Luke and Julie

The Notebook on the Shelf

As far as Luke Patterson was concerned, Christmas was the worst time of the year. If he had to describe it in a more eloquent way, he would choose the word 'detestable'.

He didn't understand what the rest of the world saw in the holiday. There were crowds everywhere, and no escape from this crushing, forced 'jolly-ness,' which was only made worse when you were lonely.

Luke was alone. Not lonely just - just alone.

And that was fine. He liked it that way. It was his Christmas gift to himself.

There was one place in the entirety of Los Angeles that didn't feel the need to set up Christmas Cookie Classes to gain customers during the 'best time of the year'.

Luke wasn't much of a reader (he did not have the attention span) but at this point, he knew the Storybound Bookshop like the strings of his guitar. It probably helped that his friend, Alex, worked the information desk.

"Hey, Alex. Man," Luke calls out to said friend, grabbing a book from the shelf and approaching the information desk. His loud voice startles the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the store, and several customers glare at him. "This book was misshelved. Should be under G, not M, and it's Biography, not Fiction."

Alex looks him up and down before smiling and taking the book. "Luke, if you ever wanna work here-" he drops the smile from his face - "I'll remember this."

Luke scratches behind his ear. "Sorry, dude."

Alex waves him off. "Chill."

Luke loves all of the Storybound, his refuge from the outside world, but his favourite part is, without a single doubt, the music section.

Luke lives for music. He doesn't know who he'd be without his guitar. Without his band.

He's running his hands absentmindedly over the spines when his fingers catch on a book that he's certain wasn't there yesterday. It's got a bright red spine, the sort of colour that almost makes Luke's eyes hurt, and the (presumably) faux leather is slightly pebbled.

He pulls it off the shelf.

There, on the cover, in swirly cursive and black ink, are three words.

Do you DARE...?

It's intriguing. It's mysterious.

Luke loves it.

He carefully pushes the elastic off the cover and flips the book open.

There are a few pages missing, the torn edges still visible, but Luke barely notices. His eyes are fixated solely on the carefully printed words on the first page. It's the same curled cursive as the words on the cover, and the same black ink.

I've hidden clues for you - if you want them, turn the page. If you don't, put the book back on the shelf.

Luke goes to turn the page, then pauses, worrying the paper between his fingers. This has to be for some sort of television show, right? He looks up, glancing around at the nearby shelves and patrons. The only cameras he can see are the security ones, up on the ceiling.

(Alex showed him the footage from those once. It was awful. Grainy and pixelated to the point where Luke couldn't make out his own face.)

Luke shrugs and turns the page.

So you've decided to play? A revealing choice. To begin, turn the page.

The next page has eight wobbly lines of various lengths drawn across the top, and a message beneath.