The Book

Hello, my name is Shadow. I stand at 5’4” with long black hair and black colored eyes. I always knew I was different. I always knew I didn’t belong with the rest of my family. They all were blonde haired beauties with bright blue eyes. I looked like a goth they adopted off of the street one day. I was always very into the paranormal and everything spooky, but I guess with my birthday being on Halloween it makes sense.

 I don’t know where else to write this so here I am. I feel so lost and confused. Honestly that doesn’t even cut it. I’m terrified. I found something I don’t think I was ever meant to find. I’m getting ahead of myself though. Let me go back to the beginning.

         This morning I was cleaning my house, as I usually do on a Sunday. I grew up in this house, and it was left to me when my parents passed. It’s a beautiful Victorian style home, and it almost looks like a mansion. I have explored every nook and cranny of this home. I even found a secret was to get behind the walls, so I would always win at hide and seek. Today was different though. Somehow in the last 4 years I must have never deep cleaned in my dad’s old study.  Today while I was dusting the bookshelves I found a key I had never seen before. It looked old, like older than anything in the house aside from an old safe up in the attic. My dad never let us go into the attic, he claimed it was unsafe. I was a little adventurer as a child though, and once I found a secret way into the attic that became my favorite room. I smiled as I grabbed the key and ran to the attic door.

         The attic has always been kind of dark with a musty smell, and tons of cobwebs. None of this ever bothered me. It always had a strange sort of peace to it. Gave me a nice place to run and hide when my siblings were being too much for me. The prior owners of the house left some porcelain dolls up here. I used to carefully play with them and have tea when my parents were out.

         I opened the attic door and smiled when I saw the dolls still sitting around their table. They were quiet dusty, but that was to be expected after not being up here for 10 years. I walked over to the safe and tried to use the key. To my surprise it slid into the lock without any issues. My heart was racing with excitement as I turned the key, but nothing happened. How could this be? What else could this key be for, and why even have a safe without a key for it? I started to dust off the safe, trying to see if there was possibly another keyhole or even a hidden lock. I found nothing. Absolutely no other way to open the safe aside from the keyhole I first used.

         Maybe on the bottom? I thought to myself. I attempted to pick up the safe, which was surprisingly light. Maybe there wasn’t really anything inside. I set it down upside down, and to my dismay found nothing yet again. I sat on floor and tried to rack my brain for any other ideas of places I saw keyholes but couldn’t enter. There has to be something somewhere in this house. As I went to stand up I noticed a line on the wooden floor that seemed out of place. Upon closer inspection I noticed it looked like the outlines of a trapdoor that was hidden under the safe.

         That’s odd. When did that get there? I gently blew the dust off the floor to get a better look at it. To my surprise there was a keyhole in the floor that was the same size as the one on the safe. Can’t hurt to try right? I thought to myself as I tried the key. I slowly turned the key expecting it to not work, but to my surprise I heard it unlock. I carefully opened the trapdoor and to my surprise I found a small black box inside covered in dust. I took the box and went down to the living room eager to discover whatever was inside.

         I sat down with a cup of tea in my favorite reading chair and opened the box. Inside was a little black book with yellowed pages. I gently opened the book and was surprised to find my dad’s handwriting on the pages. What could have been so important that he had to hide this book in the floorboards?

         The devil doesn’t bargain they say. What if he did though? Is there a way to call him, and get your deepest desires fulfilled?

         I couldn’t believe what I was reading. My father never really believed in religion. Sure he believed in ghosts and demons, but he wouldn’t have messed with anything right? I continued reading, and each page was set up as a journal entry.

         10/22/1989

I think I finally figured out how to converse with the devil. The best night to do this will be Halloween. I hope everything works out well for me.

         I sat in shock at what I had just read. My dad, the year before I was born, was looking to try and talk to devil? What could he have possibly wanted?

As I continued to read the journal entries, I felt a sense of dread wash over me. My father had been obsessed with the idea of making a deal with the devil, and had spent years researching and experimenting with various methods to summon him. He wrote about his growing desperation to achieve his deepest desires, and how he believed that the devil was the only one who could fulfill them.

As I read on, I discovered that my father had indeed made a deal with the devil on Halloween night in 1989. He had traded his soul for power, and influence in the world of politics. He had become a successful politician, rising quickly through the ranks to become one of the most powerful men in the country.

But his success came at a terrible price. As the years went by, my father's health began to deteriorate rapidly, and he was plagued by terrible nightmares and visions of hell. He became a recluse, rarely leaving his study, and eventually died alone in his room.

Reading my father's journal, I realized that I had stumbled upon something dark and dangerous. The key, the trapdoor, the black box - all of it had been carefully hidden away by my father, a warning to anyone who might try to follow in his footsteps.

I closed the journal and sat back in my chair, feeling overwhelmed by a sense of unease. I didn't know what to do with this information, or how to process the fact that my own father had made a deal with the devil. All I knew was that I had to be careful, and that I had to keep this secret hidden away from the world.

As I sat and contemplated what to do with the journal an intense feeling of dread started to wash over me. My breath caught in my throat as a rush of cold air entered the room. It was colder than the harshest winter wind I have ever felt. I froze in place as a looked at the floor and noticed my shadow looked a little too long in the lighting of the room. My shadow had gone from just being me in the chair to a large figure behind me. It appeared to be about 7’ tall and built like a linebacker. I couldn’t being myself to look behind me. I sat frozen in fear. My mind began to race.

Is this why the book was hidden so well? Did my dad bind the devil to the book when they made their deal? What could he have possibly wanted in return for giving my dad everything he wanted in the world of politics? This is why dad was so sick and the doctors couldn’t help? My mind continued to race, and I was only snapped back to reality when the being behind me started to speak.

“My child. How I have longed for this moment,” a deep, raspy voice said behind me. I couldn’t move. All I could think was that I needed to move. I needed to get out of here. I felt goosebumps on my arms as I watched the arm of the shadow move towards me.

“It’s time for you to come home. You weren’t supposed to learn the secret yet. The secret must be kept. Time for you to come with me.”

Everything turned to black as soon as the voice finished speaking, and all was silent once again.