Done 4
Scavenging through the piles of garbage brought by the trucks in that place, he found a dead man.
That was the scene he could never forget as he stood there watching his men do the job.
"I have promised myself I would not be in that place of the dead man."
One of his men came beside him and almost whispered.
"My lord, it's done."
That word "lord" put him back to his present. He loved the effect of that word to his ego. Nowadays, people uses that word to the one they worship and obey.
And that is how he ever wanted himself to be.
He remembered about his dream in the past.
He narrated it to his friend who became an astronaut.
The man beside him repeated himself. So, he took a deep breath and it came out on top of the big flashlight he held on one hand.
They did the job that night, him and his men.
The writer was standing not too far from them. As usual in his white shirt and denim pants. He did not have a flashlight, just his pen. His white shoes were enough to be his light as he walked on that city garbage dump site.
He was watching them. The men were so confident that no one but them were on the site. None of them has ever noticed the presence of the writer since they arrived in two latest model cars of the season.
He saw two men in the first car. One is the driver and one seated at the back. The other car have four men in it. As they got off from the car, the writer noticed them tall, well structured men and strong, as they went to the back of the car, where they took out a long, zippered plastic bag that was so obvious the size of something inside it.
"There's a human inside!"
His eyes got big as he realized it and wanted to run, out of impulse. But his feet, neither his mouth stopped him from doing anything. He was hiding behind an old rotten, oxidated car distance away from the men.
That night, only stars were in the sky as the moon seemed too far to be even seen or maybe hiding behind some clouds.
So he did not have any other choice, but to stay as his fingers, he felt, were holding the pen so tightly until it bleeds.
He looked at his hand to check what's happening. There was blood but he felt no pain. He opened his palm and he saw the pen covered with blood. As he pick it up with his other hand, he saw that his bleeding palm has a hole in it.
"What?"
He looked through the hole to be sure of what he was seeing. He even attempted to put inside it the pen and it did pass through. Quickly he took it back with shock and fear enveloping him.
He turned his attention back to the men, but they were gone. He was distracted that he did not even realize when the men left.
When he checked his hand again, it turned back to normal with his pen being held lightly.
Suddenly a strong thunder flashed across the sky that made the writer almost jumped from his chair. He was back to his reality.
He fell asleep while writing the series. His notebook on top of his working table by the window was almost full. What he had just seen was in a dream.
He looked at his wristwatch and it says three o'clock in the morning. He was still holding his pen in his right hand. He released it beside his notebook.
If it was going to rain, it has not started yet. So he left his chair to go by the window. He peeped up into the sky that night. No thunder, but starry sky.
He decided to get himself his favorite drink, a beer. He opened a bottle and went back to look outside the window.
The sky became like a theatre's big monitor showing him a movie. His eyes was captured.
A man was climbing a ladder with intention to reach the highest step, where he can conceive himself "a conqueror", a god himself. Those were the story of someone, somewhere was whispering to him that he did not bother to check who. He was captivated by the scene.
The man seemed to be with greed, vanities and high ambitions without limitations to the point of seeing himself worshipped as god.
Once the man has reached the top, he shouted:
"Now, yes! I am god. I am powerful, rich and immortal!"
But an angel came down from heaven, stroke him a thunder and shouted as well:
"And so you are to deserve this!"
Through a forefinger of the angel came out the thunder that flashed fast and strong across the sky.
In an instance, the man became ashes. The ladder tower collapsed and turned into dust.
The angel just said one word before ending the show:
"Done."
Whatever the writer was watching from the sky, he was interrupted by the big noise down below the window.
Two cars were confronted by two police cars. There were exchanges of gun fires and soon afterwards, he saw six men dead on the streets.
"They were the men on the scavengers dump site!"
The writer moved backward from the window and checked his notebook. All of what he has witnessed were in his story.
"Oh you, my pen."
He laughed out loud understanding the mystery of his pen. The Pen. Then he went back to look outside the window. Nothing.
It was a silent, starry, starry night.
Feeling relieved he wasn't crazy, just a writer with a crazy, mysterious pen, he sat himself back to his chair to write the ending to The Writer Series 14. Not surprised anymore, it has one.
The pen wrote to end the story:
"If you can't put yourself the limitations, heaven will."
@thepen20/bbayonito20
