"Mr. Apple, you've been staring at that typewriter for days. What do you desire to write about?," Mrs. Jefferson asked.
"I want to write about a garden. I want to write about a place that makes sense," Marlin replied.
Mrs. Jefferson placed one of her apples on his desk that had been given to her by a student.
"Take your mind Marlin and put it in this apple. This apple was made by something. A force that your mind cannot comprehend. Take notice of this force and I want you to except it as it is. Do you see the apple's defense system. It has a protective layer and it hides the seeds in the core so it can keep growing for you to eat. Writing, Marlin, is a force that you must use to feed human thought so their minds can have something to hold onto in this life. The apple grows from a tree and when you partake from that tree you are given nutrients and energy. Once you learn how the tree grows you are given knowledge. This is a process, Marlin, that we all must use wisely. Do not be afraid," Mrs. Jefferson explained.
Marlin wakes up in front of his typewriter. He finds himself in the Kongo of Africa trapped in an old library in the middle of a war zone. All he can hear is typing and explosions from outside.
"Hello, does anyone know where I can get more paper from? I need more paper," He says, noticing a small arm and hand passing him paper over his shoulder.
All he hears in response is, "Shhhhhhhhhhh. Less talking, more typing. We must save the people with our thoughts," a voice says from behind a case of books.
Marlin then relates to his dream. He begins to write about a garden and an apple that if eaten could save the world. As he begins to type, the typing around him stops.
"Someone has a good thought. I can feel it. Someone has a message of wisdom and knowledge that could save the world. Let us read it. Let us encourage him to keep writing," another voice says while slowly walking from a far corner of the small library.
"I want to translate it," another voice says while the whole league of writers began to gather around Marlin.
There was another writer, she was small and handicap and could not walk, her name was Cindy.
"I understand," she said, comprehending the words on the paper, the words were so strong that she began to walk.
Teresa, another writer in the league, she had lost her hearing in a war zone in Bosnia, but had been so moved by the words that she began to hear.
Craig, a writer from America, he had been a victim of domestic violence and lost his sight when his father splashed bleach in his face. He did most of his reading from a braille book.
"I can see Marlin, I can see," He shouted.
"Shhhhhhhhhh. Let him finish." A small voice said, calming him down.
Writing himself to peace, finishing up, Marlin sat with the league of writers around him, there was paper and ink everywhere.
"It is good," he explained.
The reporter of the group, Stacey, collected his pages and began to edit. She bound each page together in the form of a book. Marlin noticed that the noise from the war had stopped. Everyone stood around skimming through the pages of their writings while the sun emerged from the clouds peeking through the windows of the library.
"This is a good story. Marlin Apple, we finally have some good news to report," Stacey said with enthusiasm.
The League of Writers then got a hold of every media source that they could to spread the good news.
With good news the world was all good, and everything good, gives good vibes and good life. With everything good, the possibilities were endless and the thoughts were full of life.
In this, the League of Writers kept the good news flowing, making everything around them good and full of life. The secret weapon could not be found in war but in the power to create good news and good thoughts.
Carry-on and keep writing Mr. Apple, the world needs more writers like you.