Secrets

“He was a lonely guy,” Larry, the apartment manager said.

“I got that impression, as well,” I said, throwing some books into one of many donation boxes. “He never mentioned any family or friends to me.”

“It’s such a shame,” he said. “You know, I searched for hours on those online background check sites, trying to reach out to anyone who might be a relative. No luck. I can’t imagine having absolutely no one.”

“Me either,” I said, tossing more tattered paperbacks into the box. Both of my parents were dead. They had passed away in a car accident when I was thirteen. But, I had a girlfriend, and friends who would notice if I had died.

“I just know that I never want to go that way. I mean, a heart attack is normal, but not to be discovered for a week. Only to be discovered because the neighbors were complaining of the smell…” he shook his head. “I pray that’s not how it ends for me, for either of us,” he said.

I nodded in agreement. I closed another box of books and carried it to the door.

Larry took it from me, buckling slightly under the weight. “I’ll take this downstairs. This is going to take so many trips to donation.”

I grabbed another empty box and started tossing books into it. We had hardly made a dent in the living room today and we had been working for hours. It wasn’t the ideal way to spend my Saturday, but I had been Burt’s neighbor. He was a nice guy, a little kooky. I had met him on a walk around the apartment. I learned that he had no car and had not left his apartment in a number of years. I would sometimes bring him food and supplies that he needed. I had also reported the concerning smell coming from downstairs to Larry. It felt right that I should be here, helping.

I grabbed another stack of books, but stopped before I added the top one to the box. The top book wasn’t a typical paperback. It was a little black book, almost like a journal. Its leather cover was closed with a thick rubber band, and a yellowing piece of paper banded to the front of it. I felt more paper on the back of the journal. I flipped it over and saw that there was a lumpy envelope attached to it, as well.

I looked over my shoulder and removed the rubber band. I opened the note. A stack of cash fell out of the envelope, landing at my feet.

I cursed in surprise. I picked it up and stuffed it back into the envelope and re-banded everything to the journal.

What was I going to do with a wad of cash and a notebook? Should I tell Larry about it? Maybe I should leave it here. I looked around, looking for where I should put it.

I heard Larry’s footsteps coming up the stairs. In a moment of panic, I stuffed the notebook in my jeans pocket. It stuck out, so I pulled my shirt over it.

“Trip number 1,000 downstairs has been completed,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Are you ok?”

He must have noticed that I was breathing heavily. “Yeah,” I said, slowing my breathing. “I thought I saw a spider when I was grabbing some books.”

“Gross,” he said. “Let’s call it a day. We’ve been at this for hours, and my car can’t take any more boxes.”

“Sounds good,” I said. I placed my hand over the book in my pocket.

Larry shut off the lights and locked the door behind us. “If you are free tomorrow, do you want to try tackling some more?”

“I have some time tomorrow evening, around five,” I said.

“I can meet you here. I really appreciate your help with this. You hardly knew the guy, but you are willing to help me clean out his place. That’s a pretty decent thing to do.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“I’ll catch you tomorrow,” Larry said. He waved and turned to walk back to the office.

I rushed upstairs to my apartment. I unlocked the door and snapped it shut behind me. I pulled the book from my pocket and studied it.

I kept my eyes on it as I walked into the living room, and sat down on the couch. I took a deep breath and removed the rubber band. I put the cash and the journal down, side-by-side, on the coffee table. I opened the note and began reading.

If you are reading this, then it means that I’m dead.

You might have noticed that this note is accompanied by cash. It is $20,000 exactly, the sum of my remaining life savings. You can count it, to be certain.

The reason I’m giving you this money is because it also comes with a little black notebook. It is small and quiet on the outside, but don’t be fooled. This book contains all the secrets of life and existence.

I know it sounds implausible. I didn’t believe it when I came across it, either. It had been passed down through my family. When my father was dying, he gave me his entire life savings to keep me from opening that book.

I was foolish. I chose the book. More than wealth, I wanted to learn the secrets of the world. And, I paid for my decision every day.

The book is peculiar in many ways, the strangest is that it is alive. It needs a guardian to keep it safe, but it wants to share its knowledge with someone, only one person. I have theorized over the years as to why that is. The best I can come up with is that the book also knows the suffering of keeping its knowledge to itself. But, I think it also believes that humanity needs mystery, to both be happy and to progress.

You may be asking how I died being a poor old man if I held the cure to every sickness known to mankind. The book will defend its secrets. To share the knowledge contained in it is to condemn yourself to death, along with the ones you shared it with.

I’ve been able to track some of its history. It sometimes disappears, but when it reappears, it is shrouded in death. Most of the deaths linked to it are gruesome and coincidental, the “freak accidents” the media loves so much.

The more you read this note, the more you probably think that this is the musing of an insane old man. What I am asking you to do is to do the opposite of what I did. Take the money. Do whatever you want with it. Don’t open the book. Keep it safe and it will eventually leave you alone. It will call to you. It will tempt you. But, don’t answer its beckoning. Ignore it and continue living in blissful ignorance.

Best of luck,

Burt Garridan

I set the note down. Was this a joke? A notebook that held all the secrets of life? It was small, maybe only 150 pages long. I doubted that all the world’s secrets could be contained in such a small space. Poor Burt, he was further gone than I had imagined.

Could he be telling the truth?

I glanced down at the book.

“Now, who is the insane one?” I asked myself. I grabbed the cash and counted it. $20,000 exactly.

What should I do with it? Maybe I could split it with Larry. He was helping clean out the apartment with me, maybe he deserved a cut of it. Or, perhaps I could use it to give Burt a nice funeral.

I sighed. I didn’t have to make a decision right now.

I set the book on the coffee table and the cash next to it. I gazed upon the book and then the cash. I could definitely use the money.

I got up and did my evening chores and cooked dinner. All the while, I caught glimpses of the book and the cash. I called my girlfriend and talked for a bit. I didn’t bring up the book.

After I hung up, I was ready for bed. I had been suffering from insomnia the past few evenings. Such strange dreams that left me sweating, but none that I could remember.

I got ready for bed and crawled between the sheets. I fell asleep quickly, but my sleep was not sound. I kept dreaming about the book. I wanted to open it. I wanted to read it.

I got up to go to the restroom sometime during the night. On my way back to bed, I caught myself drifting towards the living room. I just wanted to look at it, maybe touch its cover. I reached for it. Before I could touch it, I drew my hand back.

I shook my head and went back to bed. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t. I had to have been overtired from sleeplessness. I wasn’t thinking straight. There was no possible way the book could be calling to me.

Sometime in the early morning, I fell back asleep. I woke up late and drug myself up to get some coffee. I sat down to drink it, staring at the book and the cash. The desire to touch the book was undeniable.

I didn’t realize how long I had been staring at it until my girlfriend called three hours later. I set down my coffee. I hadn’t drunk any of it.

I answered the phone.

“Where are you?” She asked. “You were supposed to meet me, Justin, and Amanda for lunch.”

I had forgotten. “I’m running a bit late. I’m heading out now,” I said.

“See you soon,” she said, and hung up.

I took one last glance at the book before rushing to get dressed.

Lunch was pleasant enough, but I kept finding myself distracted by thoughts of the book. After Justin and Amanda left the table, my girlfriend asked if I wanted to come over and hang out. But, I realized I was supposed to meet Larry to help clean out Burt’s apartment.

By the time I got home, I had about an hour before meeting Larry. I contemplated waiting outside until it was time. But, I got out of the car and trudged up the stairs. I walked into the apartment. I set a timer on my phone for an hour. I was not going to lose track of time again.

I sat down and stared at the book. I picked it up and gazed at its cover. It was shinier than I remembered. It smelled like an old library book and cut grass. It was absolutely enticing.

I grabbed it and threw it on the top shelf of the closet in the guest room.

The bad dreams and sleepwalking stopped over the next few days. I took the money and got Burt a nice headstone. I kept what was left to save for a ring, to propose to my girlfriend.

And, over the next few years, the book began to fade from my memory. Once in a while, I would feel the urge to see it, touch it maybe. I ignored those feelings.

We were packing up my apartment to move out. We had purchased a house together. I had asked her to leave the closet in the guest room to me, while I finished packing up my room.

When I was finished, I found her in the guest room, in the closet. “What are you doing?”

She smiled at me, a smile too wide. “I found something so beautiful,” she said. In her hand, she held a little black book. It was open.