 The following is a transcript of the contents of a spiral bound notebook in the custody of law enforcement in connection with a pending investigation. While the investigation and most of the events described below did occur in the general vicinity of the Midwest, all of the specific locations, names and other identifiers have been altered by me to protect the investigation and my own anonymity. I will also be circumspect about how I obtained access to the notebook itself. Suffice it to say, I had an opportunity to analyze the object physically. As part of that process, I photographed all of the pages per my SOP. It wasn't until the following week that I glanced down through those photos and began reading what I have now written down below. I understand how this may be interpreted, and you have no reason to trust the word of an anonymous stranger as to its authenticity. I cannot even vouch for the truth of what is written myself, though I think I have transcribed all the words accurately. All I can say is that what I have written is the truth and I am presenting it to the best of my ability. What you take from it, evidence of something sinister, the outlines of some elaborate prank, or simply a few moments of entertainment. That is entirely up to you. I remember the first time I saw you. You were what, one? Maybe not even that. Laying on the blanket next to your mama in the park, sleeping so peacefully as she watched over you, with a tired but happy look on her face. That sleep, so calm and serene, I envied you that. I was having trouble sleeping even back then, and every day I could feel the last scrapes of that kind of peace being taken from me. I don't want you to misunderstand me, though. Me talking about not sleeping and envying a little baby that can, well, you might think that I was jealous of you, hated you even. But no, nothing could be farther from the truth. I saw that little pink ball of innocence, that bright little light of life that hadn't been kicked and shit on by the world quite yet, and I loved you. I loved you for what you were and what you could be. So I decided to take you under my wing. A paw had once called me a witch, a witch. I tried to tell the dumb bastard that I wasn't no witch, and even if I was, you'd call a boy witch a warlock. But he got that mean, sour look he'd get sometimes before I was five words in, and I knew the hit was coming before he even started to swing. I just balled up then. I was 15 at the time, and I might have fought back, but he was bigger and stronger and meaner than me. And if I fought back and just be worse, so instead I balled right up like a little armadillo and before long it was over. Armadillos are funny. They look cute and all sure, like little knights in suits of armor or something. But you know, a lot of them have leprosy under that armor. A poison rot like from the olden times right under their skin. I felt like that back then, like I had a poison welling up under that skin. He was bruising and splitting, waiting for the right time to reach out and touch him, wither him right away. Except my poison wasn't leprosy. Mine was what I could see, what I knew. I could look at my father, big, strong man that he was, and I could see the thread of his life stretching out in front of me. Not everything, you understand. It was until later that I got where I could focus more and see particulars I wanted to see. But enough to know the biggest goods and bads he had coming. Enough to see when and how that thread would be cut for good. That was why he was afraid of me, why he hated me so. I had made the mistake of letting on what I could see before I knew it was better to hide it. Paul tried to ignore it at first, but that changed when I came to him crying one morning, found him in the field working on that old tractor that crapped out at least once a season already in an awful temper. I should have known better, but I was scared and upset and I loved him. I thought if I told him how he was going to die, he could avoid it. And I wanted that more than just about anything. Funny thing was, when what I saw finally came true a few years later, the biggest thing I felt was relief. Relief that it was over and that my poison had finally finished the job. I know what you're thinking. I'm being arrogant, thinking I can play God, thinking that my visions are killing people when just by listening to what I've said, you could tell I'm just seeing what's coming for somebody and even warning them doesn't change a thing. For a long time, I thought that way too. As I got older and especially after Paul passed, I got stronger in what I could see, but I wanted to see it less and less. I couldn't help people and seeing people that way like a bunch of choices that hadn't been made yet. It made it hard to see them as people at all. They were just numbers and symbols. And I felt like some egghead mathematician looking at some humongous formula on a black board, except I liked people and I hated math and the world was getting so I couldn't be around someone for more than a few minutes without seeing the worst things they would do and how it would all end. I learned to block it some, but just enough that I didn't go crazy. And that was before I started losing sleep. We aren't meant to be in this world all the time. I'm convinced of this, this world. It's a hard place with sharp edges and it'll whittle you down to nothing if you don't leave it once in a while. That's why God gave us sleep and dreams. Some people say that those dreams are as real as this world, realer even. And maybe that's so or maybe not. I don't know. What I do know is that we aren't meant to stay here all the time, especially when you see everything that I see. When I first saw that little baby you, I guess something came over me. Maybe it was some instinct, some part of whatever this power is that I have. I like to think that it was something more, though, that even then I wanted to keep you safe forever. I spent the next hour looking through the thread of your life, the times you were truly scared or truly happy, the things that shaped you or pushed you this way or that. When you felt loved and when you were in danger, the day when you were just 19 that you died. By the time your mama picked you up and carried you back to the car, my head was splitting and I was close to balling. I could see how it happened and why, but not how to stop it. Telling you, even if I waited 18 years to tell you the day it happened wouldn't be enough to stop it. Our lives, our fates, they have movement, inertia, and you were heading toward a coffin like a bullet flying fast. Me telling you stuff you wouldn't believe too late to help anything, well, I might as well be puffing out a breath at that passing bullet. It won't change where it hits one little bit. But what if I didn't talk to you just then? What if I talked to you for years, proved to you that what I saw was real and that you could trust me? Maybe that belief would be enough that you would listen when the time was right. I followed you and your mama home that day and I've kept track of you ever since. Those first few years, I would only see you every now and then, checking your thread for any changes, looking into more detail so I could understand you better. The rest of the time I spent doing my little experiments with other people, seeing if I could move their threads at all. Turns out I can. But it's not an easy thing. That momentum I was talking about, it's a powerful thing. And even if you warn someone or keep them from doing something they were meant to do. The universe has a funny way of self correcting. I've seen odd stuff over the years, much of it I don't understand. And the strangest thing has to be the way that creation will bend over backwards to return a person to the path they're meant to be on. I'm talking about coincidences or things that go even beyond that. That just seem to happen to make sure someone lives or dies that they meet a particular person or learn a particular thing. I don't claim to get why it does what it does. But it didn't take long for me to understand what it meant to me. This force, this momentum, whether you want to call it fate or destiny or magic elves in the trees, it was working against me in what I was trying to do. It was the opposition, the enemy, the bad guy, and for a while I didn't know if I could beat it. And then one day, I did. It was a guy named Lenny, nice enough guy I guess, but more importantly he worked in the building across from my job and ate lunch outside most days. It gave me easy access to him. And after a few months, I had most of his next 20 years mapped out in my head. The key to most of it was him meeting the woman he'd marry. Her name was Laura. Before meeting her, his life was pretty bare. He didn't like himself and because of that he didn't like most people. Meeting her changed all that. I'm not saying their life together was perfect because it wasn't. But they brought out the best in each other. I could see several points in his life where he picked right instead of left because of his love for her. And because of this, he avoided several traps the world might have thrown in his path. Looking at his life, I knew I'd found something special. One is affected by others, but to find a life so impacted by how it touches another, that's a lot more rare. And if I was ever going to have a chance of proving I could affect things of saving you. This was it. And for a wonder, it worked. It took time and effort and sacrifice, but it worked. And from that, I came up with my plan to protect you. I'm writing this two days before your 12th birthday. When you find this notebook, which I know you will, it will have a green notebook rubber banded to it. That is the story of your life from age 12 to 13. It's long. I try to organize it well and only use words you'll understand. If you find one you don't, go get the dictionary off your mama's bookshelf and look it up. You need to get all of this, okay? I don't cover everything, of course. It would take way too long to write or read, but it's about 30 pages of little things and big things that are going to happen. And what happens because of those things? I give you the date and time when I can, but I can't see that clear, except occasional. And there's only a couple of times when I tell you what you should do instead of what you're meant to do. For now, I just want you to understand that what I'm telling you will come true and that you can trust me. Every year, I'm going to give you another green notebook. It'll tell you what you need to know when you need to pick path B instead of path A, that kind of thing. I'll keep watch on the road ahead of you and make sure that you stay safe for as long as I'm able. I'm convinced that if you listen to me, we can beat that day when you're 19. I know this is a lot to understand and believe, but I've already seen that you will. I can't see your thread moving yet. But I think in time, as you know more and trust more, that'll get easier. I know you're a smart girl, so this probably doesn't need to be said. But don't tell anyone about these notebooks or what you know. Take it from me. All it will do is make people think you're crazy or that you're wrong somehow. Just keep it for yourself and use it as you will. It's still your life. After all, I'm just here to make sure you get to live it signed your guardian angel. That's the end of the primary writing in a red notebook. There is, however, loose paper in the back of the notebook that appears to be from a different source as the lines are different in size and spacing based upon the content and the apparent age of the pages and the ink. It seems this was written much more recently. I used to think of people as strings seeing how inevitable everything was. It always felt like we were all being pulled along just a dumb piece of string until we finally get cut. But then I met Lenny and the others and I realized that I could change that string if I worked hard enough, twisted this way or that, lengthen it or cut it shorter than intended. It made me feel special, powerful even, but more importantly, it meant that I could guide you through a safe and happy life. For years it worked. I got you passed you suffocating at 19 and then passed the two times the universe tried to self-correct over the next few months. And when I saw you headed toward that fire at 30, I stopped it from even happening at all. I wrapped your life in bubble wrap and I think you used to appreciate it. I know you did. But lately, you take it all for granted. You think that I'm manipulating you somehow or that you don't need me anymore. You have no idea of the vicious things the world has waiting for you at every turn of how many times I've thought those things off for you. You have no idea of how things will change if you keep ignoring my advice like this. The thing is, you're wrong. It's always been your choice. I used to not believe in free will, but I was wrong. I see that now. You can steer your life how you want, but make no mistake, free will does not mean you won't be pushed and pulled. That universe that's been wanting to hurt and kill you all these years, it's been waiting for the chance to put you back on its course. Some version of things where you're miserable or scared or dead and left to your own devices, you'll steer right into it. I can see that now. And the worst part of it is, I'm no different than you. I never told you why I don't sleep much. It's because of the nightmare, the same nightmare I've had for nearly 40 years. It's always terrified me, though when I was younger, I thought it was just a dream. Even when I recognized you in it, I told myself it was just my brain's way of expressing my fear that I might fail you someday. It wasn't until the last few years that I've come to accept that the dream is the rapidly approaching future, or at least one version of what may come to pass. In it, you're in a large room with no windows and soundproofing on the walls. You're laying in bed asleep, though the IV running into your arm makes me think you have little choice in that. Three years ago, I didn't know where that place was or what drugs I was feeding you. Now I own that place and have enough medical supplies stockpiled to last 10 years or more. That's not fate. Not really. I saw those choices, but I still chose to make them. I could say it's all out of my hands, but I love you too much to lie. No, the truth is better. And the truth is, well, part of the truth is that I've run out of options to keep you safe. For all my planning and advice, all my study of the story of you, you're still the author. And when you decide to refuse my help, I have to make a choice to either leave you to make your own mistakes or take control of things once and for all. I know you want me to just leave you alone. And while that hurts, I guess I understand it too. No one wants to be bossed around or feel like their life isn't their own. But you have to understand, I feel the same way. I didn't ask for this power. I never wanted to see what I do. The dark secret hearts of people, the sharp biting teeth of the world, the same damn dream that is so terrible and so wonderful at the same time. Because you're not alone in that room. There's another bed and on it I lay sleeping. This isn't the ragged, sweaty, screaming sleep of a man ripping himself from a nightmare only to be plunged back into the too sharp world. No. My breath is even. My face unlined by worry or fear. I'm not drugged or knocked out either. Just sleeping the blissfully peaceful sleep of the innocent. Much like a baby might on a warm day in spring. I need that. We need that. I've done what I can to protect you while letting you be free. And once you're with me, I swear I will always care for you during my waking hours. You will never suffer again. I've seen your thread and I know this will work. I will keep you from the teeth of the world and in turn you will give me the dreamless escape I've lived without for so long. We will both be free and happy and together and that will be the story of us.