Page 20.

Stephen Janisse groaned as he tossed his phone onto the couch. He dropped his face into his hands and paused for a moment, soaking in the stress. Life had been frantic since Stephen had been furloughed a few weeks ago. He hadn’t had any luck finding a new job and applying for unemployment had been a nightmare. The stress of it all was overwhelming. His emotions finally began to bubble over, and he felt himself break into tears. His body broke into heavy, heaving sobs. It was a release he needed, although the stressor remained... he was out of money.

The first of the month was coming up and along with it came bills. Most dire was the upcoming rent due. If he didn’t pay it in two weeks, he’d be evicted. His landlord, Zena, who was typically an understanding woman, might have granted him some leniency if he hadn’t already gotten on her bad graces. A few months ago, Stephen had drunkenly broken one of his apartment windows. It wasn’t so much the accident that upset her, rather his attitude afterwards. He never apologized nor did he offer to help fix it. His exact words to her were, “Yeah it sucks, guess this is the kinda thing you signed up for!” When she told him she’d be using the money from his security deposit to pay for the damage, he made a fuss.

Why did I act like that?! Stephen thought. This is karma. It's overkill but it's karma alright. Unable to bear the stress for any longer today, he went to bed. He needed a few moments of peace before having to face the disaster that his life had become.

Ding! Stephen woke early the next morning to a notification on his phone. Did I take my phone off silent? He groggily grabbed his phone from the nightstand to see an alert on the home screen. It read only two words;

Package Delivered

“Huh?” He questioned. “What was delivered?” Although confused, Stephen felt compelled to check the front door. Sure enough, resting on the front stoop was a small black box. Stephen racked his mind trying to figure out what the contents of this mysterious box could be. I didn’t order anything. He picked up the box to examine it further. There was no return address or postage. Someone must have dropped it off. But how did I get that notification?

His curiosity peaked, Stephen took the box inside to open it. It must be a gift, but who would’ve sent it? After cutting away the tape from the box, he removed the lid. His heart, which had been racing with excitement despite his attempt to ignore it, fell upon examination of the box’s contents. It contained only a small black book.

How anticlimactic. He picked it up, it was a thin notebook with no markings on either cover. As he thumbed through it, he realized there were only twenty pages, each of them numbered. They were all blank aside from the first page, which read a single name;

Moira Flemington

He didn’t recognize the name, so Stephen took out his phone and began searching it on the internet. He found a few social media profiles but nothing that stood out. No one was talking about black notebooks or strange packages. Feeling like he had been duped by some sort of prankster, Stephen resigned to the assumption that this was nothing to get excited about, just an annoying waste of time.

Ding! His phone alerted just as he was sliding it into his pocket. He nearly jumped as he turned it back to his face to read the notification;

Tear it

“What the?” Stephen stared at the message, shocked. This is getting too weird. Alarmed, he turned his gaze back to the book, which was open to the first page. He hesitated, but found his alarment turning to amusement. Whatever. I’ve got nothing to lose. He shook his head as he clutched the first page. With a satisfying rip, he tore it from the binding and crumpled it into a ball. He tossed it in the trash can and paused, waiting for...something? He wasn’t sure.

After a few more moments of baited breath and no thrilling event, Stephen exhaled. A mix of disappointment and relief filled his bones and he decided to go about his day. Although the episode was slightly frightening, it was a break from the constant stress he was experiencing these days. After another uneventful and unproductive day, Stephen went to bed.

Bz Bz Bz. Another notification stirred Stephen from his slumber. However, this time it was a familiar vibration. It was the pattern he had set to alert when a deposit had been made to his bank account. He grabbed his phone and clicked into his banking app. To his astonishment, a deposit had been made. A deposit of one thousand dollars.

“What?!” Stephen shouted as he jumped out of bed. Who made this, what is this from? This will cover rent. Should I call the bank? Was it a mistake? It must be a mistake. He took a moment to breathe. I can’t call the bank. I need this money, this is rent. It won’t cover everything, but it will keep me from being homeless for now. He took a closer look at the deposit. The spot where it normally stated the organization the money came from was blank. Equal parts baffled and ecstatic, his mind shifted to the notebook. No way.

For the second time, Stephen took out his phone and searched the name Moira Flemington. This time, however, his search immediately turned up new news articles he had not seen yesterday. To his horror, the first article’s title read;

“19-year old Massachusetts Woman Missing Under Suspicious Circumstances.”

Stephen froze, paralyzed. Did I cause this? No way, all I did was tear a page from a notebook. Terrified, but needing to know, he clicked on the article;

“19 year old Moira Flemington disappeared from her residence yesterday afternoon. She was last seen entering her room by a roommate around 11:00 AM. There is no evidence she left the premises. Flemington’s bedroom was found in disarray by her roommate at 12:00 PM with no sign of her. Foul play is suspected.”

Stephen felt in shambles. He ran to the kitchen to check the trash can where he threw out the page with Moira’s name on it. It was gone. He turned his attention to the notebook on the counter. It was lying open to the torn page as he had left it, but today something was different. Stephen creeped to counter to get a better look at the book. To his horror, a new name was written on page two;

Samuel Vershok

I was sure they were all blank. I don’t understand.

Ding! Fear gripped Stephen’s ribcage. Sweat dripped down his back as he clutched his phone. He turned it to read the notification;

Tear it

“No way!” He shouted. “Look I don’t know what’s going on,” he wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but his gut told him someone was listening. “I’m staying out of whatever evil magic is happening here, leave me alone!” Silence followed.

There were no more notifications for the rest of the day. Stephen tried to forget the entire scenario. He decided it was best to get the money out of his bank account in case anyone started asking questions as he himself had no idea how it got there. He stopped by the apartment office and paid his rent. Zena was impressed he paid early.

That night while in bed, Stephen got thinking about the notebook. Surely it’s impossible I had anything to do with that girl. How would anyone know if I even ripped the page or not, unless it’s some sort of witchcraft. No, that’s absurd!

A few uneventful days went by. No luck with a new job, no luck with unemployment. After paying rent, Stephen didn’t have enough to pay the rest of his bills. Soon his electricity would be turned off, and he was almost out of food. While finishing up the last pieces of bread, Stephen caught himself staring at the notebook. He hadn’t touched it and it was still open to Samuel’s name. There’s no chance it could hurt anyone, it’s just a -- Before he had time to contemplate, Stephen found himself tearing page two from the notebook. It’s just a book. Stephen went to bed that night feeling empty. What have I done?

Bz Bz Bz. The sound of his phone’s vibration woke him up. Oh god. He checked his bank account. Another deposit had been made of one thousand dollars. He stared at it, unlike last time he did not jump or shout. After some hesitation, he searched the name Samuel Vershok on the internet. His fears were confirmed at the sight of the first search result.

“Boston Man, Samuel Vershok, Missing From Nursing Home.”

Stephen didn’t read the article. Okay. No More, this is clearly dangerous. He glanced at his banking app. Although... there’s only twenty pages. That money would help me survive until I get back on my feet. He shook his head, what was he thinking? No, people are getting hurt. I mean, I guess don’t know if they’re getting hurt, they’re just going missing. And all I’m doing is ripping pages, whatever happens to these people isn’t up to me. I’m just ripping pages, I don’t even know them. $20,000, the things I could do with $20,000. He went to the Kitchen. Just as he’d expected, a new name appeared on page 3;

Gennevieve Finefrock

...rip

Stephen repeated the pattern for the next sixteen days. He never allowed himself to dwell on the names, he stopped searching for them on the internet. They were just names, just pages. He hadn’t found a job, but all of his bills were paid for the time being. Some of the money he gambled away, some of it he invested in the stock market despite having no idea what he was doing. Most of it he spent on luxuries. He bought a new phone and computer, and he went out most nights and paid for strangers’ drinks.

Unbelievably, by the time only one page remained, Stephen had dwindled his bank account to nearly nothing. He once again found himself consumed by stress and fear, hating himself for throwing away his chance to save himself.

A loud knock at the door stirred him from his moment of self loathing. Zena was at the door, looking irate. He answered the door cautiously.

“You owe me $3000.” She said coldly.

“Huh?” Stephen asked. “What do you mean?”

“Stop playing dumb.” She scowled. “You destroyed the fountain out front last night and harassed the other tenants. We’ve got you on camera. I’m being nice here, that fountain is worth a lot more. If you don’t get me that money by Monday, I’m going to the police. Given your history, I’m sure you’ll be charged with malicious destruction of property. Do you know how long you can go to prison for that? 10 years. No idea how long you can get for harassment but you scared some people pretty bad. I’ll be back.” She left without another word.

Stephen stood in astonishment. He had been drinking last night and hadn’t remembered the chaos he caused. Okay, I’ll tear out the page and get another $1000, I just gotta figure out how to come up with the rest. He ran to the kitchen where he kept the notebook and opened it to the last remaining page. It was blank yesterday but he knew it would have a name today. He grabbed the page to rip it, and just as he was about to pull his eyes fell on the name written in the book. Every fiber of his soul shuttered at the realization. He recognized the name;

Stephen Janisse