The Book-- Read If You Dare

         The tears silently drew warm streams of pain across her vividly flushed cheeks. Her auburn locks fell across her eyes in shame.
She stood up and crossed the room , where she found the book; a thick leather bound journal of black trimmed in blood red. At the edge of the ripped leather was a dainty silver key hole. She swiftly sat on the short tan carpet, laying the book in her lap.
         After a moment of digging in her pocket she produced a delicate silver key. She inserted it into the key hole, and with a satisfying click the journal fell open on her lap. She pulled a red ballpoint pen from the front of the binding. Quietly she scrolled across the lily white pages and her pain and hatred formed themselves into words. The tears ran numbly down to the paper below.
         Not five minutes later she heard a knock on her bedroom door. She shut the book and slid it under her bed. She threw a glance at the near-by mirror, making sure her eyes weren't too red or if her mascara was running.
"Hold on," she called.
         She stood up and made her way to the door. Her fingers caressed the cool brass of the doorknob for a moment before opening the white-washed door. No one was there. She took a step out and looked down the hall. Nothing. She sighed and walked back into her room, pulling the door shut behind her.
         She knelt down and slid the book out from under the bed. It only took a moment for her to resume her position; tears and everything. Her pen flowed easily across the pages like a leaf upon a lake. Suddenly she heard another knock, but this time with it she felt a funny vibration in the floor beneath her. She shook her head and got up to answer the door, again, this time not caring about her appearance. But like the time before no on was there. She groaned, this was getting on her nerves. She quietly shook her head and returned to her initial position; sitting cross-legged on the carpet with the book in her lap. She stared at the words in front of her, 'I hate him', 'I wish he would jump off a cliff', and even a, 'I'm just going to become a wealthy old spinster!'" She growled every time she saw his name. When she was finished reading her anguished phrases she picked up the pen and finished off the entry:

And yet I sit here
pouring out my whole heart into
this simple stupid book.
I must truly be crazy.
With all the pieces of the heart I have left,

Broken

And she finished it off with a broken heart.
         She sighed, staring at the tear-rippled pages. Suddenly a strange breeze blew through her tiny room, rustling her auburn hair. She glanced at the window. It was closed, just as she thought. The floor slowly started to rumble, each time faster and more violent then the last. The pages in the book started to turn endlessly in the quickest of motions. She gasped; she was dreaming, she had to be.
         Then everything thing stopped as abruptly as they had started. She looked down at the book in her lap. If lay open to the middle of the book, a blank page, but in the middle of the page, in the clearest most flowing scrip, of the deepest and blackest ink, were the words, "Follow me...". She slowly drug her fingers across the page, smearing the still wet ink. She turned her hand over, the ink had dried instantly on her pale fingers in a deep red: the color of dried blood.
         She didn’t understand what it meant in the least bit. She glanced back down to the raven words below. Slowly she traced each of the letters with her petite fingers in their turn. A slow peaceful song quietly started to hum from the pages as slowly the words disappeared and new ones formed. Now they read “…and your pain will be eased.” At these words a single tear formed in her eye and ran down, finishing it’s short life on the perfect page below. She lightly touched the place on the page where the tear fell.  Under her cool touch the page rippled like water. She gasped as she found her hand was now literally within the book. She drew in a quick breath and slid her arm in up to the elbow, followed then to the shoulder. Strangely enough, she felt no fear in the odd matter, but an overwhelming sense of peace and tranquility. She closed her eyes and let go of the oxygen which she was holding in.
         She opened her eyes and immediately a scream escaped her friged blue lips. She looked around nothing but a bleak whiteness surrounded her. Her eyes widened and the slowly faded to a deathly black. Her skin flushed to the palest white, almost as white as her surroundings. Within a moment she collapsed, and her chilled body joining the white around her.
         Back in her room the window flew open and a strong gust of wind, with the faintest scent of ink, filled her room. It blew the book shut just as it vanished and reappeared on it’s next victim’s nightstand across town.