The Watcher's Mission
This is a Flash Fiction Challenge from the blog of Chuck Wendig.
The prompt is: A carpenter draws a map which shows the location of every crossword puzzle in Mecca.
The prompt is: A carpenter draws a map which shows the location of every crossword puzzle in Mecca.
The Watcher's Mission
The dust in the air
was palpable as Dakota ran through the streets of the old city.
The day had started simple enough, shopping for the weekend,
getting ready to entertain visitors, listening to his girlfriend chatter about
her family’s latest drama.
Each of Dakota’s pounding
steps brought him closer to the strange man.
Even though he could seemingly feel it before it happened, when
the shrill sound of the phone hit his ear, Dakota almost cut into his own
finger instead of the fruit he was supposed to be cutting.
“I’ll get it” Anna said.
She answered the phone and for a moment, Dakota paused to
admire his girlfriend’s simple beauty.
The light coming through the kitchen window gave her a radiant glow that
was timeless. She would be the one, of
that he was certain.
The ancient walls
seemed to corral him toward his destination as sweat began to bead on his
forehead.
Caught looking at her, she smiled, blushed a bit, and,
handing him the handset, kissed him gently on the forehead.
“Hello, this is Dakota.”
“The carpenter creates.” Was all Dakota heard then the line
went dead.
The look on Dakota’s face must have been evident, as the
calm and beautiful moment gave way to a much more ominous presence. Anna’s smile faded and he heard her simply
say, “Let me guess, work?”
“This is the one. It’s
happening.” Even though Dakota’s words
were cryptic to an outsider, Anna had understood and it had only made the
growing tension in the room feel even more like a rubber band about to snap. “I have to go.”
Dakota stopped running
as he approached the ancient wooden door.
The door looked as though it had been in place for centuries. He tried to calm his breathing and heart rate
before knocking. As important as it was
for him to be here, he did not want his on anxiousness to cast a shadow on what
was happening inside the small studio beyond the door.
It had been centuries since a carpenter had created
anything. That carpenter had created a
movement. A movement that had changed
the politics of the entire known world.
That carpenter had stoked the philosophical fire and led a following that
eventually reshaped the way the world approached everything from law to warfare
to religion. They had named their new
philosophy after that carpenter: Christianity.
Now that he had
gathered himself to a more presentable nature, Dakota reached out to the
enormous and ornate brass knocker at the center of the old door and knocked
three times.
From the beginning of recorded time, there had always been a
carpenter. More often than not,
carpenters came and went with nothing significant happening in their mortal
lifetime. Once every few millennia a
carpenter would receive a new calling, or a vision, or perhaps simply hear
whispers. Those all had the potential to
move the very foundation of mankind. For
every carpenter there were always four watchers, like Dakota, representing the
four cardinal directions. Dakota
represented east, not because he was from the east, or anything mystical. When he was baptized into the life of a
watcher, east is what was needed. Dakota
had assumed that at one time, very long ago, the directions had more
significance, but that time had also faded.
Watchers were there to protect and serve the carpenter. In the case a carpenter had any prophetic
event, the watchers would be there to assist the carpenter in moving the
prophecy forward and helping to realize its benefit to the world and
mankind. In Jesus’ time these were men
like John the Apostle, now it was men like Dakota, and as he waited for the
door to open he hoped he was up to whatever task may lie beyond.
The door opened with Daniel standing there with a grin. Daniel was the Watcher of the West, and
welcomed Dakota warmly. It was Daniel’s month
to live with the carpenter, providing help, assistance, and a sense of normalcy
for a person who was anything but. The
carpenter was old, nearly 90 years, and there had been no sign of a new
carpenter yet. He was confined to a
wheelchair as age had marched its course across a once virile body. The carpenter’s mind was still strong, but the
watchers could sense that was fading as well.
“The time has come brother.
He is creating.”
“What does he create… what does create even mean for the
carpenter? Who else has arrived?” Daniel
asked.
“You are the first to arrive, come and see. It is unlike anything that we could have
expected!”
Dakota loved this small studio. It was nothing more than a large open space
with two bedrooms and a kitchen. There
were no trappings of modern society except the telephone. Time spent here was spent in contemplation
for what may come. Every month Dakota
had spent here had been rejuvenating to his soul. Meditation, cooking simple foods, reading
books, and deep candlelit conversations with the carpenter about everything from
current events to ancient Greek philosophy.
This had been Dakota’s refuge every fourth month for the past 12
years. He cherished the time, and
wondered how everything would change.
Daniel led Dakota into the open space. What Dakota witnessed was nothing short of a miracle. The carpenter stood tall at an art easel
furiously paining shapes in vibrant colors, speaking meditations that Dakota
couldn’t quite hear or make out. Dakota
stared in awe and began to approach the carpenter.
“My friend…” as the words trailed off, Dakota felt Daniel’s
hand on his shoulder.
“He won’t respond at all, and I don’t recommend touching him”
Daniel offered.
Dakota paused and began to really look at what was
happening. The carpenter suddenly muttered
something unintelligible, ripped the paper from the easel, crumpled it into a
ball and threw it on the floor with many others. He then began again on a new paper. This time in dark foreboding colors.
“A few hours ago this began,” Daniel explained. “I was out getting some vegetables at the
open air market, and when I returned he was standing there painting. I panicked a bit, it has been nearly 5 years
since he last stood, but as I moved closer I noticed his eyes and heard his
words.”
At that moment Dakota saw the carpenter’s eyes. They were milky white, devoid of pupils or
anything. Just a white sea.
“What’s he saying?” Dakota asked, unable to make out what
sounded like gibberish.
“I haven’t been able to make any of it out. It sounds like a simple phrases, but I just
can’t tell.”
There was a knock at the door, which brought both men back to the present.
“That will be the brothers, I’ll let them in.”
As Daniel went to open the door, Dakota stood mesmerized by
the sight. Trying to figure out what
exactly was being created and what would the associated task.
Daniel returned with Jack and Joseph… north and south. Brothers, and the longest serving watchers.
All four watchers sat for hours watching the carpenter
create. All asking questions of each
other trying to decipher drawing after drawing and trying to make any sense of
the muffled mutterings that the carpenter continued to speak.
As night approached, it became clear that what was being
painted was a map of a city. The carpenter
seemed to be taking longer on each version of the painting as it slowly took
form into something other than random lines and shapes.
By candlelight, the carpenter seemed to be slowing, and it
looked almost as if fatigue was setting in.
he had been at the task for nearly 12 hours. The watchers began to sense that whatever was
happening was about to revel itself.
The carpenter’s speech became clearer:
“Cross the words”
“All to find”
“Black and white abound”
“Clues for the heavens”
Without warning, the carpenter suddenly stopped, stood straight,
and began to slump to the ground. The
watchers scrambled quickly with Dakota catching the old man, and one of the
brothers getting the carpenter’s wheelchair.
Dakota gently sat the carpenter into the chair. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, with an
angelic look on his face.
All four watchers then turned to the final painting. It’s dark lines geometric shapes definitely represented
a city. But what city, and why? At certain intersections of the shapes were
large blots of paint that contrasted to the rest of the colors. It all seemed random but with a certain
familiarity.
As the four watchers stood arguing about what city the
painting represented and what it meant they heard a voice behind them, “My boys…”
the carpenter said softly.
They turned to face him.
“This is never easy, the passing of one to another. It is time for me to join those before me and
for you to find the next carpenter. The
map is Mecca. Look for the crossword puzzles, they will lead you to the truth.”
With that he closed his eyes one last time and the Watchers had their mission.
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