The Will of the Author
A short story
Nature on the mountainside stood calmly, as if in silent peace with itself. Animals trotted around the land going about their livelihood while a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. An elegant scenery disturbed by a quiet groan off in the distance. The noise grew louder, causing animals to investigate. Once they established the sound a threat, most scattered for safety.
The train moved at remarkable speed down the tracks towards the recently broken bridge only a mile ahead of it. Branches bent forcefully to the side when a gust of wind created by the train pushed past, leaves even falling off the tree to chase the train along. And animals that remained fled in any direction that took them far away from the train, terrified for their life.
On top of the train stood one individual attempting to find her way in. Her mission wasn’t to stop the train, it was too late for that. It was the VIP onboard. If she didn’t move swiftly to save him, all would be lost.
She entered the last car of the train, determined to move through each car with caution but also with speed. To her relief, but also a concern, no one stopped her.
At the front of the train kneeled a panicked VIP, peering up at his two captors. Fortunately, there weren’t any other passengers on the train since this wasn’t about notoriety. It was a different message.
“Y-you don’t ha-have to do t-this,” said the VIP through stammered dialogue.
“It isn’t our choice,” replied one captor, as calm as ever, “It is the Will of the Author.”
Confused, the VIP questioned, “The Author?”
The captor crouched to the VIP’s level to respond with a devilish smile, “Yes. The Will of the Author commands us to do this. He rules over us all and we must subject to his will.”
The other captor turned around to face the VIP and added, “The Author has honored you with death. It is for a greater cause that isn’t for us to know but for us to carry out. This is inevitable.”
“But I don’t understand!” shouted the VIP in terror, “Who is this Author you speak of? I never heard of this religion.”
“This isn’t religion like you think!” barked the first captor, aggravated, though settled when the other captor rested his hand on his shoulder. “It isn’t some God to worship. It is the Will of the Author. The one who writes the pages we live. We cannot influence nor change what the Author wants, only to carry out his will.”
“You don’t have to understand,” said the second captor, “Or accept it. You have to live it.”
The VIP cried when a woman burst through the train car doors.
“How did you-?” started one of the two kidnappers, clearly appalled, “You weren’t supposed to know about this.”
“I had someone on the inside,” she responded as matter-of-fact-like.
The kidnappers glanced at each other than at the woman. “The Will of the Author.”
The woman smirked.
Before the VIP could respond to that insanity, the woman took the moment to dispose of the two men, shooting each one in the chest, both falling over, pooling blood in the carpet of the train car. She ran over to the VIP, cutting the rope that bound him to a metal pole, and helping him stand up.
“Come on, we have to get out of here,” she said, taking the VIP’s hand to the door that led outside the train car.
“How are we going to get out of here?” asked the VIP.
“I’m not sure. I’m figuring that out.”
“You don’t know?”
Opening the train car door, the two walked out to realize they were already at the bridge. There was only one option left for the two now.
“Come on!” she yelled, “We have to jump!”
The VIP looked down at the water below, which was over 100 feet from where they stood. He figured there was no way they could make the landing in one piece from this height. At this height, water felt like concrete.
“We’ll never make it!” shouted the VIP, “It’s too high!”
“It’s the Will of the Author!” the woman replied, “Now jump!”
Perplexed by the woman’s poor decision-making, the two of them lept off the train into a freefall. The VIP screamed all the way down, hitting the water hard. His vision blurred and soon turned dark as something grabbed under his arms, hoisting him up.
After some time the VIP awoke, coughing and spitting up water. He saw the woman over him, peering into his eyes and relieved to find him awake. They were on a beach, a little ways away from the bridge and the wreckage of the train at the bottom.
The woman told him her unit was on the way to take him to the hospital, but the VIP hardly listened. His mind was on what transpired, and his astonishment about it. Those kidnappers might have been ridiculous to the point of dangerous, but after how the events came to light, even the VIP felt like maybe there was an Author. One who wrote everyone’s story just how he liked it.
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this short story, consider checking out some of my other work. Also, feel free to connect with me on Twitter! I enjoy engaging with other writers.
