Ravens’ Cry: Secrets of the Black Book pt.iii

Max Jump made good money in the Romanian lumberjack business.  As he walked toward home at night to his house in the Black Forest, to his wife and their new baby, he felt a bubbling, gurgling sensation in his belly, which he might have called contentment.

Out in the forest, one early November, he was surveying the forest for trees to fell, when he came across an unmarked grave, with an unearthed, tiny, miniature coffin.  He stopped in his tracks, then approached the grave with cautious steps.  The lid of the two-foot box had slid to one side and flipped over, revealing the contents, a single, black leather book.  Had Max paused to overturn the fallen coffin lid, he would have seen the warnings carved in the dark wood, the warnings not to disturb the book buried herein, warnings written in 14 languages, old and new.  For it is a book of greatest fears, and all who read in it will die.  But Max did not read the coffin lid.  He brought his find home, to his house in the forest, to his wife and new child.

“Look, Annette,” he said upon his arrival.  “Can you imagine someone burying this in the forest?”

“How queer,” she replied, hefting the book, considering it’s gold leaf, and leather straps.  “Do you suppose it’s valuable?”

“Open it and see.”  She undid the straps and opened the cover to a random page in the middle, before the tea kettle whistled, and she hurried away to mind it.  Max followed her into the kitchen.

The child crawled from her chair and across the table.  The book lay before her, as she sat and toyed with it’s pages, grasping the corners in her babe fists.  Finally, she looked down at the inscription and drooled.

(continued)

 

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