George’s Book

George stepped across his living room and walked toward the bedroom. He was extremely tired. He had spent the entire day out walking the streets in search of some sort of job. At this point, he would have taken any job at all. He had been without work for somewhere around six moths now, and he needed to find something as quickly as possible. He walked up beside his bed and crumpled down on top of it. It felt so good just to lie down in his soft, warm bed for a few hours. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He needed something to take his mind off of everything. He needed some way to just relax, and not think about asking for money again.

He sat up and looked at his cluttered brown bureau. He glanced through the piles of worthless trinkets and figurines. He stopped. On the other side of the bureau, on top of a piece of trash, lay a dusty white book. He didn't know what it was about, nor did he care. He reached across, knocking things over and off the side of the bureau. He grabbed the book and brought up to his face as he brushed the dust off of it. He couldn't remember where he got it, but it was probably just another one of those gifts that you thank people for, but never actually touch.

He opened it up as the spine creaked and groaned. The pages were stiff and yellowed, but still very readable. He began to read, and within ten minutes, he was completely captured by the story. He read continually for hours without any stop. He was completely captivated.

It was no more than three hours later, that he turned the final page. He slowly put the book down next to him. It was amazing. It was the most brilliant piece of literature ever placed on paper. He didn't know what to do now, he felt as if he needed to tell everyone about it. Everybody needed to know the same excitement that he felt at that moment.

He began to pace the room, not knowing where to go or who to tell. He walked rapidly over to the phone and began dialing a number. He put the phone to his ear and listened. No noise came from the other end. There was no ring, and there was no dial tone. He hung up and tried again. But again, there was nothing. He put the phone down and began to get his coat on. Something was wrong with his phone, but there was no way he was going to let that stop him from sharing this amazing piece of writing. He walked quickly to the door, only to find that it had no handle. He searched up and down on the door, looking for a knob or a handle of any kind. He began to hit the door as he realized that he was trapped inside of his house. After a few minutes of banging received no response, he backed up from the door and began to think. It didn't make any sense. Non of it did.

He began to realize that he must be dreaming, so walked over to the sink to splash water on his face. But there was no sink. The entire wall where the sink had been was completely empty. It was just a solid, white wall. He walked over to the phone once again, and reached around the back of it, in search for a cord or a wire. As he felt around, he realized that the back of the phone, just like the wall, was completely blank, with no sign of a wire. He picked up the book from his bed and began pacing round the room while flipping through it. It hadn't changed. It was exactly as it had been before. He new now that he wasn't dreaming, this was all too real. He began to run and scream for help as banged on the walls and the door of the room. He ran to to one wall and began to slam his head against it. Someone needed to help him. He was trapped, with no way out, and no way to tell people of the amazing book.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned around to see a man standing there. He didn't know the man, but somehow he seemed familiar.

“You need to help me!” Said George, grabbing the man. The man smiled. “Okay,” he said, “c'mon George, why don't you lay down?” He was so calm. George was terrified, and this man was acting as if everything was fine.

“How do you know my name?” Said George, “Who are you?” The man smiled again. “I'm Curt, remember?” Curt grabbed George by the arm and walked him over to the bed. “Here, lay down for a little while, then you'll feel better.” George climbed onto the bed, all the while clutching the book. “Here!” He said, thrusting the book toward Curt. “Read this! It's amazing!” Curt smiled and took the book from George as he walked out of the room. “Alright, I'll give it a try. Now try to get some sleep, okay?”

Curt turned and left the room. He walked down the hall and turned a corner into an office. A woman in scrubs was sitting in front of a desk at a computer.

“Laura, We can't leave this in George's cell anymore.” He said. Laura looked up from the computer. “The notebook he scribbles in?” Curt frowned, “Yeah, it's just another one of those things that makes him act up.” Laura went back to the computer, “Poor guy,” she said, “I hope I never end up like him.”

Curt tossed the notebook onto a shelf as he walked out of the room. The notebook landed on the edge, and slowly slid off onto the floor. It hit the ground quietly, and bounced open, revealing pages full of text. Brilliantly written text.

Text that no one would ever see.