The Black Book

There are things in this world, hidden from mass consciousness, secrets withheld, completely unknown to most all, possibilities that shatter common perception of reality, fact being portrayed as a work of fiction. I always knew better than to be satisfied with the world as it was presented to me, and my belief in so much more was stamped in reality, after I came to find the little black book.

My name, my true name is irrelevant, but for the sake of telling my story I’ll introduce myself as Balthazar. I was raised in London, England by my great grandfather Benicio, who in his youth was a quantum physic’s professor at a highly esteemed University. After his time at the University came to an end he continued to work tirelessly, spending most of his time at home at the manor, in his study, which in essence is a full sized library.

Life at the manor was for the most part wonted and pleasant but Every so often, he would have all the doors locked and I was asked to remain in my bedroom, it never failed that on that day all the house staff was relieved, maids, Butlers gardeners, they would all get about an hours notice, and no one ever knew exactly what day we’d be going under Lockdown as we came to call it, it was always so random and it would come about anytime day or night, no one was to remain on the grounds. After everyone left, My grandfather would walk the hallways and search the rooms ensuring they were empty before locking each door behind him, then finally making his way to my room and asking me take a nap until he came to unlock the door. They would return the following day, and it was business as usual. We were not to question why or speak of it, simply follow orders.

This had gone on at least three times in the past six months, before I took notice of something.

When my grandfather asked me to nap, I did, whether or not I felt tired and regardless of the time of day, I’d lay in my bed and sleep only to awaken after hours had passed, my door then unlocked.

Nine months had gone by without incident.

I awoke one morning to the sound of a strong draft seeping through my window panes. The manor while grand in opulence is not immune to the weathering endured by an old house whose stood through 3 centuries, floor boards creak and some of the windows are drafty, amongst other things, I looked outside , the leaves of the trees rustled audibly in the strong wind, occasionally drifting away from the branches.

I watched the trees and bushes sway animated,

Then I saw it, In the distance at the gates stood what I can best describe as the 3 dimensional shadow a woman, no physical woman in sight, I was entranced by the way her hair and dress flowed tirelessly in that cool wind, leaves tumbled across the floor and through the gates around it, it’s stillness daunted me. Just then, There was a knock , I turned towards my door for a brief moment and when I turned back it was gone, I couldn’t make sense of it, a second knock at my door ensued, this one louder and more persistent. I walked over to open the door. It was one of the house maids Ms. Ashley, “ Balthazar, Your grandfather has asked us all to leave the grounds, you’ll be going under lockdown this morning, it’s best you hurry downstairs and eat your breakfast” I thanked her for letting me know and assured her I’d be right down.

Not even the news of a lockdown shook the ominous feeling That overcame me after witnessing whatever it was I had just seen, I put my slippers on and headed towards the dining room. The house was eerily quite, the sound of the forceful wind outside was still emanating vaguely through the hallway as I made my way down the stairs.

What was that? I racked my brain thinking about it, it scared me. Once I reached the dining room Ms. Ashley promptly brought out my breakfast, as she served my orange juice I asked if the rest of the house staff had already gone, to which she replied “They have, Except for Mr.Rick, he’s fixing you a hot tea” before exiting the room. Mr. Rick, the cook has been with our family for over 30 years, a loyal friend.

I fiddled with my food for a bit before deciding I just wasn’t hungry, I picked up my plate and walked into the kitchen, Mr. Rick stood at the island counter over a steaming cup of tea mixing it pensively. Behind him the occasional thud of a heavy raindrop against the window pane, and the wind as fierce as before, the dust had now clouded out the Sun and it was starting to rain. “ Its rough out there isn’t it” I said to break the silence. He nodded and smiled still contemplative, my comment on the obvious weather had done nothing to break his train of thought. He kept stirring slowly.

I walked past him, towards the sink, I’d begun scraping the remnants of my breakfast into the disposal when I heard him speak, his voice though monotone expressed some concern “ Being with a family as long as I have with yours, one becomes privy to the behaviors out of character expressed by any household member, your grandfather, only requests I brew you tea on days like today“ I stood quiet facing the window, he was right. He then walked up behind me and whispered into my ear “don’t drink the tea.”

We were interrupted by Ms. Ashley who rush-idly burst through the kitchen doors with a tray filled with my grandfathers empty breakfast plates. “ We best hurry Rick, I’ll be but 15 min tidying up these dishes, then we really must be off” I left them in conversation and made my way back upstairs to my bedroom.

I took a shower, I looked outside my window as I towel dried my hair, Mr. Rick and Ashley were exiting the front gates , where Vincent our Chauffer awaited them, Mr. Rick held firmly onto his hat to keep it from blowing away as he opened the door of the shiny black Bentley for Ms. Ashley. Who hurriedly entered the backseat clinging onto her coat, her usually well groomed red hair disheveled by the wind.

Mr. Rick paused for a moment, staring up at my bedroom window, looking back at me intently then giving me a slow nod before setting foot in the car himself.

I watched the Bentley drive down the road further and further away from the manor until it disappeared.

We were alone now, the house was silent enough that I could hear Benicio walking the hallways locking the all the doors, he’d be in my Bedroom soon with my tea. I dressed myself in comfortable clothing knowing I’d be in my room for the next while, then layed on my bed, scrolling through the pages of a picture book I’d found months earlier hidden underneath a faulty floorboard at School right before summer vacation. I attended one of the most prestigious Catholic Boarding Schools in the country. It contained images of cryptid looking creatures, strange beings, shadow figures and writings I didn’t recognize or understand, some pages were completely blank. I could’ve sworn the images in the book were actual photographs and not elaborate drawings. The ominous shadow I saw by the gates that morning immediately came to mind. I had told no one of my find for fear that it may be taken away.

I heard the clanking of a tea cup against a metal tray nearing, I quickly stuffed the book under my pillow and sat up waiting for my grandfather to arrive. Just then a knock at my door. “Come in”

“Good morning Baltazar , Mr. Rick took the Liberty of preparing you a warm tea and fresh biscuits.” He carefully placed the tray on my nightstand and handed me the tea. “ It’s best you nap if you’re able” Any other time I would’ve immediately taken a sip, not that day, the words “Don’t drink the tea” echoed through my head.

My Grandfather seemed to take notice of my hesitance to drink, he slowly paced over to the window, he stood there, hands cupped behind his back, gazing outside “ It’ll help you relax” he said calmly. Mr. Rick was right, something wasn’t quite right here, I pretended to drink the tea and I bit into a biscuit, “Thank you, Grandfather” he shifted his eyes towards me briefly observing my actions then with his lips still touching, smiled half heartedly in approval. Yet remained there, his sight fixed on the storm making headway outside. It became clear he wasn’t leaving to until satisfied I’d actually drank my tea. But I wasn’t about to, I again brought the cup up to my lips and before setting it back onto the saucer, I tilted the cup over under my pillow, as the tea soaked into my covers , I remembered my book was in that Exact spot, but it was too late I didn’t have any other place to inconspicuously dump my tea and most importantly I’d already done it. I’m confident my Grandfather didn’t see.

I pretended to have one more sip before setting it aside. The moment Benicio heard the glass hit the metal tray his attention was drawn towards my nightstand, my cup now nearly empty. He retrieved the tray, but as he lifted it to eye level, I caught a glimpse of what seemed like paper inside the biscuit I’d bitten into. “Grandfather!” I exclaimed quickly in a slightly higher pitch not having been able to contain my desperation, as I held on to his arm preventing him from walking away. “I’d like to keep the biscuits, if that’s alright” my voice now quieter and more polite. “ I’ve only just tasted them” I reached for the plate. “Of course” He replied “ Now you should really get some rest” He pulled the master key from his pocket and proceeded to exit my bedroom.

I waited until I heard the door lock, then I cracked the biscuit open, there it was, baked in, a note. It read “The windows are unlocked”. All 3 biscuits had the same message baked in, it was a fail safe, no matter which I’d bite into Rick knew I’d get the message.

The lights flickered then the sound of loud thunder filled the room, It startled me, the rain began forcefully striking the window panes, I could also hear it on the roof now, I heard footsteps, I immediately crumpled up the notes and threw them in the waste basket. I laid flat on my bed as if I were asleep. The lock opened and I felt my Grandfather peer in, then the door closed, he waited for a minute or two before the door locked again and he walked away.

My back felt damp, “the tea” “the book!” I reached under my pillow and pulled it out, it was wet. I opened it, examined its condition on the inside, I expected to see warped pages stained with dark tea, but nothing no damage at all, it was pristine. My favorite pastime was safe, I wiped any water off the cover and hid it underneath the dry pillow.

I laid on my bed thinking. “ what was going on? I thought about the hidden message baked in to the biscuits, Mr Rick’s cautionary words about the tea, My Grandfather’s unusual behavior, the strange shadow by the gates and even my picture book and its resilience to liquid. I was awake for the first time ever during one of these theatrical lockdowns.

My thinking was interrupted by the faint sound of piano music downstairs. I carefully walked over by the door and placed my ear to it, I recognized the piece “Moonlight Sonata” it played whimsically filling the silence that previously overcame the manor, it sent chills down my back. I sat on my bedroom floor, my back to the door listening while watching the cloudy Gray sky outside, The rain had finally let up and all that remained was the angry wind.

Suddenly my room was flooded with bright light. The shadows of trees appeared briefly on my walls, it had to be a car entering the front gates. I crawled over to one of the windows to peer out. I was right, 3 black limousines were slowing coming up the circular driveway, they parked in sequence by the front door. I waited in anticipation to see who would exit. The drivers doors opened, I was unsettled, and undoubtedly unprepared for what I saw, the drivers dressed in black from head to toe. They wore top hats, gloves and ankle length overcoats their faces concealed by bird masks with prominent beaks, they mimicked plague doctors. They each walked around the car and stood at attention by their perspective passengers doors.

The driver whose car was at the head of the caravan opened the door, out rose two dark cloaked figures and like before their faces concealed, these however by white porcelain masks. They held on to their hoods as they carefully made their way up the entryway stairs to the front door. In a ritualistic manner the second then third driver followed, a total of six people entered the house, all in identical attire. Only variations in their face masks set them apart.

I pushed the windows open and climbed outside, the cold air rushed into my bedroom, I held on to the window panes in an attempt to close them without making too much noise, but a gust of wind prevented that, slamming them shut with incredible force, I could only pray my grandfather hadn’t heard that over the piano music downstairs.

Against the wind I warily walked towards the back of the manor. Over the ledge was a trellis entangled with Ivy, I made it over and began climbing down, I was so very high up but the adrenaline that raced through my veins, shielded me from feeling any fear. Cold chilled my face and hands, the sound of the Ivy leaves rattling around me was an unexpected comfort as I made my way down, the trellis ended over a window about 15 ft off the ground, I had to jump. I hit the grass rolling, my shoulder was slightly hurt, and I endured a couple cuts and scrapes.

A warm glow of light emanating from the living areas drew my attention, man in an elegant suit wearing a deers head with antlers played the piano by the fireplace, my grandfathers masked guests sat around the dining room table, lit candelabras adorned the room providing the only light. Fear struck me at the core. The music stopped. The man wearing the deers head stood and turned to face the guests, he bowed cordially and then sat at the head of the table. I knew then he was my grandfather. Hosting some type of disturbed meeting.

My grandfather set a wooden box on the table and carefully opened it, it contained a blank scroll, he placed the scroll by the quill and ink well in front of him and began writing, when he stopped, he paused for a moment looking down at his work, he then silently slid the paper across the dining table to the Man nearest him on the left, the man read what was on the scroll without handling it, nodded once slowly, then only touched it to slide it to the next guest, who also read it, nodded once and passed it along, this went on until it reached the man in the deers head again, who I’m sure was my grandfather.

At which point he removed his left white glove and pricked his finger with a small silver dagger he had just pulled from the same wooden box. He dipped the quill in the drop of blood that collected and signed the document.