Greed

Even as he lay dying, he clung to it, his life force slowly seeping away. His strength was fading, leaving upwards from his feet, until only his hands held onto that thing with sheer might of will.

Only those who challenge their fate could understand his obstinacy. Those whose greed manifests from the shadows, blanketing all things benevolent, the things of no substance but are as real as their charred hearts. Love is of no consequence, for it cannot be sold or boastfully exhibited as a triumph.

He, was one of those.

He knew as soon as he found it in the police officer's shoe that he'd hit the jackpot. That was a definite upside to his job, it's surprising what one can find on the deceased. His job afforded him with plenty of opportunities to rifle through all kinds of belongings, and he wasn't ashamed to check every crevice…

The tiny black notebook was merely the size of a credit card, made of the finest leather hide with pages edged in gold and one would be forgiven for thinking it was a bible, but he instinctively knew it wasn't. He slowly opened the pages, praying to whatever those with charred hearts pray to, that his dreamed expectation wasn't crushed, just like that classic opening of a biscuit box expecting baked delights, only to find a sewing kit.

He wasn't disappointed.

The the pages revealed indecipherable text, beautifully written and forming a pattern in what he could only presume was code. The handwriting changed from page to page, signifying its journey through many hands, each letter containing the essence of the souls who shared the book through the ages.

Thank

On the inside of the back cover was written:

Please return to:- Complicated Man Antiques Junction GARDENS NY 10440'

On the inside of the back cover was written:

'Please return to:- Complicated Man Antiques Junction Gardens

NY 10440'

Underneath that, was the scrawled message in pencil 'upon return $20,000 is yours - 2112'

He was so excited he nearly vomited. Panic set in and he checked behind him. He couldn't risk anyone seeing him take it. It was his, all his...

He nearly put it in his shoe then thought better of it. He forced himself not to grin and betray his mask of solemnity.

The shop had a plethora of curios and was located down a worn set of steps, enveloped by railings. They had many layers of paint and were chipped and battered, only the tiny sign on those railings that bore the name of the shop revealed its use.

As he reached the bottom two steps, he caught sight of a man through the door glass.

Their eyes locked and it was simply chilling, he nearly turned around and escaped. Instead he entered, the dollar sign in his head overtook any reluctance.

The man was little and shabby but with a hint of once being smartly dressed. He never once broke his gaze. He eventually smiled slyly and said, 'I've been expecting you.'

Impossible, how could the little man know who he was and the purpose of him being there? But he weirdly believed what this strange little man was saying to him, it was all too familiar to deny it.

Walking through the shop was an experience in itself. The air wasn't air. It hung, a wall of undisturbed molecules that were pushed around him like swirls of smoke as he moved forward.

The little man was smiling, a little warmer than he expected. The shop actually felt more like the front room of a home, his presence could almost have felt intrusive in it, had he not recognised the place from that familiar feeling which now eluded him.

He did consider being polite by feigning an interest in the many aged offerings around him, but this thought was interrupted by the little man when he whispered 'well, shall we get right to it?'. He had no need to whisper as they were quite alone, but he felt this added more importance to the matter in hand.

He said, 'I have this book', to which the little man replied, 'found or stolen?'. Before he could protest, the little man said 'Not to worry. But do you know why you have it?' He considered his reply for a moment, then blurted out "the reward" before his brain could process a more dignified answer.

The little man stooped to lift a box from underneath his cluttered counter. His knees creaked and he groaned as he rose, holding a box that could only be described as ‘fancy '. He thought he would be very disappointed if that was the reward itself, not cold, hard cash. He didn't like the idea of having to sell it, what if it was worth less than $20,000?

The little man stooped to lift a box from underneath his cluttered counter. His knees creaked and he groaned as he rose, holding a box that could only be described as ‘fancy '. He thought he would be very disappointed if that was the reward itself, not cold, hard cash. He didn't like the idea of having to sell it, what if it was worth less than

'Combination?' the little man asked and again his mouth blurted "2112" He was feeling a little nauseous now, once again praying to that place that he didn't have to take the trouble to sell the 'fancy' box.

Again, he wasn't disappointed.

The box held a most beautiful envelope, gilded on the edges and it reminded him of the little black notebook. The little man opened it, showed it to him, and asked, 'would you like me to count it for you?', now grinning. "No, I think I can trust you" he said slowly and was also now grinning, he knew the unmistakable aroma of cash...

He gingerly took it, and it took from him every bit of willpower not to rip open the envelope and count it. Instead, he thanked the little and as he turned away, it struck him that he'd not even given the little man the little black notebook back! He turned back and placed it on the counter and puffed a sigh of relief, 'wow, I nearly forgot this! ". He was staggered when the little man nonchalantly replied ‘no, just keep it. You may need it'.

Weird....

He had reached the door when the little man said 'there's more you know', which stopped him dead in his tracks." Morrrre what?" He hardly dare ask. "You know, cash. I take it you're interested?" He was suspicious of course, but greed is the teeth that chews and spits out that sweet tasting dignity.

The little man emerged from behind his counter (he really was smaller than thought!) and produced a long, slender pen from his worn and almost shiny jacket sleeve. "There is someone at a house not far from here connected to the book and I'm sure would like it back. All you need to do is trust enough to hand the money to them, recite a few words from the little black book and you'll not only receive your money back but a lot more besides in payment of your honesty'.

Of this, he really wasn't sure. Was the little man playing some cruel joke on him? For a moment he imagined the little man and a coven of witches laughing at his expense. 'All you have to do is recite a few words' the little man cut into his thoughts. The words 'there's more you know' repeated over in his head alongside more dollar signs.

te a few words' the little man cut into his thoughts. The words 'there's more you know' repeated over in his head alongside more dollar signs.

"Alright, show me what to do" he sighed. 'Here, take this pen and write these words accurately into the little black notebook that you need to recite'. He took the pen from the little man and wrote down in the little black book exactly what was on a scrap of paper that the little man suddenly produced.

KOW MET PHES NAR CEE WONH SOW WETH NALK

NES NOS KOH RIWU NEE WECH THAD RECUT SOR

SPALON SLAHS SI LOFOM TOLF FOROO

NIONT SHOMOF YEPINI DACTS DELK CIWO RULC EYS

He was proud to be the next person to write in the little black book and his handwriting was the best he'd ever managed. It certainly didn't stand out as worse than the other pages at least.

He was proud to be the next person to write in the little black book and his handwriting was the best he'd ever managed. It certainly didn't stand out as worse than the other pages at least.

He was proud to be the next person to write in the little black book and his handwriting was the best he'd ever managed. It certainly didn't stand out as worse than the other pages at least.

He was proud to be the next person to write in the little black book and his handwriting was the best he'd ever managed. It certainly didn't stand out as worse than the other pages at least.

He was proud to be the next person to write in the little black book and his handwriting was the best he'd ever managed. It certainly didn't stand out as worse than the other pages at least.

The little man gave him the address of the house and said, 'knock loud', then lost interest in him. He promptly returned to his counter, busied himself with ledgers with the same pen and never looked up as he left the shop.

Again, weird...

When he arrived at the house, it was large and quirky. There was no driveway nor path leading to it from the sidewalk, just grass. He tiptoed across the lawn as if not to disturb a single blade, then climbed the wooden steps leading to the front door. The woodwork had fresh paint and the borders surrounding the house had the most beautiful established plants and bushes.

He knocked on the door, no reply. He knocked again, no reply. Then he remembered the knock loud comment, so this time made his knuckles hurt. What answered the door really didn't surprise him, a sweet looking old lady. Her size did though, she was tiny! Her height would literally only reach his belt, but she looked straight at him with dark, obsidian eyes and said, 'I've been expecting you'. She of course didn't hear him say 'I've heard that once today already' as she motioned him into a room that was so full of lace that he almost burst out laughing, he was surprised that she wasn't made of it.

She sat at a delicate mahogany table and asked him to join her, he tried not to ruffle the lace that covered the chair, but it was difficult. 'You have something of mine I believe' she said 'are we looking to trade a further reward?' He explained what the little man at the shop had told him and she nodded furiously, and he wasn’t sure that she’d heard him, but she said she was happy to come to a little deal.

How could she know that he'd actually already taken $10,000 from the envelope? The little man at the shop said to give her money, he didn't say ALL of the money, and anyway, how could she know? The tiny lady took the envelope from him, then said 'excuse me' before leaving the room, presumably to count the money. He then took the opportunity to recite the words he'd written in the little black book, then was as good a time as any.

"KOW MET PHES NAR CEE WONH SOW WETH NALK"

NES NOS KOH RIWU NEE WECH THAD RECUT SOR

SPALON SLAHS SI

LOFOM TOLF FOROO

NIONT SHOMOV YEPINI DACTS

DELK CIWO RULC EYS"

She returned to the room and sighed 'Oh dear' as she dropped the envelope back in front of him, looking utterly disgusted. Once again, she said 'Oh dear...' but her voice was low, as dark as her obsidian eyes and felt threatening. Tiny as she was, he was scared with a feeling of sheer dread. Any thoughts of money left in a puff of smoke, just as the envelope did, right before his very eyes.

It was then that he felt it. The swirling air was slowly being sucked from him. His hair visibly bristled with electricity and he stumbled through the door to escape. He virtually swam through the thickness of the swirling air, the tide threatening to swallow him.

He fought hard and managed to reach the sidewalk from the now well-trodden grass and into the middle of the road, though this offered him no comfort.

He was doomed and he knew it.

Only the little black book remained and he clung to it, a futile attempt to squeeze from it the life he had before. This time, it was the tiny old woman who recited words, and from the front door she whispered:

He who knows temperance Knows wealth

He who knows esurience Courts dearth

Pass on shall I From fool to fool

This companion of destiny So wickedly cruel... '

The police officer was the first at the scene. The man in the road was clearly dead, contorted and looked haunting. He'd never seen anything like it before. The man was clutching a little black book.

The police officer looked left, looked right then swiftly placed it in his shoe, for he knew he had hit the jackpot...

Only those who challenge their fate could understand his obstinacy. Those whose greed manifests from the shadows, blanketing all things benevolent, the things of no substance but are as real as their charred hearts. Love is of no consequence, for it cannot be sold or boastfully exhibited as a triumph.

He, was one of those.

He knew as soon as he found it in the police officer's shoe that he'd hit the jackpot. That was a definite upside to his job, it's surprising what one can find on the deceased. His job afforded him with plenty of opportunities to rifle through all kinds of belongings, and he wasn't ashamed to check every crevice before a cadaver was unceremoniously dumped in the mortuary.

The tiny black book was merely the size of a credit card, made of the finest leather hide and had clearly been caressed and loved for many years. Its pages were edged in gold and one would be forgiven for thinking it was a bible, but he instinctively knew it wasn't. He slowly opened the pages, praying to whatever those with charred hearts pray to, that his dreamed expectation wasn't crushed, just like that classic opening of a biscuit box expecting baked delights, only to find a sewing kit.

He wasn't disappointed.

The pages revealed indecipherable text, beautifully written and forming a pattern in what he could only presume was code. The handwriting changed from page to page, signifying its journey through many hands, each letter containing the essence of the souls who shared the book through the ages.

On the inside of the back cover was written:

'Please return to:-

Complicated Man Antiques

Junction Gardens

NY 10440'

Underneath that, was the scrawled message in pencil 'upon return $20,000 is yours - 2112'

He was so excited he nearly vomited. Panic set in and he checked behind him. He couldn't risk anyone seeing him take it. It was his, all his...

He nearly put it in his shoe then thought better of it. That didn't exactly work out for the police officer did it? It was carefully placed in the breast pocket of his undertakers suit and he forced himself not to grin and betray his mask of solemnity.

He had half expected a large bay window displaying large key pieces of furniture, jewellery and a plethora of curios, but the shop was located down a worn set of steps, enveloped by railings. They had many layers of paint and were chipped and battered, only the tiny sign on those railings that bore the name of the shop revealed its use, it was almost apologising for its presence.

As he reached the bottom two steps, he caught sight of a man through the door glass. The man watched him approach, as if he expected his coming, with eyebrows raised and a wide straight mouth.

Their eyes had already locked and it was simply chilling, he nearly turned around and escaped. Instead he grasped the door handle and entered with purpose, the dollar sign in his head overtook any reluctance.

The man was little and shabby but with a hint of once being smartly dressed but had stood in those same clothes for many years. He never once broke his gaze. He eventually smiled slyly and said, 'I've been expecting you.'

Impossible, how could the little man know who he was and the purpose of him being there? But there it was, he totally believed what this strange little man was saying to him, it was all too familiar to deny it.

Walking through the shop was an experience in itself. The air wasn't air. It hung, a wall of undisturbed molecules that were pushed around him like swirls of smoke as he moved forward.

The little man was smiling at this point, the smile warmer than he expected. The shop actually felt more like the front room of a home, his presence could almost have felt intrusive in it, had he not recognised the place from that familiar feeling which now eluded him.

He did consider being polite by feigning an interest in the many aged offerings around him, but this thought was interrupted by the little man when he whispered 'well, shall we get right to it?'. He had no need to whisper as they were quite alone, but he felt this added more importance to the matter in hand.

He said, 'I have this book', to which the little man replied, 'found or stolen?'. Before he could protest, the little man said 'that's not something we need worry about, the fact is you have it. Do you know why you have it?' He considered his reply for a moment, then blurted out "the reward" before his brain could process a more dignified answer.

'Well then, here we are" the little man said as he stooped to lift a box from underneath his cluttered counter. His knees creaked and he groaned as he rose, holding a box that could only be described as ‘fancy '. Delicate and bejewelled it was, but he thought he would be very disappointed if that was the reward itself, not cold, hard cash. He didn't like the idea of having to sell it, what if it was worth less than $20,000?

'Combination?' the little man asked and again his mouth blurted "2112" He was feeling a little nauseous now, once again praying to that place that he didn't have to take the trouble to sell the 'fancy' box.

Again, he wasn't disappointed.

From the box the little man produced a most beautiful envelope, gilded on the edges and it reminded him of the little black book. The little man opened it, showed it to him, and asked, 'would you like me to count it for you?', now grinning. "No, I think I can trust you" he said slowly and was also now grinning, relieved and elated. Not only could he see it, but he knew the unmistakable aroma of cash...

It was slid slowly across the counter towards him, and he gingerly took it. It took from him every bit of willpower not to rip open the envelope and count it. Instead, he thanked the little man and as he turned away, he received the reply 'no, thank YOU'. It then struck him that he'd not even given the little man the little black book back, the very reason he was there in the first place! He turned back and placed it on the counter and puffed a sigh of relief, 'wow, I nearly forgot this! ". He was staggered when the little man nonchalantly replied ‘no, just keep it. You may need it'.

Weird...

He was about to open the door shaking with delight when the little man said 'there's more you know', which stopped him dead in his tracks."Morrrre what?" He hardly dare ask. "You know, cash. I take it you're interested?" He was suspicious of course, but greed is the teeth that chews and spits out that sweet tasting dignity.

Before he could say yes, the little man emerged from behind his counter (he really was smaller than thought!) and produced a long, slender pen, as if from his worn and almost shiny jacket sleeve. "There is someone at a house not far from here who is connected to the book and I'm sure would be interested in having it. All you need to do is trust enough to hand the money to them, recite a few words from the little black book and you'll not only receive your money back but a lot more besides in payment of your honesty'.

Of this, he really wasn't sure. Was the little man playing some cruel joke on him? For a moment he imagined the little man and a coven of witches laughing at his expense. 'All you have to do is recite a few words' the little man cut into his thoughts. The words 'there's more you know' repeated over in his head. He had to do it; he instinctively knew it.

"Alright, show me what to do" he sighed. 'Here, take this pen and write these words into the little black book that you need to recite. Exactly mind, it needs to be accurate'. He took the pen from the little man and wrote down in the little black book exactly what was on a scrap of paper that the little man suddenly produced. He politely obliged, then shuddered slightly.

He was proud at least to be the next person to write in the little black book and his handwriting was the best he'd ever managed. It certainly didn't stand out as worse than the other pages at least.

The little man gave him the address of the house and said, 'knock loud', then lost interest in him. He promptly returned to his counter, busied himself with ledgers with the same pen and never looked up as he left the shop.

Again, weird...

When he arrived at the house, he was unsurprised to see that it was large and quirky. There was no driveway nor path leading to it from the sidewalk, just grass. He tiptoed across the lawn as if not to disturb a single blade, then climbed the wooden steps leading to the front door. The woodwork had fresh paint and the borders surrounding the house had the most beautiful established plants and bushes.

He knocked on the door, no reply. He knocked again, no reply. Then he remembered the knock loud comment, so this time made his knuckles hurt. What answered the door really didn't surprise him, a sweet looking old lady. Her size did though, she was tiny! Her height would literally only reach his belt, but she looked straight at him with dark, obsidian eyes and said, 'I've been expecting you'. She of course didn't hear him say 'I've heard that once today already' as she motioned him into a room that was so full of lace that he almost burst out laughing, he was surprised that she wasn't made of it.

She sat at a delicate mahogany table and asked him to join her, he tried not to ruffle the lace that covered the chair, but it was difficult. 'You have something of mine I believe' she said 'are we looking to trade a further reward?' He explained what the little man at the shop had told him and she nodded furiously, and he wasn’t sure that she’d heard him, but she said she was happy to come to a little deal.

How could she know that he'd actually already taken $10,000 from the envelope? The little man at the shop said to give her money, he didn't say ALL of the money, and anyway, how could she know? The tiny lady took the envelope from him, then said 'excuse me' before leaving the room, presumably to count the money. He then took the opportunity to recite the words he'd written in the little black book, then was as good a time as any.

"KOW MET PHES NAR CEE WONH

SOW WETH NALK

NES NOS KOH RIWU NEE WECH

THAD RECUT SOR

SPALON SLAHS SI

LOFOM TOLF FOROO

NIONT SHOMOF YEPINI DACTS

DELK CIWO RULC EYS"

She returned to the room and sighed 'Oh dear' as she dropped the envelope back in front of him, looking utterly disgusted. Once again, she said 'Oh dear...' but her voice was low, as dark as her obsidian eyes and felt threatening. Tiny as she was, he was scared with a feeling of sheer dread. Any thoughts of money left in a puff of smoke, just as the envelope did, right before his very eyes.

It was then that he felt it. The swirling air was slowly being sucked from him. His hair visibly bristled with electricity and he stumbled through the door to escape. He virtually swam through the thickness of the swirling air, the tide threatening to swallow him.

He fought hard and managed to reach the sidewalk from the now well-trodden grass and into the middle of the road, though this offered him no comfort.

He was doomed and he knew it.

Only the little black book remained and he clung to it, a futile attempt to squeeze from it the life he had before. This time, it was the tiny old woman who recited words, and from the front door she whispered:

'He who knows temperance

Knows wealth

He who knows esurience

Courts dearth

Pass on shall I

From fool to fool

Thi

So