From his position, he had a good view of the park entrance. His fear was Orelia would realize it was him who’d taken her book. In his mind she’d been imbued with super-tracking power, like a terminator from those movies. His imagination had her running toward him, her hand morphing into some dreadful sharp weapon.

His focus returned to the book on his lap which he opened with care, as if he held an ancient, precious manuscript. It fell to a place bookmarked by an attached cream, satin ribbon. He stared at the two pages for long seconds trying to understand what he saw.

What had he expected? Certainly not the minimal jotted words with so little detail. One thing became clear after scanning a few more pages, this was no financial record. Nor anything related to money.

Yes, the dates made it appear a normal diary, but this was not a humble journal. His first impression was a record of observations of people, events and behaviors. Something else too that he didn’t understand yet. Wishes for them? Prayers? The pages ruled in half like a balance sheet, revealed names and details of what seemed to be perceived crimes.

No, that was an overstatement, not criminal acts but more personal wrongs and slights; some in his opinion, petty. They weren’t only transgressions against her but observations of people mistreating others. Even misdeeds against society, such as the homeless men and women he’d seen her visiting.

Poor Jan—the man forever explaining he had a woman’s name—was included in a notation. On the first line his supposed infraction and on the next his punishment.

Jan, vagrant, alcoholic

Subway accident

William picked up his phone and Googled the accident, but nothing had been in the news yet. Perhaps it lay in the future. He wondered if, because he now possessed the book, the power might spare Jan. The thought he could help the poor guy inspired him to work out this mystery. This wasn’t just about him now, but many lives.

He worked his way backwards, flicking through several pages looking for his own name. The sheer number of people recorded astounded him. The oddity was that not all the people mentioned in the pages suffered misfortune. Some seemed to experience incredible good luck.

Orelia’s name was in there many times, far more than anyone else. She appeared under her author name, and her birth name Nem. It seemed the names changed around the time they’d met. Funny he hadn’t ever thought of her as Nem, although he did remember her being introduced to him. The name had stayed with him because he thought it was unique enough he might use it in a novel.

When he saw his name, he felt the blood drain from his face and his blood chilled as if night had already surrounded him and brought a blizzard. Written in black and white lay the proof of what she’d done.

William Barnes, arrogant, hubristic, undeserving 11/13/15

William Barnes… writing career decay