I’ve been up almost all night studying the book. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, like something from another world. Most of it is written in a language I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist. At least, not anymore. Besides that, large sections of it are written in Latin. At least, I think it’s Latin. A few pages here and there look like they are written in French and German. The rest is handwritten notes scrawled in dozens of other languages. Only a tiny fraction of those notes are in English. What little I can read is still impossible for me to understand. And yet, I just keep turning through the pages, over and over again. There’s something strangely familiar about it all. It’s almost like I’ve seen this book before, although I’m sure I would’ve remembered something like this. Maybe I saw it in a dream somewhere. Maybe one of the ones I’ve forgotten. It wouldn’t surprise me.
It’s so odd. I turn the pages and look at the writing and I feel like I can almost read it. Almost… As if it’s on the very tip of my tongue. It’s intriguing and scary at the same time.
I keep coming back to certain pages. I end up staring at them. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel something stirring. Is it familiar? Have I seen this before? Or is this the part of my mind that has something to do with my dreams? I wonder if the two are connected somehow.
And the more I look through these pages, the more I’m convinced that this is a very, very old book. It doesn’t look that old. It’s not new, but it’s not crumbling, either. The pages aren’t brittle, the binding is unbroken, and yet I’m certain that this may be one of the oldest books in existence.
I don’t know. Maybe my imagination is just running wild. But it’s so strangely intriguing. I can’t stop thinking about it. Even now, as I write this, I keep looking over at the book beside me, at those mysterious passages. I want to know more. I feel like if I just keep looking at them, I’ll eventually understand what they say, and maybe they’ll tell me incredible secrets.
But it’s also terrifying. There are certain passages that I look at and for reasons I can’t explain, I get a fierce chill at the very sight of them. It’s like whatever is written there is so terrible, so unspeakably wicked, that it frightens me all the way to my core even though I can’t read what it says.
Can words be evil? Even if no one can read them?
The pictures don’t help. They look like the sort of things people might have nightmares about in hell. A lot of them seem to be illustrations of people being tortured and sacrificed. There’s one that looks like some kind of insane, sexual orgy. There are shadowy things that might be demons. And there are a lot of images of monsters. Not just hairy, horned beasts, but of monsters. True monsters. They take up the whole page. They don’t have proper dimensions. I can’t tell their faces from their claws or their teeth from their tails. I can’t really describe them. They shouldn’t look like anything but obscure doodles, black smears on pale paper, but there’s something utterly terrifying about them.
Why did the men in gray give this to Zachery? Do they know how to read it? Does Zachery know how to read it?
It doesn’t matter. I’ve got it now. They’ve lost it. They can’t do whatever evil thing they were planning to do without the book. So I’ve won.
But they won’t let the book go that easily. They’ll be looking for it. They’ll be looking for me.
I need to sleep. I need to dream again. The dreams will tell me what to do next.
I hope.
…
Have I made a mistake? My dreams didn’t tell me where to leave the letter. Maybe I didn’t sleep long enough. I only got a couple of hours before my mom woke me again. I’m so tired. And I’m so afraid.
I dreamed about Zachery. He was suffering. The men in the gray suits were furious. It’s all my fault. I took the book and now they’re punishing him.
Well…probably not now. It might’ve happened last night. Or it might not have happened yet. I can’t be sure. But at some point they definitely find out he lost the book. And it doesn’t go well for him. He’s in tremendous pain. He’s terrified.
They might even kill him. I’m not sure.
Did I do the right thing? Was I right to steal the book? I know that whatever they want to do with it is evil. I know it. But I can still hear his screams echoing inside my head.
If they don’t kill him, he’s going to be looking for me. He’s going to be desperate.
Did Sherry tell him about me?
I’m so afraid today that I can’t think straight. I feel sick, like I’m going to throw up. It’s lunch time now, but I can’t stand the thought of eating. I’m jumping at every noise I hear. People probably think I’ve gone crazy.
What have I done? What’s going to happen to me?
And yet I still can’t stop thinking about the book. It’s with me now. It’s in my bag. I haven’t let it leave my side. I can’t really explain it, but I feel extremely protective of it, like I don’t want anyone else to see it or touch it. And not just because I don’t want anyone to know I have it. Whenever someone sits down next to me, I pull it closer. It’s mine and mine alone.
What’s happening to me? Am I falling under an evil spell? Is the book cursed? Am I cursed?
Maybe the best thing to do would be to burn the book. Destroy it forever so that no one can use it to do evil things ever again.
But I just can’t bear to do it.
It’s mine.
I can read it. I know I can. I just need to keep trying.
…
God, I wish you were here. I fell asleep in class today. Everyone thought it was funny. Except for the teacher of course. She didn’t find it funny at all. She said if it happened again I’d be in detention. I promised it wouldn’t happen again.
But while I was asleep, I dreamed. They were the same nightmares as before. The city in flames. The river coming alive. The monsters crawling out of the sewers. The birds falling from the sky. Sherry’s cold and lifeless body. It’s all still going to happen. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t do anything.
I took my time walking home. I found a secluded spot in the park, behind the trees where no one could see me, and I took a moment to look at the book. It was calling to me. I wanted to read it.
But of course I couldn’t really read it.
Maybe I’ll never be able to read it. Why would I? I don’t know any of those languages. I don’t know if anyone knows some of them. But I had to try. I couldn’t wait.
I only meant to spend a few minutes. Just a quick skim. Just to see those mysterious words again. But somehow I lost a couple of hours before I realized what had happened.
When I arrived home, my mom said that Sherry had come to the door looking for me. She was asking about a book.
I’ve never felt such utter dread in my life. I thought the blood must’ve rushed from my face. I felt pale, on the verge of passing out, but if I looked ill in any way, my mom didn’t seem to notice.
They knew.
They all knew.
I lied. I told my mom I didn’t have it, but that I’d go ask her about it. And then I ran.
I kept telling myself that there was a chance I wasn’t in any danger. Sherry might not have said anything to anybody about me being there when the book was stolen. After all, she couldn’t possibly know that I had it. Not with any certainty. She wasn’t there when I took it. She didn’t see me with it. But why else would she come to my house and ask my mom about the book if she didn’t suspect me of taking it? There was no other reason for her to do that.
I can’t believe I was so stupid.
They’ll kill me. Even if I give the book back, I’m sure they’ll kill me. It’s what they do. I saw them do it to that woman.
But even if they do come to kill me, I won’t give it back.
They can’t have it. I won’t let them. They want to do evil things with it. I can’t let them do that. I have to keep it away from them.
Besides, it’s mine.
I hid it where no one could find it. I won’t tell anyone where. Not even you.
It’s mine.
And I’ll be back for it when it’s safe.
…
I understand now. The book was always mine. It was searching for me. It came to Creek Bend because I was here. The men in the gray suits were just tools. They thought they controlled the book but the book controlled them. Only I can control the book.
But first I have to get rid of them.
I have to make sure they can never take it away from me.
I have to get rid of all of them.