years, I’d say. Your granddaddy mailed it to me. Said I was to give you it when … when something bad happened. And I’d say what happened was quite bad indeed.”
“My grandfather ?”
Darren Bannister simply nodded, not taken aback by my sudden incredulity.
I stared at the package in his hands. It was a mail parcel, which looked just as old as Bannister himself. I said, “What’s in there?”
“Don’t know exactly. Your granddaddy wouldn’t tell me. Just said that I was to—”
I grabbed the package out of his hands, held it up to my ear as if to listen for the ticking of a bomb. There was nothing, so I weighed it in my hands. It felt like a book.
“How did you know my grandfather?”
Now that his hands were free, the old man didn’t seem to know what to do with them. Finally he put them in his pockets, shrugged and said, “I met him the couple of times he came down here to visit you and your folks. Then … you know, after he went away, he wrote me every once in a while. Asking how you and your family were doing.”
“And you never thought that was odd?”
“Course I did, Christopher,” he said, actually sounding cross. “But his letters seemed so sincere, I just couldn’t ignore them. So I wrote him back, told him I’d try to keep him updated, but I never did after that one time. Then I received that in the post and didn’t know what to think. Your granddaddy said I was to give it to you if anything happened. Said if I knew I was going to die or get real sick, I should find someone else to give it to you. Figured I’d ask me daughter, if that was the case. Sounds queer, I know, but that’s all I can tell you.”
I kept staring down at the package in my hands. Eventually I blinked, looked up at the old man, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I apologize. It’s just—”
He held up a dry gnarled hand, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry about it, Christopher. You’ve already been through so much, you don’t need to apologize about nothing. But I wanted to make sure you got this. I tried dropping it off yesterday but nobody was here. Then I was passing by here earlier and saw you so … ” He forced a smile and spread his hands, palms out, as if to say, And here we are .
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
He may have nodded, or forced another smile, or stuck his tongue out at me. I have no idea. I just continued standing there, staring down at the package, and the next thing I knew the old man had turned away and was walking down the porch steps. I watched him for a moment before I stepped back inside my own house and shut the door. I walked directly toward the couch and sat down with the package in my lap.
I didn’t want to open it. Whatever was inside, I didn’t want to know. It felt like I had Pandora’s Box in my hands, that if I opened it I would unleash a whole new evil into the world.
Come on , I thought. You can do this. Evil doesn’t exist. There’s nothing hiding in the shadows .
The packing material was old and worn, like thin cardboard; I didn’t even need scissors. Once it was opened, I hesitated a moment, then looked inside. A book, just as it had felt like. I pulled it out and set it on the coffee table, then glanced inside the package to see if there was anything else. Nothing, so I tossed it aside and picked up the book.
It was thick, maybe four, five hundred pages long. The cover was brown and bare. Nothing was printed on its spine. I opened the first page to find an inscription. It was done in pen. I assumed it was my grandfather’s hand.
Christopher, this is the fruit of my labor. I am sorry for what happened. Hopefully someday you will understand. Read Job 42 for guidance. Your life depends upon it. I love you.
I read it twice then turned to the next page. I recognized it immediately. Not just from the title, but from the text as well. Genesis —the first book of the
“My grandfather ?”
Darren Bannister simply nodded, not taken aback by my sudden incredulity.
I stared at the package in his hands. It was a mail parcel, which looked just as old as Bannister himself. I said, “What’s in there?”
“Don’t know exactly. Your granddaddy wouldn’t tell me. Just said that I was to—”
I grabbed the package out of his hands, held it up to my ear as if to listen for the ticking of a bomb. There was nothing, so I weighed it in my hands. It felt like a book.
“How did you know my grandfather?”
Now that his hands were free, the old man didn’t seem to know what to do with them. Finally he put them in his pockets, shrugged and said, “I met him the couple of times he came down here to visit you and your folks. Then … you know, after he went away, he wrote me every once in a while. Asking how you and your family were doing.”
“And you never thought that was odd?”
“Course I did, Christopher,” he said, actually sounding cross. “But his letters seemed so sincere, I just couldn’t ignore them. So I wrote him back, told him I’d try to keep him updated, but I never did after that one time. Then I received that in the post and didn’t know what to think. Your granddaddy said I was to give it to you if anything happened. Said if I knew I was going to die or get real sick, I should find someone else to give it to you. Figured I’d ask me daughter, if that was the case. Sounds queer, I know, but that’s all I can tell you.”
I kept staring down at the package in my hands. Eventually I blinked, looked up at the old man, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I apologize. It’s just—”
He held up a dry gnarled hand, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry about it, Christopher. You’ve already been through so much, you don’t need to apologize about nothing. But I wanted to make sure you got this. I tried dropping it off yesterday but nobody was here. Then I was passing by here earlier and saw you so … ” He forced a smile and spread his hands, palms out, as if to say, And here we are .
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
He may have nodded, or forced another smile, or stuck his tongue out at me. I have no idea. I just continued standing there, staring down at the package, and the next thing I knew the old man had turned away and was walking down the porch steps. I watched him for a moment before I stepped back inside my own house and shut the door. I walked directly toward the couch and sat down with the package in my lap.
I didn’t want to open it. Whatever was inside, I didn’t want to know. It felt like I had Pandora’s Box in my hands, that if I opened it I would unleash a whole new evil into the world.
Come on , I thought. You can do this. Evil doesn’t exist. There’s nothing hiding in the shadows .
The packing material was old and worn, like thin cardboard; I didn’t even need scissors. Once it was opened, I hesitated a moment, then looked inside. A book, just as it had felt like. I pulled it out and set it on the coffee table, then glanced inside the package to see if there was anything else. Nothing, so I tossed it aside and picked up the book.
It was thick, maybe four, five hundred pages long. The cover was brown and bare. Nothing was printed on its spine. I opened the first page to find an inscription. It was done in pen. I assumed it was my grandfather’s hand.
Christopher, this is the fruit of my labor. I am sorry for what happened. Hopefully someday you will understand. Read Job 42 for guidance. Your life depends upon it. I love you.
I read it twice then turned to the next page. I recognized it immediately. Not just from the title, but from the text as well. Genesis —the first book of the
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