The Collective

There had always been conspiracy theories about people who won lotteries or raffles that included a nice chunk of money. Some said that they sold their souls, others said they sacrificed those closest to them, the speculations were endless. Up until now Seraphin never believed them but that was before she won the raffle and came in contact with that accursed little black book!

It had started out simple enough, she had entered a raffle to win the grand prize of twenty thousand dollars. Never in a million years did Seraphin think she would’ve won but against all odds she did. The day she received the check two peculiar looking men in black suits showed up at her door, behind them a little further back were two more men in military garb. Seraphin had already been a bit uncomfortable with the way the men had shown up but when they gave her the small black book with a crisp white envelope on top, she had become more unnerved than uncomfortable. This situation was getting stranger and stranger. They instructed her to deposit the check into the bank account of her choice before reading the letter and opening the book. Under no circumstances was Seraphin to speak on the contents of the book. She could tell by their tones that she didn’t want to tell anyone.

She should’ve closed the door on them, she should’ve never entered the raffle, she should’ve steered clear of that unusual little bookstore she had started to frequent. If she had, Seraphin knew she wouldn’t have been in this mess. Instead she had deposited the money and when she got home she sat down and opened the envelope. It simply re-iterated what the two men had said about not telling anyone but that was when things took an unexpected turn. It spoke of tasks being completed or a forfeit and repayal of money. It also listed a number for the person to call if they realized they were unable to complete a task. The punishment was the same. Seraphin was not surprised that it had not been signed.

The Government didn’t sign anything.

The little black book didn’t look any different from the ones you could buy at those large chain super stores. Honestly, Seraphin thought it was a small sketchbook till she opened it and once again was met with tiny computer print, perfect, traceless, letters. The first sentence stuck in her mind, the thought never far from the surface

“Nothing In Life Is Free.”

Every time she spent money she had to go to the page where that number was and complete the task. The book warned her that they would know whether or not she had completed the given assignment but most importantly she was to do it without being caught, otherwise there was a high probability she was going to be on her own. She had a week to decide whether or not she was going to spend the money or contact the number.

The decision had been made for Seraphin when her car broke down, the engine just died and there was a problem with her brakes. At that time Seraphin had not put two and two together, after all it had only been two days since she had deposited the check, had the car not broken she more than likely would’ve given the money back but she needed her car and instead of replacing the engine, she spent close to seven thousand to buy a slightly used car that was definitely better than her old one but not too flashy. .

Under the seven thousand tab the book questioned if it was her first purchase, she would mark yes and then the command was given. She had to choose who lived or died in a situation where she knew nothing about either party besides the fact that one was male and one was female. She chose the female to live. Only then did she realize the mistake. The female had been a woman sent to prison for murdering her children. The male had been an eight year old boy waiting on a heart transplant. Had she chosen him to live, he would’ve received the life saving surgery and his family had to pay nothing.

Seraphin tried to convince herself that she didn’t care, it wasn’t like she had known the boy or the children. They didn’t affect her life either way. It was only a matter of days before she pushed the memory from her mind. For the first several days Seraphin used cash along with every gift card she had on hand in order to avoid touching the bank account. A smart woman would have opened a separate account to place the twenty thousand in so that she could still use her own money without it counting but no, Seraphin hadn’t thought of that and now she was running out of cash and gift cards.

It started small, she spent five dollars and checked the book. She was given the choice between donating blood or stealing something from a store. Seraphin didn’t like the idea of stealing so she donated blood. It wasn’t a few days later she spent twenty and then fifty. Each time she was given a choice, a few were physically painful but nothing as bad as when she bought her car. The higher the amount she spent the worse the choice, right? She had decided to play it safe and only spend the money on groceries, gas, or bills. For a moment Seraphin had felt like the more necessary the purchase the lesser the punishment but that had been proven wrong when she bought a woman’s groceries and her own totalling almost two hundred dollars. The woman had children and unfortunately had come up rather short. Seraphin had not thought twice about it until she sat in her car taking out the little black book and marking down the amount.

The words appeared slowly,

Look to your left, a long yellow bus is dropping off the children. A child will walk in front of the bus. The driver will not see the child and the child will not survive. You can choose to save this child at the cost of telling the mother of the boy who needed a heart transplant that you’re the reason her son died.

Choose wisely.

Seraphin had mere moments to make the decision. With tears streaming down her face she started the engine of her car and drove away from the bus. Her cool grey eyes looked back into the rearview and regretted it instantly as she saw the bus move forward before she could jerk her eyes away. She cried the entire way home. Her actions had been kind, she helped a woman with children out and in turn she made sure that someone else’s child would never come home because Seraphin couldn’t fathom telling the mother of the boy who needed a heart transplant she was the reason her son had died. It was a vicious circle and Seraphin was beginning to regret the day she had entered the raffle.

These decisions began to weigh heavily on Seraphin’s mind. She struggled to stay focused at work after she was unable to have her paycheck given to her on a card or in a check form and she was forced to use what was in the bank. Customer service never gave her a reason as to why nothing was working. It was as though they had been told to ignore the problem. Seraphin became paranoid, constantly looking over her shoulder. Sometimes she swore she could see the lives of those that had been taken. Their faces were haunting her dreams and her waking hours. It had gotten to the point that she sought out a therapist. Talking to someone about stress was alright, right? She could talk to a therapist without telling them what was really going on right? But that meant that each time she saw them she had to be prepared to pay a price. The idea of that sent the young woman into yet another fit of hysterics. When it finally became too much Seraphin gave in and contacted a shrink. It wasn’t extremely expensive and the first price she paid wasn’t even a bad one. She had to choose whether or not to let someone who was speeding get away without a rather large fine. Seraphin cut the person a break wishing the same could be done for her. Lucky for her the choice had a positive outcome. It was a man and his wife who were in labor.

The first meeting went well, as did the second and the third, but by the fourth things were getting harder to explain away. The therapist wasn’t stupid and knew there were more to Seraphin’s strange stories. The last thing she had expected was for Seraphin to call her later that night, after hours.

“It’s my fault.. I killed him… I was the reason he died..” Seraphin blubbered into the phone, she had been drinking heavily.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I killed him, Jude.. It was all my fault and the others.. They, they aren’t nightmares.. They’re real..” Seraphin continued to sob as she broke down over-guilt brought on by the drinking, “All because I won the raffle and a book.. I have to write it down.. Everything.. And I have to choose.. I have to make choices.. People die, people get hurt...It’s my fault… I can’t take it anymore…”

“Seraphin, listen to me. I need you to go lay down, cover up and go to sleep. You’re drunk, this can make all those nightmares seem real. I will talk to you later, alright?”

The line went silent and when Seraphin woke the next morning she didn’t have any recollection of the conversation that had taken place the night before nor did she feel the desire to see the therapist again. Strangely she felt unbothered, almost like she was completely numb. The decisions and choices she made no longer caused her to lose sleep or shed any tears. She resumed her life as if nothing had ever changed until the day that she wrote down the last of the twenty thousand. Finally the last task began to appear,

You’ve made it to the very end, this final task will be your hardest. In order to start a new life one must first end the old. Pull the trigger.

Beside her sat a small revolver that hadn’t been there a moment before. Seraphin felt her stomach drop, she didn’t want to do this or did she? Could she continue on knowing everything she had done in the name of money? Could she forgive herself when it was all said and done? She could walk away now, call the number.. No, no she couldn’t. Seraphin had reached her limit. Even though the words were cryptic, part of her hoped this was just a test and it actually had a blank in it. Slowly Seraphion picked up the gun, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

Silence.

Hesitantly Seraphin opened her eyes, she was no longer in her kitchen sitting at the table, instead she was sitting in a dark room, with a single light at the end opposite of her. There was the shadowed outline of a man,

“Less than one percent of the people in your position go through with the final task. Those that followed the rules are granted the life of their dreams where the rules of sheep do not apply to them…”

Seraphin let out a relieved sigh closing her eyes only to be startled by the heavy hand on her shoulder, her stomach sinking as a dark baritone voice whispered in her ear, “Tell me, tender-heart, how is Jude doing?”