Why I Write
Mr. Right, Chapter 2 Begins
Today marks the start of the second chapter of Mr. Right. I’m really starting to enjoy this story as I dig in and write more of the backstory. A month ago, we left off with Mr. Right narrowly escaping from the Colors—the balled colors that supposedly protect humanity—by opening a secret exit to another digital realm. He has much to learn as to where he is and new characters will be introduced.
The latest entry is after the below commentary. To read the entire series thus far in one long post, click here.
Why I Write
My longtime friend asked me why I am writing this blog. I didn’t have a great answer on the spot. It is somewhat embarrassing to write (or rather, for others to read what you write—but then why write? Ah, the voices in my head!) so I don’t talk about writing much to anyone and wasn’t prepared. So I thought it through and explain below.
I’m writing these stories for three reasons: (1) Entertainment is a part of culture and (2) We are in need of entertaining stories that reflect the common person that show imperfection and our struggle with morals (religious and non-religious) but choose to seek redemption and (3) I enjoy it.
This blog is named after Father Augustus Tolton and his path to sainthood that has been underway since 2010. No matter the injustices he received throughout his life, even after becoming the first black priest not to long after the Civil War, he tried to unify humanity. The opposite seems to be the objective for those whose fingers launch narratives into social media, podcasts and old stream media.
An idea for a story to combat this started in 2011. But I never liked reading and writing in school so I could only bring myself to taking notes and tinkering. I started reading novels and books on writing. I outlined chapters to help me reference them for some future version of me that would one day (maybe) start writing. And then I did. With the support of my wife (a saint!) and four kids (sort of) I wrote on weekends and at night. And now I have a book that only a couple of people have actually read as I try to get it traditionally published (querying agents is not for the weak!).
I continue writing new stories on this blog that are meant to also bring people together and may one day become a book. If not, that’s okay. But I hope you are entertained and more connected to one another through these stories.
Peace.
(Story begins below)
Chapter 2
Squinting to block the sun’s rays, Mr. Right remained on the ground in disbelief. A man wearing sandles and a toke with a hood upon his head stood before him, thrusting his staff into the air. With pieces of dirt stuck around his mouth and spread across parts of his face, he smiled at Mr. Right who remained lying on the ground, still trying to make sense of it all.
The man held his staff horizontal out in front and the crowd instantly went silent. He began to speak. “Did I not tell you our Lord would return?” The crowd screamed again. He raised his staff horizontal again, bringing silence once more. “Our time will soon be here to be free again!” The crowd shouted and stopped once again by the man’s authority. “But for now, we must stay vigilant and on guard if you want to taste that freedom that I speak of.” He turned to Mr. Right and pointed his staff. “The Colors won’t stop until they have our Lord.”
The crowd erupted with a chant. “Right! Right! Right!” The man smiled and nudged his head toward the crowd. Mr. Right walked to the edge of the cliff, next to the man. The people looked so small down below. End to end, the horizon’s giant hills molded by round rock formations went on forever.
“What is this place?” That’s what Mr. Right kept asking himself. He thought, “I created The Colors, the Advisor and the entire Transition system, including every security measure and fail safe, but I do not recall ever creating wherever I am right now. Mr. Right searched his memory for an answer but found nothing.
Turning to the man, Mr. Right asked, “Who are you?”
His eyes remained locked onto the crowd with a giant grin. “Moses,” he said.
“The prophet?” Mr. Right asked. Moses laughed. He put his arm around Mr. Right’s far shoulder, pulled him in close and thrust his staff into the air. The crowd erupted in excitement.
“Where are we?” Mr. Right asked after the crowd finally died down.
“Lord, is this a test? Surely, you know the answer, so you must be putting me to the test. Come! A celebration awaits and along the way I shall pass whatever tests you feel is needed.” Moses pointed his staff toward the sky. “We must stay on alert, Lord. My words moments ago were not untrue, for The Colors are surely to double their efforts to find you. But never worry, Lord, I shall protect you,” he raised his staff, spinning it slowly, “I know how to use the prize you’ve given me!” Long narrow beams bent in different directions into the sky, one of each color—red, blue, green, orange and yellow.
The path down the mountain was quicker than Mr. Right expected. Moses talked and talked and Mr. Right listened, only asking short simple questions from time to time. He learned many things but of most interest was the fact that this land was indeed home to millions of people who were in hiding from the Colors. Thinking of this and the many shadows cast from the rocks and trees and bushes made Mr. Right quite nervous. At certain points, he thought the shadows seemed to move without any movement from the item that cast the shadow. Many times, Mr. Right paused, looked from the sides of both eyes, watched the shadow’s sways to determine if they behaved properly. Moses ignored all of this and kept the pace brisk, waving his staff from time to time encouraging Mr. Right to keep up. There was a celebration to enjoy.
They finally emerged from the mountain path at the bottom. Mr. Right ran at the very end, zooming past Moses. Mr. Right suddenly stopped, and turned to the side, pointing his fingers. “Ah ha!” he exclaimed. He was pointing at his shadow that sprinted past him. “Did you see that, Moses? Tell me you see that! I know I’m an old man, but look at my shadow, running without me!”
The shadow halted and from within it an arm emerged. Then a shoulder, foot, leg and head—a sinister, serious looking man emerged. “Don’t move unless you want to be deleted.”