“Audrey, honey, I know this is really weird, but please, If you’d allow me to just explain myself for one moment, I promise I can clear up a lot of—” 

That was when everything went dark again, but this time Audrey hadn’t traveled through space or time; she had fainted. As she regained consciousness, she found herself again at the wooden table, this time facing her mother and five other people, all dressed in very different outfits: A man with a snowy white beard, who seemed to be about age sixty, wore a toga and sandals. Standing next to her was a woman who looked to be about thirty in a violet, renaissance-era gown, her head adorned with a tiara bejeweled in every type of gem or geode imaginable. 

On the far right was a girl about Audrey’s age, dressed in a simple, pink linen dress, brown boots, her blonde hair done up in neat pigtail braids. To her left was a young man—a very handsome young man in Audrey’s eyes—his brown hair slicked back, sporting a neat tuxedo and a black bowtie. In the center was a tall, slender woman, her hair in a bob cut, wearing a knee length skirt and a blue plaid shirt tied off at her waist.

“Oh, dearie, you look like a BLOBFISH!” Brodie exclaimed, “Do close your mouth, we’re all getting quite worried. 

Audrey certainly was stunned, but she never realized that her jaw was practically dropping to the floor. “Mom, please, if this is a dream, can someone please wake me up… like NOW?!?”  

“Audrey, everything’s alright, trust me,” Mom said. 

“Yeah! Take it from the lady, everyone gets a little flustered the first time,” the very handsome man in the tuxedo added. 

“When was the last time you ate something, dear?” the woman in the plaid shirt inquired. 

“Well,” Audrey started, “I—I can’t really say. My mind was kind of preoccupied with the whole traveling through time and space phenomenon and I wasn’t really thinking about eating. My survival and everything I thought I knew about reality was thrown out the window in the span of about half an hour so—” 

“Yes, yes happens to all,” Brodie replied soothingly. He gestured toward the table: “Mac and cheese?” 

Audrey looked at Mom, who gave her the “okay” nod. She glanced at the five people in front of her for a moment, and they all looked at her with a kind smile. She saw no reason not to trust these people if her mother was trustworthy of them. Making up her mind, she reached for the fork beside her plate and took the first bite of pasta.  

“Now that you’re getting food into you, I can explain what the situation is,” Mom said. She sat down beside Audrey, and the five others found seats at the far end of the table. Mom stared at the group for a moment, “You all should probably move closer…” 

Looking at each other for a moment, the five collectively shrugged their shoulders and noisily scooted their chairs over to the other side of the table; by the time they arrived, Audrey had already finished her mac and cheese. The man wearing the toga stroked his snowy white beard, turned towards Audrey, and said, “You, child, have a gift.” 

Audrey looked at him in confusion. “If you’re talking about the pen, it’s not a gift, my mom bought it at CVS for five dollars.” She reached for the pen in her pocket, but it was not there. 

“No cause for alarm, dearie,” Brodie chimed in. “I’ve been holding onto it for you.” He placed it in front of Audrey, who hesitated to touch it. “Don’t get your panties all in a bunch, Audrey, I didn’t DO anything to it… and yes, that phrase was anachronistic for the setting but just go with it!!” he said exasperatedly. 

“Audrey,” her mother started, “there’s something I’ve yet to tell you about this pen, or really, something about you.” 

“What is it, Mom?” 

“Well, child,” the man in the toga spoke again, “Like I said before, you have a gift, as do all of us.” He looked around with satisfaction at the others, who looked very confused. 

A moment of silence passed, then the handsome man in the tux spoke up: “Okay, Padre, enough with the bourgeois, the girl’s confused out of her wits and we’ve got work to do, let’s  cut to the chase, alright?” 

“Yes, I agree,” said the girl in the pigtails,  “If Mary does not get my help soon, she will never write her story!” 

Work? Mary? Story!? What does this mean? Audrey thought. 

“Normal questions, dearie,” Brodie replied to Audrey’s inner dialogue. “Those will all be answered now. James, why don’t you start us off?” 

“Sure thing, boss,” the man in the tuxedo replied. He stood up from his chair, took a deep  breath, then spoke: “Long, long ago, there was the creation of man. And with his creation came the need for communication.” He gestured toward the man in the toga, who gave him an annoyed look. “Orion here knows a thing or two about that. Anyway, there came a time when etching symbols onto stone was too cumbersome; humans needed a faster way to store their ideas in a form that would write quickly yet keep for long periods of time.” 

“Hence comes the invention of papyrus,” the woman in the purple gown added. She glanced over at James, who gave her the nod to continue the tale. “Allow me to introduce myself: Cordelia, princess of the mind of Shakespeare—” 

“Cordelia,” Mom interrupted, “I know how cordial you are when it comes to formalities, but for the sake of time could we skip over to the bread and butter of this operation?”

“Of course,” Cordelia replied, “I shall catch your daughter up to speed. Well, papyrus, as you know, gave way to letters and books, all written with some form of a stylus.” 

“We used to use feathers or pens with an ink bottle,” the girl with the braids added. “Mind if I go next, Cordelia?”

“I’ll allow it, Fanny. You young people have more vivacity in your bones to carry this tale along quickly.” 

“And we’re moving as quickly as MOLASSES!” Brodie yelled.  “PICK UP THE PACE, EVERYONE!!”

“You best be quiet, Brodie! Lest you want the monster I put into Mary’s mind to be something that doesn’t intrigue even the dumbest of brutes in the 1820s.” 

Brodie went silent. “That’s what I thought,” Fanny smiled. She turned to face Audrey: “Alright, bottles of ink. These instruments became the vessels of writers expanding from the time of Orion to the time of Jean—” the woman with the blue plaid shirt waved her hand. “The pen has held so much potential and power across time, place, and writer; each time it is placed into the right person, history is made, whether it be fact, fiction, or myth. However, none of it is by accident.”

“It sure as hell ain’t, Fanny,” James chimed in. “Look, Audrey, we are a special group of people: Think of us as guardian angels for writers. We supply the pen at the right time for the right people and try to stop it from getting into the hands of the wrong people. I’ll admit, we’ve failed some: Laws of Jim Crow, Communist Manifesto, Mein Kampf, they all changed history, but not for the better.” 

“Which is why we’re going to need you, Audrey,” Mom said. “We’ve had our share of finding our writers. I had the pleasure of persevering through twelve editors for J.K. Rowling to have her little boy who lived under the stairs come out into the real world.” 

“And I dodged newspaper companies and government agencies alike to make sure Miss Ida Tarbell penned her masterpiece to put Rockefeller and his oil back into the dirt where they belonged,” James added. 

“I’m still trying to find Shelley in that manor with her husband Percy so she can conjure up the world’s most heartfelt creature,” Fanny explained. “Unfortunately, this summer without sun is hindering my travels greatly.” A frown arose on her face. 

Cordelia adjusted the crown atop her head before saying, “William was truly a joy to watch blossom; there was something else about him that made him stand out with his sonnets and tragedies that really made the world turn upside down ever since. In a good way, I mean,” she added.

“Yes, Cordelia, everyone needs a change of perspective once in a while,” Orion started, “It’s good for the soul. As for me, Audrey, I became acquainted with Aristotle when he was a boy. I made sure he paid extra attention and care to the power within him, and the treatises that came after that are just history.” 

Again, Audrey could not believe everything she was hearing. “And what about you, Jean? What about you, and me?” 

“Well, honey, that is where our first mission begins.” She reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a pen, identical to the one in front of Audrey. All five others, including Brodie, displayed identical pens of their own, placing each of them on the table in front of Audrey. The only difference between each of them was a name inscribed onto each of the pens. “You can see mine has the name Harper etched out ever so faintly,” Jean explained. “Whereas Orion’s ‘Aristotle’ is clear as day on his pen. Fanny’s similar to me; the name Mary is there, but her story isn’t.”

Audrey looked at her pen to find there was no name on it. “Well, how do I get a name there?” 

“It’s simple,” said Mom. “You are placed into the life of an up-and-coming writer and must touch their heart, or move their soul, in a way, so they write the next great piece of literature. Of course, it’s not that simple, one must apply themselves firmly to the cause, and stand defiant in the face of all opposition, and—” 

“Woah, woah, WOAH!” Audrey exclaimed, “What do you mean, opposition? Are there bad guys in this scenario?” 

“Well, there are bad people,” James explained. “People like the government agencies in my mission, or quest, or whatever you’d like to call it,” he laughed. “The point is, you have to make sure your writer stays on course to write what they’re supposed to, otherwise history could be changed as we know it, or as we foresee it to be.” 

“You guys can foresee history!?” Audrey exclaimed.

“Well, I think we’ve heard enough for one day,” Brodie interjected. “It’s time you get ready for your first mission, or quest, or whatever you want to call it,” he rolled his eyes dramatically.  “Come along, Audrey, I’ll show you to your room, you’re going to need some rest if you’re to take on the next great writer!!” 

“I’ll come with you, Audrey,” Mom said reassuringly. She and Audrey stood up and followed Brodie down the red carpet towards a big wooden door at the far end of the room. Audrey waved goodbye to the other four, who smiled at her and continued to talk quietly amongst themselves.

“You’re quite the celebrity, my dear,” Mom said, as she squeezed Audrey in tight. “You’ve got your own red carpet in this castle.” 

Audrey smiled. Yes, she was completely perplexed by the logistics of everything around her, and yes, she felt completely inadequate to the task ahead of her, but at least she had her mom. Wouldn’t that be enough? 

TO BE CONTINUED…