The Book of Dreams

It was late and I had just arrived home from work. Unfortunately, it was another long shift, but if I was going to keep the lights on and my medical bills covered; I needed to do it. As I turn the key in the lock, the door decides to stick, so I have to twist both the knob and the key while leaning into the door. It pops open to reveal my extremely tiny apartment.

I’ve had to downsize to afford everything once diagnosed with cancer, but at least it was still something. Now that my surgery was finished and all of my post-op testing’s were finally done, I was left with way too much medical debt for my minimum wage job to handle. On top of that, I had a recurring monthly forty-dollar medication I couldn’t go without.

Closing the door, I flip on the light and bend down to pick up the mail. However, there was only a bank statement and a little black book. It was a rather odd thing to see laying there. The hard black cover of the notebook was well worn around the curved edges; almost like someone had used it many times over the years, but my name was carved onto the front of it. It was held closed by an attached piece of black elastic.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I pull it back and open the notebook. The pages were a beautiful ivory in color, but had started to curl at the edges from the years of use or maybe even from age. Seeing nothing at first, I turn to the page that is marked by the bookmark ribbon. Whoever gave me this, clearly knew I loved any type of book or notebook with bookmark ribbons. On the marked page, there was a note written in an almost familiar hand-writing.

My dearest Natasha,

It has been some time since we have seen one another, and it must remain as such. For all the things you are going through, I want to lend a helping hand. I have seen how tired you are growing, how weak your body is getting, and you need what I am about to give you. Just take the time to heal like you should have in the first place. After all, you just turned twenty-four! Look in the pocket of the notebook and you will find an address; just trust me.

An Old Friend

The thought that this person was watching me close enough to know what has been going on in my life is a bit worrisome. Especially since I have not noticed anything out of the ordinary lately. However, I decide to look in the pocket of the notebook.

The address was somewhere outside of town, but at this time of night, I wouldn’t trust going out there. It’s mostly country area and there tend to be wolves and copperhead snakes out there. Plus, this person might not even be a friend like they claim.

So, with that in mind, I close the book and toss it to the side. If I’m going to even entertain that thought, it’ll be tomorrow. Heading straight, it only takes me ten steps from the front door to get to the bathroom. I start the shower and grab a change of clothes for the night. After getting the greasy food smell out of my hair, I change and head to bed, very much needing the sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As I make myself some breakfast in the morning, I happen to see the little black book again. As I sit down to eat my omelet, my eyes keep drifting to the book. My curiosity and frustration get the better of me eventually and I get up to look at the address again. Guess my day off is going to be spent out on a small adventure.

Not being a complete idiot, I message my best friend. I tell her if she didn’t hear back from me by two this afternoon, to come looking for me and I send her the address. She might get worried, but if she asks about it later and I was fine, I can make something up. For now… well no one needs to know exactly why I am going into the country. I don’t even know why I am going.

Taking an Uber, it takes almost an hour to get where the address is from my apartment. It was an old, deserted farmhouse that had been boarded up. The paint was chipping, the wood was rotting, and some of the shingles were missing from the roof. It had definitely seen better days.

“Should I wait?” He gives the area a skeptical look, but not knowing what I was even here for, I didn’t know if he should.

“Wait about ten minutes. If I’m not back by then, I can find someone else to take me home.”

“Are you sure? Doesn’t look like there is much here.”

“Yeah, this is the place I’m supposed to go. If there ends up being nothing, then I guess it was an unusual prank.” Definitely wouldn’t say it was a cruel one, just unusual.

“Okay miss.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Heading up the dirt path, I make my way to the front of the old house. It doesn’t look like it has been occupied for quite some time, but that never means anything. With much hesitation, I step onto the rotting porch and feel the boards bowing with every step that I take. All of the windows are completely boarded up and the screen door is laying flat in the yard. The door of the house is closed, but when I finally work up the nerve to turn the handle, it opens with surprising ease.

The door opening however, sends all the dust that’s inside closest to me flying. I can’t see or breathe as my eyes water and I start to cough. Why of all places did it have to be here?

Once everything settles, I continue to move forward through the house and find that most of the furniture is covered in plastic. Such a shame they let this house go, it would have been so beautiful. Once in the kitchen, I find a new piece of paper with my name on it.

My one condition is you tell NO ONE how this happened or where you got this. This is yours to keep and I promise there is nothing wrong with it. I just can’t have people know that I am helping you because I said I haven’t and that I wouldn’t. So, I have made it my goal to find a place no one will look and to contact you in ways no one can trace back to me. Your family, may they rest in peace, no longer wished me to contact you. They went as far as to have people keep eyes on me to this day. However, I have someone helping watch over you. Your parents would be so upset to see you suffering and no one helping. Go to the top floor. The third door on the left is where you will find what you came for. In the closet, there is a little door with a small crawl space. It is just inside there. Depending on when you get here, you may need the flashlight on your phone. Good luck doll.

Doll… that nickname, how do I know it? I couldn’t place my finger on it, but seeing as this wasn’t a complete dead end, I slowly creep up the stairs.

The floorboards creak way too much as I move, but the house seems silent otherwise. Making it to the bedroom, it is completely empty and has a maybe two-foot-deep closet. One thing about farmhouses; they usually have crappy closet space.

When I get close to the closet, I see that there is a panel of sorts; not actually a door. It isn’t even that noticeable unless you are looking for it in all honesty. Pulling out my phone, I turn on the flashlight to help see inside the crawl space as I open it up. At first, I mostly just see some rather large spiders and the wooden structure of the house. Then I finally see a small black bag that most certainly did not belong there. Reaching in, I pull it out and brush a few spiders off of it before I open the bag.

Another note lay on top of a bunch of cash. It simply said, ‘Here’s twenty thousand to help pay off your bills and take some time off’.

I may not remember who this person is, but they have been a major godsend to me at this moment. I wish I could only remember why that nickname was familiar.

Closing the bag, I try to hurry back to the road in hopes that my driver might still be here. Unfortunately, he isn’t. Might be for the better anyways. I just walked out with a bag I didn’t have before, that might raise some flags. So, I just call myself another Uber and head back to the city.

Now that I know tabs are being kept on me, I definitely will keep my mouth shut about this one. I need the money right now more than I need to talk about what happened. If he could just give me this money and keep tabs on me, who knows what kind of man he is?

Now, what to do with that little black book that started this all?

Burn it?

Hide it?

Use it to find this person?

After all, it may hide all the clues to who gave me this money. Whoever you are, thank you for not listening to what my parents wanted. And thanks for the little black book that started it all. My book of dreams.