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The writer was standing on the beach wherein one foot touches the sand and the other, the water. Facing the sea before him, he first look at the sky. It was turning gray. Then he looked at the water, the farthest his eyes can see. They turned the same, in resemblance to the sky.
Before he could ever formulate whatever in his mind, a loud shout called his attention. He turned around.
A group of people were coming. almost running towards a yatch by the seashore. They were laughing, teasing each other, drinking and almost naked and drunk. They jumped into the yatch and sailed. Not one lifted an eye to the sky nor the front ahead to the ocean.
The sense of, "the world will never end yet, or drink for tomorrow we die."
Roaming his eyes more, he saw other stories. Before him, all kinds of sins as if he was watching a movie.
Just close to him, he heard curses between people, using the name of God. Something that is becoming a habit more and more, as if it is the way they should be. He observed better, it was a family. Parents with children in relationship crisis.
The writer took a deep sigh as he heard a strong sound somewhere.
A couple who were having sex on the beach, even naked for they have lost the notion of time and place caused by their lust, were killed. A man and a woman standing on top of them with a gun in their hands. Faces in hate, grieves and tears were seen on them.
The writer shooked his head to take out the shock for he has seen more that he could not even imagined nor understand they had happened and were happening on earth. Each one he was witnessing were presented to him as if parts of whats going on in earth, while the water far ahead of them rises and the sky above them turns dim. Besides all other changes in nature as if they were demonstration of wrath.
He focused his look to the sand to see no more of anything else around him for they were so much to narrate. He walked slowly till his feet stopped in front of a high wooden chair of a beach resort's open bar.
He raised his look, and it was a refreshment bar. He sat himself to the high wooden stool. He looked around and found many seated and standing, drinking and waiting, to be attended by the bartenders.
While behind the bar, the workers were like machines. All were concentrated to their jobs, working hard for one common reason. Pay. Money. Behind money, the reason or motives and purposes to have them.
To the writer's imagination came a high ladder made of rocky sands and cements, where on top of it is a golden coin. He saw people climbing hard to reach it, as he found himself standing before the first step of the ladder. Some even he heard saying to their children, "we have to get it, it is your future."
For a moment, he closed his eyes and said to himself, "All of us, my Lord, are misled. Sometimes, what we believe are the best for us are the same best for others."
But then, he was cut from praying. His imagined ladder brought him back to it. He saw people climbing as if they were animals. Climbing two at a time, no matter who they stepped on the wa y.
Once more, the scenes were so unpleasant, he shook his head. Again, he was back to the bar, him seated on a chair.
Close to him, another group of people came. Some of them with car keys on their hands with their keychains of different car brands. Expensive brands. Luxorious. Some came in pairs, kissing their ways to the bar, touching each other's skin. While others came with glamorous bags and belongings.
The writer could not understand why they come to his story. Suddenly, his attention brought him back to his imagined ladder.
As he was back to the ladder, this time, he wasn't standing anymore below the first step upward of the ladder. This time, he was on top. He was standing on the edge of the floor where the golden coin lies. He felt his feet as if they were on the beginning of his narration, one foot on the sand and the other on the water.
Though confused on what was happening, he looked ahead of him.
The golden coin from below the ladder looked like standing. It was a high, enormous ladder with many steps that he even got lost counting them.
At the top as he observed from where he was standing, he saw that the golden coin was the floor itself. An extensive unmeasurable golden coin floor. On it were people, human beings, who have done it to the top.
They were in a feast. All kinds of them.
In the middle of the coin was someone or something he could not figure the face or nature of. But sure he was, there it was in the middle.
He tried to move to have a closer look. But his feet were pasted to where he was standing. From somewhere he was told, "No."
He looked around him, closer to him, if there was someone. A man with a book in his hand came beside him then leave.
He saw men and women reaching the top of the ladder. Some arrived like in a snake form. That was how he saw some humans reaching the top with their tongues out, grasping for breath, with their body on the floor as they finished their climbs.
The man with the book went to join the others, men and women standing a step, almost to the edge of the golden coin. Many of them. They all opened their books and started to call on those who have already made it inside the golden coin. They were preachers! They started to teach, warn and call to repent.
Looking down on the feet of them, the snakes passes them and many were bitten. It seemed they only made marks on them, but not affected by them at all.
Those inside the golden coin, especially those closest to the one in the middle, just laughed at the preachers. They cursed them, throw them all kinds of harmful materials. But the edges of the coin seemed liked a mirror wall that anything they threw outside never came out.
Some humans who reached the top and heard the preachers did not enter the golden coin. But few. A handful. Some ignored them and went in anyway. Whoever entered the coin could not come out anymore.
A thunder in the sky brought the writer to where he started to narrate. At the beach. He was standing one foot on the sand and the other on the water.
The incredible strength of the thunder bolts crossed the ocean and in seconds, the water erased the earth.
He wasn't affected for he stood as a witness.
As he saw that the big one, tsunami, came to earth, he saw the imagined ladder receiving the same bolt in its center, where that someone or something was held on a throne. Those inside the golden coin fell to the deep with their worshipped idol and god as the strength of the bolts pushes them all to the opened pit, right at the center of the golden coin.
Some tried to run to come out, but the glass wall won't let them. All who were outside became a candle lit with sounds of prayers in a funeral.
It was a dream!
The writer realized he was dreaming. A scary one that made him shook and wake up suddenly. He was writing the story, when he felt his eyes getting heavy and have decided to take a nap on top of his writing table. To his surprise, the story was already completed!
He looked for his pen. He couldn't find it at first. Then he saw it. He picked it up from his paper garbage can and saw it empty with ink.
All he could do was smile to himself.
"Of course, my pen. It is done."
He sighed and decided to go get himself a beer.
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