Dear Diary

I stood in line at Editions off Pauline Street where all the hipsters go, who rarely buy anything but who take up space.

“Can I help who is next?” said a short woman behind the counter. Two earrings in her left. None in her right. A tattoo on her forearm. A crow, I think.

“Yes, I reserved a notebook. Moleskine. Name is Williams.” She hands it over. I thank her and pay.

The Legend of Zelda, limited edition, midnight black. Rounded corners, elastic closure, matching bookmark ribbon, story card with themed message, 2 lucky red envelopes, expandable inner pocket in the back.

Oh ya. Waiting for you for a long time. I stood outside the shop smelling its cover. It’s the smell that makes a writer’s fingers twitch. What to do with you? Ideas for a new book, thoughts, surely nothing as mundane as ‘dear diary’ or reminders. Would Pynchon remind himself of his dentist appointment? I sputter ‘no’ like a monarch being offered a BLT.

As I walked slowly away, picturing myself at an outdoor cafe, my post-modern scribblings surely the next great American novel, I heard shouting coming from Editions. I could see through the side window a large man dressed as a Viking holding up the little woman behind the counter. He had her by the throat.

“What do you mean, you sold it?!!” he yelled at her. “To who”? She just shook her head. “Pillage the place” he yelled.

I thought maybe it was some hipster thing until I saw them actually destroying the store. Chairs being tossed, people with goatees in cool hats crashing through windows, screaming, swords cutting tables in half.

His eyes went wild as he ordered his men outside. One by one there assembled in front of the store at least a dozen men with shields, swords, fur draped around them, helmets, leather and iron. One of them stared at me and raised his sword. “There he is” he yelled. The men began running toward me, screaming and shouting.

Is this like a flash mob? Hey, they’re not wearing masks. It’s Covid. I instinctively began to run. I hadn’t run in years. Plus I was in loafers.

“Give us that notebook” one of them yelled as they continued chasing me, knocking people out for their way. They chased me down the next street, passing an outdoor café, one of them smashing a tray from a waiter with a huge ball and chain.

Why are they chasing me? I know it’s a nice notebook but—suddenly a blue compact screeched to a halt in front of me. A woman I had never seen before opened the passenger door.

“Get in” she yelled.

“Who are you?” I asked, desperately trying to catch my breath.

“I don’t have time to explain. Get in or they are going to kill you”. She was pointed to the Vikings closing fast.

What choice did I have? I wasn’t about to give them my notebook. No way. Not a first edition Zelda. An arrow suddenly smashed the back window. “Get in” she screamed.

I was barely inside when she floored it down the street, the Vikings shrinking in the rearview.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked, bobbing and weaving with the car as it turned right and then left. “Who are those guys? And who are you?”

“My name is Anita.”

“Your accent—” I said, trying to catch my breath.

“It’s Norwegian. I’m from Oslo, from the university”.

I squinted. “Norwegian…as in Vikings? As in you know those guys?”

She looked in the mirror. “Yes, I know them, but you don’t want to, believe me.”

“This…this is crazy” I gasped. I was so out of shape. Or maybe it was the shock of almost being killed by a—“hey what do you call a group of Vikings, a horde?”

Anita pulled into an underground garage. “We’ll be safe here for now. They don’t know where I live”.

“What are you talking about? Who are they, and why the hell are they after my notebook?”

“They’re not after the notebook, idiot. They’re after what’s in your notebook.”

I thought for a second. “The matching bookmark ribbon?”

“Shut up” she said and got out of the car.

We didn’t talk as we made our way to the elevator and finally to Anita’s apartment. “Its an air B&B. Try not to break anything.” She said, opening a bottle of white. I sat on the bar stool of the kitchen island, my mind racing.

“Okay” I finally said, calmly. “Please just tell me what is happening”.

She put on some light jazz and poured me a glass.

“The notebook” she said. “Do you still have it?”

I took it out of my pocket and handed it to her.

“It is nice” she said.

“I know” I said smiling. “I’m the first to have it”.

“Where would hide something in this notebook if you wanted to?” she asked, inspecting it.

“Aha. That would be in the expandable pocket in the back” I said, proudly but grossly as I took a huge swig. I hate white wine.

I showed her the pocket and she took from it, very carefully, what looked like an old coin.

I was puzzled. I took out my phone and logged on to the Moleskine website. “Nope” I said after reading the specs again. “It doesn’t say anything here about a coin in the pocket.”

“Turn that off” she snapped. “They can trace it.”

“Who, the Vikings?”

“Don’t be ridiculous” she said, sternly.

She held the coin up the pot lights and smiled. Then she looked at me. “Do you know what this is?”

What a stupid question! “No, of course not” I answered.

“Let me explain” she said.

Suddenly I was aboard a Viking ship hundreds of years ago. It was dark, the rain heavy, and we churned with the sea. All night it was relentless but no sleep, no break from the storm until finally at dawn the weather subsided and we were floating slowly up an inland waterway. There were two men on board. They could not hear or see me.

Another hour passed, until we came to a small dock. The land here was misty, peaceful. I could hear flute or something playing in the background, like we were in a movie.

“There’s no flute” Anita interrupted.

“What?”

“In the story I’m telling you there’s no flute to stop whistling while I tell it”.

Long they walked along a dirt road through dark woods until they came to a village surrounded by makeshift walls.

“We are Halfdan and Arne. We seek our brother Torsten” they said. Picture any village from any Viking movie ever and that’s what it looked like. Saves me so much detail.

So they get to the great hall. Torsten steps down from his seat and the three men each remove from their necks a rope with a coin attached. They look at each other’s coins and smile. The men hug and laugh.

“They are brothers, you see. And now that they each have a particular stone, they can take their place as rightful rulers of the three kingdoms.”

“Vikings don’t not hug. I saw Game of Thrones—”

“Do you want to know why those men were chasing you or not?”

“Fine” I said, now distrustful.

“It’s a long story and we don’t have time now, but Viking law says that anyone with a stone can rule a kingdom. If they have two, they get two kingdoms, etc. And that’s why I’m here, to verify its authenticity, but apparently the Wolf can’t wait”.

“The Wolf?” I asked.

“Ulf is his name. It means wolf”.

"How does this have anything to do with me? How did you and Ulf even know it was in the secret pocket of Zelda? I named her Zelda”.

“We don’t have time for this. Right now we have to take it to a man I know”. She was looking at her watch.

We took an Uber to a jeweler Anita knew. I had so many questions, but I will paraphrase what she told me. This particular coin belonged to Ulf’s father and naturally Ulf thinks it’s his birthright. Problem is, and Viking law is very clear on this point, that whoever physically has the coin is the ruler. And that’s why the Vikings wanted to get to my notebook before I found the coin. Ulf wants to rule over his father’s old kingdom, Strakengaard, but needs the coin to do so.

The jeweler let out a long whistle as he took his glasses off, holding the coin in his hand. “This is it alright, the Strakengaard coin”.

“Thank you” Anita said. We were turning to leave when I stopped.

“Excuse me” I said. Just out of curiosity, how much is worth?”

“Worth?” said the jeweler. "Mister, it’s the only coin of its kind. It’s the key to ruling an empire, it’s priceless?’

“I know” I said, “but just for fun, what could I get for it if I wanted to?”

He looked at me for a long time, then at Anita, then back to me, and then he shrugged. “I would say 20 thousand dollars.”

“Twenty grand!” I said, but my celebration was cut short by Anita dragging me out of the shop.

“What are you thinking? You want to sell the coin—‘’

Suddenly a black van screeched to a halt in front of us. We were thrust into the back as it sped away. A few blocks later it stopped under a bridge in the warehouse district.

“Alright kid, where’s the coin?”

“What coin?”

“Don’t play games with us kid” he said, showing us a Norwegian police badge. He then looked at Anita. “I’m surprised at you” he said. You were supposed to call us first.”

“I had to authenticate it first” she said.

“What the?’ I said. “You guys know each other?”

“Yes” the man said, “ and thanks to you—"

All of a sudden there was a terrible roar outside as a huge wooden club with steel spikes crashed through the back window. The Viking horde had found us and ripped the doors off the back of the van. They grabbed Anita and began to pull her out. She was screaming and trying to hold on to my hand but it was too late. Just before they pulled her out she reached into her pocket and threw me the coin. I opened the side door but I too was pulled out by the horde. The police man in the driver’s seat was about to be pulled out when he drew his gun and fired into the roof of the van. The horde stopped and back up slowly as he got out.

“Let them go” he said.

Suddenly there came a booming voice from the middle. Ulf pushed his way through.

“Give me the coin” he commanded, “or they both die”.

The officer didn’t move.

“Fine” said Ulg, “kill them”

But before the horde could get me, I held up the coin and yelled for them to stop.

“I hold before me the coin of….the coin of Straken—something” Anita shook her head in embarrassment.

“Strakengaard” she said.

“Yes, that” I said. “And by your own law that makes me ruler. I hear by decree that we shall be set free”. I was trying to sound Vikingish.

Ulf laughed. “I said kill them” he yelled.

“They can’t” Anita said. They have to listen the one holding the coin. They won’t break our oldest law”. The horde lowered their weapons.

“Now go” I commanded, “and leave us in peace”.

I left Anita and the horde and found a quiet outdoor café, ordered a coffee, and took out Zelda.

Dear Diary:

I can’t decide whether to cash the coin for $20 000 or become ruler of Straken-something.