Six Words to Live By

It was an average night for Jackson who was getting out late from the bar. He didn’t like biking at night but the forecast predicted rain so he wanted to hurry. As he was peddling on the side streets, he was pondering his life’s path and the choices that manifested in his life to find him where he was now. Deep in thought, he didn’t notice until it was nearly before him. In the middle of the side lane on its side was a large briefcase.

Jackson came to a freezing halt as he swerved to avoid it, about to keep peddling but then he hesitated. He thought of situations where unwanted pets are put in a box and left out on the road. Jackson, knew he had to confirm whether or not this was the case and turned his bike around to pick up the briefcase. Not hearing any sounds, he was scared in what he might find.

Jackson saw that there was a lock. He looked around to see if there was anyone watching. Working at his local bar, it was often drunk people locked themselves in the bar or worse someone was locked inside doing drugs. Because of this reason, Jackson was extremely proficient at picking locks and as he was just getting out of work, he was carrying his little tool kit.

Jackson gave another quick glance of his surroundings and went to work. Within twenty seconds he heard the familiar ‘click’. Flipping both locks simultaneously, he quickly flipped the handle and opened the briefcase. Jacksons heart nearly felt like it was gonna burst from the sheer sense of excitement and shock that flooded his body. Inside were multiple stacks of $20 dollar bills each marked at $1000, along with a little black notebook on top. Jackson immediately closed the briefcase, locked the bolt again and calmly got back to his bike where he strapped the briefcase to his back rack securely and peddled off.

It was only another 6 blocks for him to get home but he decided to take a detour and go down a different street to lock up his bike before getting home. Once his bike was secure he kept a casual walk as to not draw any attention. It was so quiet he could hear his heart beating, until he got to his door and stormed up the stairs into his apartment.

Upon getting in and locking the doors, he kept the lights off and peered out his windows. Nothing was in sight except the early morning dew. Going back to the briefcase Jackson picked the lock again. Now questions like whether or not the money was real or if there was some GPS tracker like he had seen in the movies began to come to his mind.

Immediately dumping all the contents on his table, he began flipping through all the stacks of money wondering if he’d find anything that would reveal the nature of the briefcase. Carefully going through all stacks he found nothing, and after closer inspection the briefcase was empty as well. $20,000 he counted. Jackson just sat at his couch staring what was before him. This was the most amount of money he had ever seen, and certainly more than what he could ever save up on his own. Immediately thoughts flooded Jackson’s mind with what could be done with that amount of money. Buy a car, put a downpayment on a house, travel the world. All lovely things he thought, but his truer nature realistically thought of the rambunctious lifestyle that could be lived. He could get all the tattoos that he wanted, the motorcycle that was unpractical but heavily desired, and never have to worry about drinking his tips away via his bar tab when it was a slow night.

Jackson got up to look outside again; still no one. He needed to clear his mind from the rush of emotions he was feeling and so he stepped outside for a cigarette. In that moment of reflection he had to wonder why him? Why did he come across this briefcase and who was it left by? It made him reflect on his reaction to the temptations that came over him inside. Finishing his cigarette, he was contemplating what true intentions he would do with the money when he realized he hadn’t observed the black notebook yet.

As he flicked his cigarette into an ash tray he peered around once more ensuring no one had followed him home. Getting inside, all his focus was now on the notebook. As he sat down on the couch picking it up, he opened the front page to see one sentence written in the middle: “Do with it what you will.”

He was confused to see a simple message of only six words. No explanation, no demands, no name or location to where the briefcase was from or going. This somehow comforted Jackson yet also alarmed him in an a particular way. He was happy that there was no hostile note written inside, yet almost annoyed by how vague the notebook was. Jackson went out for another smoke. There was still no one on the street. Over the course of three more cigarettes Jackson reflected on what was written in the notebook before going to bed. ‘Do with it what you will’.

Jackson woke up fatigued but hopped to his feet, quick to start his day. He was off from the bar that day and whatever priorities he had before quickly became forgotten. In quick fashion, Jackson pulled out a pen and notebook stationing himself to go to work. He began coming up with a list of all possible ‘ventures’ as he was putting it. Different outcomes in which how he spent the money would directly impact him and how to not raise questions about how he got the money. Investments in stock, gambling at the casino, business loans to certain friend groups, even how he could spend the money greedily on himself over the course of the next year.

Soon he wondered if the money could be traced back to him through the serial number, making him question again what this money was intended for. Jackson went back to the notebook. Flipping through the pages he wasn’t sure what he was looking for until he got to the end when a little notecard fell outside of the back slip. On the card was a phone number. Jackson nearly jumped up. Finally he found a lead. He went straight to his computer to try and look up the area code and see if he could find more clues. The area code being 855 showed as a non-geographic area. This made Jackson confirm he would have to just call the number. He did not want to waste any more time asking questions without definite answers. Jackson picked up his phone and dialed the number.

The phone rang once and immediately went to a voicemail. “If you are calling this number then it is assumed you have found the briefcase,” begins an elderly man’s frail voice, “I am leaving this briefcase behind as a gesture to my attempt at redemption and forgiveness. Fifty-one years ago I was chauffeuring a client to and fro the city when we had to pull down a side street to get off the main road. Now I simply drove him where he needed to go, nothing for me to ever question and speak up about. So when I was told to pull over, I did what I was told. Once stopped, my client stepped outside and told me to keep the car running. He lit up a cigar and began to casually smoke it outside when before long, another car pulled up and parked right in front of us. Four men hopped out the car and began to approach my client. With his cigar still in his mouth, my client began talking. I couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying over the sound of the engines, but the tone was clear that the situation was tense. They must’ve been talking for about two minutes before suddenly my client flicked the cigar in the eyes of one man who was reaching for his gun while simultaneously pulling out his own revolver. Two shots were immediately fired, then another two concurrently. In the whole three seconds that transpired, the 3 men who reached for their guns fell, and the fourth who was still recovering from the cigar burn quickly jumped in the vehicle to get away. My client raised his gun but dropped it instead of firing another round. He then turned against the headlights, showing a bullet wound weeping blood from his chest down past his thigh. He slowly made his way to the back seat, and climbed in leaving the door open and lit another cigar. Now his gaze was fixed on me. He looked at me and asked “What’s your name?”. “Ralph but my friends call me Ralphie” I said not knowing how to act after watching the events that just occurred. “Well Ralphie, you’re the last person I’m ever going to see.” he said. “Now I’m not mad about the way my life was lived but in truth I never satisfied my yearning for what it was my soul desired. Money and all the dark temptations it provides are shams to what is true. Helping those in need when you are capable of doing so. I only wish I had more to give, and so in my last deed I want to give you that possibility. In the trunk there is a briefcase with $20,000 in it. Take it and leave.”

The old man’s voice was almost stagnant recalling the situation. Jackson realized he must have kept this secret bottled up this entire time.

The old man who called himself Ralphie continued, “Now I was scared to death after what I just witnessed, but once he told me those words ‘take it and leave.’ I wasn’t sure what to do. So I just asked him out of no where, “what should I do with it?” to which he replied: “do with it what you will.” I looked at him firmly as I could understand he had nothing more to say. I got out the car and upon opening the trunk, sure enough there was a large briefcase inside. Picking it up I made my way around the car still unsure of everything. But when I got to his door, my client wasn’t smoking his cigar anymore, and I knew he had nothing more to say.”

Jackson wasn’t moving, stuck in place like a stone. Every word just built a deeper sense of something new that was indescribable beyond what he understood. This man was revealing his life long secret and Jackson was his sole audience. The old man continued his voicemail, “And so I walked off and have lived my life with those words following me. I questioned my placement amongst such dark times and how it was me who was shown this path, however that was not for me to answer. I followed my footing and now I wish to provide another to walk their trail. I don’t know who may come across this money but I am paying it forward in the same random fashion that it was delivered to me. I only hope you may learn that the contents of this briefcase can only get you so far. It is up to you to fill your life like this notebook, making each page one worth reading.”

And with that, the voicemail ended. Jackson put his phone down and just stared at the phone number on top the opened notebook. He smiled, getting a glimpse into what his notebook would contain. Pages that would get him out of his limbo and working to better the lives of himself and those around him. But first, he was going to go and have the biggest breakfast of his entire life.