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 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.

Comments