YesterWhere

I walked out of the bank, stunned. Twenty thousand dollars! I said to myself in a surprisingly loud internal voice. I’ve had that much money over the course of my forty years on this planet but, never all at once. It was both mind blowing and mind numbing at the same time. What was I going to do with this newly acquired inheritance? Even though I have been living paycheck to paycheck since I was sixteen, I knew that twenty thousand dollars is not exactly life changing. It can be, however, course altering. This was not the time for big plans. I had new money and I intended to spend some of it, at least, without the fear of consequences.

A few days ago, I was contacted by a Law Firm that I had never heard of before about an "inheritance" of some type that was left for me. No one had died, no stocks had gone up, and no 'bank error in my favor' they assured me. The only information they could, or would, give me is that the account had been set up many years ago with my name, current address, phone number and email address. The instructions were to give me the money on this day, precisely, not a day earlier or later. It was just lucky for them that today was wide open for me: as days tend to be when you are recently fired. The lawyers had assured me that this money was mine, free and clear. No ifs, and, or buts to be had anywhere. So, like the law abiding citizen I am, I signed the papers, had it deposited into my account, and I walked out before any of the ifandorbuts could catch up to me. Maybe I'll go to the casino!

On my way to the local money grabbing, and sometimes returning, home of the one armed bandits I stopped at an outside eatery for a pretzel and sat to eat it. As I pondered how they made such amazing bread that only sometimes has too much salt on it, the damnable notebook was suddenly in front of me again. Neatly placed in front of the adjacent seat, looking much like it had been deliberately placed there. I, however, knew it had not been put there by anyone passing by, it had just appeared like it had so often before.

This notebook, this damned notebook, has been plaguing me for years now. The first time I ever saw it was almost exactly three years ago. On a bench, in a mall where I like to go for people watching (it's NOT weird!) When I sat down nothing was there but, when I stood to leave. . . . there it was. It's about the size of your basic run-of-the-mill paperback book, with a very nice looking, black, possibly leather binding and no identifying marks. It looked normal enough, so I took it. Maybe that's where I went wrong. I should have just left it there.

shoving the thought out of my head, I just stared at the notebook. What did it want? Why was it here and, more importantly, how was it here. At the initial meeting, I had looked around for the owner but, when seeing no one, I picked it up. The first thing I noticed was that it felt much heavier than it looked and the pages, which all seemed to be blank, were thick, each one seemed to be made of a substance between paper and plastic (I could feel the cries of millions of confused grocery baggers.) That was just the beginning of the weirdness though, not only did the pages feel like nothing I had ever felt before, the cover did as well; both soft and hard at the same time. All the pages seemed empty and undisturbed in any way.

My creative juices started flowing and I decided I would write a backstory on the notebook itself. In true stranger than fiction fashion, it did not work like I expected. I started to write on page one "The Secret of the Notebook" but, the words started to vanish before I was through writing them. At first, I thought that the pen I had selected would not work on paper such as this. Hours of experimenting passed before I decided that there was not a pen, pencil, etching tool or paint product that I owned that would cause a sustainable word or image in the pages. So, I did what any rational person in my position would do, I took it back to where I had gotten it and left it in the same spot. Assuming it was a bad tuna salad trip or something of the like, I drove back home and put myself to bed.

The next morning I woke to the book staring at me from the adjacent pillow, you ask why I thought it was staring at me? The fact was, I could feel it staring through me. I could almost imagine it sitting there with its head cocked like a scorned puppy saying "why did you leave me?" Great, I was going insane. Perfect! After sizing it up just enough to determine, without a doubt, that it was the same book I half heartedly repeated my tests. Once they did not work, yet again, I walked down the street to a nearby gathering of homeless people, found an open trashcan fire and threw it in. I was content that I was finally done with it. The next day, it was back....

After days of trying to write in it (failing), Studying it (not learning anything new) and trying to get rid of it it finally stopped coming back. I was not sure exactly what I did to make it leave, or why it chose when it did, but I was glad to have it out of my life. I had almost blocked the memory of it when, Bam. like a subtle case of sneezes that lasts for months, it was back.

I didn't even waste a napkin to wipe the pretzel grease off of my hands, why bother, before I reached across the table and picked it up. I started to thumb through the pages as I once did, when I saw something that both caused a change of course AND changed my life.

WORDS!?!? there are words on this page... I was completely stunned and at a loss for my own words. Numbly, I stood, not even throwing my trash away and managed to make it home. Once in the door, I sat down at my desk and stared at the words.

Who are you? What are you? it read. I felt like those were the most surreal and important words I have ever read. In a daze, I grabbed the nearest pen and stared at the notebook. What am I? What are you!? Should I write that? would that offend it? I shook my head, offend the notebook? What was wrong with me? After an absurd length of time I put the pen to use.

My name is Evan, I am a human in the year 2021. It worked! words appeared on the page, just like they should; Even though they never had before I just keep writing. I wrote my age and my birthday I wrote my addresses (physical and E-mail) I wrote my phone number and I ALMOST wrote my social security number before I was startled by words appearing below mine:

Woah! it said. Evan my name too! And that is also my birthday. but, uh dude, it's only 1995. What is actually happening? who are you really? This is like that new text messaging, but I don't have to pay  every time I send!

Wait, you are Evan too? Evan Mathis? Is this real? How is this a thing?

The wait was excruciating, it seemed like years, but it was really only seconds, for me. For, uh, the other me, it was much longer. so I wrote first.

where did you go?

Holy craap!! he wrote. This WAS real?? I noticed his handwriting was a bit neater, actually better than mine ever was or had been. I went to therapy for this, no one believed me. NO ONE! I went to get a better pen and it was gone! that was THREE years ago! now I find it in my backpack, I have written in so many notebooks. I got all of them that I could find that looked like this one, so much writing, then I got caught stealing one and THAT got locked away! how did you FIND ME and why now, I am on meds and I am better..i am better… Right?

It was only a few minutes, I was afraid I had gone crazy! I was afraid...

They called me CRAZY, they made me say I was. That's how I was able to back to school .. as the weird kid! now I write Everything Down. I noticed that his writing, while still in good, practiced hand, was becoming erratic with wrong letters capitalized and misspellings.  I need you to do something for me, tell me something that I can use in the future? a gift... anYThing? please. I don'T Trust This to be here long....

In his words, I could feel his desperation. I have felt that desperation, when I was trying to get away from the book, or get it away from me.

You (I?) am what 17 now? your cat, Bear, is going to get run over the day before your 18th birthday, I was, I mean you will be devastated.

I don'T have a caT, I have a dOg, Named Bear.. but I wanT somThing more...what you got fuTure man?

Doing a quick search on my phone, I looked for valuable things from then and I started to scribble without care of neatness.

Save all of your card games, keep them in perfect condition and all your video games from the past, if you have the boxes keep them, also in perfect condition. and I don't know when we will talk again but buy as much Bitcoin as you can in 2008.

Tell me you got that ...

The handwriting was much neater and smaller now. I saw it then, but did not understand . Now, future Evan, I have had two more years to ponder and my dog is safe. It's 2000 now. So much has happened and I have you to thank. I bought some old video games and have sold them for a much higher value now, thanks to you, er, me. I hope that you are benefiting from my fortune as well, you must be.

I had not benefited. Maybe he was not me .

Strange, he wrote I would have thought that... the words paused in mid sentence and were scratched out with huge scribbling marks. Friend, the large less precise handwriting said, for if you are really me you are not the me of my world, too much is not the same. It is now 2018, I have more money than I will ever be able to use. I understand the notebook, not the how or the why, but the what. We are of different universes, I have devoted my life to this. I have also left you a gift on the day that we first met, I hope that it will help. My wealth has helped me to.... more time passed... too much. Then the last words in an excited hand I AM COMING TO VISIT

At first I was excited...

Dear reader, I fear I have no time left. This is I assume how my story will end, I don't know if these words will ever be seen... I can feel him coming and feel me going. I fear I have altered the course of my universe...