Little Black Book

Thick clouds of ashes rose with each sudden movement, flying with the raging winds. Every step fuelled my curiosity and led my eyes across the embers. Single bricks lay scattered along with torn pages and cracked glass. I glanced around, always keeping my head down, with my arms folded across my chest. A turbulent wind threw the embers into the sky, revealing a simple black cover. Carefully, I picked up the black book and brushed off the remaining ash. I peeled open the cover before feasting my eyes on the cream pages. Some had been folded or ripped but many had stains of coloured ink or indents of written words. Immediately, I stumbled across a disturbing question. Did this particular book belong purely to the library that once stood here, or was it hidden for another reason? I paced around the area looking for any remaining clues that could hint to what this book was really for. I gripped the book tightly in my right hand and walked briskly towards home.

At night, just as I slipped into bed I realised I left the black book in my handbag. I tip toed down the stairs to retrieve it, trying not to wake anyone else in the house. I have been questioning the book many times throughout the day but whilst being occupied at work I couldn’t make sense of it. The Black Book was somehow peculiar, it attracted my attention the moment I found it but even looking at it now, it is mesmerising. The cover itself looks like its been through generations, blood, sweat and tears.

I wake up still holding the book in my hand, my fingers hurt when I moved to release the grip. My back is sore from lying flat on my back. I make my way down the squeaky stairs and fill a mug with hot coffee that was brewed earlier. Opening the Newspaper, I notice the headline “Missing Black Book”. Startled by what I read, my eyes burst wide open. I can’t seem to swallow the sip of coffee that I just took. I had to read the article twice to understand it. The Black Book is not just an ordinary book I found yesterday. It’s a piece of history that is believed to be destroyed in the fires. Its believed that someone deliberately set the old library on fire. The remaining was nothing to none. The person who did this took jewellery and paintings from the 1800s out of the adjoining museum. The Black Book on the other hand was the most valuable of all. The question that has been raised in the article is whether the book was stolen too or burned down in ashes. At this stage the Council assumes the book is stolen like the other items listed but is hopeful that someone might find it and will return it to preserve its history and story that comes with it.

I choked just by reading this newspaper article and look, once again, at the simple black cover I found in between rubble and ashes. Could this really be “the black Book”? I flick through the pages again and wonder whether I could be holding the black book that is making headlines. I open up my laptop and start typing words into the search engine. The media seems to be all over this little book as articles dominate advertisements and websites. Slowly, my hands start to sweat, I feel a rise in anxiety in my stomach and I become confident that I have the book. The pages are to be binded with golden thread, with each page numbered. With fingers crossed, I open the cover that reveals, again, the cream pages. Peering in between two pages, I spot the bright, gold binding. With shaking hands, I suddenly close the book. My heart pounds in my chest and my breath becomes faster. Maintaining the book in my vision, I take a slow step back. Why was this particular black book so valuable?

Another day goes by, the storm outside is heavy, the rain is clutching against the window and I’m scared to leave the house, still contemplating whether I want to hand in the book, like the Council requested. A big reward has been set out to the finder of the black book. A money prize one couldn’t resist but somehow the book became my saviour. It made me revalue life. I took time to think about why I had found the book in the first place. It had something so magical that I just don’t want to let go.

Days and Nights went past, and now I’m sitting out on the terrace with a hot coffee in my hands and the black book in my lap. This is when I realised what I have to do next.

I strode out of the door with a mission in mind to return this special black book to the council. I place the book on the counter and wait for a reply from the lady who quickly hung up the phone when she noticed the black book. The lady gasped and it took a minute for her to realise what I just put down. By then, another staff joined her and asked me a lot of questions. The police were called and after explaining on how I managed to get my hands on the treasure, I received a Cheque of $20 000 and I made my way out of the building. I felt empty but also a sense of relief and accomplishment at the same time. What has happened to me?

Not only did the book give me time to reflect on my life and my previous decisions I made that broke my heart over and over, but I also have money now. I’m free and ready to start a new chapter without the worry. I can finally leave the past behind me.