"The Pen" by Sophie ´Photosoph´ Matthews

"Good morning, Mr Dim." Charles Stanton greeted politely, standing up from behind his desk to offer his friend a warm handshake.
"Charles! How are you?" Mr Dim grinned happily back, and pulled around a chair to sit in.
"Oh, I'm great! We've had a few breaks in the business, and they've been major breaks."
Mr Dim, still smiling, patted his shirt pocket, where an ordinary blue pen lay waiting. "Any chance to use this?"
"Of course! In fact, your signature is all we need to fully take advantage of these oppurtunities." Charles took a few crisp sheets of paper from a drawer and slid them in front of his friend.
"Ah..." Mr Dim sighed, "I love a good oppurtunity..." he reached for his pocket, and delved his fingers around inside. Instantly his face changed, and he stared forward unseeingly. "...It's gone!" he cried, patting down his shirt and trousers helplessly.
"Hmm... must have fallen out," Charles mused. Reaching for his pen holder, he took a black pen and passed it over. But Mr Dim only stared at it, then quickly searched the floor around his chair.
"Not again!" he muttered.

There was a fizzle, and a pop. Somewhere far, and yet at the same time oddly near, a man stood bolt upright and stopped. In the darkness he waited, listening intently. Then, slowly, he reached out a hand and patted his pocket. To his surprise, something small and hard rested there. Squinting, he brought it close to his face and tried to see it; but the light was too dim. Wondering just how this strange object has reached him, he suddenly heard a clatter of wheels and a squee squee squee as something rolled along the tracks.
"Bob?" called a voice. "...Bob?"
"Here!" he replied, and coughed. His lungs threatened to overwhelm him; threatened to heave again and again to force out the air and with it, the dust. But Bob held himself steady, and tried to stop the painful jerks of his chest. Finally he managed to compose himself. By then the cart had caught up with him.
"You okay?" a voice whispered.
Bob nodded in the darkness, then realised no one could see him. "Yes" he answered hoarsely.
"Come on." comforted the same voice. "Let's keep going. Day's almost over."
"Y-" he tried to reply. But suddenly there was the sound of distant rumbling, and they both stopped. For a brief second, small droplets of rock rained down from the ceiling.
"No," the voice whispered. Then suddenly they began hurrying back, back along the track. Behind them came creaks and booms which drew ever nearer. The heat started first as a warming on the skin, then began to grow...
The men said nothing, only hurried on faster. But then Bob thought he heard something, and a slight weight disappeared from his chest...
He risked a look back. There was only darkness... but suddenly it began to lighten, and lighten fast. Almost immediately there was an intense, scorching heat-

There was a fizzle, and a pop. Somewhere far, and yet at the same time oddly near, a man sat bolt upright and stopped. A slow smile spread over his face. He reached down and patted his shirt pocket; then with a swift motion scooped out the blue pen, squinted at the paper, and scribbled along a dotted line.
"Thank you, Mr Dim," Charles said gratefully, and retrieving his own black pen, placed it back in its holder. "I'll be sure to let you know when the big changes take place."
But Mr Dim was already out of his chair and at the door. There he stopped, staring at his pen, and half-closed the door behind him.
"Now we go together," he told the object.
There was a fizzle, and a pop.

"Mr Dim!" Charles called, and stood up. Walking over to the door, he took it in one hand and pushed it open. "One more th-"
He found himself staring down a lonely corridor. Only the glinting door handles looked back.