It Is Written

I always thought my life was crappy, but today takes the cake. My mother just died of a heart attack and I am completely numb. CPS is sitting here with me asking me questions about next of kin and who can I live with? I do not want to think about this right now. I’m still trying to wrap my head around my loss. “Ms. Dillard!” A voice jolts me out of my thoughts. “Yes, I’m sorry,” I reply. “I still need his name. He isn’t listed on your birth certificate. I have to do my due diligence in speaking with any and all potential family members,” the social worker replied. I frown. I tell the woman, “His name is Lawrence Murphy.” She asked, “Do you know where he lives or his phone number?”. I shake my head no. “Okay Ms. Dillard. Come with me I will take you home to grab a few belongings and we will take you to the couple that will be fostering you.” I look up at her confused, as I expected to be placed in a group home. “Am I going to live with someone?” “Yes, I have a couple lined up already. They have been waiting patiently to be approved and I put in for you to be their first foster. They are the Russells. Do you have everything you need?” I grabbed a photo of me and my mother from the mirror. “Yes”, I replied.

We arrive at the Russell’s home and they are so excited to see me. I feel bad that I can not reciprocate their feelings. They even went all out and bought a “Welcome Home Skyla” banner. We walk inside, and they have a birthday cake on the table with 17 candles on it. “Happy Birthday!” they all cheer and I break down and cry. I mean ugly cry. They try to console me. “It’s ok,” Mrs. Russell says to me. The social worker, Mrs. Parker said sadly, “I know things aren’t looking too great right now, but the Russells are going to help you as best as they can with transitioning to adulthood. They will also help you with the grief and loss that you are suffering from.” She pats me on my back and leaves. Mr. Russell speaks, breaking the silence, “Let’s show you to your new room huh? Follow me.” The door had my name on it in glittery pink print. Inside, there is a beautiful canopy bed with fuzzy pink pillows, and pink comforter and sheets, a pink fuzzy looking rug, and the desk had a pink table lamp. They were looking at me to say something about my new room and all I could come up with was. “It’s so very pink thank you for opening up your home to me.” Mr. Russell looked at his wife and said, “Marg, I told you she wasn’t going to like all that pink. Honey whatever you like we can change it to suit you okay.” Mrs. Russell said,” I can change it right now. I also bought purple, yellow...” I stopped her in the middle of her statement and said,” Its ok Mrs. Russell. I like the room as is. Thank you.” Her face lights up.. She said, “See, you was wrong. I knew she would like it.” He looks at me behind her back and makes a gagging motion. I notice myself smiling briefly. The Russells are nice, and I am glad I was placed with these two. They exit the room and let me get unpacked. I go over to the desk and pin my picture of me and my mother to it. I change my clothes and go to bed.

A few days go by and the social worker returns with an urn and tells me that they cremated my mother. She handed it to me. “Thank you,” I manage to say to her, bewildered that my mother’s body has been reduced to a metal container of ashes. I go to my room and place the urn on the desk. When I go to place a few things into the drawers, I notice a hidden compartment inside one of the drawers. I open it and find a dusty small black book. The outside of it says, “Write to me and I will write back.” I flip through the pages and they are all blank. I grab a pen and write in the book. I title the first page, “The Sad and Lonely Life of Skyla Dillard.” I place the book on the desk and head downstairs to have breakfast with the Russels. After a long day, I go back to my room and flop down on the bed. I look over at the desk to look at the picture of me and mom and I notice the book is open. I walk over to it and see that the words I wrote are gone and have been replaced with “The Beautiful and FulFilled Life of Skyla Dillard”. I close the book. The words on the front more vivid, “Write to me and I will write back.” I sit down and write a response to the new title in the book. “How will it be Beautiful? What can a book do for me?” The pages shuffle fast in front of me to another page and it says, “Will you agree to do exactly as I ask?” I pause and think about it briefly. I write, “Sure.” The book flips back to the first page and my questions are gone and is now filled with a story about my first day at my new high school and the guidance counselor is telling me that I will be graduating this semester due to credit differences between the two schools. I close the book. I start school tomorrow. How would this book know this?

At school, I was called into the guidance counselor’s office and my thoughts went back to the book. The counselor pulls up my transcripts and tells me that their credit system is different, and I will be graduating this semester. He tells me that he has placed me in my core subjects and my new schedule. I excitedly went home to see what this book has written next. I smile at the contents. I decided to ask the Russells where they got this desk from and Mrs. Russell begins by telling me about the yard sale that she went to of an elderly lady who told her she must buy this desk because it would be perfect for an older girl’s room. With the lady’s convincing, she bought it. “I almost forgot.” Mrs. Russell said. “The lady said to give the foster child I get her number, because she would like for you to tell her how you are enjoying the desk. I thought it was odd, but I took her number.” She gets up and starts rambling through a day planner she had and gave me the woman’s number. “Her name is Violet, and here is her address.”

I take the bus over to the lady’s house and a man with a brief case opens the door. “Ms. Skyla, we have been expecting you.” “How did you know I was coming?” I asked. “The book told me you would come today.” An elderly lady emerged from another room and the man with the brief case helps her to her seat. “The book has chosen you as its next owner. I was the previous owner and, as you can see, my time here is coming to an end. I do not know how the book began. I, just like you, was given this book from the previous owner. This book will give you the life you never thought you deserved. Nothing will be impossible to you. I would say good luck to you, but luck has nothing to do with it.” She motions for the man to give me the briefcase. “I do not have an heir, so you will be mine. I cannot give you any more info on the book. Do as it say, and nothing will stand in your way.” The man opens the door and ushers me out. The man says, “I have ordered you a Lyft to take you home.” And he pointed to the car parked at the side of the driveway. I got in and the driver drove off. I was in such disbelief. What the heck is in this briefcase. It seemed rather light inside. I opened it and had some paperwork and it said that I was now the owner of an estate called “Winter Wood”. I flipped through another paper where I saw transfers of funds listed at $20,000 and several future payments of undisclosed amounts! What have I gotten myself into…