The Black Notebook

The Black Notebook

Creeeeaaaaak.

The door swung open, and Saul Stanton and his little dog, Louie, stepped inside. The building was dark and smelled terribly. Saul dug a flashlight out of his backpack, shining it around the room. Louie took to sniffing everything, his brown and white spots flickering under the light. There were no furniture or belongings. Just some dirt and leaves on the floor.

“Oh, well, Louie. This’ll do.”

It was late December in Wisconsin, and Saul had arrived to the small town of Willow Creek three days ago through hitchhiking. It was freezing out, so Saul kept his eye on this old building to determine if it was abandoned before breaking in. Usually buildings like this had stuff in it–often lots of stuff, like a hoarder owned the building–but this one had nothing. At least in this room. There was a door to the left and one to the right, but they were both locked. He could pick them like he did the entryway door, but what was the point? They were probably empty, too.

He cleaned an area off of the cold floor in one of the corners, laid a blanket down, and settled in with another one on top of him for the night. Louie kept sniffing at the door to the left from the entryway–now Saul’s right.

Saul sighed and pulled out a bag of food from McDonald’s someone had given him while he was panhandling on a street corner. He usually just held up a sign that said “Anything helps.” There were always people that would stop their car and yell out the window just to berate him for begging, but most would simply ignore him. The kind few would give him a few dollars, food, socks, whatever they felt like.

Saul shared his dinner and some water with Louie. After eating and drinking, however, he went right back to the same door, sniffing and scratching at it.

“Damnit, boy.” Saul forced himself to his feet, following his dog to the door. “You want to look around?”

The smell was worse by the door. It made his eyes water. It took close to 30 minutes for Saul to pick the lock with a paperclip and business card he picked up, but eventually it creaked open just like the last. Louie sprinted inside while Saul grabbed his flickering flashlight. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Holy shit!”

Saul backpedaled into the first room, slipping and falling onto his butt, panting.

Did I really just see that? No. No way.

Louie was still in the room, and Saul knew he was probably doing something he would not approve of.

“Louie!”

Nothing. Saul used his stern voice this time.

“Louie! Get your ass over here!”

Little paws scratched their way to Saul on the floor, Louie ducking his head and looking guilty.

“Stay here, boy.”

Saul stood back up, took a weary breath, and headed back inside the room.

It was mostly empty, besides a wooden stool with a little black notebook on it and a dead body on the floor in front of him.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

Saul’s breath was labored as he stood there, staring. It was a woman. Younger. Probably mid-20s. Brown hair, torn up jeans and purple shirt, covered in blood. Heavily decomposed. The smell was...atrocious. Rotten. He had never smelled anything so horrid in his life. Despite his fight not to, Saul found himself puking on the floor nearby. After his dinner was thrown up, Saul wiped his face and approached the body again. He covered his nose and mouth with the top of his shirt.

It looked like stab wounds. Someone murdered this woman.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Saul didn’t know what to do. He should call the police, yes, but he was trespassing and...wouldn’t he be a suspect? No one knew Saul here, and he looked rather questionable. Shaggy hair and beard, old, worn clothes. He was probably dirty-looking and smelled bad. They would think he’s crazy. Maybe even think that he did it, then came back to the body. Homeless people were always considered crazy.

Saul looked around the room, confused. Why was there a dead body here? In this empty building, in an empty room, with only a stool and notebook? It didn’t make sense.

Saul approached the chair, looking at the notebook. It was black with blood spots on it. He picked it up.

Am I messing with evidence?

Do I really care?

He opened it to find...instructions?

In black ink, somewhat wrote a series of instructions guiding them to this building here in Willow Creek, Wisconsin. So that’s why this woman was here...but for what? What was supposed to be here? Who else was here?

Go to the rightmost room. There you will find a large wardrobe, but it is empty. The bottom of it opens up to stairs that lead to the basement, where you will find a chest. This is where the money is….

Money? There’s money here?

Things started to make a little bit more sense. Saul could see someone killing this woman over money. He read the rest of the instructions, then debated. Should he go see if there’s a wardrobe and basement? See if the money is still there? Why would someone be leading another person to money here?

Does it matter?

Saul headed into the other room with Louie, taking the notebook and closing the door behind him.

“Let’s just take a look, Louie. Then we’ll find a phone to call the police.”

Saul, still panting, grabbed his paperclip and business card and went to work on the door across from them. His mind raced, his hands shaking. How much money was there? Would whoever killed the woman come back? If there was money there, should he take it?

20 minutes later, he and Louie went into the room and found the wardrobe. A lot of other old furniture as well, but Saul was only concerned with the wardrobe. He opened it up to see it was completely empty, but as he peered at the floor, he saw an outline of a square around the edges….

Pop!

Saul dug his fingers in the crevice and popped the bottom open. Shining his flashlight into the hole, he was almost shocked to see there were stairs there. He turned to his dog.

“What do you think, boy?”

Louie wagged his tail at him and barked.

“I agree.”

Louie led the way down the cement stairs into the basement. Everything was covered in a layer of dust. There were tools and equipment strung along across the walls, big metal work tables and benches, some big jugs of chemicals, and...the chest! Saul ran over to it, flung it open, and…

Jesus Christ.

100 dollar bills were stacked neatly inside. It didn’t fill the chest, but there was a lot. A note rested on top of the money, but Saul sat on the ground with the notebook while he counted the money first.

$20,000. Saul slid back onto his butt on the floor, ruminating on that. Twenty thousand dollars. That may not be a lot for some people, but for Saul, that would be life changing.

He could...he could...he didn’t even know, his mind was racing so much. He could get an apartment, a bed, a cheap vehicle….he could clean himself up, and with somewhere to stay, he could actually start his life over. His life wasn’t the worst, but it certainly wasn’t the best, either. It would be nice to not have to struggle for a change. He could get a job and live like he did before he lost his house and wife years ago.

Saul didn’t usually take things from the places he stayed at. It made him feel gross. The only time he took things was if it was something he really needed, like food or clothes. Everything else he would leave exactly as he found it.

But this was different. This was a lot of money. And they were giving it away anyway, weren’t they?

The note.

Saul snatched up the note while Louie sniffed around like always. His excitement quickly faded to dread the more of the letter he read.

Now that you’ve found the money, you have a few different options. You can leave the money–and the body–here and forget you ever saw anything. You can take the money, dispose of the body, and forget anything ever happened. Or you can call the police, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ve been watching you. I know what you look like. There are cameras hidden in every room. The police do not know who I am, but I know who you are. And I’ll find you. If you try to take the money and don’t dispose of the body, same scenario.

Choose wisely.

Below that was a series of instructions on how to dispose of the body.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.

Saul held his head in his hands, wondering what he got himself into.

What if they were lying about the cameras? He could take the money and leave...which would be a big risk if they came after him. But he needed to be sure there were cameras at all, first.

He found one tucked underneath one of the work tables. Then in the wall, and one in the corner of the wardrobe. He assumed there must have been many more that were hidden better. So taking the money and running or calling the police was not an option. He could show them the notebook and letter, but...who was this person? They could conceivably find and kill him. Those were not options.

It was either leave the money and go or….take the money and get rid of the body like they wanted.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His heart said to run. Take Louie, his little belongings, and run. This was wrong.

But his brain said...do it. Wasn’t she dead already anyway? Did it really matter what he chose? At least he could have the money. At least he could have a chance to live normally again and start over.

It took a couple hours. There was a metal trash can he put the body in, along with a chemical that immediately began to dissolve it. He threw up more times than he could count, cried, wanted to leave and turn himself in, wished he hadn’t chosen this, but ultimately, he finished it. There was a hole behind the building that he threw the entire trash can into before burying it. There was no turning back now.

Saul was back in the basement, standing over the chest and looking over the money. It didn’t feel worth it anymore. But he shoved it all in his backpack anyway. He’d already gone too far, this would make no difference.

“There. You got what you wanted.”

Saul took his dog, money, belongings, and the notebook, and he left.

Years passed. Saul accomplished everything he wanted to do with the money. He had a nice apartment. Furniture. He looked like a completely different man, someone who was clean, who was well dressed, who smelled good. He had a girlfriend. A job at a warehouse. It wasn’t the most elegant life, but he was comfortable. A million times better than hitchhiking around the country and begging for money. Louie was living the good life, too; he had gotten a bit plump in his old age and was often found snoring in his bed.

Everything was good. He was happy.

But still, even after so much time, Saul Stanton would stay up at night thinking about what he had done so long ago. He would look through the little black notebook and letter and wonder why someone would have done such a thing.

Would it ever feel worth it?