Inheritance

She sat at the kitchen table slowly sipping her freshly brewed coffee, her fingers flicking through the pages of the little black book once again. She had received it as part of her inheritance from her grandmother, £20,000 and this blank book. The leather cover was cracked and peeling like old skin, but there was nothing else of significance about the book apart from the fact that her grandmother had been seen with it not long before she had disappeared in mysterious circumstances. The police had no leads and years later they made the decision to close the case, assuming she must have died, and her body lost or taken.

The day she had collected the book she opened it up, not knowing what to expect. She was hoping that it might reveal some hidden clue to her grandmother’s sudden disappearance, but it hadn’t. The pages had just been as blank then as they were now. It had been weeks since she had first gotten the book, every day she spent some time looking through it, carefully examining the pages. Something about it drew her in, she knew it was important but couldn’t understand why. She had tried explaining her feelings to friends and family but none of them believed her, they told her it was just some old notebook or diary that hadn’t been used and brushed her off. She agreed with them that her obsession with the book was a little unusual. She had tried to write in it, to break the mystery of it, but she just couldn’t bring herself to put pen to paper. Something always held her back, she felt as though the book contained a piece of her grandmother and she couldn’t bring herself to deface it.

Eventually, the book was put away on a shelf, not completely forgotten but just put out of her mind. The £20,000 had been used for a deposit on a house and organising the move took up all of her spare time. She hadn’t got time to worry about the book now. Soon enough moving day came, and the little book was packed up in a box with several other old books. When she moved in to the new house the box with the books somehow ended up in the attic, and although she wondered where it had got to, she didn’t look for the old book. Her new life with her husband and child kept her occupied and the book became forgotten.

Years later, she went up in to the dusty attic to retrieve the Christmas decorations. Unsure where her husband had put them the year before, she moved some other stuff around, and that’s when she noticed the damp patch. The roof had obviously been leaking and water had dripped on to some of the boxes in the corner. Annoyed, she hastily pulled the wet boxes away from the damp spot. As she picked one of them up the cardboard spilt and out fell several books. She sighed, frustrated at the inconvenience. As she began gathering up the books, her hand soon fell across the familiar cracked leather of that little black book. She picked it up, the cover was slightly damp, and the edges of the papers felt brittle from where they had got wet. She cursed at herself for letting it get ruined. Then she gave a little chuckle, she still didn’t why she worried so much about the old book, what did it matter that it had gotten wet. She ran her fingers lightly over the cover, she thought about opening it up one last time, but she hesitated. She felt her heart beat a little bit faster. After all these years nothing was going to be any different about the book, the pages would still be blank, so why was she so nervous.

The sound of her husband’s voice calling up to her brought her back to reality. She shook herself slightly and made a motion to toss the book aside, but curiosity got the better of her. She opened the cover and gasped at the words written on the first page.

WHERE AM I?

Breathing heavily, she slowly turned the page.

WHAT’S HAPPENED TO ME?

Her breath was short and sharp as she flicked through the next few pages, not understanding what she was seeing.

HELP ME

I’M ALIVE

PLEASE, HELP ME

The messages became increasing desperate as she went on. It was a trick, she thought, some sort of joke book that only revealed these messages when the pages got wet. As she kept flicking through the pages the messages went from desperation to anger.

YOU’VE FORGOTTEN ME

HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME HERE?

YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS

YOU’RE NEXT

The last message on the final page sent shivers down her spine. She stared at the words, opened mouthed. She shook her head, not quite believing what she was seeing. Unnerved, she suddenly threw the book down on to the floor and turned to leave but found herself unable to move.

A few moments later her husband climbed the ladder to the attic, calling for his wife. She had been gone a while and he was beginning to wonder where she had got to. As he scrambled up the last rungs in to the attic, he was surprised to find it empty, there was no trace of his wife. The attic space wasn’t very big, but he stepped forward, wondering if she was hiding from him in the dark. On the floor in front of him he spotted a little book covered in smooth black leather. He picked it up and absent-mildly flicked through the pages, they were all blank. For a moment he stood there holding the book, he liked the feel of it in his hands. Oddly, it reminded him of his wife. He shrugged and threw the book with the others scattered about the floor. He had a sudden urge to pick it back up but brushed off the feeling and instead, picked up the box of Christmas decorations which were exactly where he had left them last year. Assuming his wife must have gone back down in to the house, he went down to find her. He had a slight grin on his face, knowing that he would be able to gloat to her about finding the Christmas decorations first.

He never saw her again.