The Black Book; Unexpected Windfall.

I tear my eyes open reluctantly, as my alarm is blaring for me to wake up. 8:15am. I have hit snooze 3 times, and I cannot afford to hit it again. I heavily sigh as I pull myself up and mentally prepare to begin yet another exhausting day.

I shower, throw myself together, shove the necessary items into my art bag for figure drawing class, and English class. Then I drag myself out of the front door of my basement apartment, by 9am sharp, into the gloomy autumn morning.

Another day of classes, back home to do homework, house work, and then I start actual work at 4pm.

Home by 10:30pm. Rinse, repeat.

I am losing motivation for school, as I am struggling to pay rent, and I am struggling to see a stable career path in my future related to art. No one has prepared me for a life after high school. I haven’t had a father in my life since I was born, and my mother abandoned me when I was in grade 10. Working two part-jobs to survive while going to school creating debt, has me feeling stuck in a rat race. Living off of the bare minimum while working for the bare minimum is all I have known for years now, and it is not getting any easier.

I simply struggle to see how it will ever end, and when I will ever catch up and be comfortable in life.

All of the famous painters never got to see the millions their paintings are worth after they have long since died… I have already gone thousands into debt, and I am realizing the world of money and art only touch at freelancing. Which does not securely pay the bills.

Hopeless, desperate, and running out of options; that is kind of what I am made of these days.

I get off of the bus and walk down the long path towards the college entrance as I notice a bench with a black notebook. I contemplate grabbing it, but ugh, I just cannot be bothered this morning.

I immediately remember my professor losing my art work a few weeks ago, and remember how upset I was that she could be so careless… I don’t know whose notebook that is, but it could be full of important notes or sketches…

I sigh as guilt overcomes me.

Since I have noticed it, I am now obliged to bring it to the lost and found.

I turn around and pickup the book, toss it in my bag, and tell myself I will remember to do it after English class, before I head home.

Days pass before I find that black book floating around in my art bag again.

My fingers brush the textured book while I was fishing for my sketchbook, trying to complete homework during my work break. When I feel that elastic band around the cover, it hits me like a train, and I scoff at myself for forgetting about it.

I pull it out, and flip through the pages, looking for a name or lecture notes for a specific coarse… I am surprised to find a page of writing,


"This black book is not lost, in fact, it is now found. There is a prize for you, if you can figure things out… I do not think you will be disappointed, and I certainly have high hopes for you, if you can complete the following skill testing questions. Think of it as me making sure you want this badly enough…”

I feel skeptical as I suspiciously reexamine the black book. It is an ordinary, black moleskin notebook, bound by a black elastic to keep it shut. There are some scribbled sentences on a few more pages, but majority of this book is nothing but blank lined paper. Nothing on the first page, and a random quote on the last page reading:

“Every thought we think, every feeling we have, every word we speak goes into the atmosphere to either heal or harm. Let us be healers. Let us be harmless. 2222”

I almost laugh out loud at how unreal this seems.

I am skeptical, but I am absolutely intrigued.

I read the following notes.

“To find it, follow these directions.

I am the number of TTC Scarborough Express bus route - Sheppard to Kennedy Station.

Year 2000, Cast Away Volleyball

Avenue. North of York.”

I reread it a few times, and draw nothing but blanks.

I put the book back in my bag as my break comes to an end.

Once I am finally home from work, and I have gotten into my comfy clothes, I grab the book and sink into my couch.

I haven't taken the TTC Scarborough Express bus route before, so I look that up. 986.

I rake my brain on the second one before realizing its a movie… A volleyball named Wilson.

I look up 986 Wilson Avenue, finding Mount Sinai Cemetery in North York. Easy enough… I expected something a bit more complicated… and I didn’t think I would end up at a cemetery?

“Zone 3.

Letters in the alphabet. Minus four.

Second Letter. “

This doesn’t take as long to figure out. Zone 3, 22B.

A location in the cemetery... whoever wrote this could not have set up a trap for me because they could not have figured out when I would go to this location at the cemetery… this has to be safe enough, right?

I decide to skip class tomorrow. I will venture to this cemetery at a time where it should have some other people around…

I have finally made it to Mount Sinai Cemetery. I hope I followed these instructions properly.

I wander for a while, enjoying the autumn leaves before I finally find the small tombstone.

I don’t know what else I expected. It is a basic rectangle concrete tombstone.

It has been neglected, covered in moss and debris. I try to clear some of it away, but I am only able uncover parts of the engraved words.

Tessa T

Death year looks like 2015.

An eerie breeze rustles the autumn leaves around me, uncovering a part of a tiny box in the dirt near the tombstone, sending goosebumps across my arms and down my spine.

I feel eyes on me, but no one is around. I can’t help but feel guilty about touching a box left at a tombstone in a graveyard…

I open the book again, rereading the etched scribbles that brought me here.

I take a deep breath and quickly pull the box out of the dirt. I imagine a rumble of thunder and a lightning strike down upon my shoulders as if I have unleashed a trap in an Egyptian pyramid… but there is nothing except an earth worm in the freshly uncovered dirt, where the box was.

My hands are shaking and my stomach is in knots.

This is my prize? A soggy black box, who knows how long it has been here…

I open the lacklustre box lid, uncovering a folded up ziplock bag. I eagerly open the bag, and find a small silver and black USB stick and a folded letter with it.

I feel confused as I unfold the piece of lined paper, to reveal the same handwriting as in the book.

“So you have done it.

You have claimed your prize.

I lived a lonely life, working multiple minimum wage jobs, day in and day out, with no one to call family. I was born into a life full of generational neglect and trauma, and closed myself off to the people around me because I didn’t think other people could love me if my own mother and father couldn’t. I didn’t want to let myself get hurt again and again. I woke up exhausted, unhappy, and miserable everyday. I put a robotic smile on my face until I was no longer on the clock, and came home to a shell of an apartment. I never found happiness. I put my pennies aside, hoping to one day find someone who could love me in ways I couldn't love myself, and I hoped we would build a life together in peace. That person never came along. I realized far too late in life that I just never gave myself the chance to learn how to love myself, for me.

This is no way to live a life to be proud of.

I gather what hope I couldn’t find for myself, and I give it all to you now.

My will instructed that little black book to be left at Humber College, in the heart of city full of poverty, to hopefully fall into the hands of someone who can use the money to change their life.


I leave to you all I ever had to leave behind to anyone.

This USB stick contains 20 Bitcoins. I expect by now you have already earned quite a bit more than it was valued at when I poured my pennies into it.

The password is the last thing written in the black book.

Please take this money, and live a life worth waking up full of happiness to every morning.

It is my only dying wish.

Tessa.”

I reread the letter twice, with tears pouring down my face.

To say I feel overwhelmed would be an understatement.

My heart aches for this woman who lived such a sad life, a life mine could have become. I wonder what luck I had to stumble on this black book.

I feel confused about this USB stick, I look down at it in the palm of my hand.

I feel too young to understand anything about a Bitcoin or what it is… I don’t know very much about investing in the stock market…or how to file my taxes… how is a Bitcoin on a USB stick?

I pull my phone out, and do a quick search on the internet.

When I see the value of it pop up, I burst into tears all over again.

My understanding is that these Bitcoins are worth around $20000.

Am I reading this right? I stand here, by this random woman’s tombstone, in the middle of this cold afternoon, holding a USB with $20000 on it?

I have no idea how to access this…but it would be more money than I have ever had to my name… more money than my student loans total…more money than I probably make in a year… I have so many swirling ideas and possibilities about what this could do for my life and future now… I feel dizzy.

I shove the USB stick into a zipper pocket inside of my jacket, knowing I will be so anxious I will want to check it is still there every few minutes…

The black book in my hands feels like a gold brick now, too.

It is the second most valuable thing, next to the USB of course.

This little black book is the closest thing I have to Tessa, this women who left me a life changing blessing.

I dig for a pen in my backpack, and I open a random page, and take a moment to appreciate the crisp freshly lined, untouched piece of paper.

“Thank you Tessa, I promise I will not let you down. I am going to learn to love myself, starting TODAY. And I am going to find a reason to be happy and hopeful every single day in honour of myself. Rest now, in your life long peace.

Nov 25, 2016.”

I scribble this note as a promise to myself, and to somehow bind myself closer to her and mark this moment forever. I will cherish this black book like a trophy.

I know this will be the highlight of my life for years to come.