Years ago, back when I still trusted reality to behave itself, I checked out a book from the high school library that probably should’ve come with a warning label. I don’t remember the title, but I do remember the content—and some of it was just strange enough to stick with me all these years.

It talked about these bizarre “floating transporter” or black hole-type phenomena. Not the kind you see in science class, but the kind where you’re casually walking down the street one minute and—boom—you’re suddenly somewhere else entirely. Like from downtown New York City to Flagstaff, Arizona, without so much as a layover or a boarding pass.

One story in particular has lived rent-free in my brain ever since. A young man finishes his shower, grabs his towel, steps out… and instead of his bathroom floor, he’s standing in the middle of a cornfield a hundred miles away. Just like that. No explanation. No Uber receipt. Just corn.

At the time, I filed that away under “well, that’s weird, but okay” and went on with life.

Fast forward to today, and I’m starting to think that book might not have been fiction after all.

Because there is absolutely no logical explanation for what is currently happening in my life.

Let me present Exhibit A: my $300 Nikon Coolpix camera. Gone. Vanished. No note, no struggle, no sign of forced entry. It didn’t even have the decency to die dramatically—it just quietly slipped out of existence like it had better places to be.

And now… Exhibit B: my Kindle.

This one stings a little more because it’s not just a gadget. I’ve been using it daily—reading my devotionals, going through the ESV Bible, bringing it to Tuesday morning Bible study, even taking it with me to church on Sundays. It’s been part of my routine.

And here’s where things take a turn into Twilight Zone territory.

After church on Sunday, I did what I always do. I put my Kindle into my book bag. My wife was standing right there. She saw it happen. I have a witness. This is not speculation—this is documented behavior.

I put the bag in my truck. No stops. No detours. No shady back-alley Kindle deals.

We go to lunch. The bag stays locked in the back seat the entire time.

We get home. I grab the bag, head upstairs, unzip it, reach in…

No Kindle.

Gone.

Just… gone.

I called the church—nothing turned in. I tore apart my truck—nothing. My wife and I went through the house like we were being paid by the hour—nothing. I even had the entire maintenance staff at the church looking for it, which I’m sure made me look completely sane and rational.

Still nothing.

At this point, I’m left with only two possible explanations:

1. I’ve somehow developed the ability to misplace objects at a level previously thought impossible by modern science.
2. There is, in fact, a rogue black hole or interdimensional transporter following me around, casually snatching my belongings and dropping them into random cornfields across America.

Honestly, I’m leaning toward option two. It just makes more sense.

So here’s where you come in.

If you’re out walking—anywhere in the U.S. or even internationally—and you happen to come across a lonely Kindle sitting next to a plastic bag containing a Nikon camera (probably looking just as confused as you are), please take note of the location.

If you’re feeling generous, grab it.

I will gladly pay shipping to have it returned to its rightful, slightly bewildered owner.

Until then, I’ll be over here keeping a close eye on my wallet… and maybe avoiding cornfields altogether.