Faustian Novela

Books, stories, short stories. The one thing they all have in common is that everyone gets something different out of the story. One person may experience an escape from reality, another may get the idea for a new invention. Others learn that their view of the world is from a biased perspective, and still others come away with nothing at all. Then there's me.

A few might envy my story, and what I got out of a little black book I found about a year ago. Trust me, I wish it had never happened. If you don't already know the story, let me tell it to you now.

It was a bright and sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. It was the kind of day that most people love; Beach weather, they'd call it. Sadly, I am not a beach person, nor a fan of bakingly hot days. My favorite days are overcast, with thick gray clouds that smell like rain but never quite deliver. Or rainy days that continue on to rainy weeks. Yes, I know I'm weird, but there is just something about the smell of rain I find intoxicating. Especially when you live near a forest like I once did in my younger days.

Sadly, at the time this takes place, I was no longer living near a forest. Instead, I had been whisked away to live in a big city... which I utterly despise. Now with that little rant out of the way— I was out for a stroll on this bright and sunny day in a large city. Being that we were in the middle of a pandemic, this was relatively my only means of exercise. Upon reflection, that was the first in a series of mistakes I made that day.

I was walking the normal route I would have taken to get to school...you know, back when people attending lessons in a brick-and-mortar building. Well, I chose this route mostly outta 'force of habit,' and bored, I decided to try randonuating.

I don't know if you've ever heard of randonauting. Randonaughting is what it's call when you use the app Randonautica to go on an adventure to random places. So what is Randonautica? I am still not sure exactly...and if you're brave enough to try, I'll leave you to decide. But in principle Randonautica is an app that's supposedly based on a theory using quantum waypoints, something I don't understand. But I think the gist of it is something like, things don't happen randomly. Everything that happens is predicated by numbers. If you can calculate all the variables, you can predict or lead people to things they "manifest." Supposedly, this app can run these calculations.

My parents are the ones who unknowingly introduced me to Randonautica. One evening, for a date night, they decided to go randonauting, even though they thought it was a hoax. Not my idea of a romantic date. Later, when they told me about their trip and what they experienced, a story for another time, I was skeptical and didn't believe them. But I told myself it was something I would try... if only to prove them wrong. After all, what better way to spice up my walk than to try this supposedly "supernatural" app.

On this day, after fifteen minutes of walking, my phone notified me that I was getting close to my "random" location. Looking around, I realized the destination it had sent me to ended in a bush, just off of the sidewalk. It was 3 or 4 feet down and growing on the side of a small but steep hill, and I thought to myself, That's not going to be easy to reach. However, I was curious and wanted to see if anything would actually be there. So me being an idiot, I chose to slide down the hill on my a**— my second mistake of the day.

Severely scratched by the many intertwining branches on the way down, I came to a stop in a small hollow under the bush. Much to my surprise, I found a black notebook. It was smaller than a pocket and bound in leather. The strangest thing about this book was that it looked like it had survived a fire, despite still being intact, and it emitted the smell of charred paper, with a slight undertone of jerky.

Again, my curiosity being stronger than my own common sense, I pocketed the book. It never once occurred to me that there may have been a reason someone had abandoned a book in such an out-of-the-way location after trying to burn it first. This, of course, was the third mistake made that day.

After an uneventful walk home, I went straight to my room. I kicked off my shoes, flopped down on my bed, pulled the book from my pocket. The first thing I noticed was that there were several different entries, each in a different foreign language. A few languages were vaguely recognizable, while others looked like nothing we have here on earth.

The last fourth of the book began with an odd inscription, "He whom quills thine name, thine greatest desire, and graces thy lexicon with thine owns lifeforce, shall have thine desires made manifest." And it ended with an odd assortment of names and random sentences.

Some of the names were legible. Some were not, but of those names I could read, I saw: Da Vinchi, Sheakspeear, Motzart, Nikkola Tesla, Madam Curie, Robert Oppenheimer, Charles Babbitt, Steve Jobs, and Elon Musk, too name a few.

What the hell? Why are the names of so many of the earth's most influential people in this book? It can't be a coincidence, can it?

The book was filled, except for one small space where there was just enough room for a name and a brief sentence. I think you can guess where this is going... I wrote my name and desire. My fifth and final mistake was what I did next.

Setting the book aside, I got up to retrieve my pocketknife. Reaching for the sheath, I popped open the button clasp that held it closed and sat back down on my bed. I upended it into my hand, catching the knife. Opening the small blade, I carefully pierced the tip of my ring finger on my left hand. You might ask why I chose that finger. Well, I thought it would be stupid to cut my palm like you see them do in the movies. That never made sense to me as it could take weeks or months to heal. That's if you are lucky, and non of the tendons were cut. Secondly, what do we use our ring finger for? It's practically useless.

Using my right hand to hold the book open, I ran the tip of my now bloody finger across my name. Nothing happened for several minutes, so disappointed I tossed it on a shelf beside my bed. Suddenly, without warning, the book sprang open and burst into flame. The flame was bright orange, then morphed to a dark crimson— the exact shade of a pool of blood. Then just as suddenly vanished and the book crumbled to ash.

Both terrified and relieved, nothing else happened the rest of that day.

The next morning, I was jolted awake by a huge commotion under my window. Rolling to my side and peering out of the curtains, I saw a huge crowd standing outside our home. There were also camera crews and vans with T.V. news channel logos on them. Getting out of bed and putting on a pair of PJ bottoms, I walked to my door and removed an "over jacket" that I used as a shirt when I had to get out of bed at night or early in the morning. I shrugged on the "over jacket" and practically ran down the stairs. I almost bulldozed over my mom, who standing at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Good, your up." My mother said while trying to get out of my way.

"Mom, what's with the crowd outside?" I asked.

"Well, they are here to get your reaction." She said in an informative tone.

"My reaction? What for?" I asked in surprise and astonishment.

"Just go answer the door." She said, follow along behind me.

Why do they want me? What did I do? I thought to myself, almost on the edge of panic, as I opened the door.

The moment the door opened, there was flashing and shouting. Reporters pushing and shoving trying and get me to respond to them and only them. You may have seen this in the news. The rest is history. I learned that day that a very distant relative, one I had never heard of, had passed away just after winning the lottery. They left me, everything! I learned that I was to receive the sum in monthly installments, and my first installment after taxes was twenty-thousand dollars.

As I said before, this is what happened around a year ago. At first, it seemed nice to have so much money. But that didn't last long as now everyone knew who I was and, thanks to the news crews, where I lived. I became so overwhelmed with letters, emails, and knocks at the door from people asking for money. And don't get me wrong, I am a generous person, and I did donate quite a bit to charities. But I am so sick of everyone knowing who I am, and the paparazzi follow me everywhere.

I hate this fame because everyone treats me differently, including my friends. I want my life to go back to how it was. I never wanted to be famous or popular. My desire was only 'enough money to set me up for life.' If I could, I would go back and fix my mistakes on that fateful day. I would have stayed indoors, or maybe gone to the beach, and never have found that wretched book.

So reader, the next time you pick up a book, I want you to ask yourself this question. "Is what's in this book worth changing your life for?" If you hesitate or question yourself, put the book down, and walk away.