The Last Page

You almost walk by it. Many probably had. After all, there’s not many who’ll pick up trash that isn’t theirs, even fewer still that would leave the nature trail to do so. You wish you could have said it was good intentions that made you do it but, truthfully, it was curiosity. Plastic bags were, unfortunately, plentiful enough. This one, though, called to you. Maybe it was the way the freezer bag stiffly held itself or maybe it was the past autumn leaves that had been gathered and piled around and on top of it. Something about it lured you over, making you take a closer peek.

Gathering up a decently long and slender branch from the forest floor, you brush the leaves aside, the thin twigs at the end acting as a poor substitute for a broom. From what you could tell, nothing else was under the leaves but the sealed bag and the black notebook that lay within.

Did someone lose it? you wonder before dismissing that idea. It’d be on or closer to the trail, if that were the case. Unless someone went off the trail?

Setting your stick aside, you pick up the bag and head back to the trail with a shrug, deciding to have a look at it once you got home.

=*=*=

You cut your walk a bit shorter than normal, your curiosity pacing within your head like an agitated and very vocal house cat. Once home, after feeding your own very real and demanding cat, Jack, you unseal the bag, somewhat surprised to find no moisture within it. From the age of the leaves, you assumed it had been left in the woods longer.

Slipping your hand in the bag, the skin of the book was oddly soft to the touch, like the short fur on Jack’s head. Pulling it out, you saw that it had a sort of cloth band around it, keeping the cover and the pages shut. There was no lock or preventative measure to keep you out; it was either meant to be decorative or just helpful to keep the book from opening when it shouldn’t.

Sliding the band around the front edges of the book and to the back, you open it to the first page, thinking someone might have left an address or a phone number for you to reach out and return it to.

The very first ivory colored page read “In case of loss, please return to:” except someone had scratched a line of pen through the first four words and, instead, wrote above it “When the last page is filled.” That was odd. But you were at least relieved to see a post office address in the four lines under it. However, there was more printed text beneath that read “As a reward: $” with another line that should have contained a monetary amount but instead, handwritten, was the sentence “???; whatever money is left on the gift card.”

The rest of the page had writing so you lightly perused it once then had to re-read it a second and third time, still not sure you followed. Finally, aloud, you read it one last time.

“To whomever finds my book, please do not worry. It isn’t lost, only going on a trip for a while. I hope you will help it along its way and be a part of the adventure.” You wet your lips slightly, clearing your throat to keep reading. “My book and I would like to spread some kindness in a world so desperately in need. To do so, in the back, you’ll find an expandable pocket with a gift card.”

Taking a moment, you flip to the back, giving a slight snort as you fully expect it to be gone. At the very end, you found the pocket. Lifting the edge of the pocket and tipping the cover up, you give a few blinks when a gift card did indeed slide out.

Picking it up, it seemed like a real gift card and not one of those fake, junk mailed ones. Setting it to the side, you flip back to the front page, dismissing it as likely devoid of any value; maybe a blank one someone picked up or the balance was already used.

Finding where you left off, you continue reading aloud.

“You may use this gift card one of two ways, either by making a purchase or putting money on the card. Whichever you choose, take a page and write. This way, when my book comes back to me, after the last page is filled, I can share in the adventure.”

There was a “sincerely” and a signature so badly scrawled it could have been a name or just a misshapen doodle.

With a shake of your head, you decide there wouldn’t be any harm in at least calling the number on the gift card, checking what the balance was (if there even was a balance left).

One quick call and a few key presses with the automated system and you were picking your jaw up off the floor.

Twenty thousand dollars!

You even held on the line, waiting for the automated voice to repeat itself, making sure you hadn’t misheard.

Twenty thousand dollars!

You could get caught up on bills! Have some put into your savings or buy something nice for yourself!

Twenty thousand dollars!

“Ah.”

That was right, the book had said to make one purchase. Or put money on the card. Unless…

Flipping through the ivory pages, your thumb brushing the rounded corners as you turned, your eye caught sight of different writing styles as you went, slowing down as you neared the end of the book until you were on the very last, very blank page.

It. Was. Yours.

All you had to do was write on the last page and send it to the PO listed. It wouldn’t even be that hard, the page size smaller than the standard. Something like, “Thanks! I found this in the woods just off the nature trail” and gratitude for being the last person to find it.

But curiosity was twinging itself around your mind, tripping up your thoughts. Before doing that, why not take a look at the other stories? it was whispering. Don’t you want to know?

Frowning a little to yourself and to your curiosity, you had to admit you wouldn’t have found the book in the first place had you not followed its impulse. With the book being on the smaller side, it shouldn’t take you long to read. It had to be less than 300 pages and, if you got bored, you could always stop.

With a light sigh, grabbing a glass of water before starting, you couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of your new found twenty thousand dollars.

=*=*=

In the living room, your glass nearby and all but empty, you turned the last page. The stories had made you lose track of time, the room nearly dark. Leaning over, attempting to flip the lamp on without unsettling your cat, you manage to succeed, even as he complained of your moving. Setting the book on the end table, you finish your last swallow of water.

At the start, the stories were simple. One of the first ones, someone had found it in a school and was able to use the card to buy lunch that day. Another one, someone had decided to put five dollars on the card to “keep the good vibes going.” More silly, simple little purchases like what kids would make; a movie theater ticket, a skateboard, and a lollipop, of all things. Small bits of money would be added, one going so high as a whole ten dollars, before you got to a story written by a woman identifying herself as “Ms. M”.

Thank you, read the first line. I found this notebook at the mechanic shop, on the table with the magazines. My car tire went flat. It was too worn and old to safely patch. They were recommending all new tires. I didn’t know how I would be able to pay for it when I found your book.

The next few lines were a little harder to read, spots of water damage having blurred the ink.

I was able to buy a new set of tires for my car, rather than have to decide what we could or could not afford to eat the next few weeks. I was able to make sure I had money for my son’s field trip and my daughter’s new shoes, instead of him missing out and her having to wait any longer in ones that were too tight.

You swallowed, remembering the sincerity written in her small, cursive handwriting.

Your book, and you, were right there when I needed someone to be. Thank you.

There was a shift, after that. No longer was it a pack of gum or a dollar. Donations, if you could call them that, bounced from fifty to as high as one hundred fifty. You kept reading, after that, finding it hard to put down. Then… the last story you read.

I’m sorry, it started. I didn’t mean to use so much but he’s my baby.

You feel your body start to stiffen, already worrying over where this story would go.

My twelve year old kitty, Romeo, didn’t come out to eat, when I went to feed him. He always does. I found him, last night, under the bed. He wouldn’t come out when I called him, just lay there and cried. I got him out and he felt so cold. I put a towel over a heating pad, to try and warm him up. He wasn’t doing any better in the morning so I called them first thing and took him to the vet’s. They told me, even if I had gotten him into the emergency clinic last night, there wasn’t much they could have done. They suspected his kidneys were failing. They told me, they were surprised he was even alive, he was so dehydrated. There was no warning. Just… he was okay one day, then he wasn’t. The only thing they could do was to help him pass peacefully. I was petting him, saying goodbye, as he drifted off.

You took a breath, trying to swallow down your emotions.

I used my credit card to pay for most of the vet visit but I didn’t have enough, not even to have him cremated. I live in an apartment; I didn’t have a yard to bury him in. I didn’t know what to do when one of the receptionists slipped me your book.

Thank you, for helping me to take my baby home.

There was an amount written, smaller than the tires but maybe the third highest you’d seen.

Absently stroking your own cat, the feel of his spine more prominent now due to his older age, you glance towards the book. Did you really want its journey to end with “I was able to pay my bills off a little sooner” and “I put the rest in savings” or “I bought something shiny but, mostly, unnecessary”?

You open the end table drawer and pull out a pen.

=*=*=

To Whomever This Book Finds at the End of its Journey:

I am humbled to be a part of the adventure you and your book have started. However, I’m afraid I must decline being the one to end it. $21.15 was spent purchasing an identical black book to yours, with pages eager to be written in. I’ve already started with the first page. The words might look familiar (whenever it finally makes its way to you), as they are your own. The gift card, last totaled, was $19,978.85. This, too, will be continuing the adventure you started.

Please know your kindness was received.

Sincerely,

The Author of the Last Page