Dreams of the Quill

The monkey is under the table.

The room grew darker as Jason slowly stepped back from the desk.

“Do not fear, my master.”

Jason felt the bed against his calves and stopped moving backward. Desks couldn’t talk, he knew. And there was no drawer that could accommodate a human. But then, that girl had been sending e-mails to her boyfriend about a dog talking to her—maybe there was something in the room, some hallucinogen. Jason shook his head vigorously and then looked around. Everything was as it had been, in focus, realistic, crisp.

“M-master?” he muttered. After a few moments’ thought, he decided to try addressing the voice. “What are you?”

“Open the desk and you will find me.” The voice responded immediately. Jason knew: it could hear him and understand his words.

“What’s going on? How can a desk—”

“I’m not a desk. I’m inside the desk. Open the top right drawer.”

“What will happen if I open the drawer?”

“You will be given the power to protect something you love.”

Jason laughed at this. It was too much like some of those television shows he watched and wrote about on his site. The entire scene, he realized, was straight out of that one he’d compared to the Bible. In this situation, he should smile and accept the gift, opening the drawer and the door of fate with one action.

He laughed again.

“I have nothing like that.” Jason remained where he was. He felt calmer, more collected. Weird things were happening and his life was turning into a TV show and he could deal with it if he thought of it like that. First demons, then conspiracies, now talking desks.

“That is not true,” responded the voice. “Now, open the drawer.”

“What are you, anyway?” asked Jason. “I’m not opening anything until I know why I’m talking to a piece of furniture.”

“I am El.”

El? Jason recalled the words of a raging Anonymous of New York: El was a name for God. Jason frowned at the desk.

“Open the drawer yourself, then.”

“Yes, my master.”

The top drawer on the right side of the desk burst open in a flash of light. Jason covered his eyes in order to avoid blindness, and when he removed his arm a large tome had appeared on the floor before him. Its worn cover was a solid brown. Jason stooped and flipped through a couple pages. They were all blank.

“These pages are the pages of the future,” said the book, and Jason jumped in surprise. Jason could see that there were countless ripped pieces of pages in front of the blank ones. He estimated that about half the book had been removed. “It is your turn to devise their contents.”

Jason knelt down and picked up the book.

“You just need to do one thing for me…” it said, and then the room was pitch black.

Sorry for not having an update on Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday. It just won’t happen. I missed it. Hope you can forgive me.