The Mysterious Notebook

Thomas sat in bed thumbing the mysterious notebook, it was small in comparison to his typical college ones, and it was exceptionally aged, as if it would crumble to dust in his hands. The first thing he noticed about it was it seemed to be very well used, the pages were dog-eared in specific places throughout and most of the pages had at least one tear to their name. The notebook was made of blackened leather, and on the front was a single name: Winston Mathins. Thomas recognized this name as one of his great-uncles, his name came up occasionally during dinner with his family, and it seemed the consensus was that Winston was a shut-in, who kept to his house in his later years. His wife was concerned with his mental health, as Winston repeatedly told of nightmarish creatures visiting him in the long night and giving him promises of great wealth and long life. After Winston and his wife divorced, the great wealth part of his disillusion seemed to come true, as Winston happened upon hoards of money, though he never revealed to anyone how he accrued his fortune. Winston passed a week from yesterday, at the ripe old age of ninety-seven, and he surprisingly left Thomas the notebook, and twenty thousand dollars, which Thomas remarked was “but a drop in the bucket of Winston’s actual fortune.” but Thomas held his tongue, as many in his family believed the money to be dirty, most thought Winston was involved in organized crime. Thomas’ curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the notebook to the first page.

The first page was dated September 7, 1968, and it read as follows: “My psyche is shattered, any doubts about otherworldly beings have now left my mind as of today. I have been having visions ghoulish creatures harassing me in my home and when I am alone in town, they speak in tongues which I can not recognize by voice, but burrow into my mind clear as day. I have visited my priest and he has told me that these devils are Lucifer’s minions, that they are trying to lead me to sin and that I should repent for my transgressions to God in heaven for even lending an ear to these heathens. I pray fervently each day and night, but that has done nothing to quell these visions and ease my mind. Until yesterday I assumed I was going mad and planned to end it all the coward’s way until something some may call a miracle, but I call an affront to God. These demons once again appeared to me, there was three of them, all in ash-gray suits, all roughly the same height, one could mistake them for an ordinary human, if not for their eyes, which were as dark as coal, with not a trace of a pupil. This time their words came through perfectly to my ears, and their voices relaxed me off the stool that was under the noose I had tied from the support beam above my bed. I sat dead center on the bed in a comatose state, two of the figures sat down on the left and the right of me, and the final pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of me. The one situated in front of me began his speech; “We have been eyeing your progress for some time Winston and we finally believe you are ready for our gifts. Let me make one thing clear before though, we are not “Lucifer’s” minions nor are we devils in disguise, we exist in the fabrics of this universe as beings of order and as beings of absolute certainty. The knowledge we hold of this world and all of its secrets would crush your feeble human mind at a mere taste of ours. You are not special in any way, though you are the lucky human in which we will bestow our gifts at a small cost that we will now explain to you in vivid detail.” The being pulled a small black notebook out of its suit pocket, the very one in which I write these words. “You are to write in this notebook every waking day your experiences in life, your mundane tasks you do every day, your experiences at your job, your romantic partners, anything and everything that goes on in your life. You are to do this until you pass from this world and upon your death, we will find someone else in your family to start their story. In exchange we will offer you immense wealth and longevity.” The figure then pulled a piece of paper out of the suit pocket, “This is a binding contract that will seal our deal, and – if ever broken – you will immediately suffer an immense heart attack and die on the spot. The rules of the deal are simple, do not tell anyone about what transpired here today.” The figure pointed to a spot to sign on the bottom on the contract and pricked my finger with his nail, I signed the contract in my blood without even thinking about the consequences of such a deal, the figures’ presence spurred me into a rash decision. The figure clapped his hands, “Excellent! We will meet each other again near the end of your life.” With that statement the figures vanished before my eyes, all that remained of this event was the notebook I held in my hands.

Thomas was taken aback by the first entry and – thinking it to be the ravings of a madman – continued on through the next couple of entries. Every entry from the first was simple mundane content of Winston’s life, which seemingly lived up to the rules of the contract which Winston signed in blood. Thomas spent the whole night reading the entries, which ended with Winston’s passing. Upon reaching the end point the notebook grew hot in Thomas’ hands, which caused him to drop in in shock. Picking the notebook up from the floor, Thomas was shocked to find the name written on the front was now in fact his own, and all the pages of the notebook were crisp and without tear. Opening the notebook up Thomas also discovered the pages were now blank with only a heading of today’s date remaining on the front page. Thomas was frozen in fear when in the corner of his eye he spotted the same three figures walking up to him. They started with the same statement that they had greeted Winston with, “We have been eyeing your progress for some time Thomas and we finally believe you are ready for our gifts.”