Getting to Know: What is The Pen?

Getting to Know: What is The Pen?

Showing posts with label B) The Writer Series 13. Show all posts
Showing posts with label B) The Writer Series 13. Show all posts

Thursday, July 7, 2022

Followed 4

 




Round One:    Followed
Round Two:    Followed 2
Round Three: Followed 3


"That Bloody Moon"

The writer was watching the Lunar Eclipse that night from the window of his house. He uttered those words after completing his shared story to his reader about it and in which the only thing that it lacked was a title.

As he witnessed the entrance of the bright light from the edges of the blood colored moon, he felt it like hope behind bloodshed as it started to win it over with its overpowering light. 

"No. It was my idea for you to write."

He heard those murmurs as if someone was whispering in his ear. But he was alone. He touched his right ear and realized he had placed back his pen behind it.

"Fine. As you say, my friend."

He took it from his ear and went to write again. To his surprise, the story was already written on the paper.

So he sat down to read. 

"The writer found himself again sitting beside the two men he met in his previous series of "Followed". This time they were on top of a hill or was it a mountain? The story draft wasn't even sure."

He smiled at this point, quietly so as not to call the attention of The Pen.

"That's not a part of my story. Check and read it."

The Pen did notice. So he obeyed reading the title.

"The Warriors of Light"

When he read the mention of "pens and pencils", he smiled which was almost a laugh.

"But of course!"

Then continued.

After reading that part, all together Fighting for the Truth, the writer closed his eyes and reviewed the scriptures about Joshua. 

How he was chosen by God to win the promised land. To take them back from those God has given the opportunities to make good use of their gifts in accordance with God's will and plans. 

Obviously, they might have not complied, reason for their lands and properties being taken back and given them away to God's chosen people with all its fruits and benefits.

"That's how God works."

He said to himself, shaking his head.

"As he blesses, he can punish too."

The writer convinced himself to it.

By the end of the story, he got up from reading the draft on top of his table, went back to his opened window and shouted as well.

"Praise the Lord!"

He was looking straight into the sky as the moon was completely covered with its bright light again. The Full Moon of Light.

Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the soft breeze of air again on his skin. He has his eyes closed, joy in his face and arms stretched up in the sky.

Then when he opened his eyes, he realized that everyone below him were looking up at him from the street down below his room window.

His neighbors' attention was caught by his shout of joy. They came out from their houses for a better view to witness the lunar eclipse of May 2022.

No one said a word but smiled, laughed and others gave back their attention to the moon and later on started to go back to their own houses.

"Now sleep well."

Once again he heard the same voice. Thinking of The Pen again, he searched for his pen at the back of his ear, but it wasn't there. 

He yawned and yes, he went to bed as it was already early morning.


@thepen20/bbayonito20

The Writer Series 13



Monday, August 9, 2021

Followed 3

 


Round One : Followed
Round Two : Followed 2
Round Three:  Followed 3


The writer found himself on a single person boat. He was alone in a quiet, calm and shining blue ocean. The sun was up with warm not hot on his skin. There was a rainbow as well. A beautiful, strongly colored one.

"A rainbow with a sun shining."

He told himself finding it weird.

"What am I doing here?"

He asked himself.

Then a bird with a leaf from a tree on its beak came to rest on the front of his boat. He left his swadles on their holder and wanted to grab the bird, but it flew. Then he saw another one on top of them and both flew away together.

"If I am dreaming again I want to wake up."

He said to himself thinking of his pen.

As he moved his body backward, twisting to the back, he saw another boat with two humans.

"Hey!"

He shouted.

The writer swaddled his boat close to them as both passengers of the other boat, more or less the same size as his boat, seemed to be sleeping as their bodies were laid across the boat.

Upon reaching the other boat, he found a man and a woman. He tried to wake them up but they would not wake up. So he  scooped some sea water on both hands and sprinkled them on their faces.

Suddenly he found himself in his boat far away from them. He was back to the same distance as he was before, about two hundred meters away.

The man and the woman opened their eyes looking around in amazement then hugged each other crying for a long time.

The writer yelled at them, but it seemed he was too far away to be heard. He tried to come closer, but the same distance between them kept itself fixed.

"What is going on?"

He questioned himself.

Not long after, two dolphins on each side of his boat came tumbling themselves as if wanting to amuse him. They did. He laughed. He flashed back to the other boat and they were gone.

"What happened?"

Abruptly he found himself awakened from his dreams after his glass cup for coffee fell to the floor and broke. His pen was laid on the end point corner of his desk. It did not fall, just the cup.

As he peeped back to the paper he was writing before falling asleep, he found he stopped till "He looked back to the other boat and they were gone."

He cupped his face with both hands with regrets for getting himself awake and not continuing his dream. He glowered his eyes to the pen and grabbed it talking to it infront of his face.

"When I asked you to wake me up, you didn't. Now you left with intrigues as to what had happened in my story."

He dropped the pen on top of the paper, feeling himself crazy talking to a pen.

He stood up from his writing table chair and went to lie down on his bed as he saw it was still dark by looking outside his window. Besides, he felt tired and still sleepy. So he went to bed. Soon after he was back to his dream.

"Hello! Where are you guys?"

The writer screamed hoping he could be heard, but nothing.

"Now which direction shall I go?"

He only talked to himself as he was alone.

After a while, he saw the birds again. They were flying in one direction. He could not tell if it was north, south, east or west. But he followed them.

About an hour into his journey, he saw an island ahead of him.

"Land! At last!"

He said convincing himself it wasn't just an oasis. He arrived and he was right. It was real.

The island in the middle of the vast ocean was like a paradise. The closest water was blue, the trees distance away were beautiful green, the white colored sand!

There was no one around. So he did not bother to call. He just helped himself out of the boat and went to explore the island.

Before he went into the trees, he noticed something on his right hand far away. He wiped his eyes to see better. A boat!

"It must be the couple's boat!"

He convinced himself of what he saw and believed. So he ran to it. He came to it, touched it and looked around to check if its passengers were close by. No one.

Then from the far, he saw a boy running along the seashore playing with some little animals.

The writer went closer to the boy and the little animals. Around the boy were chickens, goats, piglets, bunnies and more, but all in pairs. No more than two of each kind.

"That is weird."

He commented to himself.

Another thing he noticed, he seemed to be invisible. The boy did not even turn around as he came to stand by his side.

"Hello!"

He greeted but the boy went on just laughing and playing. He believed he was around five years old.

"Jesus!"

Someone from behind them called. It was a woman's voice, which made the boy and the writer turned around towards the sides of the trees.

At the same time, the writer's bedside table's alarm clock sounded four o'clock in the morning. It shook up the writer from his dreams again.

"Oh no!"

He said, stopping the alarm.

"Why did I set you at four?"

Remembering it was actually the time he planned to start writing again, he wanted to get up. But sleepy head won him over.

Once again he tried to get back to sleep. Tossing and turning himself on his bed made him give up from sleeping again and finally get himself out of bed.

He went to get some coffee and back to his chair to continue writing.There he saw the story was completed. He laughed heartily, picked up his pen and kissed it. All he did afterward was enjoy his coffee and read the story.

The boy started to walk towards the woman standing by the entrance of the lined up tall trees and all the animals following him.

The writer also followed them. He found himself at the back of them and no matter how he tried to catch the boy's steps and walk beside him, he couldn't. Until he gave up and just walked calmly behind them.

He saw the mother.

"She is beautiful!"

The writer adored the amazing beauty of the woman. He noticed that the boy's beauty in his brilliance he could not describe is as beautiful as the shining beauty of his mother. Something his words have found hard enough to live up to its perfect descriptions.

"Amazing!"

It was the word he finally pronounced.

He saw the woman and the boy walking towards a place where a man was standing outside with a donkey. He tried to look better at it to describe it.

"A stable?"

It was the same before his eyes.

Suddenly a shout from his back made him twist around. It was from the inside of the trees.

"He has risen! He has risen!"

A man's voice was shouting those words. He could not see him. He found himself suddenly alone in the middle of a forest, only trees surrounding him. He searched back the mother, the son and the man with their animals and they were all gone.

"What is happening?"

He asked himself and felt terrified. He closed his eyes, prayed to get calmness and shake out terror and fear. Then breath deeply before opening his eyes back again.

This time he found himself standing before a vast land full of dead bodies. He was standing along the lined trees of the forest where in front of them lay the bodies of people, all wet, on top of each other together with dead animals, broken and fallen trees, rocks and mud.

More terror than before overwhelmed the writer, almost making him fall as his knees weakened. Someone held him firm and made all the fears, shock and horror he felt disappear. Once again he got calm and back on his feet.

Beside him on his right, stood a man in white robe.

"Why white robe?"

He asked himself quietly, trying to see if the man had a halo on top of his head, thinking he might be an angel. But there was nothing.

"Do not be afraid. Just observe and be a witness. The Saviour of the world has risen."

The man said as he stretched his right hand as if referring to the dead as the world.

"This land of the dead is the world?"

He asked as he moved to look around him, but the man was gone by the time he turned back to him.

From his back, he heard someone responding to his question, feeling horror from it.

"Yes!"

The writer whirled to his back, but there was no one. He twisted his look to the front and felt deeply sorry about all the dead bodies.

Slowly, men and women in white robes were coming out from everywhere. Some from the sky, others from the forest, still others from other nature like the mountains and some from among the dead.

They landed themselves between the people and talked to them. Actually preaching as the common words he heard from them were scriptures he knew about.

One by one, not all, from the dead people some started to rise up. They rose up clean and shining.

From beside the writer, without him realizing it, the boy he saw before was standing. He started to walk ahead. The writer saw him as he stepped forward and how he was changing from a little boy to a grown up child and finally a man.

As the boy became a man, he reached the front of all the dead people on the other end part from where the writer was standing, he stopped. Eleven men came towards him and later on the eleven men called another one to join them.

A voice from the sky was heard everywhere as the man dressed in a fishing net beside the man spoke to him.

"While he was still speaking, a bright cloud enveloped them, and a voice from the cloud said, 'This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!'"

The pen's story stopped there. The writer got the point. It was a verse from Matthew 17:5.

"Follow. Follow the Son of God."



@thepen20/bbayonito20





Wednesday, February 3, 2021

Followed 2



Round One : Followed

Round  Two:  Followed 2


 The loud, very loud cries woke him up.

"What happened?"

The writer found himself on top of a flat rock, big enough to accommodate three people sleeping in a fetus position. He was, until the sudden loud cries of the two young men beside him cried, full of anguish.

He looked around him. His eyes were big with surprise.

"Where am I?"

He asked himself. The man beside him just looked at him while tears flowed endlessly in his face. The same thing was happening to the other man on this man's right side.

The writer stood up and looked around. He found himself on a mountain high, enough to see the hundreds, no! thousands of people kneeled and cried with their faces on the ground.

Far away near the sea down below them, stands a man shouting. No! Announcing something or had just said something that made the crowd react as such in their deepest anguish.

One thing he noticed, he did not know the place. Besides, all the people around him: men, women, young and old, and children were wearing clothes different from his. He was wearing his usual white shirts and black denim pants. The crowd around him were wearing those kinds of clothes in the earliest time of the world.

He could not understand anything. So he asked the man beside him as he kneeled just like him.

"What happened?"

The man beside him was a young man, almost a boy. Maybe both men were around their twenties.

The young man beside him looked at him, trying to control his tears.

"Moises just died."

He responded to the writer's question, then turned his head to the other man on his side who seemed to be protesting the attention of the man to the writer. They were talking in a different language which the writer could not understand and figure out the origin.

"At least, he understands english."

He felt relief as he said to himself.

The writer gazed his look again to the man talking to the crowd down below them and standing by the seashore. 

Once again, curiosity ruled him, so the writer asked another question. The first response to his question was already weird to him. But he knew, Moises is a common name given to Jews.

"Oh! They are Jews!"

He finally realized. He kept it unsaid, but in his mind. His eyes opened wide as deep inside him he was coming to question his presence in an unknown world. He must be dreaming again.

"Am I back to the past?"

He put his hands inside his pants pocket, checking if there was any pen in there. Nothing. Strange to him. Slowly the two men beside him started to pick up their things while putting themselves to their feet.

"Why? Where are you going?"

The man pointed a finger towards the sea.

"To follow him."

He meant the man standing by the sea who had been talking to the crowd.  He was not carrying a loud microphone or something, but the thousands of people so far away could hear him speaking in their language. Strange to the writer, but it was also strange he was with them.

"Who is he?"

He dared to ask. As long as the man beside him would respond, he rather take the chance to satisfy his curiosity.

"Our new leader, Joshua."

Then both young men left him as the crowd was starting to walk again towards the sea.

The writer could not do anything else but to do the same like the rest.

As he moved himself, he was thankful he was wearing his best rubber shoes as he observed the others were in their leather sling sandals and some even barefooted.

"Is that possible?"

He asked himself. But he was cut by another sound coming from the crowd. This time he heard amazement and reactions of worship as they raised both hands to the air looking up the sky.

The writer followed the crowd's look.

The water of the sea in front of them was dividing itself, as the man leading them raised his arms to the air and in one hand holding a long stick? or a rod? He could not be sure.

His eyes became big, wide opened too with what he was witnessing. He could not take his eyes off them anymore.

The sea water became two walls held on both sides, exposing the bottom of the sea while the crowd was crossing it to reach the other side.

"Jordan River!"

He shouted loud as he remembered something. His eyes and mind were suddenly enlightened. He could not help but close his eyes and worship as well.

"Oh God! You are truly amazing!"

Then he opened his eyes. He found himself out of the old times. He was back to his reality. His reality? He asked himself.

He was seated in his chair, on his writing table his pen holder with the pen on it in the middle, and blank papers in front of him. Strange to him, there wasn't a story written this time as it used to happen before. He searched the other piles of papers. None.

He looked at the Pen.

"You did not write?"

His question was made with amusement. Then, as if to get his answer, his eyes were guided to an open book beside the right side of the pen.

He reached for it.

"Joshua."

He looked at the book cover.

"Holy Bible"

The writer shook his head and smiled.

"Got what you mean. You guessed it right. I am interested to know Joshua. Thank you."

Then the writer seated himself comfortably and read his journey with the people of Israel, following the leadership of Joshua.


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Follwed 3

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@bbayonito20(Tap to Author's Profile)




Monday, September 28, 2020

Followed


 

The writer finds himself on a highway. It is a wide empty one with no division line in its middle. Maybe it is a one way lane, so he thinks of it.

Alongside, there is nothing he can see. Suddenly, he sees someone dressed in casual clothes; top shirts, jeans and sporty shoes. He has long hair, but obviously a man according to his body structure.

He calls to him but receives no response . He tries to run to catch up with him, but he cannot. He is wondering why. Then he sees a pen in his hand. 

"Oh!" he says. 

"I must be dreaming or having a vision while writing again."

So he stops running and just puts his hands in his jeans pocket with his pen. He relaxes himself and just follows the man.

Not long after, there is another man walking beside him.

"Follow me. Come with me." the man says.

"Where?" the writer asks.

"I am to lead a ministry about my god."

"Who is your god?"

 "It is not who, it is what."

The writer is puzzled with the answer. But he  chooses not to argue. He looks straight ahead to lead the man's look.

"I am following him already. I am sorry."

He is using the man ahead as an excuse for a true reason. He has been following him without even knowing where it will end. Something in him makes him feel and believes he better be. He feels faith for that man. 

The first traveller in his side, bows his head to him and bades goodbye. He walks with a faster speed to reach the man ahead. He is able to!

The writer is surprised in what he sees.

"How can he do that while I can't?"

The writer then realizes that the traveller is dressed in expensive clothing. A beautiful blue! A suit that proves he is obviously a rich man.

When the traveller reaches the side of the man, he starts to talk to him. The man keeps his look straight ahead of him. Then he stops and turns his head to the traveller. After that he points his look to a fallen dirty woman on his side of the road.

Though they both stop beside her, the writer cannot reach them. His eyes go big when he sees the woman. How can he miss that, being himself at the back of them about twenty five steps away, maybe that far.

 The woman has a child in her arms about two years old. Both have dirty faces and clothes. They seem to have lost their consciousness, maybe due to hunger and heat.

He wants to help them too, but he cannot move. He sees the traveller's look with a dismay in his face at the woman and the boy, as he responds while making hand movements as if cleaning his clothes. Then with his head up high, he continues on his way.

The man whom he follows, takes a bottle of water and some bread from his bag, which the writer just realizes he fails to notice before.

The man sits the woman up after she recovers consciousness right after drinking the water. Then she manages to stand with the boy in her arms. She is wearing a long pink dress with a blue cape on top of it and her head is covered with white long veil.

Her son is wearing a long pink dress. Is he a boy? He is a boy with short hair, but wearing pink. 

"I saw him before"

The writer is trying to remember where he has seen the boy before but fails.

The man ahead kisses the hand of the woman, then goes on walking. The woman and the boy stay where they are.

As the writer passes them, at the wink of his eyes, he sees them clean. They have clean faces, clean clothes and smile at him. He wants to stop walking, but his feet prohibit him to do so.

He looks at the hands of the woman expecting a bottle of water or food, but what he sees is a rosary!

His eyes go big. Mother Mary! He closes his eyes to look at them again to confirm what he is seeing. But they disappear as if gone with the wind!

He looks back to the highway and realizes the man is already distances away.

Then he hears voices of people singing songs of praises beside him. There is an old man of about  fifty years old leading seven pairs of couples. Young couples whose ages may not be more than thirty. 

Each couple walked one behind the other making seven pairs. 

The old man who leads them, stops singing and the others too. He walks closer to the writer.

"Come and be one of us."

The writer gives him a questionable look. 

"Why for?"

The leader answers.

"We aim to live life to the best we believe of it."

The writer still questions him.

"How is it?"

The old leader smiles.

"Just observe. See for yourself."

Then he leaves and continues what he has been doing before. He is back to the group leading them. So they walk past him and turn him into an observer from behind their group.

The writer observes that the old man is facing the group this time. With his hands clasped as if praying, he holds a book in his hand. All the seven pairs do the same. 

There is peacefulness in the air. Anyone can feel it through the breezes in the air. All of them with eyes closed as all on their knees while praying.

 Then they sing songs so sweet to the ears, they stand and raise their hands up to the sky.

Ahead, the man he has been following is already more distances away. But then, he comes back walking closer to them when they sing. There is an obvious happiness in his face. He is happy!

The writer stops walking. He likes to watch this one. It is like watching a movie to him.

The prayers and singing stop. The leader turns around to lead the group. He is reading out loud his book while walking. 

As they pass the man ahead, no one notices him standing on the right side of the road. To them, he is invincible.

As soon as the leader turns his back to the pairs, everything changes. 

The first two couples listen and follow the readings religiously. The third and fourth are doing the same, but with interference. The woman of the fourth pair has been continuously interrupted by the rest of the couples. What has been happening to her, calls the attention of the pair before her and her partner. They all make an effort to always get her attention back to the book they are reading.

The fifth, sixth and seventh couples are totally inattentive, not participating at all to the reading.

The last pair opens two bottles of liquor from their travelling bag hanging on their shoulders. They share it to the other two pairs ahead of them.

The man second to the last in line, lights some cigarettes. He shares them with the others and goes on high smokes.

The last three pairs are changing partners. There is lust in their eyes. Maybe due to substances they are taking. 

The woman of the fifth pair keeps reading the book with the ears on what has been talked about by the rest of the last pair. She laughs at them but never participates. Once in a while, she murmurs to the ears of the woman before her and they both giggle. So this fifth woman has been interrupting the fourth woman in line while both have their eyes fixed on the book.

As the group passes the side of the man on the side of the road, his face is so, so sad and almost crying.

The writer's heart is touched by the sadness in his face, his tears fall. 

Suddenly, the leader faces the group looking at the sky shouting.

"Praise the Lord!"

The pairs of couples are back to themselves and shouts the same. As the leader turns around and looks at them, he does not seem to notice anything in the couples.

The man, the writer follows and stands on the side of the road, stays still with his head down and face full of sadness.

Then loud shouts call everyone's attention to the writer's side of the wide road. 

They all have reached a seaside. There are people shouting for help. They seem to be drowning.  Yes, they are! 

The writer counts them as they are all separated from each other. Ten people!

The woman of the fifth pair shouts and points her finger on them.

"They are drowning! People help them! For God's sake, help them!"

The first four pairs run straight to help. They can only save one each since the people on the water are separated and the water is rough.

The fifth woman goes hysterical and desperate in asking for help and pleads. She looks at the pairs behind her, they just look at the people with blank faces. They do not care saying, "That is what happens to people who do not know God."

The woman cannot believe her ears.

"What?"

She starts to cry more. She turns to her partner and pleads with him.

"Please help. I can't. I don't know how to swim. We will both get drowned if I jump there. You, you can swim."

The partner responds to her with mercy on his eyes, but refuses to move. 

"If they know how to pray, they should pray for help."

With her partner's response, the woman cries more. She cannot believe what she just heard. Then she notices the leader just looking at the others on the water.

She kneels in front of him helplessly.

"Please do something! Help them! You can do too. You can swim. You are not that old to help!"

The leader picks her up.

"My child, let us leave it to God. If I die, no one will lead this group. You will all be lost."

The woman's eyes get wide with a shock.

"But you are the one who teaches us to sacrifice ourselves for others!"

The other is silent, without a word but looks at her with calmness.

The woman's legs weaken and fall to the ground, crying hard with desperation.

"Jesus help us!"

Her words shake the sad man on the road side. He looks at the woman crying and turns his look to the water. Without hesitation, he goes to the water and saves one more. The others have saved the eight people and back dead tired to the seashore side.

The writer wants to jump into the water too, but his feet cannot move. He is condemned just to be an observer to all that is happening.

The nine people are saved with their saviors all exhausted lying beside them. Only one, but only one who is the closest, is left behind on the water. 

Everyone must have thought to better help the farthest one first due to the level of danger. Maybe hoping that the rest will do it for them. Unfortunately, it is not the case. So the current took the tenth person with its tide away. 

The writer cries so hard as his knees weaken and lead him to kneel.

"If only. If only. Everyone could have been saved and not one left behind."

He has been crying there for hours, hands on his face.

When he raises, there is no one on the road. It is clear with people, except that man twenty five steps ahead of him. Due to tears on his eyes, his vision is blurred. He cleanses his eyes. The man is not there anymore, but a big cross!

"Jesus on the cross!"

Back from a dream because of different surroundings, the writer realizes that he is not walking. He is inside his car, hands crossed on the wheels. His car is parked facing the church. 

He put his back against the seat with his head to rest on its headrest. He closes his eyes and questions himself.

"What has just happened?"

Then he turns his head on the seat beside him and sees his pen and papers. He picks up the papers and there is written another story.

"You have been writing."

That is what he reads as he sees his pen.

He shakes his head and smiles. 

"You did it again Pen."

Then someone knocks on his car's glass window. A known friend of the church reminds him of the mass starting soon. So he keeps all papers and the pen away.

 

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Followed 2


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