What You Need

ver and she had barely managed to keep her GPA above water enough to maintain her scholarship. With any luck her professor would overlook her few seconds of tardiness, but with her track record it was unlikely.

“Well,” she said aloud to herself. “Time to sad eat.”

Nala grabbed her favorite black bag, slipped on a pair of running shoes, and left her apartment heading to her favorite bakery. The wind tossed her brown curls around, making a mess of her already wild hair. She took the black hair tie from her wrist and wrangled her locs, forming them into a bun on top of her head. The wind brought with it a cold chill, making Nala wonder whether or not she should turn back for a jacket. She shrugged and kept walking, hoping it wouldn’t rain.

When she got to the bakery, her happy place, she glanced over every item even though she knew exactly what she would order: half a dozen frosted donuts and a mini cheesecake meant for one. She never ate them in one sitting, but her sweet tooth ached in the face of failure and she liked having something around when she needed it. The cashier handed her a box and politely told her goodbye, forcing her to return the polite gesture or else she would be deemed rude in her favorite establishment.

The clouds covered the skies, but the rain that had tapped at her window earlier didn’t return. She hopped up the steps, glad to be back in her element. She reached in her bag for the keys, but felt nothing. Eyebrows raised in concern, Nala searched but couldn’t find the keys to her apartment. She struggled not to yell, thinking her neighbors had likely already heard enough of her yelling this past week.

Nala slumped on the ground next to her door and took out her phone, searching for local locksmiths with reasonable prices. She called a few, but the only one that answered made her feel wary. She groaned audibly and leaned forward, resting her head on her knees.

“Excuse me?” A voice came from above her. She raised her head slowly before meeting the eyes of Ezra. He lived three doors down from her and had eyes the color of the Sahara desert after a rainstorm. She straightened and kicked her legs out, bumping into him as she stood.

“I’m sorry!” Her eyes wide, she shook her head and could think of nothing else to say. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“No, no you're totally fine. I was…” he paused. “I was walking past and I thought you seemed like you had some trouble.” His voice was filled with genuine concern, causing heat to rise to Nala’s cheeks.

Waving her hands towards the doorknob, she struggled to make words leave her throat. “I - I got locked out.” She stumbled through her sentence, breathing heavily once she was done. Ezra chuckled and wiggled the knob. “Yeah, you’re definitely dealing with a locked door.” He joked. Nala laughed shyly as he fiddled with the knob. She watched as he used a card to unlock her door, both amazed and horrified.

“Ta-da,” he announced.

“Um, should I be worried or grateful?” He replied with ‘both’ and turned to leave. “Thank you,” Nala called after him. He waved his hand and continued walking, his feet tapping lightly against the concrete.

She entered her apartment and closed the door behind her, eyeing her keys on the kitchen counter. This was the first time Ezra had spoken to her since she moved in three years ago and she had been dying for his attention ever since laying eyes on him. Her heart raced as she went back to her laptop and browsed her recent search history for the chant she had spoken before bed when the moon was full the night before. Midnightly Moon had spells for whatever you wanted, including love. She searched for the incantation and began chanting it aloud, repeating the words 7 times. Before she could continue, her phone chimed. The professor had apparently been up late grading and her final scores came in - a D.

Nala threw her phone away from her and huffed, lamenting all the work she had put in just to lose her scholarship. A chat bubble popped up on the Midnightly Moon site and Nala came up with an idea: use a spell to raise her grade just like the spell she had used to get Ezra to talk to her. She searched the site, looking for anything to do with success or academic achievement. There was nothing to change a grade that had already been put in, though, and she sat back, letting her sadness wash over her.

The chat bubble pinged again and Nala looked up. DO YOU NEED HELP? She typed yes and watched as the bubble moved up and down. HERE IS THE LINK TO OUR SPECIAL WEBSITE. Nala wondered if she should click a link sent to her on a random website, but decided to take the risk of it meant she might get the help she needed.

The ‘special website’ was a series of blogs outlining how to create a notebook that could grant all of your wishes. She was skeptical, but she had nothing else to lose - the semester was over and she would have to deal with it at some point… or maybe she wouldn’t.

Nala ordered the materials she’d need and picked next day shipping, paying extra for shipping in the hopes of getting whatever her heart desired.

When she awoke to a knock on her door, Nala jumped out of bed and rushed to get her packages. Without a thought of breakfast she unpacked her items and began putting together the little black notebook according to the website’s instructions. Once it was complete she turned it over in her hand and stared at it skeptically.

It doesn’t seem like much. She thought. Maybe there’s something else I have to do. Nala went to the Midnightly Moon website and searched for the chat bubble, but it didn’t appear. She shrugged and opened the notebook, shuffling through its pages. On the last page, she saw a black smudge and paused. As she watched the smudge grew bigger along with her eyes. Words appeared in the smudges, the white lines making themselves known the longer she looked.

To activate your wish

You must give of

You must give freely

You must give blood

Nala’s face twisted in horror and she threw the book to the floor, panting as she processed what has just happened. She paced back and forth, glancing at the book with each turn.

This is crazy. She thought to herself. But a part of her wondered if it wasn’t crazy, so she went to the kitchen and looked in her drawers. As she considered what she should do, her mind turned to the thought of being in pain and she felt herself lose balance. Nala caught herself on the counter and rushed to get to her bed. The room spun as she stumbled with determination. As she dragged her feet across the floor, she stepped on her phone and lost her barely-regained balance, falling onto the wood with a thud.

When Nala awoke she was lying in a pool of blood and her leg was on fire. She looked down and saw her ankle twisted, panicking at the sight. She tried to scream but her throat felt as if it had been sewn shut. She struggled to move, reaching for her phone as pain shot up her leg. She grabbed blindly in front of her, black spots appearing in her vision. Her hand made contact with the journal and she thought she heard a voice say to write in it. Deliriously, she reached down and used her slick finger to write.

MY LEG IS NOT BROKEN

Her vision blurred and Nala lost consciousness once again.

Nala’s eyes opened and she blinked at the sunlight coming into her window. Her confusion dissipated in an instant and she reached down to her leg, which was no longer covered in blood. She looked around her apartment - there was no stain on the carpet and her phone wasn’t broken as it should have been. The notebook peeked at her from the corner of her eye and she saw the open page covered in bloodied scrawlings. She screamed with glee, astonished that the book had worked. Thinking of all that she could accomplish with the book, another thought dawned on her: she couldn’t hurt herself.

Pacing back and forth, she tried to come up with a plan. She tried to prick herself, but each time she just felt woozy before the needle hit her skin. Nala decided that she’d have to get it from somewhere else - or someone else. She had to if she wanted to get Ezra to like her, keep her scholarship, and move out of the one bedroom apartment that took so much of her money she couldn’t save to live anywhere else even if she wanted to. She had to.

A ring took her out of her pondering. She scowled at the screen and put on a fake nice voice as she answered her stepbrother’s call. He bullied her throughout their childhood and enjoyed flaunting his life and insulting her every few years. He had a way of guilting into seeing him on his too-frequent visits to the city, so she prepared herself for a night of humiliation.

Nala’s stepbrother, Len, spent the night throwing insults at her while his friends politely pretended to ignore them or laugh. By the end of the night, Nala was drunk and had reached the limit of her brother insulting her.

She pretended to pass out on the ride home, hoping he wouldn’t speak to her. Instead, he continued criticizing her for her inability to handle herself. When he helped her into the apartment and got her into bed, she peeked her eyes open and saw him reach for her computer desk, where the little black notebook lay neatly. She sat up straight.

“Don’t touch that,” she said in a gruff voice.

“What is this anyway? Some little DIY diary? Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sadder.”

“Don’t touch that!” Nala launched at him, tearing the notebook from his hands. Len fell backwards, his head making a loud crack as it hit the corner of the desk. Nala froze and stared at his limp body, then ran to the kitchen for a mason jar.

“I have to.” She said aloud to herself. “M- maybe I can bring him back.” She said the words but knew them to be false as soon as they left her lips. She brushed the hair out of his face and sighed. “If you’ve never done anything nice for me, brother, you’ve done this.”