Called 4

 

Round One:    Called

Round Two:    Called 2

Round Three: Called 3

He was floating in a vast ocean that seemed not to have an end, ever, for there wasn't a single solid thing near or far away from his sight.

Alone in the middle of the blue water, his white shirt and pants were not wet, but shining like a wool white of a lamb skin.

With eyes closed, his body and mind relaxed, he was enjoying the recent vision of the clouds in the sky, as if wanting to memorize them and guard them in his brain.

Suddenly, it was cut.

"Something had entered the water."

He said to himself. 

What he felt was like a stone or whatever thrown into the water that made it crippled.

Turning his eyes to both sides, he saw little waves coming into him.

"Someone else or something must have entered the water, but where?"

Something he felt sure about and at the same time raising himself a question. His mind concluded anyway that a  strange thing had just happened.

He pulled himself up and realized he could stand with his feet touching the earth. Though while he was floating, he just felt the water and not anything solid below his body.

Looking around he found himself by the seashore. The water was just reaching his knees.

As he turned more, he saw trees, white sands and himself, that's all.

"Am I alone on an island?"

Slowly he saw reindeers coming out from the vast of tall trees.

"Oh! Am I on Santa Claus' island?"

He could only joke to ease himself down.

On top of him was still a clear blue sky adorned with cotton white colored clouds.

Everything around him sends beautiful, serene feelings to his senses that make him smile and appreciate his surroundings.

"Thank you, Lord."

After that, he saw a surprise.

"In the middle of the seashore, a swinging bed?"

His smiles turned into cracks of laughter as if taking the whole thing as an idea of a joke from his friend, The Pen.

He shook his head and started to walk towards the seashore and leave the water as he was about fifty meters away.

"Here we go my friend. Put me into slumber so we can get back to work."

Then he stopped a minute, thinking of what he just said and looked around.

"Or I am already on it? Am I dreaming already?"

He saw the swinging bed and decided rather to sleep then, really. 

He reached the bed. It was tied both sides to nearby trees. It was in his favorite colors of dark marine blue and made of quality material as it felt to be a strong knitted rope. 

"Beautiful!"

He realized the bed has its own blue pillow as well. He touched it to feel if it was soft. It was. But there was more than that, so he lifted it up.

"A pen and a notebook!"

This time, even his head was pushed backward by a strong laugh he gave to himself.

He raised up to the swinging bed. Instead of laying back to enjoy it, the bed made him sit straight with the pillow as his back support.

Several times, he tried to lie down but he could not.

Once again, he laughed to his heart's delight.

"I get it! I get it! This bed is for working, not for sleeping."

Grabbing the pain and notebook, he sat straight and used his knees as if they were his table.

First, he looked at the blank pages of the yellow sun covered notebook. Took in deep breath and switched his attention towards the ocean.

Suddenly, his eyes showed him a different scenario.

Around him was blackness. Total darkness. He found himself floating as if he was in outer space like an astronaut, but dressed in his plain white clothes.

He felt as if he was a spirit or ghost going here and there. Just like the wind blowing wherever it wants.

In the distance, he noticed some glimmering lights. He went to find out.

"Beautiful!"

He encountered himself in the middle of galaxies, planets, stars and everything that existed in that black space, all in their own colors and shapes. He strayed from one to the other, roaming and enjoying the moment and opportunity given.

He confirmed, in outer space there was no time. Of course, he wasn't wearing a watch but his white clothes. So he could not tell exactly if it would even work. 

Then he stopped.

He saw things coming out from some planets spewed into  outer space.

The planets were separated by vast, unmeasurable spaces between each other. Though they have those distances, his vision could see and witness that many planets were doing the same. 

More curiosity came inside him and urged him to have a closer look. For some reason, he could not do it. The more he tried, the more the distances between them grew. So he gave up.

Moments came when some of them exploded suddenly and gave the outer space a share of their debris that shook the quietness around the universe itself.

What used to be an enjoyable journey started to send alarms to his senses. Each time there was a noise like the bang of a gong, things got worse around him.

He felt lonely. Tears started to fall from his eyes. He chose to close his eyes to quit himself from seeing more damages to the universe. Suddenly something made him open his eyes.

"The Sun!"

On his back, he saw the sun burning into an unimaginable strength, but he did not feel anything, not a heat.

"The Sun is angry!"

He witnessed how the inside of the Sun cracked itself from the inside as if someone in deep anguish had to shout from the deepest of the heart to release pain.

Turning around, he saw the moon.

Before his eyes, he witnessed how that big moon was slowly invaded and filled by the debris and garbage thrown into outer space. In due time, it turned dark and dirty.

"Heaven forbid!"

The writer sobbed in desperation as his mind was imagining the worst scenario, the destiny of all the beauty he has found in the universe.

There was a big, unthinkable magnitude of a shake around him. He lifted his face from his hands as he was kneeled, caused by his trembled legs.

Unknown to him, something must have happened somewhere. He felt the same feeling when he was floating in the water.

Swifting around, he noticed that everything was freezed. No more movements, not a thing around him was moving.

From the top of his head, he saw a light. Standing back to his feet, he comprehended the return of the empty black space. It was similar to a big black cloth and in its middle there was a small white spot.

"That light seemed to be so, so distant."

His mind has given him a clue of what it was.

"A toe!"

Slowly, his mind was introducing a wider view of what he was seeing.

"A foot!"

Starting from the view of a toe, it was completing its presence as if getting itself down from somewhere unimaginable and submerging itself into space.

Then he understood.

"Someone is coming!"

His eyes were shocked and amazed at the same time that even if he tried to close them, he could not make it.

As the sight come closer, it was taking its shape into full completion.

"That same human figure in my stories is here again!"

He murmured to himself.

Inside though, he strangely felt gladness, relaxed and in peace on what was in front of him as it was then starting to move.

"Describe it, The Pen!"

He shouted with joy.

"It was Him!"

He claimed as he was witnessing the entrance into darkness of that human form.

"Was it a spirit?"

He doubted as it came like white clouds from the far. It extended a couple of arms ahead whose hands were in golden colors as bright as the face without lines to shape it and whose feet were of the same golden sun color.

Behind him, his shadow seemed to be a row of countless others like him that became more and more in numbers as he came closer. The total view was like that of a giant dove in fully opened wings.

"Amazingly beautiful!"

From somewhere inside them came out some with trumpets. They separated themselves and flew alongside as if announcing his coming.

The writer wanted to run towards them. Providentially, he failed in all his attempts. It was impossible to ever make a step.

He shifted his eyes towards those holding trumpets.

"They are angels!"

He smiled and felt thankful for such a revelation.

The sight went on for sometime. Until another one from the shadow came out and went in front with something on the hands that he unluckily could reach to see.

The angel went in front of the rest and threw something into space.

The writer wanted and tried to follow where it was going but he fell. This time he fell from his swinging bed. 

As he lifted up from the ground he flashed back to his reality. He was on a summer vacation on a Christmas Day.

With the family, he resolved to go to a beautiful beach, rented a summer house that has a swinging bed made of knitted rope by the seashore under a tree.

He recognized his notebook and pen dropped on the white sands with him. He had fallen asleep after finalizing his written story, the mission of The Pen.

He held his completed story written in his  notebook, pen without ink and his breath then slowly breathed out again, looking at the clean blue sky. He closed his eyes and said a prayer.

Then he heard the last whisper.

"Fill me up again. We aren't done yet."

His pen fell. He looked down to pick it up while laughing softly.

"Of course!"

Check more below: Tap the link

What is The Pen?

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The End is Near

 

 

The End is Near

 

As the song goes:

And now, the end is near, and so we'll face the Final Curtain. My friends, I say it clear...I did it My Way."

In one way or another, we have to remind each other that WE ARE BROTHERS AND SISTERS, not more nor less BEFORE GOD.

"The end of all things is near.

Therefore be alert and of sober mind so that you may pray.

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms.

If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God.

If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ.

To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever.

Amen."

- 1 Peter 4: 7-11

Reference app site: Bible Gateway

Check for more: 

The Bible Journey

 

 

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Shaken 4

 

Round One:   Shaken

Round Two:   Shaken 2

Round Three: Shaken 3

Round Four:

"Only, but only the matchsticks, nothing can be heard. Just quietness and peace seemed to be present in them. No one can reach them, nor wind nor any blow can turn them off."

"Aahhh!"

Those strong horrific sounds were heard from those who had risen up from the mud after the sudden fall of that big wall like water that had fallen on the living earth.

After the waterfall, the ground was just full of mud.

The humans were able to open their eyes and take out the mud that filled them up. Some eyes turned red, others yellow and few turned green.

"They were like the traffic lights of the streets."

The writer said as he was seated cross-legged like Aladdin in his magic carpet, but holding a pen and writing his story on a notebook.

As he was talking alone, the pen released itself from his fingers to be converted into a big size equal to him and stayed standing beside him and gave a question.

"What do you mean like the traffic lights?"

The writer shook his head watching the craziness of the pen and smiled.

"The traffic lights red commands to Stop. The yellow to Slow Down and the green To Go."

Then he switched his attention again to the event happening below, as his carpet was flying above it, the earth itself.

"Just watch them."

On earth, the human beings turned to look at each other. Only those with the same color of eyes could see each other, but not the others with different colors. They felt strength, knowing they were not alone. They united themselves into a community.

The only thing they could see in common was everything all of them had just witnessed. Everything that was happening to the matchsticks above them.

Slowly, the matchsticks were coming down and each one started to change into another form.

First, clear glass walls were formed into a tall squared size closed box; inside of each, a matchstick.

Distinct reactions came out from the witnesses below as not all of them were seeing the same thing.

The red colored eyed could see the matchsticks turning into humans in white long tunic clothes with their eyes looking up with red tears flowing in their cheeks. Their hands were all clasped in praying.

"Oh my Lord, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell and lead all souls to heaven."

Non-stop they repeated the same prayer all over again.

The humans with the sored red eyes have theirs burning like fire and started to pick up the mud and threw them hardly against those inside the glasses. From their lips came out all kinds of insults, full of hatred and rage.

The writer gave a calm look to the pen. He picked it up again as it had already turned itself to its normal size and was lying on top of his notebook. So he continued writing.

All those with the same red eyes have the same reactions.

Meanwhile, the writer decided to concentrate on other colors.

The yellow eyed have witnessed a burst of sunlight coming from the inside of the clear glass walls.

"Show me, my Lord, let me see your light so I may follow you."

Those words they prayed.

Then from the glass a voice was heard.

"Knock and the door shall be opened; seek and ye shall find.."

The event made the writer grin. He put down his pen to clasped his hands, closed his eyes to pray as well.

"Create in us a pure heart, O God. Renew a steadfast spirit within us. Do not cast us away from your presence nor take your Holy S´pirit from us. Restore in us the joy of your salvation and grant us the willingness of spirit to sustain ourselves."

As he finished, all the yellow eyed said Amen.

The writer went back to his pen.

This time his attention was called by shouts of joy.

"Praise be to God! Hallelujah!"

They were the green eyed who were seeing a different revelation from the rest.

Before their eyes, they could see the clear glass wall opening itself. Inside it they could observe the full white cotton clouds and feel a good sensation from them.

"Your sins have forgiven you."

The writer was affected by the shouts of joy that he made a sudden move that almost made him fall.

Well, he did fall from his bed. As usual, he fell asleep writing a story. He remembered he was about to sleep when the pen he forgot to take out from the back of his ear, fell on the notebook he left before on top of his bed.

"In case an idea strikes my brain, that is why I have you my notebook to share my bed. But the pen, of course, must be here too."

He seated himself then against the bed's headrest and started to write. His sleepy head won him over till he fell off the bed.

He reviewed his written story and found a title. Shaken 4.

"Just like me, shaken by this pen."

Finally, he left his pen and notebook inside his bed's table.

"Now sleep, really."

And he did.

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The Warriors of Light

 

 

The Warriors of Light

After some walks in life following the leader, the night falls and the crowd that has given all its attention to him was commanded by their leader to stop. 

From the top of the hill, the writer himself, as a witness, where he was seated, could see what's going on below him.

He turned to the left of him and found people seated on the grass, reading a book. Together with them were others standing and reading too as if they were teachers.

In some parts, he saw people very busy doing something, living a life of service. Some cooking, others cleaning while more and more groups of people were packing foods, clothes and varieties of other things. 

He turned to his right and found people inside buildings, offices, laboratories and other establishments or constructed spaces. Inside he saw people with different materials, tools and instruments on their hands. As he observed them, they were all meant to be used for something beneficial to themselves and others. Some were looking at microscopes, telescopes, computers, holding surgical instruments, others with hanging stethoscopes on their neck while some even with pens and pencils on their fingers.

There were more groups of people working and engaging themselves in different communities and groups of common causes. They all have only one thing in common, their leader. 

"Whoever wants to follow me must forget himself ..."

Those were the words the leader, he could remember, had said before the participants of the  Great Marathon of Light before being followed by those who decided to do so. Each person was given the freedom to choose and decide what to do with their given lives.

A long, very long time had passed until the leader started to stand again and raised his left hand which became a rounded light in the dark. It looked like That Bloody Moon transforming itself from its bloody reddish color into bright white light as if it finally had decided to overrule darkness.

The witness himself jolted into standing position as the scenario became like a battle ground. A war zone itself.

To his left, he saw missionaries, preachers, all righteous fighting against enemies in their heartfelt missions to spread the Word of God and His forgiveness and redemption while being surrounded by mischievous traps, deceiving distractions and intentions from warriors of darkness. All kinds and means of stopping them were being presented and implemented. So it was a continuous fight.

Looking to his right, those with instruments, materials and tools were fighting too. All working hard to win over something unimaginable using knowledge, know-how, whatever other gifts they were given to help themselves and others. Sickness, craziness and all kinds of discouragements, frustrations and deceptions were their continuous enemies that constantly tried to knock them over. But the love they have inside and heartfelt intentions in compliance to their leader's instruction have strengthened them and made them survive and most of all, succeed. Winning the war against destruction.

"Love one another as you love yourself"

He remembered the Second Commandment given by the leader. For the First Commandment was given as well.

"Love God above all things, even above your own selves."

Well, something like that he said to himself.

One thing he realized that the crowd was doing, all together fighting.

Fighting for the Truth.

In between his moments of revising the scriptures of the bible in his mind, the man next to him turned to him and said something, as if reading his thoughts.

"He is God, the creator and owner of all things. The only one with the rights to everything he himself has ever created from the beginning of time."

The man turned his look back to the middle of the events below them. He followed his look. Something from his eyes has told him to give it his attention, for his eyes were covered with deep sorrows. And he almost fell dead to the ground from what he saw. The light breeze his skin felt from the air has held him tight fortunately. He could not understand how, but it did.

His own eyes grew big in horror as they witnessed thousands of people dying, suffering, and being killed through all kind of tortures, insults, abuses, cheats; name it. All kinds of bad things no one should not do to the other.

The ground was covered with blood. Innocent blood as much as guilty blood being won over by those who endured and prevailed over wickedness, just by looking, believing and following the Light above them. Though in the moment of darkness and bloodshed, they almost gave in but still their hopes for the coming of light made them survive.

Slowly, as the moon shaped hand of the leader started to overpower its red blood color and with its brightness of white, lighting up the crowd; the world itself below, every Warriors of Light in there, started to rise up with their arms stretched unto the air, holding tight their sword; their guide of instructions; their scriptures; their talks to their leaders; their connection to God himself. Their shout of joy and hope started to roar itself around them. 

The battle is won over. Then everyone shouted one thing:

"Praise the Lord!"

The man beside him looked back at him and this time with a smile.

"I am not afraid. I am ready for The End is Near."

He smiled in return, closed his eyes as the light breeze of the air enveloped him again.

Check for more: 

The Bible Journey

 

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The Pen 4

This blog is my medium of sharing some creative short stories I have written.  I make it clear, creative. Creation from my own imaginative mind of stories that may seem ordinary, similar or whatever it can be for a reader. Some of them have already been shared in my Facebook page named Simple-Me. They are in video forms under the collection of The Writer Series. Here you'll find the complete series plus other intermission posts, and more,  if you are interested enough to follow.

 

"Writing is like a moment's attack of ideas, thoughts and words on my brain that flows directly to my pen. Yes. I am an old-fashioned type. I use my precious Pen to write my drafts. That is why I honor it here, my best pen."

                          

 

I am The Pen, the same creator, writer and author of this blog. as introduced in the following rounds of series: 

The Pen

created August 2, 2020

The Pen 2

continued November 1, 2020

The Pen 3

continued January 20, 2021

Year 2022, 16th of May, Round Four started with the post, "That Bloody Moon". 

The Round One series has already been written even before the creation of this blog.

The Round Two series were written during the year 2020 and completed.

The Round Three has pending completion of some of its series. For some unknown reason to me, an attack of ideas with regards to them has not found its way to my pen. But I assure you, somehow the previous round will be completed.

The Round Four has just started and will continue, not exactly in accordance with numerical orders of The Writer Series, plus other posts in any of the categories enumerated on the site.

The Pen does not promise anything, but to continue posting and sharing whenever possible. 

So stay tuned for more, if you're interested enough to keep track of my blog.

Thank you.

Check for more: Tap below

The Writer Series Title Guide

The Pen (Url: simplewriterseries.blogspot.com)

 

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