Open minds only

I opened the bulky package and, to my unsuspecting amazement, it was reality. I had not only opened my gift, but a door of opportunistic inspiration as well. In it was a stack of about ten pieces of vibrantly colored paper and a thin bone-shaped pen which, on it, read the inscription—O M O. I had wondered for a second what this stood for. Perhaps it stood for someone’s initials but my grandfather surely did not identify himself with a last name that wasn’t his own—did he? Of course, I only knew him as Grandpa and there wasn’t a soul left to put these pieces together.

I picked up the ancient device and clicked it once. Nothing special about the way it had written—the lines seemed to pull right off onto the paper though. It was if I did not need to equip my imagination at all and just press the end of the tip to the material. I did so just perfectly. My lines were surprisingly straight and firm while my circles were almost as if I had traced them, as symmetric as they were.

I thought I’d start out with designing a paper-airplane since this was origami folding paper in the first place but I had yet to learn any other creations within the lines of the Japanese art form. The first flight was almost as if I was flying the object myself because where ever my eyes had landed, it had landed perfectly and upright, not horizontal or upside-down like a crash landing of some sort.

I picked it up and right out of my hands it escaped. I thought nothing of the event—maybe I had just needed more sleep as I had stayed up the whole entire night before. Again, it had landed perfectly so I decided to find a safe place to put my paper. I stashed my pen in my book bag ready to use it on tomorrows test but I had a special area under my bed to put this magic paper.

The next morning, I was in school taking my test when the teacher came up beside me and snatched the pen from my hands. That was my grandfather’s pen and I needed it back. It can’t be confiscated. Maybe I should have kept it hidden along with the magic paper.

The teacher was now using it to grade papers. I sat and waited for the end of the class to get it back but to my astonishment, while staring at the blackboard with a speechless grin I began copying the answers to the test down on my paper. Every answer I needed was appearing on the board. It was like the classroom was haunted or something. Every line of every letter perfectly straight again like I had drawn on my paper airplane.

As I casually turned my head to the left, the teacher was still using my pen to grade papers. When rain met wildfire my curiosity changed into disbelief. Was I just having a dream, quietly on my desk or is it the pen that carried such a mystifying ability and not the origami paper or the blackboard?

I had to somehow acquire that pen back. I had to find out what made it so different from any other pen. How could an inanimate object hold qualities that neither I nor any other person on this planet hold? I acted casually again as I walked toward the pencil sharpener slowly moving closer to my teacher’s unsuspecting hand. Next, I picked up my left arm and floated it in the direction of the pen and grabbed it, darted to the door, grasped the handle of the door , opened it and sprinted—if not with light speed to my locker. Combination code put in, I opened the door of my locker to find my key to my house for I was headed all the way home,  not caring what trouble I was already in.

As I veered onto the ground floor stair well, a couple staff were headed up. I could only hear them so far. I couldn’t let them find me by now I was already probably a most wanted criminal of my school. My teacher most likely already called the principle who could easily have a search party of administrators soaring closer to my presence.

I hid behind a trash can as they walked passed,  my heart ready to betray me. I completely loathe these type of situations where I am on the brink of drenching my pants. I quickly headed down the steps, skipping a few as I plummeted towards the next hallway. Which door was the closest to the road and one that I could escape through, undetected?

No time to think so I headed for the closest exit and made it not halfway to my house when I had tripped only to see my pen pocketed by a city squirrel. That fiend! If only it knew the powers it held. As I stand front row seat to my dreams literally running away from me, I watched the squirrel being attacked and I could even say massacred by three hawks—one  of which possessed my pen.

I now witnessed my pen flying through the depths of the clouds. Will I ever reach my goal? I just want my pen back. I decided that it was gone now and that there was no use trying to get it back.

Late that night after suffering through detention and lecture after suffering lecture from my dad, I had finally made it to my room. I crashed painfully on my bed only to forget what the past held back.

As I awoke the next morning, a paper crane sat on my desk in the corner of my room. I had picked it up and examined it to notice that it had writing on it. I had then unfolded it carefully trying not to tear the creases. On it there was only one line it read:

YOU SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING

And under it an arrow pointing to the right where I looked just out the window only to discover a package on the outside window sill—this time small, long and pocket-sized. I opened it and, in utter disbelief, there was my pen wrapped in a small piece of paper. I read it and it also only had one line which read:

CAUTION: OPEN MINDS ONLY