Blank Pages

The fat drops of rain pelted the leaves above Dylan’s head as he waited patiently in the shadows of the night. The soft yellow glow beaming from the window danced as the figures inside moved quickly. The father was grabbing his shoes and slipping them on his feet. The mother was dressing their kids in raincoats. Dylan could feel his heart in his throat, and the sweat accumulating on his palms was even noticeable in spite of the rain.He had been watching the family for weeks. Observing their every move from a distance. And still he was having doubts. Could he pull this off? He had to. His sister was counting on it.

Ever since she received her diagnosis months ago, Dylan had been frantically trying to scrape together the money his sister needed for her surgery. He worked exhausting hours at two different jobs. Attempted a fundraiser and sold everything of value he had. Still it was not enough. He considered robbing banks or stores but knew that was too risky. Not that this wasn’t risky. But he figured if it must resort to this shameful act, robbing a rich person’s home would give him a better chance of success than a public place.

The family left their house and climbed into their truck. He stared at the vehicle as it pulled out of the driveway and admired it as it disappeared. The truck was expensive, no doubt. Easily more than the humble trailer him and his family lived in. The thought almost made Dylan resent the family. He even found himself thinking it wouldn’t hurt if they were a few thousand dollars lighter.

He approached the front door with his hood up, making sure to keep his face hidden from any cameras that might be nearby. He put his finger to the number pad and froze. What was the code? He began to feel panic overcome him. Seven, three, eight… no that wasn’t it. Three, seven, four...no. Ah! He remembered. He punched in the four numbers, Eight, four, three, seven. There was a click and he was able to open the door.

The inside was impressive. Crystal chandeliers and marble floors. Expensive paintings, and jade statues. “Oh yeah.” Dylan said allowed. They wouldn’t miss a little cash. He snuck through the house looking for a safe, or anything that may be holding money. Nothing. Not in any of the closets, not in any drawers, or in the bed. There was nothing, anywhere. He sighed in defeat and looked at one of the paintings that hung majestically on the wall. “Why not?” He said to the empty house. He lifted the painting and almost dropped it. A safe. Hidden in a little cubby behind the painting. It was small enough o where he should be able to carry it.

Dylan hung the painting back in it’s place and tucked the safe into his jacket. He went to leave and took one last awe filled look at the million dollar home. He hoped one day he’d be able to own a place like this. But for now he had his sister to worry about.

Back at his house everyone was asleep as he began working on the safe. After hours of fiddling with the metal box he gave up on trying to open it and began trying to pry at the corner of the little door with a crowbar. Eventually it started to give and he was able to bend it enough to shake the box and the contents began to spill out. Wads and wads of cash landed on his bed. He counted and almost cried tears of joy. Twenty-thousand dollars laid before him. This should be enough for the surgery. He fought the tears as he reached inside the safe, checking to see if he had missed anything.

His fingers came across something leathery. “Huh?” He said, confused. He pulled it out and looked at the little black notebook that was in the safe. He opened the book, expecting to find important business info or something else valuable. But instead it was blank. The pages were bare, never touched. Not even one ink mark was to be seen. He held the book open and stared at the pages, perplexed. Then he noticed something. The book began to buzz. He watched as what looked like ink began to slither from the black binding and soak onto the creamy pages. Words were beginning to form and in the center of the two pages, the image of a face. His face. He dropped the book on the bed. What was happening? He read the words. His name and everything about him and his life were now written on these pages. “Dylan Frost. 17 years old. 5 feet 10 inches tall.” He kept reading in amazement and fear as it stated where he went to high school and when he was even supposed to graduate. Then he read something that sent a chill down his spine. “Born November 12th, 2004. Died January 4th, 2068. Cause of death, stroke.

His hands shook as he reached for the book. Dylan suddenly had a bad feeling in his gut. He knew he had to return this… whatever this thing is. Some sort of witchcraft no doubt. He had to know what this was. How this was even real. He needed the money, but he was scared at what this book meant. Was this thing cursed? How could it possibly know when he was going to die and how? It’s not possible. The book had to be evil. Could keeping it or the money be a bad idea? He needed answers. He was going to have to face the people he robbed.

Dylan was back in front of the door he stood at the night before. He raised his hand to knock on the wood, but it opened before he even had the chance. “Come back for more?” The booming voice of the father asked. Dylan stared into the angry eyes of the man that waited for his response. When Dylan didn’t answer, and he noticed the terror in his eyes he laughed. “You found the book, didn’t you?” Dylan forced a nod. To his surprise, the man offered for Dylan to come in.

“Why did you rob us last night?” Dylan opened his mouth to attempt an answer, but the man put his hand up. “On second thought, it doesn’t matter. Clearly it was so important to you that you didn’t mind breaking into a house armed with state of the art surveillance systems.” He pointed to the many cameras that Dylan hadn’t noticed last night. They were everywhere. This family had seen his every move.

“You’re not mad?” Dylan asked shakily.

“Furious. But, clearly you were desperate. You’ve obviously never robbed anyone before. You definitely don’t come across as some juvenile delinquent. So you must have had a very compelling reason. But what? Sick mother? Can’t afford the hospital bills. The usual. So you robbed the wealthiest family in the area because no matter how hard you worked the money just wasn’t accumulating fast enough?”

“Close. My sister is sick. Not my mother.” The man nodded.

“So I take it you discovered the book and saw it as some bad omen. You got scared and felt you needed to return what you had stolen to avoid some terrible fate?” Dylan nodded. The man chewed on the information he was just given. “Tell you what. I’m feeling generous. I lost my little brother when I was little. I would have done the exact same thing if I would have seen it coming. You can keep the money. I won’t press charges. Obviously we won’t miss the twenty- thousand that was in that safe. But if you try anything like this again, I won’t be so generous.”

“Can you tell me about the book? What is it? How does it know who I am and how can it tell when and how I’m gonna die?”

“Right. I don’t know the origins of the book. It was my father’s. It had been handed down to him. He said it was enchanted or something. Anyone who touches it will experience their lives, beginning to end. What is shown is set in stone. It cannot be unwritten. How and when it said you will die is exactly how it will happen. Hopefully it wasn’t something horrible. Or soon. Anyway, you can keep it, too. That book always creeped me out. I never opened it. I never wanted my family to open it. That’s why I locked it away in a safe that only I knew the combination too, in a spot that only I knew about.”

“What do I do with it?”

“Don’t care what you do with it. Now take the money and the book and get out of my house. I don’t want to see you here again.” Dylan walked out the door when the man spoke to him one last time. “I hope your sister makes a full recovery.” He said before closing the door. Dylan looked down at the book and chewed on the information he was just given. What it said would happen is set in stone. He can’t change it. If that’s the case he’d live to be in his sixties. He thought he’d try the book again later and see what else it said about his life. For now he had more important business to attend to.

“How did you get the money for this?” His mother asked. Her eyes started to water as she tried not to get choked up.

“A nice man, uh, donated it. I told him about K.C. He said he lost his brother when he was little and would have done anything to save him.”

His mother informed the nurses they were going to do the surgery. They printed off a stack of paperwork for her to fill out. Dylan sat next to his sister as his mother sat in the corner and filled out the paperwork with shaky hands.

“Some nice man gave you the money for my surgery?” K.C asked.

“Yeah.” Dylan said. He was struggling to hold back tears himself. “You’ll be out of here before you know it.”

A couple days later Dylan ran to the hospital after school and watched the nurse come in the room and write the date “May 27, 2021,” On the whiteboard followed by the prep and post operation instructions on the board.

“You ready to get this over with?” The nurse asked with a smile.

“You have no idea.” K.C couldn’t contain her excitement. They unlocked the wheels on her hospital bed and Dylan grabbed his bag. Him and his mom walked with her down the hall until the nurse said it was time to say goodbye.

“Sorry I can’t stay till after the surgery. But I’ll be back right after school tomorrow. He bent over to give her a hug and something fell out of his backpack. He must have left the zipper open on accident. K.C. reached down and scooped up the black notebook.

“That's okay! I’ll see you tomorrow.” The book was open when she handed it back.

“Love you, loser.” He told her. She said she loved him back and he turned to leave, allowing his mother a chance to say bye. He felt a buzzing in his hands and looked down at the book and began to shake. His sister’s face was in the center of the pages. His eyes darted across the fresh ink. “K.C. Frost.” He mumbled the words on the page. “14 years old. 5 feet 4 inches tall. Born July 16th, 2007. Died May 27, 2021. Cause of death, complications during surgery.” The book fell from his hands. He turned back to where he just said goodbye to his sister and watched the nurses push her out of sight.