The Notebook

Robin couldn't find any way worthy enough to pull off in his life. Everything he felt went wasted; be it a business or a job. Everything depressed him to the extreme of himself committing suicide. He made up his mind and decided to fall into the nearby well which was abandoned for ages. He gulped the remnant whisky on the table, headed to the abandoned well. The dry leaves made a rustle as he stepped on the dry leaves, crushing them with his dirt blotted shoes. With the pain he couldn't see the small rock ahead, hit his leg and fell, facing the ground. A small leather notebook was lying there. He picked it up slowly, opened it, on the first page, was written ' write on me' in an unknown language. He couldn't understand the inscription, stared confounded, a voice whispered in his ears, "Write on me". It whispered, reiterated many times till he made up his mind to write something. The stylus was attached inside the leather notebook. He took it back home and turned the pages. He read the few lines already written by someone in the first few pages. He just wanted to write as per the order of the whisper. The previous line was, I want to be a millionaire !" He read the line and repeated the same. He wrote with his slightly slanted handwriting, " I want to be a millionaire", period.

The phone vibrated, buzzed for long. He inserted his hands into his pants pocket and took his phone and attended the call. The call was from Juno, his friend. " Robin! Robin! We got a huge order today. They bought all our stuff and credited us with a huge sum. It all happened out of the blue. Robin! Can you hear me! Hello! Hello!" Before Robin could answer the phone hanged up. Robin's eyes filled up, he couldn't believe his eyes he cried in happiness, perspired, shocked in a surprise. He wrote the same line again. " I want to be a millionaire", period. The phone buzzed again. This time was from his uncle who was a real estate owner. " Hello, Rob, Good news for you, the old house you had in the town was sold, do you know how much I sold? 50 million dollars! That old creepy house cost a huge price all of a sudden. There would be a multiplex in that place. Robina, we won man! , hello, hello... " beeped. Robin's exhilaration hit the zenith. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and held his hair with his hands. He couldn't believe his eyes. He was ravenous. The whiskey turned to vapour in his stomach and turned empty. He wrote, "I want sumptuous food". The bell rang in the next second the food delivery boy stood grinning like a happy corpse. " Your friend ordered a treat for you sir" he paid it already. Surprised Robin grabbed the pizza food package, hot noodles, coke, ate them like a starving dog; ate them to his belly stifle. He then went back to the notebook. The small notebook had fewer pages and was already scribbled, he turned them to find a blank, didn't notice that it was another section titled reverse. He turned to the page with half the space on the page.

He, with food in his mind mistakenly wrote "food". All of a sudden he suffered severe pain. His stomach had convulsions like a cyclone, which coerced him to the toilet. All he had taken went in a flush. He came back gulped a bottle of water from the fridge. Now he found a little space in the notebook. Took the stylus, wrote "I want my family happy." He got a call from his mother wailing deep " Robina, Robina, our girl left us forever aaaa ! She left us aaah..... post...post... Mort..em.. ", the voice stopped. Robin bit his nails, he couldn't believe his fortune, himself, confounded, cried. Yet, he couldn't believe it. He tried calling his mother again. The call was stopped, then again, no signal. Panic stroke him deep on his countenance. He turned the pages. Now, there was little space, he was on the last page of the notebook, the section titled, "the end". The last page had more pathetic scribbles like save me, kill me save me and so many. All such words and phrases echoed in his ears like an abhorrent chant. His one hand and his leg was not in a control. He got the last call, Robin realized that there was no such icon for hang up. He attended the call. it was a chant from an unknown language; whispered by many. He couldn't stop the chant. He threw the phone away, taking a deep breath, he tried writing, " save me" which turned into " kill me" ...he tore it and threw the notebook away. His one leg and his hand didn't work, dragged himself to the wall. His hand throttled him deeply, he scoffed, stifled and hit the nearby table, fell unconscious. The glass vase dangled and hit hard on his neck. The next day, his house was crowded with people around gossiping about the cause of his death. Near the well, the leaves moved in a wind, and there was lying the leather notebook.