Robin Hood

Incase of loss, please return to:

_____Olyver Selçok________

_____312-700-2242____

[email protected]__

______________________

As a reward: $ gratitude, also don’t read this

May 20th, 2020

I don’t know why I even bother to write. The days all blur into one, the sky is always grey, I haven’t left the house to go anywhere besides the shop since… I can’t remember. Yesterday, I sat on the back porch for fifteen minutes before I broke down crying- so loudly I actually saw my neighbor peering out his window. How fucking embarrassing.

I’ve completely failed. Dad always said I would. I don’t know why I thought I could do it, when everyone else in this god forsaken family is a failure, of course I would be too. I know it’s COVID and I shouldn’t blame myself- yeah, yeah whatever. I had to start a new business in the middle of a global pandemic. Of course.

I put everything into the store. Every penny. I sold my goddamn house, moved into a tiny ass apartment way outside the city where I’d be able to save more— and what? It’s gonna flop. I’m surviving on one bag of white rice that’s been in this cupboard for … since before I moved here. I can’t pay for the electricity this month, I have to keep the power on at the shop or all the plants will die. Motherfucker.

Why am I still writing? This isn’t helping. I’m just getting angrier- this is stupid. I hate living alone. I’m completely fucking stupid. A plant shop? Who needs another plant shop? God, you think it’s your dream, you want your dream to be real so you go for it, people tell you to go for it—they tell you you’re crazy, too. People are horse shit- that’s beside the point. So you go for your dream and it’s all garbage in the end, isn’t it? Go to college, they said. Get a degree, they said.

And I studied what!? Fucking botany! My whole existence, focused on cultivating life, from the smallest blade of grass, to the tallest most majestic of alpine evergreens. Each plant has it’s own personality- watching them, helping them grow and develop into beautiful works of living art- I guess it’s not so stupid- my purpose has been to preserve this natural world and yet- it’s killing me.

At least the pandemic has lowered pollution levels. So, killing off a bunch of people and making the world stay home is good for the planet after all? God, I sound like an ass. I don’t want people to die.

Time for my daily cup of rice and then… I guess… more yoga? Or maybe I’ll watch the news while I still can. Because depression is good for the soul? Oh shit, I hope I don’t have anything in the fridge that could spoil--

May 21st, 2020

The craziest thing happened.

You know how I said I couldn’t pay the power yesterday? Of course you do, you’re me and I’m talking to myself. Going covid crazy over here, ignore me. Damnit- still a book. whatever.

So- can’t pay the power, right?

A check for the exact amount I needed to pay for the power was sitting on top of my little black journal this morning! No name on the check, nothing. Someone must have broken in and left it? I don’t understand. But you know, gift horses, etc...

Gonna pay the power, then at least I’ll have electricity for another month. Thank you whoever Robin Hood-ed me… I guess? You’re a real lifesaver.

Wait- can you imagine if something like… twenty thousand dollars just sort of fell out of the sky? Or you tripped on a fat bag of cash outside… but then you’d need to turn it in somewhere cause it probably belongs to someone, right? Damn. I’d be set with twenty thousand dollars.

But also- I’m just glad I’ll still have electricity this month. Thank you again, Robin Hood! Next time, stay awhile and I’ll make you some good Turkish coffee.

May 25th, 2020

Do you have to pay taxes on money that appears out of thin air? Because—

THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED!

I’m kind of scared. Is this like… a The Box situation but instead a black book situation? Am I going to have to press a button that kills someone, but then I get to keep the money? (For the record, I would not choose to kill someone for money…) $20,000 just appeared three days ago. Woke up, everything was normal, made some coffee, sat down to write, as one does, and bam- there it is. Sitting on top of this journal.

Side note- I’ve never had a journal like this one. Someone sent it to me. I put a story up on Instagram asking who, but no one responded. I like it a lot, and I had just finished my other journal- beat up, blue faux-leather thing. It was kind of fortunate, it’s not like I can go out to a store and buy a new journal so when this one showed up- again, I try not to question good things.

So there it was, another totally nameless check, this time for 20k. I immediately deposited the check. It cleared. It’s in my account. I keep checking back on the app every five minutes to make sure it’s still there and not some kind of scam. I’m not going to spend a dime- well, maybe a dime. We don’t know how long this pandemic is going to last, we could be here for weeks, months…. Years? Fuck, I hope not. But at least I’ll be able to keep the shop open. Instagram sales are helping a little, but I’m sure most people, like me, don’t have a whole lot of disposable income—— I guess maybe I do now? No! Olyver! No. We’re not spending that money.

We- what is this? Jesus fuck. Me and the mouse in my pocket? I never write like this. I can’t spend the money. It has to stay.

I just checked again- it’s still there.

Do I really have a handsome robin hood type sneaking into my house leaving me money? What the hell?

Don’t question it! Good never comes from snooping.

May 26th, 2020

So I didn’t realize there was a pocket in the back of this journal. I was checking the journal out- who knows, maybe it’s magic? Lol Anyways- I realized it has a pocket. I opened it to see if there was a note from whoever sent it. All there was was this scrap of paper, I’ll just tape it here on the page.

Olyver- You have been chosen.

WHAT THE FUCK? Chosen for what? By who!? Now I think I’m really losing it. Should I tell someone? What does this mean?? Did the journal company choose me to receive a free journal? That’s what it means right? Maybe I’ll DM them? And they spelled my name right… my own Grandma doesn’t even spell my name right.

I’m seriously freaking out. I’ve never won anything in my life.

I guess this is at least distracting me from covid a little bit. It’s all so strange, but what am I gonna do? Just keep writing, just keep living. I gotta run to the shop today and take care of the plants. By run and I mean bike, obviously.

May 27th, 2020

There was another note this morning.

Back up- I should start from the beginning.

Yesterday, on the way to the shop, the streets were dead, no one was out. This is how it’s been every time I’ve gone out since covid. I bike with a mask on, I even wear gloves. I’m not gonna get sick cause then I’ll die in my apartment alone and no one will find my body until it starts to smell and… that’s morbid. I’d rather not think about it.

Streets were empty- I get to the shop without much incident.

Like I said, I’m a straight up botanist. We know our shit. I know my shit…

I get there and half the plants are dead. Completely, fully, 100% dead. It was a straight line down the middle of the shop, the left half was dead, the right half was alive, vibrant, thriving- the weirdest part- the lights were on, humidifier right on schedule, heater turned to the right temperature and none of the plants were dry.. It’s seriously like someone came in, poisoned half my stock and watered the other half. Naturally, I was livid.

So I put in an order to replace what was lost.

On my way home there wasn’t a person or car in sight. I’m biking, minding my own business, and a car swerves nearly hitting me, but I managed to jump the curb and crash on the sidewalk. I got pretty scraped up, but nothing was broken and the car didn’t hit me. The thing is, not only did the person not stop their car to see if I was okay but they drove perfectly straight down the road… like they were- no. That’s crazy. They couldn’t have been trying to hit me, right?

Well, then I get home and on top of this journal— there’s something seriously weird going on— on top of the journal was another note. I’ll put it below like last time.

Olyver- You have failed.

Failed what!? God, someone just tell me what is going on! Is my Robin Hood watching me? Does he know what I’m doing? Is it because I left my house? Is it because half my plants died!? I know I didn’t over water them, I didn’t put the wrong fertilizer in— nothing like that. So what the hell happened?

I’m scared. I’m genuinely scared. What did I fail and who is writing these notes? I think I should call someone… yeah. I’m going to call Jack. He’ll tell me I’m crazy, calm me down, tell me about whatever stupid meeting he had on zoom and the funny background he chose to make his coworkers laugh. Jack is the best. I’ll call Jack.

Incase of loss, please return to:

_____Jackson Keen_______

_____(312) 884-8888____

[email protected]__

______________________

As a reward: $ ha! That’s hilarious. Just burn it I guess.

07/01/20- My therapist said I should start writing. It’s been a shit week. Found out Olyver was murdered last month. My therapist thinks ‘writing out my feelings’ will help me cope. He’s a twat. The police said he was found in his apartment- neighbor called about the smell- with a phone in his hand and a notebook on his chest. He was always writing. It seems like a waste of time. The writing. I know what I’m thinking so why do I have to write it down? What’s the point? Can’t believe Olyver is gone. I’ve known that guy since we were kids. Grew up together in LaGrange. Fuck. It’s a damn pandemic- if that’s not bad enough- but for someone to be running around murdering people? What kind of world… I’ve got another zoom meeting in like… 5 minutes. I guess I picked a bad time to start this. We can’t even have a funeral. How fucked is that? I think I’ll smoke a joint before the meeting, for Olyver. He would have liked that, the dirty hippy. I’ll make my background on zoom that photo of us in the hot air balloons over Cappadocia. He’d like that too.

07/03/20- the bastard left all his money to me for some reason. He had nearly 20k in his bank account. Always thought he was broke as fuck, especially after starting that stupid shop. I guess we all have secrets. Speaking of secrets, this book just showed up out of nowhere. No idea who sent it, but it weirdly came right after my therapist suggested I write down my feelings. How fucking strange.