The Switch

David’s black Moleskine was his most prized possession. It was a sleek, trim notebook with an elastic enclosure, ribbon bookmark, and thick ivory pages; but more important than the pages were the words and notes David had written upon them. The Moleskine was a descendent of legendary notebooks used by some of the greatest thinkers and artists of all time, and David knew that someday his prose would belong among the greats.

David had spent countless months and hours crafting what would become his finest (and admittedly, his first) work of fiction: a full-length, epic fantasy adventure novel. His notebook contained thoughts and endless ideas; descriptions of quests, battles and hardships his characters faced; and page after page outlining the development of the characters themselves. He had spent so much time writing them it felt like they lived and breathed outside the pages- like they were David’s real friends.

Caspian Steel was a rough, battle-scarred warrior, who protected his friends and guided them across the tough terrain along their quest. He was brave and ferocious, and everything David wished he could be. When his mother mocked him or his boss was particularly cruel, David pretended Caspian Steel was close by, ready to defend his honor and fight his enemies.

Jasmine Fay was the heroine of David’s tale, a beautiful, mysterious princess. She required rescuing from the evil wizard and his curse, and when Caspian Steel arrived to break the spell the princess fell completely, madly in love with him. Sometimes David would pretend he was Caspian Steel himself, charming and loving the exquisite princess until he had won her heart and was granted her hand.

Caspian’s three companions Alton, Horace and Theo, along with the bumbling wizard Rollo and his clumsy accomplice Beet, rounded out the rest of the epic adventure and David spent nearly as much time imagining the troubles they got into as he did the adventures and romance of his favorite heroes. It was all there in his notebook, and David knew someday his story would sit on shelves for people around the world to read and they would fall in love with Caspian, Jasmine and the rest as much as he had.

If his notebook were ever to be lost or stolen, David would have been devastated; his notes, ideas and descriptions were truly irreplaceable. David would never be able to perfectly replicate all his hard work again if something ever happened to his black Moleskine, and he would have been heartbroken to lose it… or so David truly believed. After the accidental switch at the airport, David wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

He had been sitting in a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs, waiting for the announcement that his gate was open and his flight ready for boarding. David had spent a few unpleasant days with his mother for the holidays before flying home again; he disliked making the trip halfway across the country but she badgered him to do it at least twice a year. David had been outlining the brilliant, spectacular final fight between the evil wizard and Caspian Steel in his notebook when he decided he should use the bathroom facilities before his flight was called; he hated the miniscule washrooms on the airplanes. David always seemed to get stuck directly behind someone who smelled like they had waited a week just to take a dump in the sky.

When he returned from the much more spacious airport washrooms, David heard the announcement for his flight and saw the other passengers in his seating area gathering their things. His timing perfect, David clutched his carry-on from where he’d propped it on the plastic seats, scooped his notebook from the other side, and stood in line with his fellow travelers to begin boarding.

It was shortly after David had tucked his carry-on into the overhead luggage bins and settled into his window seat on the plane that he realized his mistake. He opened his black notebook to continue where he had left off in his epic battle scene… but there were no pages filled with his neat, tidy handwriting. Instead, the interior pages had been removed and replaced with a thick sheaf of dollar bills.

David closed the black cover quickly and looked around. No one was paying any attention to him as the other passengers moved along the aisle and settled into their seats. But somewhere on this flight, someone was going to open a black notebook soon and find David’s writings instead of their stack of money. David checked again to make sure no one seemed to be watching him, then quickly rifled through the bills to count them. It was twenty thousand dollars.

David stuffed the notebook into his folded up jacket on the seat beside him, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure the passing steward would hear it. Twenty thousand dollars. David could hardly begin imagining the things he could do with that kind of cash- writing and fantasizing only paid the bills if someday David got a book deal and his novel was published.

There hadn’t been identifying information left behind in the identical notebook, but David had written his own name and phone number very carefully inside his Moleskine, and had even offered a reward for the return of its precious contents. What would David do, when the person who had mistakenly left their notebook behind and presumably taken his, contacted him and asked to retrieve the considerable cash they had misplaced?

He thought about Caspian, Jasmine, Rollo and Beet… he wanted to be crushed over the loss of his characters, his friends, his dreams… but David’s heart was racing and he’d broken out in a cold sweat. Twenty-thousand dollars was more money than he had ever had at one time- and what if David never finished his fantasy novel, like so many other aspiring authors? What if Caspian and Jasmine never left the pages of his notebook anyway?

But then… if David was contacted, what if he denied finding the matching Moleskine altogether and simply tried to get his notebook returned? David deliberated all throughout his flight, weighing his conflicting options and desires. When he finally landed and debarked from the plane David knew what he had to do, and he gathered his luggage quickly and left the airport as swiftly as he could.

It took a few hours longer than David expected but finally, later that afternoon, his cell rang with an unfamiliar out-of-state number.

“Hello, David speaking,” he answered crisply.

“Hi, am I speaking with David Colten?” A smooth, female voice asked.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You were at the Logan Banks International Airport this morning, at Gate 3B?”

“Yes, that’s right,” David’s pulse sped up and he could feel his nerves thrumming with excitement. This had to be it- the call he was waiting for.

“I picked up a black notebook there by mistake, with your name and number inside. I can imagine you might want it back- it seems to be full of an awful lot of material.” The woman sounded amused and David bristled; had she read his notes? Was she laughing at him?

“Thank you so much for calling me,” he answered carefully, “I really hoped my notebook would be found and returned. It’s extremely important to me; I was devastated when I realized I had lost it.”

“Did you, by chance, pick up my black Moleskine at the airport? We seem to have identical notebooks and I must have taken yours accidentally. I would really appreciate getting mine back, as well.” The woman spoke casually but David didn’t miss a beat.

“No, I’m terribly sorry. I left mine behind in the airport lobby and was hoping someone might find it and return it. It’s full of notes for a book I’m working on- I’m so, so glad you called!” David was feeling rather pleased with his act so far. “I hope I can meet you soon to get it back. Did you happen to write your name and number in yours? Hopefully someone will find it and get your money to you, too.”

The call went silent for a long, long moment and it was much too late when David finally realized his mistake.

“You did find it, didn’t you?” The woman finally accused. “You found my notebook. I didn’t say anything about money. That doesn’t belong to you, it’s mine and I need it back.”

David ground his teeth together. He had been doing so well and now he didn’t know how to backtrack. “I, um, I don’t know-”

“Save it.” The woman snapped. “You want your book and I need my money. We can meet and return each other’s things.” Her voice softened. “Please.”

David chewed on the inside of his cheek. He wanted his notebook- he wanted to marvel as Caspian, Jasmine and the others came to life beneath his fingertips once again. “I want my notebook back, of course,” he wheezed, “but I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t find-”

“Are you really going to steal from me?” The woman cried. “Please, please I’m begging you to give my money back. I’ll bring your notebook to you wherever you are, right now. I’ll even share some of the money with you, if you want.”

David swallowed thickly, closed his eyes, and hung up the phone. He said a silent goodbye to his friends and companions, to the valiant Caspian Steel and his worshipful Jasmine, and blocked the woman’s number.

After a few more days and several missed calls from a variety of numbers, David changed his own phone number altogether. He began trying to piece together the fragments that he could remember of his story over the following weeks of relative quiet; but whether because of the alcohol he started drinking every day or because his heart wasn’t in it, David couldn’t seem to find the magic that his chronicles once held.

David’s unexpected fortune had dwindled much quicker than he could have imagined; the money was gone in two months and David spent the next year trying to recapture some of the mystic and delight that he had once felt when developing his plots, characters and fantasies. He finally decided that his dream of finding himself amongst the greatest of the greats would never be fulfilled, and the spirits of Caspian, Jasmine and Rollo would someday die along with him, when he saw something strange one day at a local bookstore.

The title was altered and the names of the characters had been changed but there, sitting prominently on display on the store’s shelves, was David’s book. The description on the back was his narrative and flipping through the first few pages was all the evidence he needed- the opening scene was taken almost word-for-word out of his beloved, lost Moleskine, though the author on the cover was listed as Victoria Frost.

David picked the book up and carried it to the store register, his entire body feeling numb. His mind was filled with a steady buzzing noise as he watched the cashier scan the book and ring it in.

“That’s all for you today?” The cashier asked and David nodded, handing over his credit card and hoping there would be enough funds for the transaction to go through.

“Did you hear about this new author?” The cashier waved to the shadowy image of Victoria Frost on the rear of the paperback. The silhouette featured a striking woman, but the blurry filters applied to the picture made it difficult to distinguish her true appearance in the hues of grey.

“No, what about her?” David asked absently, watching with relief as the purchase was approved.

“Brand new, no one’s ever heard of her before, and word is she landed a six-figure deal for this book.” The cashier bagged David’s purchase and receipt before passing it to him. “I’ve heard it’s an excellent read. Enjoy, and have a nice day!”