New York is the state that holds the famous Statue of Liberty, the wondrous Niagara Falls, and the memorial of America's heroes that experienced the fall of the Twin Towers. But sharing New York's heroic ground is another, not so honorable figure, a man. He is a man of worldly treasures. That man's name is Joseph H. Karzikan. He is the owner and CEO of a major jewelry enterprise called Karzikan's Jewelers. He desires control.
Driving in his expensive, black Ferrari, Joseph spins the steering-wheel of his car and pulls into a reserved parking space. Gently pressing his thumb against the switch, the tinted window smoothly glides closed. Opening the car's door, Joseph steps his well-polished dress shoes from the vehicle's encasement. Joseph hurries across the road and walks up to the glass door, but suddenly stops as he notices his handsome reflection. Using the glass as satisfactory substitute for a mirror, he adjusts his shades to their proper placement and then hastily finishes his journey through the door.
Inside Karzikan's Jeweler's, Joseph pauses as he watches a couple walk past, hand-in-hand. They smile as the lady holds out her hand and cherishes her newly purchased piece of fine jewelry.
Joseph walks past display case upon display case and by enthusiastic shoppers intent upon their purposes. Joseph proceeds onward, through a towering doorway to another carpeted room with additional shoppers and up a pair of steps. He travels up a hall and through two wooden doors.
Looking around his office, Joseph grins in satisfaction. He walks over to his large wooden desk and comfortably seats himself in his leather seat. He looks around at his wooden file cabinets, bookshelf, and black leather sofa before picking up his purchase orders. He carefully reads through the papers, making sure that every purchase was correctly ordered. He checks the ordered gems to verify their size, type, and quantity. He smiles, once again with contentment as the papers prove correct.
Joseph looks up as a gentle knock is heard at the door.
"Come in," Joseph replies to the knock, agitated by the disturbance.
The door opens and a young lady steps inside Joseph's office.
"Mr. Karzikan," the secretary begins, clearly aware of Joseph's agitation.
"Name's Joseph," Joseph snaps. "Now what do you want?"
"I was told to inform you that Mr. Lettice is entering retirement, and that he can no longer..."
"What?" Joseph interrupts.
"He's reti..." the secretary begins again.
"I know that he's retiring!" Joseph interrupts again, this time standing up. "He can't do t! Tell him! Go get him now! Go!"
"He's not here, he just left a message on the main phone, I'm sure that he'll stop in to . . . " the secretary shrinks toward the door.
"Call him then!" Joseph snaps.
The frightened secretary slips through the door and pulls it shut just as Joseph aims and throws a book above the door knob.
Flaring with anger at having lost his most careful stone inspector, Joseph throws the papers across his desk and quickly leaves his office, slamming the door behind him. He hurries down the stairs and into the main room. Casting the secretary a horrible glance, he pushes through the glass doors and makes his way toward his Ferrari. Swinging the door open, he stoops inside and quickly slams it shut. He sticks his key into the ignition and turns it. Backing out at first, then pulling forward, Joseph swerves through the traffic.
Finally, Joseph reaches his destination, and parks. He once again exits his car and hastily enters through the door held open by the doorman. Joseph swerves past the wealthy tenants scattered here and there, that are chatting in the lobby. Set apart from the chaos of his life, Joseph enters his upscale apartment, where he finds joy at the welcoming escape. He steps through each perfectly clean room.
Joseph walks past his black furnishings, seats himself on his dark leather sofa, and retrieves his remote. Joseph immediately sets the remote back down on the crystal table, remembering his forgotten task. He stands back up, and returns to the main lobby once again. Joseph walks up to the lobby's desk.
The desk clerk looks up from her papers, raising her eyebrows.
"Mail," Joseph answers her unspoken question.
"And your name is?" the desk clerk implores.
"Joseph Karzikan," Joseph replies. "Room number three, twenty-one."
The desk clerk stands up and searches behind her for the right mail box.
"Here you are," the desk clerk smiles as she hands Joseph his stack of mail.
Ignoring her pleasant gesture, and failing to thank her for retrieving his mail, Joseph turns around without a word and begins his walk back to his apartment.
Joseph flips through each envelope, passing through the bills and junk mail. He pauses completely, as he stares down at one envelope in particular. He looks at the blank upper left-hand corner. He then glances down at the middle of the envelope.
"Joseph Karzikan," Joseph mumbles his own name, the name which is beautifully written upon the envelope's smooth front.
Joseph recognizes his own address, right there on the middle of the envelope. He gives the envelope one last examination, looking at the unmarked return address, the American Flag stamp, and the nicely handwritten mailing address. He places it behind the other envelopes and continues flipping through the stack. Once more he heads back toward his apartment.
As he nears the door, Joseph pulls out his key and fits it into the lock. Retrieving the key, he opens the door to his apartment and throws the pile of envelopes onto the crystal coffee table. Joseph abandons the room, oblivious to the intense events that lie ahead due to the little white envelope that lies on the crystal surface, sealed and waiting to be opened.
A few hours later, after his anger has cooled from the morning's incident, Joseph returns to his living room, and drops onto the sofa. He reaches across the table and searches through the mail, moving some here, and scattering some there, until he finally retrieves the mysterious envelope. Laying on the sofa, he rips open the top. Holding the envelope above his face, he slides out the white folded paper.
Joseph unfolds the letter and quietly mumbles its message.
"Dear Joseph," Joseph raises his eyebrows. Being a business man, most people address him as "Mr. Karzikan" thinking that he would prefer this. Joseph did not.
Joseph begins to read, "I am writing to beg your visit. I know that visiting an old man is not a top priority for a young boy as you," Joseph sits up on the sofa. "A young boy as you," he repeats, completely annoyed at being referred to as a young boy.
Joseph continues, "You can write me your excuses, but please keep me in mind as you make your decision. I believe that my last days on earth are at hand, and that death with all its glory awaits me," Joseph pauses and silently rereads this last unexpected sentence.
He continues, "I know that you are very busy, running your business and all, but I earnestly implore your visit. Thank you dear boy, take care, and you are in my prayers," Joseph scrolls down to the bottom of the page where he reads with much curiosity, "With love, Uncle Gregory."
Surprised, Joseph drops the letter. Quickly, Joseph stands up, rubbing his forehead. He glances at the letter. Dread etches across his face. Joseph's mind instantly invents excuses that would surly pass as believable. But even as he paces the room forging many ruthless lies, he knows that his uncle will suspect the truth. After all, he had predicted so in his letter.
Joseph certainly does not want to waste his time visiting his uncle, but he also doesn't want his uncle to think him a coward. He assumes that his uncle must have his reasons for the visit, however foolish they may be. But, that is the question that Joseph wants answered, 'Why?' It burns inside Joseph. Does he have something to give me? If he is dying, am I to inherit his money? Indeed, Joseph hasn't been to that ghastly simple village in how many years now? Enticed by curiosity and in hopes that it will end in his favor, Joseph comes to conclusion that he will take a day and go to see his uncle. Satisfied with his decision, he goes to his bedroom, turns out the light, and silently drifts off in sleep.
The sun shines brightly as morning approaches and as silently as he had fallen asleep, Joseph awakens. He hurriedly climbs out of his bed and preens himself in fine attire. Taking time for this essential task, he wets and styles his hair.
Joseph then leaves the apartment to seek a village that has no name. Not knowing exactly where the village is, only the area, Joseph is relying on memories past to guide him there, for the letter bore no return address. And so Joseph enters his car and embarks on his long drive to Maryland, with recollections of the past directing him to his destination.
Joseph drives out of the crowded New York City, through New York itself, into the Keystone State, and finally enters Maryland's borders.
Once in Maryland, Joseph drives basing himself on familiar landmarks, but time has changed the surrounding more than he realizes and soon Joseph has not the faintest speculation of where he might be. And even though he absolutely hates the thought of asking directions, because it makes him feel as if he, the CEO of a major business, knows less than common individual, Joseph turns to his last hope and pulls his Ferrari into a gas station. He exits his car and walks over to a man wearing boots and a cowboy hat. The man is pumping gas into his worn and badly beaten truck.
"Hey, Mr. Hick, there," Joseph sarcastically addresses him.
The man pulls the gas pump from his car and looks at Joseph.
"Are you from around here?" Joseph inquires.
"Yun ain't," the man snorts back.
"And what makes you think that?" snaps Joseph, though secretly pleased that the man can distinguish that.
"What person goes n' asks anover' person from the same place if they're a sweller of that, there same area?"
"Look I'm not from around here, alright? You got me. So you think you can speak some English and give me directions?" snarls Joseph.
"I would little boy, but I ain't from roun' here jus the same as yun," the man chuckles, showing his rotting teeth.
Joseph casts the man a seething glance, and then shoves past him, knocking the gas pump out of his hand.
"Wait boy," the man yells.
Joseph turns around.
"Now I'm jus messin with yun," he continues. "I'm from roun' here. Now where yun be needin ter be gettin ter?"
Joseph heads back to where the man remains standing.
"It's a town, a small village. I'm not real sure of the name. I don't think it has one or not one that I can I remember. But I think they called it the Small Village or the Rundown Village or something like that. You with me?" Joseph eyes the man, deciding if he can trust the old kook.
The man spits and then says, "They call it the Little Village, Mister. I can hop in my truck n' show yun the way if yer want."
"Alright, I guess. How long is it going to take?"
"Depends how fast yer drive, boy," states the man as he steps into his truck.
Their drive begins. Joseph follows the truck. Though ten miles over the speed-limit, he drives too slow for Joseph's reputation. Finally, the man slows and comes to a stop. Sticking his head out the window, he yells to Joseph.
"Yer gonna want ter go down there," he points his arm toward a cobblestone street that veers off of the dirt road that they're now on.
"Good luck, boy!"
As the man drives away Joseph grunts out a "Thank you," glad to be rid on the hillbilly. Joseph carefully drives down the street and enters the village. He wonders with confusion why any sane person would freely choose to live here.
Joseph steers his Ferrari down the cobblestone street, and comes to a complete stop. He looks around. Memories come flooding back, and Joseph sees the same village of years past, a town frozen in time. And there, straight in front of him stands a simple cottage. This is it. This is his uncle's home.
Joseph parallel parks his car on the side of the street and exits his vehicle. He walks up to the door, a bit unsure of what to expect.
Joseph reaches out his arm and knocks, one, two, three times. He stands staring at the door for a few seconds. He knocks again, this time louder. The door opens and a slightly short, elderly man appears. He is wearing a burgundy sweater and plain black pants. His gray hair still runs thick down the back of his head. The man smiles as he studies Joseph up and down.
"My, my you've grown, Joe," he speaks at last.
Joseph holds out his hand, but is shocked as his uncle wraps him in a friendly hug instead of a "business like" greeting.
"Uncle Gregory," Joseph addresses his uncle.
"Joseph, ah it's been a long time," he chuckles.
Joseph nods in agreement.
"Come in, come in," Uncle Gregory ushers him forward.
Joseph steps inside the cottage. The walls are of a rich cream-color. Hanging in place on the walls are religious paintings and a hand carved, wooden crucifix in each room. With Uncle Gregory in the lead they enter the living room. There is a comfortable rocking chair placed before a fire place. Toward the right of the fireplace is a bookshelf. In the left-hand corner of the room's back wall is a winged arm chair. Two small dressers sit against the back wall. On one dresser are prayer pamphlets and a Bible, and on the other sets a lamp and another book.
Joseph stares at the book. The cover is clothed in fine red silk and framed along the edges and across the center with pure gold designing. Joseph had never seen gold that was so exuberant as this in all the jewelry he had seen from his chain of stores. He immediately feels a sting of desire for the book. The gold could be melted and formed into the most beautiful jewelry man has ever seen. Joseph walks toward the book and raises his hand, about to pick it up.
"It's not from that book that you'll find refuge," Uncle Gregory said.
Joseph stops, and looks up at his uncle.
"It's from this book that you'll find refuge," Uncle Gregory states as he picks up the Bible. A happiness shines in his eyes as his fingers touch the black leather surface.
"This is more than a book. This is the Word of God."
"Why did you call me here?" Joseph snaps.
"I told you why, because I want to see my young nephew's face before I meet our Merciful Savior," Gregory says, carefully placing the Bible back on the dresser.
"I thought you'd be in bed, ill."
"No, my old back hurts and my bones are sore, but to tell you the truth, I think that I'll probably just die in my sleep," Uncle Gregory winks.
"And how would you know?"
"Ah, it's a very long story."
"You've heard that I opened a business?" Joseph asks, trying to change the subject, and not wanting to hear the long and tedious story.
"Yes, a jewelry store. Right?"
Joseph nods.
"How old are you now?"
"Twenty-six."
"My, I remember when I was twenty-six. I worked at a grocery store," Uncle Gregory chuckles.
Joseph manages a fake smile, not seeing the humor in this last comment.
"So why did you call me here?" he asks again.
"My, we've been standing here too long. There's a chair in the corner there. Would you mind bringing that over?"
Joseph walks over to the corner behind the door and drags out a chair that he didn't see when he first walked in. He glances back up at the golden book, and then quickly brings the chair to Uncle Gregory.
"Can I have it?"
"Have what?"
"The book."
Uncle Gregory shakes his head.
"You'll find comfort in the Bible, Joe. You don't want that book. Not everybody has the same reaction when they read it."
"Why not?"
Uncle Gregory places the chair in front of the fireplace, beside the rocker. He sits down.
"There, you can sit in the rocker. It's more comfortable."
Joseph hangs his leather jacket on the rocker's back and sits down, realizing that his uncle has made his final decision not to give him the costly book.
"So, what has happened since I last seen you? It's been a long time," Uncle Gregory states.
And so for many hours the two talk without mention of the book. Joseph looks at his white-gold watch.
"Well, it's getting late. I better go."
"Oh, my the time has passed," said Uncle Gregory repeating Joseph's gesture and checking his own watch.
"And I didn't even give you dinner."
"I'm not hungry anyway," Joseph lied, not wanting to eat his uncle's homegrown food.
As Uncle Gregory picks up the chair and places it once more behind the door, Joseph quickly throws his jacket over the book and tucks it under his arm.
They walk back to the front door.
"Well, it was good seeing you again, Joe."
"Mmhm," Joseph sounded.
Uncle Gregory gently slaps him on the back and says, "Joseph, it was important that I see you one last time here on this earth, but please don't let it be the last in Eternity. I pray that God will accept me into his Kingdom with great Mercy. God alone, can open the doors to Paradise, and that makes it even more important to have a strong relationship with God here. So that when your day of Judgment comes, you will recognize and be recognized. We are helpless without our Savior, have faith in Him and obey His Will. Pray and read the Bible, Joseph. "
Joseph hurriedly leaves the house and returns to his car.
"Take care now, and God bless you!" his uncle shouts to him as he starts his drive back up the hill.
Joseph's mind has a retentiveness to remember things, even long after they happen. So backtracking the trip to his uncle's house comes quite easily to Joseph, and he soon finds himself back in the parking lot of his apartment. He grabs the book, still wrapped in his jacket and lying on the passenger's seat. Joseph walks inside the building, and straight to his apartment. Closing the apartment door behind him, he plops down on the sofa and unwraps this new 'treasure' for closer examination.
As he pulls away the jacket he suddenly jumps and drops the book in surprise. In replace of the book's fine red silk and beautiful gold embellishment is a dirty brown covered and badly worn book. It looks old and worthless. Its cover is ripped and worn.
Joseph stares down at the decaying pile of junk. As the initial shock wears over, Joseph feels anger well up inside him. He thinks that his uncle has somehow replaced the book. But how? Joseph had it tucked under his arm the whole way to his car. Besides, Joseph knew the gentle and loving spirit of Uncle Gregory. Joseph couldn't see him giving this worthless piece of trash to anybody, even if they had taken his possessions against his consent.
Fearfully, Joseph kneels down and picks up the book. It feels cold in his hands. He pulls the front cover open and scans the inside of the cover. Printed in a familiar writing is: Joseph Houston Karzikan.
Joseph drops the book for a second time. A chilly atmosphere suddenly gathers in the room, and a cold-sweat breaks upon Joseph's skin.
Joseph gathers his wit. Still kneeling, he retrieves the book off of the floor. He opens the cover to verify that his vision was correct. There it is! Written upon the surface of the parchment is Joseph's own small cursive handwriting. The ink is stained in the book as proof.
He flips the first pages to where there is more writing. It is all written in Joseph's script. Joseph in a panic begins to read.
- The doctor slaps him, and the infant gasps. A small wail escapes from his little blue lips. His mother wraps him in her arms and in a song-like voice she softly whispers sweet words of comfort to her first-born child. The child's father stands nearby. The mother's sister and mother were also there. They gaze down at the infant and smile, but the baby still cries 'Joseph,' the child's mother whispers his name. ' Joseph, don't cry.'
Joseph pauses. His thinking is strange and erratic. Unaware of the passing hours, he quickly scans the pages about the infant's stay in the hospital, the ride home, and then being carried into his new surroundings. He skipped through the pages of the baby's life. Day after day was recorded in the book. Finally, as he looked up from the book's pages and realized the lateness of the hour. Leaving the book open on the sofa, Joseph retires for the night.
The next day, Joseph awakes and rolls out of bed. He rubs his forearm against his face and yawns. Joseph proceeds through his morning routine, dresses in a fresh suit and hurries out his apartment door, grabbing the book on his way. As he winds his way through the lobby, he opens his briefcase and throws the book inside.
Joseph drives to Karzikan's Jewelers and pulls his car into his private parking space. He walks inside.
The secretary looks up. She doesn't mention a word about the owner's absence yesterday. He walks past her and makes his way into the other room, up the steps, down the hall, and into his office. Once inside, he sits down on his leather chair behind his desk and pulls out the book from his briefcase.
He skips through the unread pages, wanting to see if the whole book was about this child's life. He stops at a certain distance and reads.
-Joseph pulls his Ferrari into a gas station. He exits his car and walks over to a man wearing boots and a cowboy hat. The man is pumping gas into his worn and badly beaten truck. "Hey, Mr. Hick, there," Joseph sarcastically addresses him. The man pulls the gas pump from his car and looks at Joseph.
Joseph stops, perplexed, and muscles tense. This couldn't truly be written.
Yet somehow it is, and Joseph is in the book. He flips back a few pages and scans the page. There he is, written down in the book and reading his uncle's letter. He flips the pages back, and he 'relives' his days at work. Back much farther where he is just starting his business. And even more pages before this, he re experiences his life in college, living each moment in class, the cafeteria, or his tidy dorm room.
Joseph set the book on his desk. He rubs his forehead and shuts his eyes tight. He presses the base of his palms into his eyes. After a brief period, he opens his eyelids. He realizes that the infant in the beginning must have been him. But who could have written this strange book that holds Joseph's whole life in minute detail? What person could possibly know this much about him? And how could the author's writing be exactly the same as Joseph's? Joseph's mind swirls with questions that he cannot answer. Is somebody watching him? The thought makes Joseph afraid.
A knock on the door almost causes Joseph to tumble backwards in his chair. He catches himself and throws the book in a drawer before saying, "Come in."
The door opens and an older gentleman walks into the room.
"Mr. Karzikan."
"Stephen Lettice."
Joseph had forgotten that he had told his secretary to call the retiring stone inspector two days earlier.
"So you've decided to quit?" Joseph snaps at the man.
The man throws down a manila envelope onto Joseph's desk. "I'm not here because you asked me to come. I no longer have to put up with your unappreciative whining anymore, Mr. Karzikan. It's time for you to change your immature behavior and realize that at seventy-eight years old, I have the desire and the right to retire. I am going to retire, and your selfish childlike behavior will not stand in my way!"
Joseph stands up, outraged by the way this previous employee is speaking to him.
"Don't talk to me like that!" snaps Joseph. "Just because your not working for me anymore, doesn't mean that you should not give me the respect that I deserve!"
"I am giving you the respect you deserve, Mr. Karzikan," retorts Mr. Lettice as he turns and walks out of the room.
Joseph slams his fist onto the desk. Absorbed in anger, he takes the book out of the drawer and leaves the room. He jogs down the steps and enters the lobby. Joseph walks over to the secretary's desk.
"Why did you tell him to come here?" he snarled.
"I thought...that you... that you wanted..."
"Think a little harder next time!"
Joseph knocks over a glass vase sitting on the desk. He leaves the shattered pieces on the floor and walks out of the building.
Joseph climbs in his car, but he does not drive back to his apartment, in fact he doesn't even pull out his key. Instead, Joseph grasps the book in his hands and opens it toward the back. He reads.
-Joseph pulls into a parking space outside of a fast food restaurant named Christina's Cafe'.
This can't be right. Joseph prefers to dine in upscale restaurants. He would never consume a low-class meal that fast-food restaurants have to offer. Flipping mid-back, he reads.
- Joseph knocks over a glass vase sitting on the desk and leaves the building.
Joseph frowns. That just happened, it can't be written down! He was holding the book as he did so. Joseph reads more.
- Joseph climbs in his car, but he does not drive back to his apartment, he doesn't even pull out a key. Instead, Joseph grasps the book in his hands and opens it. He opens toward the back and reads.
Impossible! Joseph races through the pages. They all have writing on it. If the last entree he read was what just happened, then what was all of the other writing about? Joseph screams the question over and over again in his head. He fears the answer.
Joseph flipped back to the page where he had knocked over a vase. He read the print in his mind. He is confused. He reads on.
- A man knocks on the window of Joseph's Ferrari, startling him.
The knock comes. Joseph jumps. He has not expected this. He rolls down his window. A police officer stares down at him.
"Your tints are too dark."
"What?" Joseph asks irritated, his mind still focused on what has just happened.
"Your car windows are too dark. They're against regulations," the officer states as he holds out a ticket.
"Then give this ticket to the auto dealer," Joseph snaps throwing the ticket back at the officer.
"Do I need to write out another ticket for littering?" the officer asks as he hands the ticket back to Joseph.
Joseph grabs the ticket and throws it on the passenger's seat, knowing full well that he has no intentions of paying it.
Joseph leans his head on the head-rest attached to the back of his seat and looks into the mirror sewn into the visor. He usually keeps his visor down so he can glance into the mirror to avoid the hassle of constantly flipping it open and close. Now, as he stares at his reflection, he thinks over the book's power. He is confused. The book said there was going to be a knock, and then it happens. If somebody has written this, how would they have known what was going to happen before it actually did? For the first time in his life Joseph is not in control.
Determined to seize back control and craving for answers, Joseph starts the car. He pulls out of the parking lot and turns his Ferrari into the traffic of New York. Joseph begins his long drive to Maryland.
Joseph drives past the gas station where he had spoken to the hick, making the correct bends, and following the recollections in his mind. Finally without the aid of a simple road map, Joseph arrives at his destination. He glides down the street and into the village. He parks his car on the side of the road.
Joseph is just about to leave the car when his cell phone rings. Agitated, Joseph flips the front of his phone open.
"What?" Joseph asks rudely.
"Mr. Karzikan?" asks the female voice on the other line.
"What?" Joseph repeats.
"This is your secretary, Elise."
Joseph rolls his eyes. "What do you want?"
I just received a phone call here at the store, and I was asked to inform you that your uncle, Gregory Karzikan has just passed away."
There was silence.
"I'm sorry," the secretary replies after what seems like an eternity.
"When?" was all Joseph could ask.
"I believe they said he passed away yesterday at 3:00 a.m.. Sir, if it makes you feel any better, they said he died peacefully in his sleep."
He closes the phone without another word to the secretary. He was relying on his uncle for information, and now he is dead. What his Uncle Gregory had predicted has just come true. But Joseph had to make sure.
Joseph looks up at his uncle's house, walks out of his Ferrari, and knocks on his uncle's door. Nobody answers. The realization of his uncle's death sinks deep upon Joseph. It doesn't seem real. With his hope extinguished, Joseph returns to his car and turns toward home.
For the next three days, Joseph ignores his normal routines, devoting all of his time making phone calls, or searching the Internet for somebody who might be able to give him some sort of information on this strange book.
After exhausting three days, and, as the forth day dawns, Joseph lies awake in bed. He stretches his hand across his mouth and yawns. As he lays there, a new thought suddenly occurs to him: If the book knows what is going to happen, then it can tell me if I am going to find someone who can tell me about the book.
The idea seems incredible. Joseph immediately awakens from any tiredness that he may have been feeling, and he jumps out of bed. He races to the other room and rummages through the papers in his brief case. Joseph seizes the book. Not wasting the time that it would take to walk across the room and sit on the sofa, Joseph plops himself down onto the floor and rests his back against the wall. He flips through the book, page after page. He doesn't know where to start. A new thought unravels in the jumble of his confusion: I must find today.
Joseph leafs through the book, turning pages forward and then flipping pages back. He applies this procedure until he reaches a recent event. From there he finds the present situation, and turns a few more pages toward the back and reads.
Joseph pulls into a parking space outside of a fast-food restaurant named Christina's cafe'
Joseph recognizes the event from his encounter with the book. He continues.
-He proceeds out of his car and into the facility. Once inside, Joseph shoves pass the people waiting in line. He walks around the corner and stops in front of a young lady heading in the opposite direction. "You're Samantha!" Joseph says excitedly. Hesitantly, she replies. "Yes." Joseph smiles. "Than you study crazy books?"
"I...um...I like to learn about rare and out-of-date books. I'm really,really sorry, and I'm not trying to be rude or anything like that, but I don't think I remember you. I...Have we met before?"
Joseph stops reading. That's all he needs to know, the girl studies uncommon books. But where is the fast food restaurant? Joseph reads prior to the event to see where he travels to. Philadelphia. He has to travel from New York to Philadelphia.
Joseph grabs the book, the only "map" that can lead him to where he desperately desires to be: to a place named Christina's Café located in Philadelphia. The only time Joseph has ever wanted close contact with a fast-food restaurant.
Holding his book, keys, and hopes, Joseph set off on his journey.
It was 6:10 p.m. when Joseph arrives at the restaurant. He proceeds from his car and into the facility. Once inside, Joseph shoves past the people waiting in line. He walks around the corner and stops in front of a young lady walking in the opposite direction. "Your Samantha!" Joseph says excitedly.
Hesitantly, she turns and replies. "Yes."
Joseph smiles. "Than you study crazy books?"
"I...um...I like to learn about rare and out-of-date books. I'm really, really sorry, and I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but I don't think I remember you. I...Have we met before?"
"No, but it's really complicated. I...Can you take a look at this book I've acquired?"
"I'm not really sure. I mean, how do you know me?"
"You know Steven?" Joseph asks, hoping she knows someone by the name of Steven.
"I don't think. . . I a"
"Yeah, well it'll only take a second."
Samantha studies Joseph, looking him directly in the eyes.
Joseph holds out the book, and Samantha reaches out her hand toward the ugly rectangular mass that he holds in his hands. Instantly the book drops to the floor. A few people throw them annoying glares, but neither notice as both Samantha and Joseph stare at the book's transfiguration. They are both surprised and frightened.
For the first time, Joseph understands and grabs for the book.
Kneeling on the tiled floor, Joseph holds the book tightly as it withers in his fingers. Once more he is back in control, or so he thinks. The book changes at each person's touch. It is as simple as that. This is the same book that his uncle once owned, only in a different form.
Joseph stands, and then turns toward the door to leave.
"Wait," Joseph had forgotten Samantha's presence. "How did it do that?" Samantha's black eyes have a glassy quality that make them look as if they are coated in a glaze.
Joseph stands looking at Samantha, determining in his mind whether or not he wants to share the book's power with this girl he just met, or to keep it completely confidential. Although his greater urge is to run out the door with the book, a smaller, but more powerful one prevails. He decides to trust Samantha, but only to better and understand the book.
He walks over to her. He holds out the book again. She extends her hands, her fingers brush against the book's surface and it's pitiful form seems to bloom as a flower in spring. She does not flinch.
"I don't understand it," Samantha whispers.
"We can...we can sit down and I'll explain it to you," Joseph offers.
Throwing Joseph a smile, Samantha turns and walks over to a teal table. She slides onto the cushioned booth and folds her arms across the table's surface. Joseph smiles to himself and follows.
"Ok, so what in the world is this book?"
Joseph smiles again. "My name is Joseph Karzikan," he ignores her question and holds out his hand.
"Very pleased to meet you, Joseph," Samantha places her hand in his. They shake hands. "You know my name," she states as they release their grip.
"Yes."
"So what is this book?" Samantha asks a second time.
"It's kind of like a...a diary, I guess.
"A diary?" Samantha repeats.
"Well yes, in a way."
Samantha smirks, "And you wrote this book?"
"No. I didn't write it. But...but it's about me. And everything I've ever done and will do."
"It tells the future?"
"And the past. Everything."
"But why did it change when I touched it?" Samantha opens the book, looking at the back of the front cover.
"I...I don't know," Joseph says avoiding eye contact. He didn't want to admit that there was still one thing that he didn't understand.
Samantha wrinkles her forehead. "I still don't understand."
"This book tells everything about me. It's even written in my same, exact cursive. It knows everything. That's how I knew where to find you."
"What?"
"I...never mind."
"Well that's odd, because my name is in the book."
"Yes, you're mentioned in the book because its about my life. The book knew I was going to meet you."
"No, not mentioned. My name is on the back of the cover."
"What?"
"My name's on the back of the front cover. See."
Joseph slides over and leans toward the book to get a better look. She was right. There, on the back of the cover were the words: Samantha Marie Louyer.
"You said that you knew where to find me because you looked in the book?"
"Well, yes. I wanted to find somebody who could help me interpret the book. So I knew that if I was going to find someone, then it would be recorded in the book. It's all confusing, but at the time it made sense."
"But how did you know my name?"
Joseph was silent. How did he know her name?
"I don't know," Twice. That is question number two that he didn't have an answer for.
"I just read your name in the book...so I just assumed that it was right, I guess."
Samantha looks puzzled. She is now turning the pages and reading from them. She leafs through the book, skipping pages at a time.
"What don't you get? Joseph snaps, starting to lose his patience and getting irritated that he doesn't know as much as he thought he did.
Samantha looks up from the book, a bit surprised. "I thought you said that this was about you."
"I did," again, Joseph sounds irritated.
Samantha frowns. "Are you...mad at me?"
"No."
"Ok," Samantha looks at the table
"I'm really not," Joseph reassures her, talking more gently. "I didn't mean to...lose my temper like that," Joseph admits his flaw, an operation never performed before.
Samantha looks him in the eyes, she seems to stare right through his surface, searching for honesty. She glances back down at the table.
"You didn't really lose your temper." It just seems like I'm annoying you."
"You aren't."
"Ok," she breathes a quiet sigh. "Well, we better try to figure this book out."
She searches the entire book for some clue as to when and where the book was published. Samantha looks up. "It says here in the beginning that the baby's name is Samantha Marie."
Joseph wrinkles his brow, "It can't."
"It's outside cover isn't the only thing that changed when I touched it," clarifies Samantha.
"But, I'm telling you that the book is about my life!"
"Now it's about mine," Samantha utters, only slightly above a whisper.
Joseph studies the table. How could that be possible?
"Where did you get the book?" Samantha asks, scanning through the pages again.
"Well, I...went to visit my uncle...and he gave me a box full of his old junk. Like I was gonna use it for anything," Joseph lies.
Samantha laughs.
"And well, when I got back home, I saw the book and read it," Joseph chuckles. "I must've been bored. Anyway, my uncle didn't bother to tell me that he had tossed an insane book in with all of the other rubbish."
"Well then, wouldn't the simplest solution be to just call your uncle?"
"He died," Joseph states without emotion.
Samantha raises her eyebrows and observes Joseph's apathy, "Are you serious?"
Joseph nods.
Silence.
"It's getting late. I'd better go if I want to get back to New York before morning."
"You live in New York?" states Samantha realizing there is much more to learn about Joseph.
"Mhmm," Joseph slides out of the booth followed by Samantha.
"But I'll come back here..." Joseph says.
"To Philadelphia?" questions Samantha.
"Yes. That is if you want to help me with the book."
"Yeah! I never thought a book like this could exist. Of course I'll help you."
"Alright then, let me start by giving you my personal cell-number."
Samantha smiles. "What other number do you have?" Samantha pulls out her phone.
"My store and office number."
"You own a store?" she questions as she hands Joseph her cell phone with the glass on front being badly cracked.
"Karzikan's Jewelers," Joseph inserts his number into her cell and hands it back to Samantha.
He pulls out his own expensive phone and gives it to her. Samantha, in return adds her number to his contact list. She gives his phone back.
Joseph turns to walk away, with no intention of calling. Something, however makes him think twice. He turns and faces Samantha.
"Why don't we meet here next Friday?" Joseph suggests.
"I get off work at the high school until around three. Would four be good?"
"Great. We'll meet back here next Friday at four?" Joseph realizes that the book, now back in his hands, has returned to its tattered state.
Samantha smiles. "I have a better idea. Let's meet at a library instead? That way we could use its books and Internet for resource. It's just two blocks down the road, on the right."
"Sounds good, Samantha." Joseph smiles as he realizes that his choice in allowing her to help is proving valuable.
"Ok, well I'll see you on Friday."
"I'll see you Friday," Joseph repeats and holds out his hand. Samantha shakes his hand good bye.
They depart and go their separate ways. Joseph drives home, with the book on the passenger's seat. The car in front of him stops at a yellow light and Joseph hammers his fist against the horn. The man ignores Joseph's gesture and settles his car before the white line painted on the road. The light turns red. Joseph waits.
The days following, seem to play in slow motion. Joseph's lack of concentration proves him inept at the office, especially as all leads came up empty on the book's reference.
As morning sinks upon New York, the sun's bright rays shine through the narrow cracks of the window panes of Joseph's up-scale apartment, it's finally Friday. Joseph turns over in bed and pulls himself up. He rolls off the mattress and quickly runs through his morning routines.
Joseph leaves the apartment and drives to work. Once in his office, Joseph begins to go through his papers, ordering costly gems, and double checking previous orders. His mind is elsewhere. Once finished, Joseph pulls out his keys and heads downstairs. He jogs outside and ducks into his Ferrari. He shoves the key in the ignition and begins his drive back to Philadelphia.
Joseph easily finds the library. The tall pillars and wide stone steps are hard to miss. The building stands tall and majestic, and Joseph feels small as he reaches the thick pillars. He opens the door to the library and walks inside.
Inside, there is a tall ceiling. There are row upon row of books. Joseph tilts his head upward and investigates the ceiling.
"Joseph."
Joseph spins around. There stands Samantha, holding a stack of books in her arms.
"Hey," he says.
"Hi," Samantha returns with a smile. "I have a place for us over here," states Samantha as she walks across the marble floor to a wooden table a few yards away. Joseph follows.
"I had some opportunities to start researching during the week, so I already have some resource books as a starting point."
"I noticed that."
Samantha looks back at him, determining whether or not that was sarcasm or gratitude in his voice. She looks away only when she sees him produce a grin.
Samantha drops the books on the table. "You have the diary?"
It took a second for Joseph to realize what Samantha meant by 'the diary.' "Yes," Joseph holds out the worn mass.
"Ok, so let's go through the things that we know," says Samantha.
She pulls out a chair. A loud scraping noise echoes from the chair's sliding. Samantha winces. She looks around, hoping nobody was paying attention. Joseph smirks and then gently lifts his chair out before sitting down.
"Alight then," Samantha resumes. "We know that the book changes form at each person's touch and that it tells about the reader's life. We also know that the book tells both the past and present."
"And future," Joseph adds in.
"But we don't know why it changes form."
Joseph shakes his head.
"I've been thinking about it," she continues. "And, well, I thought that maybe the appearance of the diary symbolizes something."
"Like what?"
"I thought that maybe it's like how you live your life or something." And for the first time it's Samantha that avoids eye contact.
"That can't be!" snaps Joseph. "When I touch the book it doesn't look so attractive, and I've had a very successful life. I have plenty of money, a good business..."
"No, I don't mean how successful you are in life with riches and fame and material goods. A person isn't always measured by what you see on the outside. I was thinking more like how good of a person you are."
Joseph frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Samantha realizes that his book's form was just a pitiful pile of rubbish. "I...I didn't mean it like that. I meant that... never mind, I was probably just looking into it too deeply."
"That's what I thought." states Joseph now wondering if his decision to bring her aboard was such a good idea.
Joseph reaches across the table and drags the book toward him. The book crunches as he pulls the cover open. He flips the pages back and reads.
- Joseph yells at the manager. He quickly grabs for a ceramic vase set on his desk and throws it across the room. He misses. The manager stands still, but every feature shows his fear. This he cannot hide.
Samantha is wrong, Joseph concludes. Every time Joseph loses his temper, he has a good reason for it. But something inside him just keep's repeating the last words his uncle spoke to him before he died. Something reminds Joseph of each and every time he yelled, cursed, and and even simply ignored someone who needed help. His uncle never did that. His uncle's diary may have been coated in red silk and framed with exuberant gold for a reason. Samantha's idea may possibly prove true. Was Joseph really living his life that badly? 'Now, I'm the one looking into this too deeply,' Joseph reassures himself in his mind.
Joseph reads more, ignoring Samantha for the present.
-The Ferrari collides with the Pontiac. Both meet and seem to melt together into a heaping pile of mess. Glass shatters. Air bags inflate in each car, and there are shrieks and cries from the onlookers of the scene. Other vehicles slam on their brakes, hoping to keep a distance from the tragic accident. A motorcycle slides on its side and skids across the rider's leg. Sirens are heard.
Joseph holds his breath.
"What is it?" Samantha looks worried.
"I'm going to be in an accident," he chokes.
"Are you sure?" Samantha asks, noticing for the first time that Joseph looks afraid.
"But... I can stop it."
"What?"
"Well, I mean, if the book holds my life, then I could just change the book in order to change my life."
"I don't know if we should do that."
"Your life's not at risk," Joseph snarls. His eyes show his fury.
Joseph pulls a pen from the front pocket of his white button-down shirt. He rolls up his sleeves just below his elbows, and begins to write in the book. Nothing appears. Joseph shakes the pen. He opens another library book that is sitting on the table and makes a squiggly line across the title page. The pen works fine. Joseph again tries to write in the book, but to no avail. The book's pages remain undaunted. Joseph slams his fist against the table. A few people glance in his direction.
"Joseph," Samantha whispers. "Are you sure you read it..."
"Yesss!" Joseph hisses.
Samantha becomes quiet. She swipes her silky black hair behind an ear.
Without a word, Joseph stands, grabs his book, and walks toward the entrance with a determined visage etched across his face. Samantha jumps up and runs over to him.
"What are you going to do?" She asks, her voice quakes in an urgent tone.
Joseph ignores her. He swings the door open and scurries through. Joseph jogs down the steps and turns the corner that leads to the parking lot.
A loud screech echoes behind Joseph. He spins on his heels. Joseph freezes, the shock holds him down like a weight. He doesn't move. Realization pounds down on Joseph.
The Ferrari collides with the Pontiac. Both meet and seem to melt together into a heaping pile of mess. Glass shatters. Air bags inflate in each car, and there are shrieks and cries from the onlookers of the scene. Other vehicles slam on their brakes, hoping to keep a distance from the tragic accident. A motorcycle slides on its side and skids across the rider's leg. Sirens are heard.
Joseph closes his eyes and listen to the shrieks, the screeching, and the sirens all mesh together into a dream-like instant. Someone grabs his shoulder. Joseph opens his eyes. It is Samantha.
"You're still ok," she whispers.
Joseph looks beside him. "It wasn't my Ferrari," he utters quietly.
On his way home, Joseph thinks over the day, over his life. The diary can tell him every little detail of his life. This is something he never dreamed of. The importance of such a book! But in his revel, one thought still haunts him. What if my life is really as pitiful as a withered diary?
The next day Joseph awakens from a restless night and drives to work. There, he warns the secretary that he doesn't want disturbed. Once in his office Joseph sinks in his chair. He begins his work.
"Sir," Joseph looks up to see one of his newly hired managers standing in the doorway.
Joseph yells at the manager. He quickly grabs for a ceramic vase set on his desk and throws it across the room. He misses. The manager stands still, but every feature show his fear. This he cannot hide.
"Go!" Joseph yells. His order to not be disturbed has been broken.
The manager leaves and Joseph continues his work in an irritated silence. Time seems to be stifled. Not a sound nor a movement can be detected in the room, except for the uncontrolled shaking of Joseph's body. He never felt guilt before, but now as it seems to soak him as a sponge absorbs water, Joseph does not like the feeling.
(A few weeks later.)
Joseph has kept the diary in his desk drawer at work. For the last two weeks he has not taken it from its location. It stays there, untouched. Though the book is locked away in his drawer, his thoughts incessantly linger to it. He wishes he never had it, but he cannot find the strength to throw it away, His mind is caged in a prison cell, forced to think only of the book that he now so dreads. It is worse than one's most feared childhood nightmare. The diary that holds Joseph's life, is becoming his life. He is frightened.
Joseph calls Samantha. He asks if they can meet at the Cristina's Cafe' in two days. She agrees.
They are two long days. But the moment finally comes and the trip to Philadelphia passes as if Joseph is witnessing it as an observer. Joseph glides his car through the heavy traffic and pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Inside Samantha waits.
"Hey," Joseph mumbles. "Sorry I'm late."
"That's ok," Samantha replies. "How are you?" Samantha notices how worn and tired he looks.
"Terrible," he tells the truth.
"What's happened?"
"The diary, that's what!" snaps Joseph.
"What's happened to the diary?" Samantha is alarmed, she now notices that Joseph is empty handed.
"I didn't bring it," answers Joseph.
"Why?"
"What you said before...do you really think it is true? And I want the truth."
Samantha looks down this time. "Well, the truth Joseph, is that after I first met you I had to be sure that you were who you said you were. I called around. I talked with some of your employees."
Joseph looks up, scared at what his employees had told Samantha. "Who? Which ones?"
Samantha ignores the question, not willing to get any of the employees in trouble.
"I know it was wrong, but I just had to make sure you weren't some kind of nut case. Your employees didn't have much nice things to say. They told me of the things you've done. I know it was like gossiping, and I'm sorry. But yes, I think that might be why your book's a little..."
"Hideous?" Joseph finishes in a sharp tone.
Samantha is on the verge of tears. "I just want to help you," she whispers to keep her voice from cracking. "People, really bad people have changed Joseph. It's never too late to make things right. It's your choice to change the diary, Joseph, not mine."
Joseph stands and walks away without a word. Samantha stays sitting, tears now rolling down her cheeks. Joseph has made his decision.
(Miles away in New York City, inside the desk drawer of Joseph Karzikan lies a diary, whose cover is torn and tattered. )
Though days of complete agony pass, still more keep coming. Joseph seems to be melting away into a different world, a world that no longer seems a reality, a twilight zone. It is an eerie world that always seems to be in slow motion, but sometimes the fast forward button is pressed. Even then, when everyone else seems to be moving at a rapid pace, Joseph is still stuck in the 'slow motion mode.'
Joseph notices every small good deed performed. A few hours ago in the lobby of his apartment, an elderly man gave Joseph a hearty nod. But that is not all. A young woman held the door open for him, and a child with a missing front tooth and two braided pig tails held up with pink ribbon sweetly smiled up at Joseph's scowling face. Those three little deeds did not take a big effort, but it made a huge effect. Joseph noticed. The little works of kindness anger him, however. It makes him notice the things that he doesn't take the time to do.
Joseph wonders at each person that he encounters throughout the day as to what their diary would look like? He wishes he could just press their palm against the diary's surface and hope for the book to appear as pitiful as his, then he would feel better. Joseph knows that his book is far worse than the average person. He doesn't follow the advice that was told to him by both Samantha and Uncle Gregory. Joseph refuses to swallow his pride. He desires to bring everyone else down to his level of thinking than to make a journey of faith and change his bad ways. The book is driving him to insanity.
Joseph sits in his bedroom. Outside the open window it is dark. He cannot spot a single star tonight. One usually can't in a city. The moon is full tonight. Blowing in through the window, the wind sends a chill throughout the room. Joseph's cell phone, lying by a package in a brown paper bag on the bed, plays a tune. He does not move. He doesn't need to look at the caller ID to see who is calling. It is Samantha. She had tried calling earlier today, as well as yesterday. This would be her third attempt to speak with Joseph. He was not a mood to be bothered by a crying girl on the other line who 'only wanted to help him.'
Joseph readjusts his back. He is leaning against the pole on his bed, with his face facing the window. Nothing helps. He remembers his uncle's words again.
-"Joseph, it was important that I see you one last time here on this earth, but please don't let it be the last in Eternity. I pray that God will accept me into his Kingdom with great Mercy. God alone, can open the doors to Paradise, and that makes it even more important to have a strong relationship with God here. So that when your day of Judgment comes, you will recognize and be recognized. We are helpless without our Savior, have faith in Him and obey His Will. Pray and read the Bible, Joseph. "
Would the Bible really help him? Joseph can't help wondering. But with arrogance in him, he decides to answer 'no' to the question without even a glance at the Words In Red. Had it not been a book that brought him to this pitiful state? So how could a Book possibly repair this unfixable mess?
Another gust of wind blows through the window, swaying the shades. This time, the wind is followed by a few sprinkles of water. The wind howls louder this time and is followed by heavier water. Soon, pelting rain is pouring down on New York. It splatters through the open window and across the floor. Joseph doesn't move. He lets the water and wind whip across his face and through his apartment. A fierce lightening bolt flashes against the black sky. It is followed by the loud roar of thunder. The rain pours down yet even harder.
Joseph quietly stands. He reaches for the paper bag on his bed that he had picked up earlier that day. His hands shaking slightly, Joseph removes an object from its covering. The bag drops to the ground in a puddle of water. Joseph wraps both hands around the object, trying to steady his nervous shaking. A loud bang echoes across the apartment and mixes with a sudden roar of thunder. Joseph's body falls limp on the ground. His hand lands upon the book soaking in water. It is laying open to the last page. The water mixes with the ink, blurring the few words on the wet paper: - Joseph pulls the trigger.