So Let It Be Written...

"As I told you many times over, Agnes," hollered out Peter as he stormed back into his office, "the reports must be put in separate binders for each board member! I needed this yesterday!" The door slammed shut with his last word. His face was beet red and both hands were clenched to the point where he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. He found himself ridden with stress ever since he found his wife’s note that she was leaving him. For him, it seemed to come from out of nowhere as he felt completely comfortable in their relationship. Apparently, she didn’t feel the same. He could have fought for her but instead he just turned to his career. He became obsessed with work and had to make sure everything and everyone was perfect.

Outside of Peter's office, Agnes sat at her functional, steel gray cubicle that was adorned with no sense of personalization. Agnes Attlebie appeared just a stressed as Peter was, but she had work to do. A stack of 40 binders were waiting to be filled with last quarter's financial report. She just couldn't understand why Peter won’t just present the information digitally like every other department head. Since he didn’t want to embrace modern technology, this usually meant more work for Agnes. She never spoke up though, and she just did as she was instructed no matter how harsh Peter may be with her.

As Peter finally started to unclench, he sat down at his desk and looked for his day planner. He noticed something different about his desk. A little black book bound in leather was laying in the center of it. Even more peculiar was the ornate pen that lay on top of it. The pen looked like an antique and made of pewter which was etched in a beautiful array of vines and ivy. Just underneath the pen, he noticed a yellow sticky note that had the words “Write the story” scribbled on it. Peter reached over to pick up the pen and, when he did, he realized then how truly solid this writing instrument was. He felt a feeling of electricity up his right arm and throughout his body the moment his skin made contact with the heavy pen. He felt compelled to start writing. He reached over with his left hand and pulled the little black notebook closer to him and opened it to the first empty page. He brought the pen down to the paper and, as soon as the point touched the pad, Peter was no longer in control. The pen moved across and down the page with a furious pace composing words to form an incredible tale. No longer was Peter in his downtown DC office with Agnes dashing around with reports and binders outside his door. He was now transported to a world that was created by the pen held in his hand. Peter Gillis was no more. He was now Detective Brock Langmore of the Lower East Side in New York City.

It was five o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon and I was fixin’ to get outta this place sooner than later. Ever since I opened this detective agency three months ago, business has been booming. Some cases were small potatoes… stolen fur coat, missing cat, or employees takin’ money outta the till. As I got up from my desk chair and made my way over to the coat rack where my trusty trench hung waiting for me, the front door swung open.

“Detective Langmore, I presume,” this mysterious woman declared. She was beauty incarnate and she reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I noticed a giant rock on her finger that sat next to her wedding band. She started moving in my direction and I realized I hadn’t yet said a word to this woman as I tried to figure out her story.

“Sorry ma’am,” I finally said, “it’s closin’ time… maybe we can talk in the morning.” I started putting on my beat-up trench coat and made my way around the desk. She didn’t pick up on my obvious cues that I was ready to go home.

“Nonsense, Detective and it’s Rachel Parker not ma’am. I have plenty of cash and you look like you could use a new wardrobe,” she said in a soft tone even though she was criticizing me.

“Okay, ma’am, but let’s make it quick. What can I do you for?” I asked as I made my way back over to my desk chair but purposely kept my trench coat on.

“I want you to kill my husband,” she said as if she was asking me to pick up her clothes at the cleaners. “I am prepared to pay you handsomely for it.”

“Lady, you do realize that I am a detective… not a hired gun,” I reminded her. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Why would she think I would do something like that for her? And for her to just openly admit that she wanted her husband dead to a complete stranger was too bizarre for words. There’s got to be more to the story and my curiosity was getting the better of me.

As quickly as he was submerged into the story of Detective Langmore, he was just as quick to be pulled out of it. Peter was back at his desk with the pen now out of his hand. He looked down and this black book that was left for him on his desk was now filled with pages of words. Peter was so confused by all of this and began to question his own sanity. It was a strange feeling, he felt like an observer of the story not the author of it even though the scribbled down words would suggest otherwise. He decided this was all nonsense and closed the book shut. He was about to take the book and pen and throw it into his desk drawer. But again, when he put his hand on the pen, he was transported back to the world of Brock Langmore.

I was exhausted after spending hours outside of the Parker residence. It was now six o’clock in the morning and finally I am seeing some movement in the house after waiting all night long. I saw several lights turn on and off and then I saw the garage door open. A black Muntz Jet pulled out and began driving down the street. I was quick to follow and noticed a male figure in the front seat. This must be John Parker, Rachel’s husband.

John finally arrived at an office building in the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I watched him drop off his car at the valet. I saw him yelling at the attendant but couldn’t make out what he was saying. While he had his tirade, I ditched my car and made my way closer to the office entrance. I heard him saying to the guy that there better not be one scratch on the car or it’d be his head on a platter and stormed off through the entrance. I quickly followed him into the lobby and watched him completely ignore the three different people that said hello to him on his way to the elevator. He entered the elevator and I managed to slip in just before the doors closed. He stood toward the back corner of the elevator car while I stood closer to the doors with my back to him. I still hadn’t gotten a good look at this man.

“Press number 35, buddy,” ordered John.

I turned my head to the side in his direction but didn’t make eye contact, “Excuse me?” I retorted in disbelief. Does this guy think I am his personal servant or something?

“I said floor number 35,” he insisted ignoring my frustration. Nevertheless, I pressed the button for him. As the elevator began its slow climb to the 35th floor, I wanted to see if I could get a raw reaction from him.

“What would you say if I told you that I was hired by your wife to kill you?”

“I would say that seems right. Especially since she left me a note this morning saying she was leaving me. All of her stuff was gone.” For the first time since observing this guy, he actually exhibited some human qualities. He continued as if he was in a confessional booth with his priest. We were now passing the 17th floor. “I messed up with her. Never treated her right. Took her for granted and was only focused on work. I don’t blame her for her anger or even for wanting me dead. I would wish the same thing if I were her. There’s just nothing I can do about it now. She’s gone. So what’s the point in changing now. If I couldn’t hold on to the woman I loved, why even bother to try with anyone else?” The ding on the elevator rang through the enclosure snapping me out of actually feeling for this guy. The doors opened up and I stepped out and turned around.

As John Parker walked from the back of the elevator across the threshold of the open doors, I was able to finally take a good look at this gentleman. There was a reason why everything he was saying struck me to my core. I locked eyes with him and the face looking back at me was my own. A blackness began to fill my vision until I was in complete darkness. I collapsed to the floor.

Peter opened his eyes and realized he was on the floor looking up at the ceiling tiles of his office. He pulled himself up with assistance from his desk chair. “Are you okay, Mr. Gillis,” a concerned voice came from his office door. He was still out of it and tried to regain his balance and composure. He was finally able to get himself back in to his chair and pull himself together. He looked up and saw a very worried Agnes standing at the door.

“I…I…,” stuttered Peter. “I am not sure what happened.” He looked down on his desk and saw the antique pen next to the little black book that was now filled from front to back with words. In that moment, Peter realized he was John in this story. Overcome with emotion and now a deep desire to rectify things with his wife, he shot up out of his seat and quickly threw on his coat. He ran past Agnes and stopped himself short. He looked back at her and said, “Agnes, I know I can be a bit of a jerk at times, but I really do appreciate all the work you do. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and we’ll get a fresh start going on Monday.” Just as Peter was going to turn and run for the elevator, he saw her smile at him. He never realized how much her smile lit up her whole face.

As the elevator doors opened, Agnes yelled out, “But where are you going? What’s the rush?”

Peter got in the elevator, turned around to look at Agnes and declared just before the doors closed on him, “I am going to save my marriage!”

Agnes clasped her hands together and beamed a very proud smile. She turned and walked back into Peter’s office. She stood behind his desk and picked up the pen and black book and held it close to her. “I’m so glad I listened that woman in that strange shop in the Village. This pen and book really are magic. Things are going to be so much better now!”