The Story Begins
He knew he placed the pen somewhere. Last night, underneath the book the receipt was found. The table full of mismatched items is prime real-estate for lost and found but it is not here either. His head is woozy, moving back and forth, frustrated with this old game. It has to be somewhere. But it is nowhere. The Grandfather Clock in the hallway cautiously dings and rushed-ly dongs. It is time. He is warned. He has to find the pen. It was so long ago.
"Bryan!!!!" Voices carry in this wooden shanty listing to the left for well over one hundred and fifty years. The waves crash in the distance on the wooded pier. It has been for ever since he last was seen in Springton. It has been so long. Where is that pen?
"Over here, Tom. Over here. What is it?" Bryan answers, rubbing his left hand at the back of his neck as if he just awoke from an overdue nap. Bryan is an early riser, you would never know by the matted hair at the back of his head. His look and feel never matches. He is tall, strong looking, deeply handsome and firmly unkempt. It's too much work.
"Bryan, there you are" rushes Tom, precariously balancing the lost pen on the top of his left ear.
"You must come look at this. Can you?" Always the feel of a deadline past. This is Tom.
"Tom. Stop taking my pens. Especially, that one." Bryan shoves the words out of his mouth with a firm patience. Tom suspects nothing.
"Oh!" Tom grabs it from the top of his ear and hands it to Bryan carelessly. The pen falls toward the wide planked wooden floor. Bryan reaches down and grabs it just before the land. All would be lost. No one knows.
~Last night the whisper spoke loudly in Bryan's ear. Time. It is now time. He knew. They knew. And it was imperative he begin. He was confused yet aware of everything. It all made sense and nothing made sense. But it was time for him to begin and the pen was all that was needed.
"Please Bryan. Can you look at this?" Bryan lost in thought ran his mind to Tom's request.
"Yes, of course Tom. Let's go." Bryan pushed the pen into his frayed right front jean pocket. This lost pen has been everywhere and yet is usually lost.
To be continued....
(So, I'm trying something new. At least today I am.)