The Magic Pen

“Thirty-two minutes,” Michael looked at his watch. That’s how much time he had lost going through each book on the self-help aisle. Are the books arranged by title or by author? Or is it just chaos? The aisle made little sense to him. When he was a child, he wouldn’t mind the delays and inefficiencies. Instead, he found joy in everything he saw and encountered. For instance, if he were still a child, he would see this as an adventure to find the buried treasure amongst the many towers of false books. He wouldn’t care how long he spent slaying monsters until he found The Scroll! But he became an adult. Became jaded and learned that efficiencies matter in business and life. It annoyed him to see time unnecessarily wasted.

“Michael, do you need help?” Dalton said at the end of the aisle. 

“You work here now?” Michael asked surprised. He surrendered for now. His fight with time was an exhaustive endeavor, and he decided to resume it after Dalton.

“Yes!” Dalton cheerfully replied while sliding up the rim of his glasses with his thumb and balancing a bunch of books with his other arm, “What can I help you with?”

Help was something you don’t ask Dalton; unless you had car troubles. His dad ran the only auto shop in the town of Manifest. So it was a surprise he worked in the library and looking every inch a stereotypical librarian.  

“Do you still work in the car shop?” Michael asked.

“I gave that up last year. I can’t blame you for not knowing. You rarely visit the library and you haven’t had car troubles in the past year. I work here now.”

“Wow, that’s a one eighty.” 

“I know! That’s what a resolution can do to you,” the ex-mechanic replied.

“Resolution?”

“Oh. A New Year’s resolution I made last year. It’s funny. I’ve always refused to write them because they were lame. But apparently I wrote one in 2019. Well, I guess I did as it was in my hand-writing. But it came true! Now I work here and loving it! All the books and all that stuff.”

“Wow,” he replied. That’s weird. As much as he wanted to know why Dalton doubted the resolution, Michael did not want to prolong the conversation. If my internet provider was EFFICIENT, I wouldn’t be here. It irritated him that no establishments, not even the library, offered free wi-fi in this small town of Manifest. 

Michael cleared his throat, “Do you have a book on how to make a good New Year’s resolution? It’s for my class project.”

Dalton smiled, “That’s what I’m here for. To help people out.” He tilted his head to the side, “Have a sit on that table behind you, with the older gentleman. He’s a visiting librarian. Name is Benjamin. I’ll bring you the book once I locate it. I assume it’s in storage.” 

“Wow, great! Thanks,” Michael put a thumbs up and proceeded to the table. Note to self, the library does not have a self-help desk. Asking Dalton is faster.   

Dalton continued to the stockroom to deposit the books in his hand. He reflected on his 2019 resolution and still couldn’t figure out how he made it. After partying hard in 2018, he woke up New Year’s day with a head splitting hangover, and a resolution on his right hand. Funny thing was, he never even dreamed to be a librarian before that note, but after visiting the library, he found his true calling. His dad was furious at first as he wanted his sons to take over the auto shop. In the end, his dad accepted his choice. Persuaded by his older brother, who convinced the old man that one brother was enough to carry out the family business. In a few months, and with Benjamin’s mentorship, Dalton worked and trained at the town’s only library. It feels so good to fulfill a resolution, he realized.

Michael sat in front of Benjamin, who was busy writing something in an old notebook. “I’d like to think of it as an old manuscript,” Benjamin looked up and smiled at Michael, “I’m Benjamin.”

“I’m Michael,” he said, offering his hand to the elder.

“Nice to meet you young man,” the elder said as he shook Michael’s hand.

“Were you working on something?”

“I write stories. I’m weaving 5 stories together now. You know, we are all connected. Dalton’s story, your story, my story, the town’s story, etcetera, are all connected.”

As a child, Michael loved to write. Hours flew by as he wrote stories with a special pen given to him by his grandfather. It was a regular pen bought at the gas station, but his grandfather gave it to him and added, “With this magic pen, you will open realms and universes that are privy only to the traveler. It is your mission, to bring these realms and universes for our people to enjoy. Do you accept this mission?”

“Aye, aye,” Michael whispered.

“I’m sorry, son. Did you say something? My ears aren’t that good,” Benjamin said.

“Oh. I wanted to ask when will you finish your story?” Odd. He had never thought of his grandfather in ages.

“It never finishes. It always begins,” the old man leaned back on his chair, “I also write New Year’s resolutions for people.”

Michael paused, a look of perplexity in his face, “People pay you to write their New Year’s resolutions?” 

Benjamin laughed. His shoulders bobbed in a gentle rhythm, “No. I write for free. I can do one for you now, since you’re looking to write one.”

“Did Dalton tell you I needed to write one?” Michael asked. He wondered when Dalton had the time to tell Benjamin about the writing project.  

“He sends people my way when they need help on resolutions,” the old man said.

“Oh. Thanks for the offer, but I need to write it myself.”

“Ah, mine is different. I have a 100% satisfaction rating from my clients.”

“I’m sure you are good at what you do, but I wish to submit my work for my class assignment.”

“Then do so. But let me write one just for you. Not for your class,” Benjamin said in a way that reminded Michael of his grandfather. 

“Ok,” the younger man blurted out unconsciously. 

His grandfather was a crazy kind man who died when Michael was 6 years old. Crazy because the man believed in magic and kind because he was a pure soul. In his deathbed he called Michael over and said, “What do you want to be?”

“Hmmm. Writing is fun,” he said in seriousness. His face lit up at the prospect and exclaimed, “I want to write because it makes me happy. And it makes people happy!” 

“Oh, that’s a good one. If you follow your dreams, then you’ll be happy. And if it’s a good dream, then making people happy naturally follows,” his grandfather nodded.

“Papa said that dreams are for fools.” 

“He can’t tell between fake and real dreams. Real dreams come from the soul. Our souls never lie. Your soul will guide you if you let it. If your dream is true, then you should try your best to make it come true.”

“How do I know if my dream is from my soul Grandpapa?”

“When working for it makes you happy. And that happiness will overflow and affect the people around you and beyond,” the grandfather pointed to the stars. 

Michael laughed as he leaned on the bedside.

The grandfather wrote in the air, “I will leave you a gift. It will be ready for you when you need it.” 

Michael clutched the edge of the library table. He looked up and saw Benjamin smiling across him. 

“You were daydreaming. Dalton didn’t want to disturb you,” Benjamin pointed to the book on the table with the title How To Write Resolutions You Can Keep.

“Oh. Thanks,” Michael got up and took the book. “It was nice to meet you.”

“And you too,” Benjamin replied with a wink.

It was New Year’s day 2020, and Michael started the morning cleaning up the living room. He grabbed the streamers on the floor, picked up the red plastic cups filled with left over alcohol, and moved outside to throw them into the trash. 

He walked inside the house to escape the cold, putting his bare hands inside his jacket pockets for extra warmth. Michael felt a piece of paper in one pocket and a pen in the other. He pulled out and unfolded the note. Sat down and read, “My New Year’s Resolution…”

Michael stopped and stared at the piece of paper. He didn’t remember writing this note, but it was his handwriting. Was he that drunk last night? He read on, "For this year, I resolve to open my waiting gift of happiness. I resolve to be HAPPY from this day onward. To pursue my dream and happiness with all my might. To slay my dragons and demons with the stroke of my magic pen. I will bring joy to myself and the people of this realm. And I accept this mission of HAPPINESS.”

He took out the pen from his pocket. A regular pen with an inscription on its barrel, “Writing is fun.”

“Happy New Year Grandpapa,” he whispered and looked beyond his ceiling, to the stars above, and to the stories he would tell.