Little Black Book

Moira Lark had a near perfect hand. She thumbed her large stack of bills. With total confidence, she pushed all the money onto the table and said, “Straight flush.”

All eyes locked on the mountain of money, then everyone looked at Fate staring down at her own cards with a solid frown. Laying down her own hand she exclaimed, “Royal flush.”

“Dammit!” Moira said slamming her fist. “I was so close.”

“Well don’t bet all of your money fool,” Fate said, pinching Moira playfully.

“Next time you won’t be so lucky,” Moira laughed.

“Who says you will be?” Fate said counting the bills.

Moira knew it was all in fun, but losing that money hurt. She was tired of scraping by week after week.

Suddenly the door burst open with a flurry of snow. The person in the doorway was dressed head to toe in the finest silk suit anyone had laid eyes on and his neck was draped in a dark royal red scarf.

“Jamal?!” Fate exclaimed, “You look like you stepped off the cover of millionaires monthly.”

“I know, right?” Jamal said, showing off his god-like appearance.

Jamal had always lived modestly, but now he looked richer than King Midas himself. Moira thought of the stack of cash she had lost that evening making her mouth water.

“Where did all this come from?” Fate asked.

“No need to hassle me,” Jamal said, reaching into his coat pocket pulling out a little black book.

“This little baby right here has solved all my problems,” Jamal said walking around, but letting no one touch the book.

“That thing? You can’t be serious,” Moira spat.

The book was nothing. It was bound in black leather, but it wasn’t new. There were no words anywhere on it, just black nothingness from corner to corner. The sides of the pages were a yellowish brown. There was nothing remarkable about this golden ticket of Jamal’s.

“How has this thing solved all your problems? Is it a map to the lost city of Atlantis?” Fate teased, reaching for the book.

“NO!” Jamal boomed and produced an earth shattering whip like crack as he smacked her hand away from the little black book.

The room fell silent.

Fate held her hand in close. The others gathered around to confirm that she was okay. Only Moira was focused on Jamal with his hands coiled tightly around the little black book.

“Fate…I’m so sorry…I-,” Jamal stumbled tucking away the little black book.

“You should go Jamal,” Fate said flatly.

“Fate I didn’t mean to-” Jamal burst.

“Just go,” Fate ordered.

So Jamal picked up his coat and left.

“Dammit,” Moira exclaimed, “Jamal forgot his scarf.”

Moira dived into the wintery night running after Jamal. She called his name, scaring him. It was if she had awoken him from a deep dream.

“You forgot your scarf,” she said.

“Thank you Moira,” he said, but he was distracted.

“Don’t worry about Fate. She’s dramatic,” she said.

“What? Oh yes. I’m not sure what happened,” he said.

“You were about to tell us about your book.”

“Right!” His face brightened.

“So does it work?” Moira asked.

“I could tell you or,” Jamal started, “I could show you. Meet me tomorrow at nine?”

Moira stood in the snow shivering and thinking about the night. Jamal looked so happy, but then she thought of the vicious act he had committed moments ago. All because of a stupid book. However, she thought of the money she had lost and noticed her mouth again filled with saliva.

“Tomorrow at nine,” she said and returned to the party discovering Fate’s hand bandaged and bleeding.

The Next Day

Moira sat under the sign “Blith & Pick Associates”. How was this grubby building going to solve all her problems? Jamal had met her here and said someone was to let her inside.

“Moira?” said a disembodied voice.

“Yes?” she answered.

“Walk down the hall to the door with the black square on it.” The voice stopped and there was a loud buzzing noise unlocking the door.

Moira entered a white bare hall with doors on both sides. The hall stretched so far, she couldn’t see the end of it. She walked passing doors with various colored shapes. A red star. A green diamond. Finally, she reached the door with the black square. She reached out to knock, but a figure emerged with their head down wearing a hood. The figure walked at a slow snail like pace and pushed past Moira.

“Hey watch it!” Moira yelled, but the figure simply shuffled away.

“Come in!” the voice encouraged.

With one final look Moira stared at the hooded figure grow smaller and smaller as it carelessly trotted down the hall. Her anger faded into an icy shiver down her spine.

“Hello Moira! I’m so glad Jamal could connect us,” the man said.

“Thank you mister…”

“Blith,” Blith responded.

“Mr. Blith, thank you, but I’m confused about what is happening. Jamal mentioned changing my life, but he didn’t say how exactly,” she said.

“Ah yes our dear Mr. Jamal can be exuberant,” Mr. Blith said chuckling, “but he is completely correct.”

“How do you mean?” Moira asked.

Mr. Blith sat up and opened a hidden door behind him. The door revealed a hole no bigger than his chest and inside was a single black book.

“We at Blith & Pick Associates offer substantial compensation upon the agreement to care and protect this item. The only stipulation is you must never allow it to be opened under any circumstance. Sound good enough to fix all your problems?” Mr. Blith said, offering her the black book.

“What’s the catch?” she accused.

“The catch is that upon opening the book you must return all of the money you have made from us,” Mr. Blith said without hesitation.

“Where do I sign?” she asked.

“No signing. No contracts,” Mr. Blith said, “you can expect your payment every 1st of the month.”

She expected him to have her sign a lengthy contract where she would no doubtably be cheated by some loophole and forced into paying them her life savings, but Mr. Blith’s honesty about the matter was eerily unsettling.

“Until…?”

“Until you open that book,” Mr. Blith said.

“Maybe I should…” Moira started.

“The compensation is $20,000 per paycheck.”

And with that Moira Lark walked out of Blith & Pick Associates with a spring in her step and in her hands a little black book.

Five Years Later

Moira Lark was living. Truly living. Before she had only thought she was living: doing chores, pinching pennies, working a mindless job. Now, things were different. Now she ate meals prepared by private chefs. Now she was retired at age 32. Now her home was a mansion with an exotic garden looking over the sea. Now Moira was LIVING.

And it was all due to that little black book. The book that stayed tucked away behind a grand portrait of Moira and inside a steel safe. She hoped one day she would just forget it, but if that was her biggest issue then she would live her life glamorously. To celebrate five years of raking in cash she was throwing the most lavish party on the planet.

The halls of her home were filled to the brim with starlets, political advocates, musicians, CEOs, Olympic athletes, and that one woman who sells those blankets with sleeves. EVERYONE was at Moira Lark’s party. Moira greeted people with charm and wit and humility, but then she noticed something strange. A man with a slow snail-like pace. He moved uncaringly, bumping into people around him. The figure wore a hood over its face and Moira felt an icy shiver slide down her spine.

No. She would not let this interloper, this thing, ruin her big night.

She stalked the wandering figure. Pushing into the crowd she grabbed the figure’s red tattered scarf. The figure slowly turned around and Moira’s heart stopped.

“Jamal?!”

Jamal’s face had aged twice his lifetime. The outline of his skull protruded because his skin was so withered. His eyes were a white fog inside each pupil. His hair had turned pure white, not the aging grey that comes to us all, but a God’s honest white. He was in the exact same clothes from the night he had shown her the little black book.

“Moira?” the creature wheezed.

“No! That’s not me,” Moira attempted to run, but he latched onto her arm tight.

“The book,” he croaked, “the book.”

Then his face went still. Slowly the wrinkled mouth turned into a smile. The Jamal like thing began to laugh slowly then grew louder. Spit rained from its mouth and to Moira’s horror she saw that its teeth had rotted so much that now they were only green jagged shards.

Moira broke free and ran. She dared not look back for fear of the creature devouring her soul. She shoved and pushed and knocked people over, but no one cared. She finally stopped, but no demon chased her. Feeling a sting on her arm she discovered a deep red claw like print burned into her flesh and thought of the man she once knew.

The rest of the night Moira tried to wash off the red claw mark, but the thing was persistent. It would not leave her. It was a demonic tattoo marking her. Shaming her. Haunting her. She had to find Jamal.

She searched the estate top to bottom. He was nowhere to be found. Nobody had seen him which was impossible for such a monstrosity to go unnoticed at such a grand party. She yelled at everyone to get out. Wailed. Screeched.

The mansion was empty and Moira slammed the doors shut. She stood breathing heavily. Then she started walking. Her stride was slow at first not knowing where she was headed. Then she started to run. Finally, she stopped in front of the portrait of herself.

She tore the painting down, ripping the painted face as it fell and stared at the steel safe. She reached out her hand like that of a sleepwalker’s and grabbed the dial.

Click. Click. Click.

The door swung open with a screech. Inside the safe sat the little black book. Moira reached out her hand. Grabbed the book. Breathed. Then opened it.

The Next Day

There was a knock at the door with the little black square.

“Come in.”

The figure walked in at a slow trod then sat in the chair and placed the little black book upon the table.

“Ah Moira. Couldn’t help yourself. That’s a shame,” Mr. Blith said, picking up the book and putting it back in the hidden spot.

Moira stared at the ground. She made no attempt to respond to him or his condescending remark. She simply was now.

“Well you know what this means,” Mr. Blith continued, “All of your assets will be seized by Blith & Pick Associates. Do you have any questions Miss Lark?” Mr. Blith said.

The thing that had once been Moira took off the hood. Her cheeks were hollow and boney. Her lips were dried like a mummy’s and bled. Her eyes were a glowing yellow mist. Finally, her hair had changed to a bright God’s honest white.

“No questions Mr. Blith,” the thing smiled, “Because now I know. Now I know why.”

And with her final word she pulled the hood back over her face. She sat up from the chair and shuffled a snail like pace toward the door looking down. She opened the door to a man with his fist in the air just about to knock. Moira pushed past him. He yelled at her, but she did not care. She was indifferent. For now she knew.

She knew.

The young man watched the figure shuffle down the hallway watching it grow smaller as an icy shiver shot down his spine.

“Come in! Welcome to Blith & Pick and Associates.”