Chapter 2
She was halfway across the field before she knew where it was.
Her head dropped, eyes focused on the still grass below.
Nothing.
“You’re here.” A voice emerged.
Her eyes narrowed, and the ground rippled.
A stalk rose from the soil, joined by many more, curling and twisting into a knot that weaved round and round until it took shape and grew up to her height. The green hands opened and revealed a book, and then it stopped, waiting.
Becca raised an eyebrow as she flicked through the pages. “There’s nothing here.”
THUD! A small branch fell from a tree behind her. She bowed to pick it up, turning the sharp edge of the pencil in her hands.
“You have everything you need.” The voice echoed.
After a short pause, Becca gave a sharp turn and slowly began to stagger back across the empty park, almost as if she was in a trance, not taking her eyes away from the path ahead of her.
As soon as she slammed her house door shut, it began to rain.
***
After arriving in her room, Becca opened the book to the first page. She picked up the pencil that was given to her, some of the chips of bark spitting onto the table, and began to etch her name onto the paper, in big, bold letters.
BECCA
Once she had observed it, the page turned itself. She fell back in her chair, resting her chin in her hands.
What to write, what to write…
Suddenly, the voice returned. “Write as if you were writing to someone.”
The pencil abruptly dragged her back to the paper, and she found herself halfway across the page in just a few minutes, but the bizarre feeling in her stomach stopped her immediately. She stared, horrified at the first two sentences.
This book is my book. Once I have completed this book it will be taken and he will read it. He will see it himself and he will tell me whether I will die or whether I will live and write another book.
It was silence for a couple of minutes. Just blank staring.
“Becca?” the sound of her mum’s voice was just loud enough to hear. “I was wondering where you were this morning. Can I come in?”
The sentences kept repeating in her head, over and over.
He will tell me whether I will die or if I will live.
He will tell me whether I will die or if I will live.
He will tell me whether I will die or if I will live.
“He will tell you whether you will die or if you will live.”
Becca opened her mouth and barfed onto her desk, just as the bedroom door was opened.
“I’m fine.” Becca walked straight past her mother and out of the room.
