notebook? ”

“Oh.” She giggled, leaning over the table toward me.

I followed her lead.

She looked me dead in the eye and said

“ A whole lot of work. ”

-The End-