The Black Notebook

The sun was shining a little bit brighter today than usual. Some unexpected news had restored hope in a man's heart and a belief that the many challenges that he faced could have a solution. Alan was driving to an attorney's office to respond to a e-mail that he had received the day before. The e-mail contained a summons to a will reading that pertained to the estate of Alan's great uncle that had passed away. Alan was surprised to have received the e-mail considering that it had been so long since he passed. He had not seen him in years, and by the time he found out, the funeral had already taken place. Alan wondered if he would have attended had he known, and guilt began to settle on his conscience as he anxiously considered what this man could have left for him.

The pandemic had not been kind to Alan. He was one of many who became unemployed and unable to finance even the basic monthly requirements of survival. Bills were stacking up, and credit card balances had grown considerably. Unlike many others that he knew in the same circumstances, Alan had not received any unemployment benefits. As callous as it made him feel, he hoped that this inheritance could be the ray of light he had been waiting for to illuminate the darkness that he had been facing for months.

The attorney's office was in clear view, however Alan was not moving. He looked up at the red traffic light and thought, as one always does in a hurry, about whether this light would ever turn to green. When it finally did change, Alan drove through the intersection, parked his car at the office, and walked through the door. The room he found himself in did not look like the lobby of an enterprising law practice. It was empty except for a laptop and a router in the corner of the room, lying on the carpet. As he looked around, he was surprised to suddenly find himself face to face with the attorney.

"Mr. Alan Chance? I'm Simon Clasp. Come on into the office and let's get right to it."

Alan nodded and followed Mr. Clasp into a small room with a desk and two chairs. As he observed the environment, he was a bit unnerved by the lack of decoration in the office. There were no pictures, filing cabinet, or even a bookcase. As Alan sat in his chair, his eyes focused on the one thing that was sitting on the bare desk: a small black notebook. It was not a cheap spiral notebook that one might have used in history class; it was well-made, had the ambience of sophistication and intelligence, and was exactly the sort of notebook that a successful, educated businessman would possess. Alan was fixated on the notebook and consumed with a curiosity that absorbed his attention.

"I won't keep you in suspense, Mr. Chance. Your great uncle has bequeathed to you a sum of cash in the amount of twenty thousand dollars."

Clasp raised his arm from behind his desk to reveal that he was holding a briefcase that Alan assumed to contain his inheritance. The news was a shock, and Alan's thoughts froze for several moments before his pulse began to race. This will get me back on track, he thought. He could not help but smile as he began to consider what he would do with the twenty thousand dollar

"Are you serious? Twenty thousand dollars!" exclaimed Alan.

Alan reached for the briefcase but Clasp pulled it away.

"Hold on." Clasp said dryly," As I'm sure you're aware, this is subject to an inheritance tax that will be due at the end of the year. You will need to sign this form to acknowledge the receipt of your inheritance."

Alan took the form in his hand and began to look it over. He felt foolish for the disappointing surprise that he was feeling now. Of course there would be a tax on it. Again, Alan found the notebook in his field of vision. Why does he even care what it contains? Could it simply be that it's the centerpiece of an otherwise bare desk? Tax or no tax, he just inherited twenty thousand dollars. As his disappointment began to give way to the excitement, he still struggled to move his thoughts away from the notebook.

"No one likes taxes, Mr. Chance," Clasp said with a smile. "Your great uncle did have an unusual instruction for this bequest. His estate will cover the tax for you as well if you are willing to indulge his request."

"Sounds good to me," Alan quickly responded. "What did he want?"

"This notebook on my desk belonged to your great uncle. His wish was for you to read it."

Clasp picked up the notebook and handed it to Alan. As Alan took it into his hand, the allure and curiosity of it intensified. Many thoughts began to swirl around in his mind.

I barely even knew this man. Why would he care if I read his notebook? Why me? Has anyone else read this notebook? I'm going to ask the rest of the family if they got an e-mail as well when I'm done here. I can't believe my phone hasn't gone off. Or his.

Alan opened the notebook and looked at the first page beneath the cover. He was shocked to see that it contained the last family photo that he had been a part of. It was the memento of the most recent family reunion and it contained the entire family. Sure enough, it even contained his great uncle. This must have been important to him. Beneath the photo that had been attached to the first page were the names of everyone the photo contained.

Alan turned to the second page and saw his graduation photo. He started to feel guilty for not knowing a man that clearly had cared enough to have such a photo. The backside of the page was covered in writing, and as Alan read what was written he was amazed to find that these were details and key memories from his childhood. After reading the words, his eyes went to the third page, and his heart skipped a beat. It contained a recent photo that Alan had taken with his best friends. Below the photo were the names of Alan and his friends. At a loss to understand how a relative he barely knew could have taken such an interest in him, he began to be overtaken by a vast uneasiness.

The next few pages were similar in the way that they each contained a photo. One contained a photo of Alan and his immediate family; another contained a recent photo of Alan and his girlfriend. One contained a photo of Alan standing in front of his house. It was taken several years before, on the day that he had closed on the house and received the keys. With each page that Alan turned, a sense of dread began to build inside of him.

When Alan was finished looking through the notebook, he handed it back to Clasp. He just wanted to claim his twenty thousand dollars and leave, now that he had managed to do what was necessary to avoid paying the tax on it. Mr. Clasp handed Alan the briefcase and when he had opened it, Alan was confident that it was all there, as every bill that he could see was a one hundred dollar bill.

"Is that all, then?" Alan asked weakly.

"Yes. The money is yours."

The next thing that occurred seemed to fit this strange encounter quite perfectly in Alan's opinion. Mr. Clasp ripped the pages that contained photos or writing from the notebook, which he left in the same spot on his desk. He opened the office door for Alan and graciously allowed him through the door first as he followed. As Alan walked through the empty lobby to the exit, he began to feel excited again. After all, as strange and unsettling as this was, he had twenty thousand dollars, free and clear. He placed his hand on the doorknob, opened the door, and laid his eyes on the most terrifying sight he had ever witnessed in his entire life.

Nothing. At. All. Beyond the door was an empty void. Not only was there the absence of any light to be seen, it was as if light had been absent for ages. As Alan's heart began to pound like it would leap from his chest, Mr. Clasp walked through the door without a care in the world. After all, the sun was shining brighter than usual.

"What the...", said Alan, terrified.

Mr. Clasp took two steps outside the door, turned around and said," Such a beautiful day isn't it?"

"How is this possible? I don't see anything."

"I see because of the pages in my pocket. You do not see because of the pages in my pocket. The pages are you, Alan, and everything you've ever known. Rather they were you, but now they are me. In my pocket is your very history and existence. I have a confession to make. I never knew your uncle. I simply read his obituary online and attempted to e-mail any survivors that were listed. The notebook wasn't his. It belongs to you now and will fill itself with the life of the next person to enter this building. But this building can only been seen by those who are seeking it.

Alan began to feel faint from the stress and fear of what had occurred. There was no place left for him out in the world and the place he had occupied would now belong to another.

"Tell me this at least. Why give me the money? Why even show me the notebook? You could have ripped those pages out the moment I walked in here."

"Until you opened it, the notebook was blank. And the only way for me to leave, was to take possession of your life in its entirety. The only pages that would be of any use to me are the ones that you had read."

Alan began to rage profanely and threaten Mr. Clasp. But Clasp assured Alan that he is in possession of all the same resources that Clasp, himself had when he found himself in the same position.

"Really, Alan," Clasp taunted," Twenty thousand dollars tax free? Get real."

And then Clasp walked away, without a second thought, and without turning back. He never even considered going back for the money. After all, he had lost enough time already. Alan sat down near the laptop and began to regret that he didn't just sign the form and pay the taxes. As he stared at the laptop, the only tool that could secure his freedom, he knew that he could never condemn someone else to the fate he faced.

Alan took the laptop and the router and smashed it against the wall. He would not be part of this never ending trap; it would end with him. His life would be empty, but it would not be built upon the tragedy of another. Then, among the pieces of all he destroyed, lay the notebook. Alan picked it up, opened it, and to his absolute shock it now contained the pages that he had previous read. Exhilarated, Alan ran to open the door and it no longer revealed an empty void, but rather the sunny day he remembered. He burst through the opening without even considering the money and sat on the curb, just grateful to have escaped his fate. After a moment, he arose and saw that the briefcase was sitting on the ground beside where he stood. Amazed and puzzled, he opened the notebook and saw a page with just some writing on it.

Now you get it.

Simon Clasp.