The Little Black book

It was a extremely dark and it was raining that night, I felt a bit chilly as the wind whipped at my raincoat. I pulled my coat closer to stay warm and also to shield myself from the strange man that just walked by, I shuddered and turned and looked back at the creepy man with dark thin hair and dark coat, and then I quickly looked away to avoid his gaze. But just for that split second, I had saw from the corner of my eye that he dropped something. But I could not really make out what it was.

I quickly side stepped to duck cover behind a large oak tree so as for him not to see me and I peered around the tree and I waited as I watched him walk safely into the distance.

I Then nervously glanced around to see if anyone else was looking and then I creeped over towards what he had dropped.

As I was getting closer, and I could barely make out what he had dropped, as the rain had gotten heavier, I scurried over to pick up what looked like a little black book. It was old and scruffy and had some strange anagram on the front of it a sort of code or language I had never seen before, it was the most peculiar little black book I had ever seen as if it did not belong in this world.

Thoughts went through my head at what this could possibly be, but I knew for sure it was not human, as I had first speculated. Pondering further as to what this could be, I began to have rampant thoughts as I walked back to my London loft at who could have created such a strange book, was it Aliens, Witches, vampires or could this possibly be some sort of old elven language?

As I entered my small quaint apartment, I shook off my raincoat and hung it on the burgundy wooden rack in the entry way. I shook out my tousled wet red hair and walked towards the kitchenette to put on some tea. I rubbed my hands together swiftly as I felt a chill come over me, and whispered to myself how utterly cold it had gotten and decided it would be a good idea to warm myself by the fire while I waited for my tea to brew.

I nestled down in the armchair near the fire and I could feel something poking me into my thigh, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little black book which for a brief moment had forgotten about, I flipped the book back and forth in my delicate slender manicured hands.

As soon as I began to open the little black book a crash of thunder followed by the loudest crackle of lighting struck down, it was so loud, the loudest I had ever heard and it startled me so, that I jumped almost two feet out of my old vintage floral arm chair. I gasped and screamed in utter fright, no sooner was I able to regain my composure into the chair, when suddenly the second floor window in the den flew open and a draft of misty cold air, heavy wind and rain came crashing in through the double sided windows, suddenly after the shutter pains began to beat on the outside of the building, an earie tap, tap, tap, tap, rat, tap, tap tat.

I was beside myself in sort of panic shock that I did not even notice my research papers had started flying around the dining room across from my den where I had been sitting in a fright full panic. Papers were fluttering around everywhere, it was almost as if time had stopped, I just sat there frozen staring at the commotion as if somehow staring would make it end.

Suddenly the screeching noise from the teapot, aroused me, and I quickly snapped back into reality and almost like instinct I immediately pulled myself together and scurried around frantically trying to put the room back together, I instantly headed for the window to close it to stop the chaos it had erupted into the room and bent over aimingly outside the window desperately reaching to grab a hold, and As I struggled to close the double sided windows and shutter doors.

I looked down only for a brief second and there he was the creepy man from the street that had dropped the little black book. I swiftly closed the shutters and windows all at the same time and the impact of the force knocked me to the ground knocking over a shelf that held a large flowerpot, the pot cracked instantly upon the impact of my fall.

I pulled my self up and dusted off my matchstick jeans and noticed my top had been ruined by the fall and so I eagerly pulled off my burgundy turtleneck revealing my white collared undershirt which I carefully inspected to make sure it wasn’t ruined, and luckily it wasn’t.

As I’m putting myself back together from the fall, the noise from the tea kettle seemed to grow louder as if someone or something had just magically turned the volume up in my life, how I managed to tune out such a fiercely loud sound during a panic is oddly peculiar to say the least. I then raced over to the stove to turn it off. I then set aside the kettle to cool off for a bit before making my tea.

I sat down at the kitchen counter and put my hands through my hair and wiped my hand over my eyes, Paranoia and fear set in as I thought about the creepy man, I had seen down below at the entry way door of my flat. I then began questioning what he could possibly be doing here. How did he know where I lived? Is it a coincidence that he was here or does the book have some sort of tracking device?

Paranoid and confused and desperate to find answers, I then anxiously walked back to the book picked it up and flipped through it noticing the pages were blank it was completely empty. I thought for a moment and concluded the oddness of the situation.

Puzzled by the book and its lack of answers I closed it firmly and pressed my lips together in frustration a grim sense of shrouded disappointment came over me, Thinking to myself I had to of missed something, I took one more hard look at the book studying it for any clues, and then I noticed something, a bit of blood from the palm of my hand had accidently smeared onto the front of the book right over the strange and exotic anagram, engraved into it, through all the commotion I hadn’t even notice that I had cut myself on the flowerpot.

No sooner after my blood had contact with the book, the little black book began to glow red for what appeared like several minutes, and then it suddenly opened itself up like it was possessed and began to rampantly flip its pages.

It stopped dead center to reveal a list, marked “The blood pact contract to Baal”. It seemed that this was some sort of debt collection list of people who had sold their soul to the devil in exchange for various worldly objects such as power, wealth talent and even some had sadly sold their soul for love.

I quickly dropped the book in shock realizing my blood was what had activated the book and fear suddenly rushed over me, I sat exasperatingly still in a sort of fetal squat position in the armchair, my arms tightly around my body, as I hugged my knees securely in a frightful panic. I started questioning everything that had happened. Was the creepy man A demon? Was he the grim reaper? Is that why he was outside my flat?

Did my blood activate some sort of devil pact with the book?