Josiah Harrison - Unassuming shopper

Josiah stared at the books in front of him, blinked for a moment, and then refocused his gaze towards the shelf's contents.

Ugh, can't believe I zoned out there... he thought to himself with a wince. Normally, whenever he was in a bookstore, he could get lost for a good chunk of the day if he was really committed. However, just like with everything else that happened to him recently, it all felt like a blur in the worst way possible.

What was even more distressing, he'd seen it all before. Even though Josiah had been to this particular used book store dozens of times in the past, he'd thought that the selection in front of him would always turn up something new. A biography he hadn't picked up, some fantasy novel he'd been meaning to get to since he was a kid, or even a paperback collection of this or that superhero he'd been meaning to catch up on. Yet as he looked for what felt like the nth time since he walked through the sliding, automated doors the contents never changed.

At least, that was what he thought until he saw something wedged between some talking head's latest screed and an all-you-needed to know about dog breeds omnibus. The spine was totally blank, with no identifying author or even a title attached to it, and with a frown he gingerly reached for it and plucked it past its neighbors. Normally every now and then there was some oddity that was tucked away by a customer too lazy to put it back where they'd originally found it or a worker who didn't care enough to properly categorize it, of course, and in spite of himself Josiah felt a small twinge of interest as he turned the thing over in his hands.

The little book was an inky black, almost like the night sky, and made of a material whose source he couldn't place. He almost thought it was leather bound at first but it lacked the usual roughness across its surface to provide such an easy explanation. As Josiah turned it over, he felt his eyes widen slightly at the art that was present. In bright gold stenciling sat numerous planetary bodies, stars, and innumerable other spiraling patterns.

Maybe it's some new sci-fi release? Josiah wondered. Yet, as he gazed at it more, the palpable feeling of it being 'old' filled his thoughts as he took in the artistry further (absurdly, for a brief moment, he thought to himself that it was almost as if it hadn't been crafted by human hands). Carefully as he could, Josiah cracked it open and flitted through the pages.

Blank.

Even if he hadn't been expecting anything, he had to admit that it felt disappointing to know his discovery had been nothing more than a journal. He'd gotten them as gifts in the past and they always inevitably ended up in a drawer somewhere, forgotten, never to be looked at again back when he was a kid, mostly from his grandparents who still hadn't cottoned onto the idea that word processors on computers were infinitely more accessible and less prone to hand cramps. Josiah rolled his eyes and was just about to put it right back where he'd found it but the glint of the geometric shapes underneath the fluorescent light of the bulbs above him made him pause. Sure, maybe he would never actually write in the thing himself, but it seemed like such a waste to let something that looked as gorgeous as it did gather dust in the town nook between the desiccated corpse of a Blockbuster Video and the local laundromat. Besides, Josiah hadn't seen a price on it, so there was a decent chance he could score a good deal on an item they hadn't bothered to slap one on.

It took him only a moment to duck and weave his way past other customers milling about the general reading area in the center of the building to get to the cash register at the front. There, an elderly gentleman with a plaid shirt and suspenders sat on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, his horned-rim glasses nearly falling off his nose as he flipped the page of the novel on the kiosk in front of him. Sparing Josiah a glance, and letting out a sigh he was sure he wasn't supposed to hear, the Colonel Sanders lookalike cleared his throat and gestured at him.

"Find everything alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Josiah said and slid his prize across the counter towards him. "Just that today. Didn't see a sticker on it, though."

Gingerly, the old man picked it up and held it up to the light, giving it a similar once over to the one that Josiah had done minutes before.

"Hm... odd. I don't remember one of the others putting this out anywhere and I see all the inventory that comes in here. Sure is a beaut, though, isn't she?"

He almost agreed out loud, but thought better of it. Acting as if he desperately wanted it would only cause the salesman to jack up his total, Josiah was sure of it. He shrugged his shoulders and stuck his hands into his jeans' pockets.

"Can't say I passed any of my art classes in school well enough to judge. Figured it might be fun to actually put pen to paper, though. Literally, I mean. Might help with the writer's block."

"You an author?" the man asked, placing it on the counter and squinting at him, almost certainly trying to divine if he'd seen him on the inside of a book jacket before.

"Uh... well, aspiring. Graduated and all that."

A short wheeze escaped the man's lips as he shook his head.

"For the starving alumnus, how about $20?"

Josiah winced, but pulled out his wallet and opened it. As the crumpled bill fell onto the surface between them, and the worker scooped it up, he hunched his shoulders and looked outside. Rain splashed gently onto the asphalt of the parking lot, the dreary gray of the sky above almost seeming to seep down from the clouds and fill every corner of his vision of the outside world.

"Don't remind me," he muttered. He had to admit that there was more dejection in his tone than he'd like, but he'd long since bothered to stop hiding his depression. As the old man banged on the side of the register to pop the drawer open he shook his head at Josiah.

"Hey now, just a joke, alright? You younguns have it hard these days but I'm sure you'll turn it around."

"My wife put you up to this pep talk?" he asked dryly. After a moment's pause, he ran a hand through his hair, mussing the brown underneath his fingertips. "Look, mister, sorry. Forget I said anything."

The older man paused, studied Josiah for a moment, before he simply closed the drawer and pushed the bill back towards him.

"Take the thing. Don't worry about it."

"I don't need your-"

The word 'pity' died in Josiah's throat. He hated this; hated the concerned looks from others, their tones becoming soft as if he were some fragile doll that would break if the world decided to spare him some of its infinite cruelty, as they tried to baby him. At first, it felt sort of nice, as if he were in it together with whomever gave him the time of day, but it'd rapidly worn out its welcome long enough now he couldn't even remember the first time it'd happened.

"I insist. Think of it like a late wedding present for you and the missus."

With a sigh, Josiah reached for his money and his newfound journal, pulling both of them towards him and spun around on his heel towards the exit. He tried not to pay attention to the man's stare as it buried its way into his back as he walked out into the downpour.

His shoes squelched under his feet as he opened the door to the Harrison town home, shivering as he yanked off his jacket and tossed it onto the hook nearby, followed by his prize onto the top of the small cabinet. It hadn't once let up on the way over and, according to the meteorologist on the radio, it was going to continue raining cats and dogs for the next few days. Just what Josiah needed. More dreary weather to continue aiding his already soured mood.

Josiah kicked off his shoes, grimacing at the dampness quickly spreading from his socks as he reached down to peel them off. Despite his short mad dash from the warmth and safety of his car back to the front door, it still felt like every droplet in the area had decided to make a beeline right for him. At the very least, as he scanned the book, it seemed like it hadn't been damaged at all. In the moment he hadn't given a single thought to the water damage his newfound prize might gain but it looked almost spotless in the pale light filtering through the glass behind him. Josiah tried not to make eye contact with the woman in the photo adjacent to the journal, her dark, beautiful skin contrasting starkly with the white wedding gown she wore, and eyes lit up in delight as his past self, his more hopeful self, pecked her on the cheek as he held her scooped form in his arms.

It'd been Vivian's idea to put it there when they'd first moved in together to their first place together as Mr. and Mrs. Harrison from what felt like a lifetime ago. Now all it made him want to do was avoid it whenever he walked through the threshold.

Besides, there was at least a more practical reason to avoid it than his depression. The mirror hanging in front of it told him that he looked like a drowned rat, his green eyes standing out starkly against his pale white skin, and with a sigh he snatched his most recent pickup from its resting place and began to make his way towards the stairs. As he climbed them, the thought of a long hot shower became ever more appealing as his teeth chattered with every step he took. Practically bounding the last few, Josiah made his way over to his and Viv's bedroom door, thrust it open, and walked inside.

It took him a moment to fumble for the light switch and, he was glad, it quickly flooded the room with pale luminescence. The last thing he wanted to do was wait for an electrician, least of all because of the hourly rate he'd be charged. Just before he began to undo his belt buckle, he placed the journal down once more, this time on the edge of the bed and as he was yanking down his boxers to toss them into the hamper by his dresser, he heard a soft plop behind him. Turning, Josiah looked down to see that the little black book had fallen onto the beige carpet beneath him, and he grimaced as he saw it splayed wide open. Even with its soft landing, the bibliophile in him cried out at the fact that it was already being treated carelessly by himself. Bending down to pick it up and flip it over, his eyes happened to glance down at the page it'd opened to, and his brow furrowed.

There wasn't anything written in this before.

It was an idle thought, at first, but as he took in the words in front of him he had to pour over his own memory to double check he wasn't going senile. Indeed, the more he thought back to the events of an hour or so ago, the more unnerved he felt. Granted, he hadn't given it a thorough inspection, but he doubted he would've been able to miss (or forget) the swirling penmanship that neatly spelled out a handful of sentences on the final page.

Only the owner can use this notebook.

Only a pen imbued with magic can be used to write any of its owner's desires within.

The larger the alteration, the longer it will be before the magic can take effect.

The book cannot be stolen or used by others.

The user cannot transfer this power directly to themselves or chaos will ensue.

Write your wishes carefully.

Dumbfounded, Josiah reread it a few times and flipped through its other pages to make sure that he hadn't missed anything else. The thought of letting his id run wild was something that oftentimes crossed his mind; he was sure that was true for most people, but the fact that it so plainly invited him to do so was downright perplexing. Granted, of course, there was no reason to think that it was anything more than a practical joke but the thought did indeed run across his mind as he held the thing that it did bear some resemblance to the kinds of books that his sister used to like collecting in high school during her goth phase (grimoires, as she'd insisted on calling them).

He stopped on the first page, looking down at the crisp white sheet before him, and bit his lip. The fact that he was even entertaining the possibility that it somehow was real was insane. It was simply something that someone had received, probably for attention like his sibling had once been, and then passed along once they moved past the childish need to engage in 'occult' practices. That was all. It had to be. Yet the more he stood there in his moist polo, bare beneath his waist, the more he almost wanted to try it on a lark.

Josiah moved over to the dresser on his side of the bed, rummaging through the drawer until he grasped the pen he'd once used to write down things from his dreams on the offhand chance they'd be good inspiration for a story. He bit off the cap, spat it onto the ground, and placed it against the parchment. He paused momentarily, unsure of what to write, but considered what he'd just read.

Any of its owner's desires, huh?

Truth be told, aside from simply wanting to be successful, Josiah couldn't think of much. He loved Vivian, as much as she deserved someone who was actually worth her time, and wouldn't trade her for anything. Well... sure, he might like her to have a bigger butt, as nice as hers already was, but that hardly seemed appropriate to experiment with. Big claims required big evidence, after all. What was something that he couldn't possibly miss even if he tried?

I wish I, Josiah Harrison, was an Asian woman with an amazing, world-class figure.

He closed the journal, neatly placed it next to the lamp with the pen he'd chosen, and waited. Just as he'd thought, after a few minutes, nothing happened. Embarrassed, and now beginning to get even more cold due to the exposure he was experiencing, Josiah shook his head as he made his way towards the door to their bathroom. He'd get rid of the page before Viv got him to save himself a seriously odd line of questioning if she happened to glance through it but right now he could practically hear the siren song of the shower head before he even turned one of the knobs.