The poison inside the syringe would not be injected into someone's body unless a finger pushed it. The same with a locked gate, no one could enter the premises legally unless they had the key. Cruelty grew because of the stinky water people had spilled over a tiny seed and even trimmed it for decent manifestation.

Now, let me tell you a story that somehow managed to be born and die inside my thoughts as I am writing this essay. Another day to live, and anticipate nothing but that taste of death.

Thereupon the sun had risen already and a blind teenager was sitting right in front of me, he was staring at space, and so was I. This colorful world I now can see is nothing to be compared to the powerful blackness his sight has provided him. Then the blind man stared at a part of me, my forehead and as I peeked at his eyes, I saw nothing aside from his deaf gazes, that I heard nothing but silence. And yet he's perhaps listening to a different thing inside what he calls home. His mother silently sitting beside him holding his freezing hands tightly is filled with bruises on both her arms even her two cheeks are reddish as my eyes are stuck on them. She's weak. Clear as crystal I could hear the whimpers of her wounds but even if she has given ten tongues, there is not a single syllable coming out from her mouth. A man came out from behind, good-looking, and had an ideal body build carrying plastic with two empty cans of beer clinking inside. His eyes were as if his second tongue easily commanded the mother and son to stand on their feet and hastily move. They were now starting their journey going to a place they would prefer to call a prison. It wasn't easy living in a four-cornered cold shelter room, having above them a ripped metallic ceiling that cries when it rains and sparkles when it thunders. But they never chose to live a life like that, conceivably, there wasn't even a choice prepared for them to take another path. But as they consciously breathed to live they somehow found a company, a penniless one. Imagine a comrade offering the other a bullet without a gun and the other offering a gun without a bullet, how can they shoot the enemy? Although four eyes were open, half was blind and two tongues could utter but the other was shut. The silence between us was boisterous, as I followed their footsteps. Nevertheless, the shout of his mother is audible, and his child's vision is clear. It wasn't just my two eyes that were captivated by their appearances but only a few were able to move their feet, without looking at them passing by. Then a siren was heard from a distance, these three souls in front of me were never hurried by the sound, no one stopped at all and everyone except me turned their gazes away. As the police car was coming near, a man sitting in the passenger seat glued his eyes on the three, and the man leading the walk held up his right arm. They both saluted each other with laughter and camaraderie before passing through each other's space. Hence, the journey continued, and four feet resumed. An hour passed, and we reached the place, so I halted and sat under the leafless tree putting down my camera along with my pen and paper. Another sleepless night to bother myself with such an interesting story I've found in my neighborhood.Thereupon the sun had risen already and a blind teenager was sitting right in front of me, he was staring at space, and so was I. This colorful world I now can see is nothing to be compared to the powerful blackness his sight has provided him. Then the blind man stared at a part of me, my forehead and as I peeked at his eyes, I saw nothing aside from his deaf gazes, that I heard nothing but silence. And yet he's perhaps listening to a different thing inside what he calls home. His mother silently sitting beside him holding his freezing hands tightly is filled with bruises on both her arms even her two cheeks are reddish as my eyes are stuck on them. She's weak. Clear as crystal I could hear the whimpers of her wounds but even if she has given ten tongues, there is not a single syllable coming out from her mouth. A man came out from behind, good-looking, and had an ideal body build carrying plastic with two empty cans of beer clinking inside. His eyes were as if his second tongue easily commanded the mother and son to stand on their feet and hastily move. They were now starting their journey going to a place they would prefer to call a prison. It wasn't easy living in a four-cornered cold shelter room, having above them a ripped metallic ceiling that cries when it rains and sparkles when it thunders. But they never chose to live a life like that, conceivably, there wasn't even a choice prepared for them to take another path. But as they consciously breathed to live they somehow found a company, a penniless one. Imagine a comrade offering the other a bullet without a gun and the other offering a gun without a bullet, how can they shoot the enemy? Although four eyes were open, half was blind and two tongues could utter but the other was shut. The silence between us was boisterous, as I followed their footsteps. Nevertheless, the shout of his mother is audible, and his child's vision is clear. It wasn't just my two eyes that were captivated by their appearances but only a few were able to move their feet, without looking at them passing by. Then a siren was heard from a distance, these three souls in front of me were never hurried by the sound, no one stopped at all and everyone except me turned their gazes away. As the police car was coming near, a man sitting in the passenger seat glued his eyes on the three, and the man leading the walk held up his right arm. They both saluted each other with laughter and camaraderie before passing through each other's space. Hence, the journey continued, and four feet resumed. An hour passed, and we reached the place, so I halted and sat under the leafless tree putting down my camera along with my pen and paper. Another sleepless night to bother myself with such an interesting story I've found in my neighborhood.

As I sat and gently closed my eyes, I had to rethink what I had seen. It was neither the blind eyes of the kid that stopped them from leaving the house, nor the mute mother that adored him, and not even the stronger man in the house who chained them in. But the people who intentionally pulled out their eyeballs not to see, and cut their tongues not to voice out what has been being performed in an accessible circus. Even a firearm that has a bullet never courageously shot an alarm, and a badge of respect never poured a bit of compassion. I am paid to write a genuine and factual story but the readers see it as a tale, an interesting point of view that's never been a viewpoint of the change.

It’s like one of a hundred years

you'll remember at the river

smile has curved within your heart

that somehow escaped through

your pinkish lips

The sun shines like its naming

your brightest personality

with the lovely character

you've shown

high as the moon's quality.

Mistrust isn't what they felt

at times they talk to you

compassion rather revealed

when life pushes you

through

the deepest story, you can

ever heard from me

that's when you'll laugh

with whole sincerity

these are more flowery

compared to your expressions,

yet lesser in its confidence

for it is but a mere observation.

A long time ago, a young man went out to the village to perform. He is good at dancing, singing, and martial arts, an expert in music, and a good-looking guy. As he steps onto the stage, everybody will start yelling and cheering for him. He can showcase different talents each day which attracts more audiences to watch his performances. The crowd considered him the almost perfect human being that was ever seen.A long time ago, a young man went out to the village to perform. He is good at dancing, singing, and martial arts, an expert in music, and a good-looking guy. As he steps onto the stage, everybody will start yelling and cheering for him. He can showcase different talents each day which attracts more audiences to watch his performances. The crowd considered him the almost perfect human being that was ever seen.

"He is so perfect, there is nothing he can't do" the audience whispered to herself, and others can easily agree.

After he performed, he just went home and rested, and then thand e next day he performed It became his daily routine, there was nothing else he did aside from performing in front of the crowd. Because of his fame, even people from other countries were interested in and admired him and his personality. While he's on the stage he can hear laughter, shouting, and warm support from the audience.

Hundreds of visitors from other countries watched all his performances every single day and always expected unique talents from him. However, the audience observed that the guy never smiles as he performs. She couldn’t keep it to herself that is why she asked one of the audience that lived in that village.

“Why does the performer never smile?” she asked. But the person just shrugged her shoulders.

And softly answered, “Well, no one knows, and no one cares about it, we just wanted to focus more on his talents.”

The girl wondered. Throughout his performance, she is just looking at his lips if ever she’s able to catch a smile from him or any sign of joy. But she’s disappointed. It bothers her because every day she watched all his performances, never did he curve a smile on his lips. Nevertheless, she waits in the crowd. Every day his expression would be the same, an emotionless face.

There is laughter around the stage, and the crowd will get as joyful as they can. But the girl never loses hope and could feel that something was off with the guy’s expression. She doesn’t even know why she’s even looking for that smile instead of just watching the event.

A year passes and the same scenario is witnessed, he performs but is emotionless. Then she came to the point that after his performance she followed the guy through his home but still failed to take a glance at a smile. She decided to talk to him.

"Can I talk to you about something?” she asked, pouring all her courage.

“About what?” the guy replied in a calm voice but still looking so unbothered. It’s fascinating to notice but the girl felt the comfort between the two of them.

“Why are you not smiling while you perform, even if you’re not on stage?” she directly asked. The guy was suddenly quiet, and both got quiet. The only thing that broke the silence was the unexpected answer from the guy.

“I cannot smile. I know it’s weird but, since I was born, I never learned how to smile. But I’m fine with that” he explained.

The girl looked cold, after that she listened to the guy’s explanation and she turned around and was about to leave. But the guy just looks at the distant back of the girl and speaks softly.

“You don’t need to overthink about it, people don’t need to see your smiles just to let them know you’re happy.”

As if the table has turned.

“From the first time that I’ve seen you in the crowd, you’re the only person that never shouts, cheers, and even smiles a bit.” The guy stated. He always heard the crowd, loud as always, cheering and shouting but the girl caught his attention because she seemed to not belong to the crowd.

“So, you did notice?.”

”I know it’s hard at first, but you will just get used to it. Just do what makes your heart happy.”

It's the fall season and the leaves are weakenedIt's the fall season and the leaves are weakened

touching the coldness of bare land

A mother and a son, walking toward the dawn

he was hugging her arms, dearly

continues the journey, unafraid

as if holding his treasured compass

It's the last hour before the sun awakes

She stares at his pale eyes

Kissed his forehead, so gorgeous

Her arms swayed with the air

and his arms are still gripping hers

cherished like a luxurious toy

The brightness awakens their soul

she began to hum a lullaby

a warm breeze touches his skin

he started singing, precious

what a beautiful voice, she listens quietly

and gave him a tight hug

She guided him to sit under a tree

as he continues to sing softly

She then squeezes his hands

and kissed his forehead

then he utters,

"Mom, I'd love to sing

an endless song for you"

a sweet smile curved on her lips

she reaches for his hands

and let it rest under her palm.

The poison inside the syringe would not be injected into someone's body unless a finger pushed it. The same with a locked gate, no one could enter the premises legally unless they had the key. Cruelty grew because of the stinky water people had spilled over a tiny seed and even trimmed it for decent manifestation. Believe it or not, what the speaker has said is indeed filled with the truth that "...the evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it…" though the majority would probably believe that it is but a mere opinion.The poison inside the syringe would not be injected into someone's body unless a finger pushed it. The same with a locked gate, no one could enter the premises legally unless they had the key. Cruelty grew because of the stinky water people had spilled over a tiny seed and even trimmed it for decent manifestation. Believe it or not, what the speaker has said is indeed filled with the truth that "...the evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it…" though the majority would probably believe that it is but a mere opinion.

Now, let me tell you a story that somehow managed to be born and die inside my thoughts as I am writing this essay. Another day to live, and anticipate nothing but that taste of death. Thereupon the sun had risen already and a blind teenager was sitting right in front of me, he was staring at space, and so was I. This colorful world I now can see is nothing to be compared to the powerful blackness his sight has provided him. Then the blind man stared at a part of me, my forehead and as I peeked at his eyes, I saw nothing aside from his deaf gazes, that I heard nothing but silence. And yet he's perhaps listening to a different thing inside what he calls home. His mother silently sitting beside him holding his freezing hands tightly is filled with bruises on both her arms even her two cheeks are reddish as my eyes are stuck on them. She's weak. Clear as crystal I could hear the whimpers of her wounds but even if she has given ten tongues, there is not a single syllable coming out from her mouth. A man came out from behind, good-looking, and had an ideal body build carrying plastic with two empty cans of beer clinking inside. His eyes were as if his second tongue easily commanded the mother and son to stand on their feet and hastily move. They were now starting their journey going to a place they would prefer to call a prison. It wasn't easy living in a four-cornered cold shelter room, having above them a ripped metallic ceiling that cries when it rains and sparkles when it thunders. But they never chose to live a life like that, conceivably, there wasn't even a choice prepared for them to take another path. But as they consciously breathed to live they somehow found a company, a penniless one. Imagine a comrade offering the other a bullet without a gun and the other offering a gun without a bullet, how can they shoot the enemy? Although four eyes were open, half was blind and two tongues could utter but the other was shut. The silence between us was boisterous, as I followed their footsteps. Nevertheless, the shout of his mother is audible, and his child's vision is clear. It wasn't just my two eyes that were captivated by their appearances but only a few were able to move their feet, without looking at them passing by. Then a siren was heard from a distance, these three souls in front of me were never hurried by the sound, no one stopped at all and everyone except me turned their gazes away. As the police car was coming near, a man sitting in the passenger seat glued his eyes on the three, and the man leading the walk held up his right arm. They both saluted each other with laughter and camaraderie before passing through each other's space. Hence, the journey continued, and four feet resumed. An hour passed, and we reached the place, so I halted and sat under the leafless tree putting down my camera along with my pen and paper. Another sleepless night to bother myself with such an interesting story I've found in my neighborhood.

As I sat and gently closed my eyes, I had to rethink what I had seen. It was neither the blind eyes of the kid that stopped them from leaving the house, nor the mute mother that adored him, and not even the stronger man in the house who chained them in. But the people who intentionally pulled out their eyeballs not to see, and cut their tongues not to voice out what has been being performed in an accessible circus. Even a firearm that has a bullet never courageously shot an alarm, and a badge of respect never poured a bit of compassion. I am paid to write a genuine and factual story but the readers see it as a tale, an interesting point of view that's never been a viewpoint of the change.

Introduction:

THE WIND’S DEEP THOUGHTS

The birds are chirping their song amid darkness, seeming like they can still recognize hope in spaces they stare at and fly through. While the stars shine brightly, the moon peeks from its comfort zone, crescent yet whole, quite gorgeously honed. Now is a definite time to take a deep sleep and amuse yourself in your dreams, but these two young ladies under the tree don’t seem to be intrigued by having sweet dreams.

The lady thinks twice before fully uttering the question formed in her thoughts, “Have you ever…”. She then pauses and takes a deep breath, like it was the hardest decision she ever had at that present time, “…ever confessed, your feelings to someone? I mean, like opening what you feel towards someone?” she asked then took a glance at the person peacefully sitting right next to her, her best friend.

Someone who just closed her eyes and inhaled all the freshness of the air as it played with them in the middle of the night after sneaking out of their dormitory room and ending up contemplating their lives.

But then the silence met its death.

Lay’s intimidating question cracked the ice that had been freezing their skinny bodies under the lonely tree in front of their dormitory. Few lamps in the hallway give a bit of life. They could only hear the wind singing a melodious song as the leaves danced with it as well as the sweet branches reaching the space higher as it could match the bird’s sentiments. It whistles like a lullaby. They look into each other’s eyes, trying to decipher the awkwardness just a second after the simple question was uttered.

Simple yet not the simplest.

It wasn’t a new question, and neither were they teenagers anymore to even dodge it, yet somehow it sounded like a weird tone echoed, like an amateur pianist hitting the wrong chord, unexpected.

“Do you want to know the similarity of your question to this campus we’re staying in?”

Claire’s response made Lay wonder.

“They’re both boring?”

“They are quite old-fashioned.” She uttered and it perfectly painted a perfect smile to both their warm lips.

“Why are you bringing that up anyways?” asked Claire and gazes at Lay. “don’t tell me you’re interested in the topic itself?”

Lay instantly shakes her head and the transition is fast, smiles to bitterness. “It’s not that I’m interested, just curious.” she replied. “some said that people are more honest in the evening, especially at midnight. I mean, it’s just that the idea thrills me to ask you that question.” She explained.

“That’s nonsense.” Claire disagrees.

“So, it means we mostly lie in broad daylight?”

“I don’t know. I just read it somewhere.”

“Have you?” Claire dodges the question to Lay, but she just smiles a bit and instantly shakes her head.

“There’s no way. Will never have that scenario stuck in my thoughts. And I doubt it’ll happen.”

“Well, in my case I did confess to someone” Claire answered then cleared her throat. “Well, a lot of times I think, when I was in high school” She added.

“What does it feel?” a curious follow-up question from Lay, “Is it some sort of magic or…just a lost butterfly in your stomach?” Lay randomly added. This time their eyes look in the opposite direction, and sip their warm coffee, afraid that their eyes would bring the saying, eyes never lie to life.

Claire digs up her deepest well of thoughts before handing a cup of experience to Lay.

“It wasn’t that special at all. Like what I imagined it might be, or it should be, considering confession could be defined by someone as one of the big days she can have, since you know, it is about your heart’s voiceless words.” She explained and followed with a deep sigh. No wavering at all.

Both could easily read each other’s body language as if it always talking verbally, that is what best friends are for, maybe. Lay just makes a long face at what Claire has stated.

“To be honest, does it need to be special? I mean, I thought it was just a mere word, or phrase coming out of your mouth from the deepest secret you always carry with you, oftentimes a bit hidden I guess, was it like that?” Lay frankly asked. She knew Claire very well, she’s the type of person who prefers to show herself transparently than to fake it, especially her emotions to someone. For a reason that it is meaningful to her, like what they are currently talking about at this moment.

For Claire, it is important, while for Lay it’s just a mere topic. For she doesn’t know yet where those piled-up emotions coming from, Unaware of her unconscious thoughts.

“You said that you’ve done it a lot of times already, does all of that come out with sincerity at all?” Lay still couldn’t picture the thought and experience Claire had. “I know feelings don’t need to be kept, Claire and one must be able to express it for the sake of others, but for some instances, it’s just a simple appreciation for someone’s existence, it’s not an extravagant scene a person should plan on before executing it.”

“Maybe, for you, it could be as easy as that, let’s say throwing garbage in its proper bin, but for others, like me, it is different,” Claire argues and focuses her attention on the dark spaces.

“Imagine a piece of paper begging a writer not to compose sad poetries again, it’s quite cliché but it exists.” she delicately expressed those words with blandness in her eyes.

Sometimes she’s just so transparent that everyone can read her mind even her hidden bruises but there happened to be moments, when she’s comparable to a big lake, though quiet and calm to look at, the moment you swim, its deepness pulls you hard ’til you reach out for air to breathe in.

“What a deep thought, dear. Take everything else easy, just like… how you smoothly write those cheesy and pealing onion poems you have kept,” said Lay teasing her best friend, who’s still overthinking about life.

“I hope it could be easy as that Lay, but I, felt that it isn’t.”

“Like I told you, you just need to express it.”

“As if you knew how.”

“I do.” She confidently spoke. “I could thank you a hundred times for being a friend of mine. That’s it, simple as that. I’m confessing my thoughts to you because you’ve been an excellent person beside me.”

“That’s not always the case for me Lay.”

“If you’re still confused about it, don’t ever utter it yet. You will just be regretting things.”

“Either the two, we still will be regretting things. We just need to choose where we think we will regret less.”

“That’s the simple proof that you are consumed by confusion. Do it like this Claire, don’t think about that person anymore.” Lay swiftly spoke out and Claire almost spilled the coffee she was holding because of awe and her eyeballs couldn’t even roll a bit, maybe they froze due to coldness. “The simplest gesture you can do for your sake is to have your peace of mind,” Lay added.

Little did Claire expect any sugarcoating from her friend because they both knew what and who was the ending point of the story Claire was trying to dig up.

It’s an unsealed condition for best friends, to not hide anything.

“We’re not going to talk about different kinds of confession right?” Claire asked.

“Yeah, supposed to be, but it is much more relatable on your part,” Lay

“Yeah, supposed to be, but it is much more relatable on your part,” Lay responded.

“Be careful with your word…” Claire quickly whispered to make Lay lower her voice. “…the person you are referring to might just be around here with his brown little guitar.” She added.

“Oh!” Lay gasps curving a smile on her lips. “someone’s always enjoying a view of a guy playing his favorite songs with his brown little guitar.” Claire just rolled her eyes at what Lay had declared. She cannot deny that simple fact she just heard.

“Keep it to yourself Lay. Lucky for you that you haven’t been able to confess to someone you like, you are so good at hiding Lay, at almost everything.” Claire stated in a calm voice and just sighed out of disappointment that she was the only victim of what they called lost butterflies.

“I’m glad I can do that much for my own sake, if not, it’ll just be a thorn in my journey.”

“Oh, so bitter.”Oh, so bitter.”

“Unlike your sweetness, I, myself, cannot stand with your butterflies.”

Lay’s life is similarly a bitter-sweet taste. She hates long-life butterflies in her stomach, according to her it might be suffocated inside which is why she just lets them free, as in free to find another stomach to victimize.

Lay hates men, and for some reason, she has kept it in a secluded vein in her brain.

They continued teasing each other as if there would be no guard doing rounds at 11 pm because there they were, enjoying their warm cup of coffee and a crumb of the moment with freezing air. No one has checked the time, they forgot that it indeed flew like the lost butterflies. The girls have been talking outside for at least an hour or two.

“Maybe this is what they call, 10 pm thoughts of a girl.” Claire jokingly said to break the silence again. Can she now be called a silence breaker?

“It’s 3 am thoughts, not 10 pm.” Lay bluntly corrected her which made Claire frown. “…should we now get inside? I’m almost done with my coffee.” Lay stood up and then left her seat, she was ready to go.

“Hey! Let us extend another hour, please?” Claire suggested pouting her lips to beg. “I want to feel this fresh air more. The next evening, we sit under this tree, this air could be gone already.”

The idea is quite impossible, however, Lay was convinced by that little absurd idea, because why would air leave a tree, they seemed to be always together. Never mind the guard.

Maybe he’s still busy eating dinner.

The surrounding is still quiet.

As they waited for another second to pass, no one brought up any other topic aside from what they were talking about earlier. Claire is spaced out while Lay is just staring at the stars.

“Is it for real then?” Lay opened another conversation to start as she stared at the stars as they gave her a topic to start with.

Now, Claire is confused by the unexpected, yet expected question from Lay. She just gave her an emotionless glance that somehow presented an obvious answer.

She tried to divert it.

“That we need to leave? I guess yeah, you know anytime the guard will be—”

“Nope, I mean your feelings for him.”

Lay’s straightforward phrases always caught Claire off-guard. Unable to form a simple yet reasonable answer to present.

For the nth time around, awkwardness filled their cup yet instantly spilled out by Claire. She just sighed and stood up, deciding to finally leave. This time her feet start to go on their journey to their room. She wanted to avoid answering the question. Claire just fully turned her back on Lay, who was more confused by her gestures.

“It is?!” Lay exclaimed. Claire immediately looks back and glares at Lay. Her eyes look like a lion ready to devour her meal at any time, while Lay’s eyes are just as innocent as it is and calm, it’s just her voice that changes a bit as if nothing happened.

Lay stopped asking more questions to Claire for she knew how uncomfortable the topic was for her friend. Thus, Lay seconded the conclusion and suggested, to go back to their room and take a deep rest. A few steps away from their place, suddenly all the lamps in the hallway light up and leave them with no choice but,

to run.

Staring at each other while trying to hold their laughter and running for their life, not to be caught by the guard, again.

“...again…” they both whispered and then laughed while running hastily. Their room is a bit far from the place where they usually spend to killing time, though might be just a walking distance but tiring if they run.

Glad that the entrance door is still open, a clear sign that it’s not yet midnight. But at the point of reaching the stairs, they need to quiet down, others might be awakened by the noise of their steps. So, they slowly, carefully, and quietly take the stairs, staring at their feet step by step.

Every step is followed by a deep sigh, neither coming out of worry nor nervousness. It is but pure relief that no one so far has noticed their presence in the middle of the night.

They were chased by their shadows.

And yet, something was off, it was the last step of the stairs, but a guitar seemed to be lying on the floor, a little brown guitar. Both were confused and couldn’t take the last step; they again froze and just stared at the guitar in front of them.

“A guitar?”

“Yes, a guitar.”

“What would a guitar be doing here? Alone?”

“Hmm? No clue at all.”

Only their whisperings were to be heard in the hallway no matter how low their voices were. As if they already are guilty of something they usually do.

Claire gasped and both their eyes widened out of surprise when a hand slowly grabbed the guitar in front of them, luckily Lay’s palm landed perfectly on her mouth to stop it from making more noise that is much more dangerous than the person standing in front of them. As they lift their heads, both just sigh out of relief and stands still after taking the last step on the stair.

“What are you doing here outside our rooms?” Lay instantly asked the guy who was also standing still in front of them and knew already what was going on. His stares automatically landed at Claire but then faster than the flash, Claire just turned her eyes to Lay communicating an obvious message, then Lay hurriedly removed her hand covering her mouth.

“I should be the one asking that to you, both of you, the legend of sneakers” he replied and though it was a bit dark in the hallway, his hastened curved smiles were still visible to

Claire.

“Can you please, excuse us? We’re in a hurry.” she bitterly said. Claire grabbed Lay’s hand and walked toward their room, 5 doors away from the stairs.

“Yeah, I can feel it too.” He just waved a hand and walked down the stairs without any hurriedness at all.

Carefully carrying his little brown guitar reached the entrance of the gate but as soon as he held onto the doorknob, a flashlight was pointed at him. It is the guard.

“Where do you think you’re going at this hour?” the guard asks and stands in front of the entrance door blocking him.

“Because this is not a place for me to stay, right, Sir?” He replied sarcastically. The guard then realizes he’s a guy and his dorm is on the other corner of the premises. “Can I excuse myself, Sir?” He added lowering his voice a bit to make it manly.

“I’m sure you didn’t enter this room without any reason, what did you do up there?” the guard asks. His lips curved smiles, a fake smile, and the guard sharply glared at him.

“I gave a present to a friend of mine, seems like she left it earlier.”

“What is it?”

“I guess it’s not something the school and the student agreed on sharing, as I read the rules and conditions---”

“Okay, enough. Go in peace.”

“Thank you for the advice.” He uttered with an insulting bland tone in his voice, this guy just loved teasing their guard every time they argued then turned his back and left the guard.

The two ladies walked fast and reached their room before anyone else opened a door just to watch them sneaking, again. Countless times have they sneaked out of their room just to take a rest under that lonely tree while sipping their cup of coffee. It somehow becomes a comfort to them.

So, the Admin and Guard are already familiar with their footsteps, their whispers, and alibis whenever they are interrogated in the Guidance Office.

Lay’s about to unlock the door but awaken by the reality that there is no key in her hand, and, she doesn’t have it with her, nor in her pockets as she searches for them. While Claire is like an expert investigator who’s looking out for any suspicious person around,

they are the suspicious ones.

“Claire give me the key,” Lay asked if Claire might have had it with her. But Claire’s eyes widely opened like she wasn’t expecting this question. Now the answer is obvious.

“Huh? Key? What key?”

“I said, the key. That thing you need to un—I mean obviously, our door’s key I thought you had it with you?”

“You’re the one who locked it before we leave.”

“But you said, you’d carry it with you.” Both are still analyzing what is happening because they can’t find where the key is or who is holding the key.

“Don’t tell me, we both don’t have the key?” Their faces are now unpaintable. They look inside their sleepwear pocket but no sign of the key. Tries to recall where they put the key. But couldn’t remember any scenario regarding where they put the key.

Amid their argument and trouble, the door behind them opened. It both made them cover their faces and quickly kneeled on the floor turning their back at the opened door, ready for an earful sermon. Claire and Lay sighed in frustration knowing that tomorrow they’ll be expecting to be called to the Guidance Office to explain themselves, again.

“Hey...” a lady came out the door wearing pajamas and sleepy eyes staring at the two. “…Do you still have time to unwind? Amazing!” Sam gasped. She is also a college student, but they are one year ahead of Sam.

She handed them a sparkly clanking key.

“Oh! Our keys!” both exclaimed and Lay hurriedly grabbed the key.

“Wait…where did you get this Sam?” Claire immediately asked since both forgot who was supposed to be carrying the key. She looked at Sam who was standing in front of them and they were still kneeling pitifully in front of their locked door.

“Haze gave me that,” she replied. Claire and Lay stare at each other’s eyes surprised by the answer. “He told me to give it to you since you just threw it in front of his door, so he thought that you were asking him to keep it for you,” Sam explained to Claire.

No one is confused at all.

“O-okay, anyway never mind. Thank you.” Claire grabbed the key from Lay and unlocked the door, Lay followed her, and Sam also went back to her room and locked the door behind her.

Out of tiredness from running, Claire lay hastily on their bed while Lay sat on the sofa.

“Why? I mean just how on earth did that key be in front of Haze’s door? Did you by any chance, go to his dorm earlier?

Lay is still wondering about what just happened and her eyebrows are about to become a little bridge while Claire is just staring at the ceiling, not interested to answer at all.

She stopped digging into what could’ve happened earlier.

Lay rests beside Claire, and both take a glance at nowhere. All they can hear now is not a chirping bird neither a sweet lullaby from the freezing air but boredom and the deafening silence that is itchy in their ears.

They both sighed, again, out of disappointment and dissatisfaction. Because they could just wish that time will fast forward, that tomorrow will be skipped, and when they wake up, a year already passed.

“Can we just be absent for tomorrow’s event?” Lay said out of nowhere and giggled.

“As if it’s possible.” Claire just closed her eyes and quieted down to sleep. They need to get enough sleep for tomorrow is their graduation.

“Tomorrow will just pass Lay, after that we’ll not be imprisoned in this dormitory anymore, we are free the next day.” Both curved a smile.

“You hate school, huh?” Lay questioned.

“Who loves school anyway?” She argues and then rolls her eyes.

“Could we be able to live out our dreams?” Lay somehow smoothly diverted the topic.

“That’s a nice and tricky question. Come to think of it, when we get out of this school, will there be more opportunities for us?”

“Well, if there isn’t enough job for us, then let’s make our job, you, being the cook, since you’re good at it and I’ll be your…” Lay stopped for a moment and thought, “… I’ll be your investor.”

She added.

“Should we just marry?” an absurd question coming from Claire, that makes Lay disappointedly cringe.

Claire looks at her face which shows nothing but an undecipherable image.

Claire must think life as a married woman will be 10 times easier than working 10 hours a day as an unmarried woman.

“What?! Marry?” Lay responded and raised one of her eyebrows. “…Do you think that will be easy? I can’t even imagine myself being in a relationship, and then what, marry someone? That is the weirdest suggestion you can ever present, dear. Instead, I will build a house for myself then die, single.” Lay said then giggled.

“I’ll join you then. We’ll build a house for us, just the two of us.”

“Hey, don’t tell me. You like—”

“A BIG NO! It’s just that, you’re afraid of darkness. Besides, you have no other friend aside from me, am I wrong? So, I’ll join you then. For your wittiest information, I’m just a concerned citizen here, duh.”

“Okay, then you’ll also be my chef.”

“You’ll do the dishes.” Claire follows.

“Let’s grocery together!” both exclaimed out of excitement.

They haven’t been able to prepare or even think if ever that moment is to come. They only have in them pure imaginations of what they want to happen after they graduate college.

To not marry and live together.

Their escape, for now, is to graduate and be freed from what they thought prison, their university, and its Dormitory. They wanted to look for a job as soon as they graduated and do whatever they wanted.

To achieve their goals, their dreams and to be independent.

Where they can decide on their own.

There are so many things they plan to do before reaching theirs, to go abroad, to not just window shopping but to buy expensive dresses, to eat in a 5-star restaurant and enjoy like it is their last day on earth. That is somehow a payment for the whole 4 years they stayed in a Dormitory and were never able to go outside unless they celebrated holidays and birthdays with their families.

Little did they know that the outside world will not always be the same. Their desires will not stay still in their hearts, they also have an expiration, there will come a day that they wish they just stayed inside the school for another 20 more years.

Dreaming is free and light, but once you live out your dream, it’s starting to be expensive and hard.

end of the introduction.

Title: “Fall Not”

Genre: Real life, Novel, Non-Fiction, Traumas, Healing, Rom-Com, Challenges

Age Range: 12 and above

Word count: 3,949

Author's name: R.P. Bertulfo (@writtenscerity)

Why this project is a good fit: This is just the beginning of my journey, if this door would open for me which I intentionally knock on, I love to empty mysinkfull pen and the thoughts I have in my mind to embark on new things that will please not just your heart but also your life.

The hook: it happens once you open the first page of my book

Synopsis:

She is but a fragile glass who goes through lots of slow-cracking vague touches in her life, as she attempts to escape from the vulnerability she’s chained in, she’s slowly falling into pieces.

He adores mending things yet fails to see in himself a bruised life. Fell into a comfortable sense of existence but with the absence of desired happiness.

She wrote everything down, from her spine to her heart’s pumped blood. The flowery words pulled her deeply to drowning compassion and yet was imprisoned inside a luminous hope.

He kept everything in one suffocated space, suppressed and bound together. Has walked over denied emotions, heavier than clouds formed on top of a four-cornered shelter he filled with bitterness.

Life on earth is confusing, as if you were cornered by the mirror of your past that triggers you to reminisce your unhealed scars, and it pushes you to reckless decisions assuming it holds a piece of a puzzled future not being able to perceive the goodness of the present time. But that doesn’t end your story, you could’ve fallen into a helpless grayish hole, yet you weren’t alone as you walked through the valley, someone pulled you back, an inch before you fell.

Target Audience: Teenagers in Late 20’s

Your bio: I am R. P. Bertulfo, a 21-year-old lady who lives in the Philippines. Ever since I was in high school, I desired to be a writer, a novelist, or a poet. I simply love writing my thoughts. Though I live far from the rural areas, I enjoyed living here with my family, loved and adored. This story taught me so much about being a humble human being we should be as we live in this world.

The host can contact me with this email address, rcbrtlf@gmail.com, or Messenger account, Rica Bertulfo. I lived in Zone 7, San Isidro Norte, Lagonoy Camarines Sur, Philippines 4425. God Bless everyone as we take another step and see another sunrise today. Let us all glorify God in our life.

Platform: “Write not with a breathless ink, but with a heart that beats."

Education: College student (undergraduate)

Experience: to overthink is enough of an experience.

Personality/Writing style: Reality, Non-Fiction, Poetry, Life's Challenges

Likes/Hobbies: Writing aside from overthinking

Hometown: Philippines

Age: 21

This is just the SYNOPSIS of my ongoing book.

She is but a fragile glass who goes through lots of slow-cracking vague touches in her life, as she attempts to escape from the vulnerability she’s chained in, she’s slowly falling into pieces.

He adores mending things yet fails to see in himself a bruised life. Fell into a comfortable sense of existence but with the absence of desired happiness.

She wrote everything down, from her spine to her heart’s pumped blood.

The flowery words pulled her deeply to drowning compassion and yet was imprisoned inside a luminous hope.

He kept everything in one suffocated space, suppressed and bound together. Has walked over denied emotions, heavier than clouds formed on top of a four-cornered shelter he filled with bitterness.

Life on earth is confusing, as if you were cornered by the mirror of your past that triggers you to reminisce your unhealed scars, and it pushes you to reckless decisions assuming it holds a piece of a puzzled future not being able to perceive the goodness of the present time. But that doesn’t end your story, you could’ve fallen into a helpless grayish hole, yet you weren’t alone as you walked through the valley, someone pulled you back, an inch before you fell.

Lay's point of view

A soft voice continue to whisper to my left ear. If only it had an angelic voice, I’d get up in a second, but it doesn’t possess such. What a disappointment. I can hear the impatient tone in hr voice as she tries to wake me up, thought I’m already awake. She’s indeed trying her best at everything.

“Lay.”

“Wake up Lay.”

“It’s already 8:35.”

“Dearest Lay, Get. Up. Please”

I envied your dedication, but I hate you as a human alarm.

I rolled around the bed to let her know that I was not yet willing to get up. Like, why would this bitter lady be waking up a busy dreamer like me, huh? Isn’t it too early to get up yet?

I tried to utter words, but they were like bird’s whisper. “Another minute,” said I with disappointment then stretched out my arms to reach out for a pillow to cover my face. She’ll be annoyed in a minute and should be ready for a sermon.

The sun has now risen. I know it’s time to wake up and live, but I’m too tired. For everyone’s information, we slept late last night. But then, who’s fault, is it? It’s Claire’s. She kept on saying she had something to say but we just ended up staying late without any word coming out of her mouth. Oh, my Claire.

“We’ll be late, hurry up.” She insists. Still, I’m lying on my bed doesn’t care about the time, and courageous enough to consume all the patience Claire has kept with her.

“MORRILAE PLEASE!” she suddenly shouted. my full name? Oh! She has lost it already. She knew that I’d be awakened once she uttered my full name because it’d make me angry. She succeeded. Though these eyes of mine are still closed, I can imagine her irritated face, raised eyebrow, deep sighing, and of course her rolling eyeballs. What a scenery, dear.

“Calm down. Take your patience pill first.” I sarcastically suggested stretching out my hand as if I was giving her a pill for her patience. So, it’ll just tease her more. That’s the plan.

My mind says I will not be defeated in this battle.

“If only there is such a medicine Lay. I would love to buy the store itself,” she said pouring a whole cup of sarcasm she also kept. “Get up. Remember, today is the day, we need to go out as early as we can.”

“What difference does this morning offer from the previous days I’ve spent?” I asked and heard her soft chuckles. What’s funny?

“It’s payday.” She sweetly whispered.

“We’re going to the Mall.”

What? Today is what? Payday? I heard a different tune that awakened my soul. Just after realizing it, I removed the pillow on my face and let the blanket slip on the floor, getting up hastily. I then ran through the bathroom.

We’re late. I mean not really since the mall had just opened at 8 am this morning. All things must be done as early as possible because we will soon be lining up at the counter longer than expected since it’s payday.

YEY! I could smell, the mall’s air conditioner.

It’s the end of the month, pay day in short, also payment of bills and budgeting but then, this will be a day for us to go to a mall and roam. Claire is being paid with minimum salary at her job being a writer’s assistant in a Publishing Company, while I work at nowhere, I am currently jobless, last month I resigned from my previous job.

I am still in the job-hunting era.

“Are we still having breakfast here or will just buy outside?!” Claire shouted just after I entered the bathroom to take a bath. But I never responded, am now busy singing, not sure maybe just shouting with a bit of key.

Minutes after I’d done enough scrubbing my body and everything, I found Claire lying on our cream two-seater sofa, looking at the ceiling as I could observe it, she looked drowning in her thoughts, early in the morning, maybe contemplating our life. She’s been like that, and I’m used to it.

“Is everything fine?” I asked approaching her while drying my hair with a small towel.

She sighed. a heavy sigh to be exact. Something is wrong.

“Did I annoy you that much?” I asked.

“Don’t worry I did apply to ten companies. I’m expecting an answer within this week or next week.” Well, me being jobless is not the case here, I can read the room and felt like she was thinking of something else.

Something else or some--

“No, I’m okay. I’m fine. It’s nothing and you’re not the reason, stop taking all the credit” she replied with her sincere smile. Yet she’s still looking at spaces, dodging my stares.

“I’m not asking if you’re okay because you always are even if you’re not. I want to know if everything’s fine?” I sat closer and her head leaned onto my shoulder, so, there was. She then again let out a deep, heavy, and heartfelt sigh.

“This too shall pass,” I heard her whisper to herself.

Her head is so heavy. Why would this beautiful lady beside me carry such unnumbered thoughts, alone? If only I could remove those tabs inside her head and delete all such bad memories, I would, but hey! I’m just a human and she also is, so it’s normal. But then, I believe that dwelling on negative thoughts shouldn’t be normalized.

“You can tell me,” said I, in a very soft tone of request, as possible. I wanted to be a comfort, a home to someone when everything seemed to be turning into nightmares.

“Later, I will,” said Claire then lifted her head and walked toward the door.

She’s not yet ready to spill it out, at times she would just lean her head onto my shoulder and then cry everything out, and sometimes she’d wake up looking like a Dracula who couldn’t sleep all night and just drowned herself in tears.

“Spill it!” I wanted to know, but she just glared at me. Hey! how dare— anyways. Let’s not forget about it but for now, we need to move on, we need to buy food. Let’s go!

“So, shall we go?” I suggested, following her heavy steps, her face looking downward, might be counting her fingertips.

She doesn’t want me to know, not yet. I can wait. But my patience is too short, shorter than my height, I guess. But as a person who does know how to lessen someone’s burden, not insisting on someone to release everything also takes courage and patience, they will never feel understood, but at the very least they will know someone is willing to offer an ear.

Before we left our house, I looked around, at some point, we would be needing new glasses and mugs, even other personal things. Since it’s not yet a decade since we built this house together with her father’s skills, so, things inside here are still incomplete.

like air conditioners, and so forth.

The life we thought we would be enjoying is like a faded fantasy now. If I could remember 5 years ago, we imagined that we would be living in our own house, and yeah, we did, but the thing is we never talk about the expenses, we cannot deny the fact that

we indeed failed to plan about it.

Everything is just but an imagination, the earth has turned its back on us, or did we turn our back to this earth?

Instead of daily shopping, even going to the mall is just once a week for us, we pay our bills, and there should always be allotted money for emergency funds, daily fare, monthly bills, excess expenses, and food. At the very least, we’re grateful that her parents trusted us that we can live together, that we really can live.

And we’re kind of enjoying this independence.

Additionally, after I resigned from my previous job, it may be hard for me to receive such a good response since my ability is not in demand. I graduated with a course I didn’t even want. While

Claire is on her way to becoming a great author, I am still trying to figure out things within me.

what this heart wants to achieve, or its passion is what I am hungry for.

I’ve been looking forward to a passion that I would carelessly do, right now, what I am good at is listening to so many complaints of unsatisfied customers, in a Call Center Company. Even with my applications, I’m still applying with the same ability, to talk with extra-long patience. Yeah, it’s tiring but it’s worth it.

And I’ve been happy living with this understanding human being, who’s always taking my side.

Now, we’re inside a mall, window shopping for our favorite dresses and make-ups, and yet will buy food for our fridge, uh so unfair. We never go to a restaurant just to enjoy expensive dishes, instead, we’ll just buy our favorite chicken marinated and then fry it at home, well of course should we cook it here inside the mall?

As we looked around, our feet brought us inside so many gorgeous dresses. How I love to buy ten of these. Unfortunately, all we can do is let out a deep sigh, which we just did. It doesn’t add up to our expenses anyway. To dramatically dream big is free, not unless you start to work it out because it’s kind of expensive.

“Should we steal from our emergency fund?” Claire looked at me and asked with her convincing tone, thinking she couldn't deceive me this time. But she failed. I know that she’s quite down, but our budget also will soon be reaching its lower peak, since I’m not yet working.

“Nope. Let’s just buy chicken and sandwiches. Don’t forget about the mug, we need to buy new ones.” I grabbed her hands and our path to the grocery store. But she’s still desperately looking at the dress.

“Yes, it’s beautiful. But can you use that dress to save our lives if weare d? Hmm?” she just rolled her eyes at what I’d said. “forget about it.”

“Never mind.” she bluntly uttered.

“Good girl, let’s just buy our favorite marinated chi—"

“Chicken again? Can we just buy beef?” she requested. I would love to spoil her with a beef but all I can give is my sarcastic smile and out-of-this-world stare so she could remember that I don’t eat beef. It mmadeher lower lip drop, and the joy left her eyes as she somehow interpreted my reaction, how smart dear.

I smiled at her, sincere this time, and continued to wacontinueder hold onto my arm. I’m not clingy but this lady is.

“Should we just buy veggies this time? We haven’t cooked them in a while.” I suggested as we were heading toward the area. “Hmm. What do you think?” her permission is all I need.

She just gave me an unconvinced look as if what I’d suggested iwaswrong.

“We? We both coI was wrong and with her confused look, I got. Ahh “I assumed it I got it me who can cook, right?” she added.

“Sorry, I forgot. You don’t like my dishes anyways, so, why would I bother?anywaylained. I am guilty of it, that I cannot cook tasty meals as others can. My point is, I prefer to be a taster.

“Let’s just buy chicken, this time I’ll cook, it’ll be easy since it’s already—”

“No thanks. You don’t need to worry about it, Lay. I can handle this.” she hurriedly walks toward the vegetable display area, leaving me here with an empty pushing cart.

I followed her with my deadly glare. She really can kill my joyful moment huh? Well, is it my fault that I am just good at tasting food? If it were not for those people like me, an expert chef like them would nr have the chance to prove how delicious their dishes are, right? I’m making a point here.

“Did I offend you little dear?” sweetly asked Claire but I just shook my head.

“Or rather convincing yourself about how good you are at cooking marinated chicken?” she added.“Or rather convincing yourself about how good you are at cooking marinated chicken?” she added.

Claire is now in front of me giving me a sweetened face. Putting inside the cart the veggies that she picked, no chicken this time. How fast, dear.

“Where’s the display area for the mugs?”

“Ah, it must be over there,” said I then pointed out the display area in the opposite direction.

“Mine white.”

“Mine black, as usual.”

Claire is still looking for different designs, Me? I love plain colors, plain black. If it’s not black, should be white.

“Should we buy sleepwear?” I asked but she’s busy looking for a mug. So, I just followed her. She noticed that I looked like am waiting for an answer, stiffed while staring at her.

“What? Sorry, what did you say? Buy what? Slipper?”

“Sleep. Wear.” I said properly pronouncing the word. She nodded, her face saying, uhm yeah.

“Uhm yeah, that’s awesome” see? As expected her face has a talent for communicating words, even before.

After all the window shopping and buying what is needed, we still have a budget to treat ourselves that is why, we’ll be eating in a restaurant after this, just a 3-star one, not that bad. I, as an unemployed person, should never be picky, and she, as a person who needs to feed a human being needs to save money.

“Oh!” Claire gasps. We’re now falling in line next to a counter, anlookedexpected there to be lots of ladies beside me who looked like a personhado diseeea st, in the middle of the day.

Claire is now giving me that look, those eyes that couldn’t figure out what to do and what to say, that kind of look is quite scary when you are in line to pay for your bills next to the cashier. Now, I’m convincing myself that I shouldn’t be worried.

“Don’t give me that look,” I whispered sarcastically. The person paying in front of us is about to give their payment already, and next, would be us.

“Wait.” she softly uttered looking around. Claire is absent-minded right at this moment. Her eyes are wandering as if it’s looking for something. Haven’t we bought what is needed? Did she just say, wait?

“Wait? Why? Don’t tell me you forgot to buy something?” said I. I’m starting to worry. I leaned toward her ears and whispered, “…or you didn’t bring any card with you? That’s not it, right?” The line is long and everyone else is waiting for their turn, while this lady beside me couldn’t take her eyes off something that caught her attention.

I didn’t want to be with me, and if ever I did, there be wouldn’t enough balance in it. So, we need Claire’s card but she’s still out of this earth.

“CLARIVIEL!” now my voice hashadchad a bit digavebingMegavetheria d her face to me and gave Mega theme look. “What are you looking at?!” I asked after tapping her shoulder. She’s not paying attention. I’d rather say both of us are not yet paying the cashier.

“The cashier’s waiting for our payment, I need your card. Did you by any chance bring it with you? Dear, you’re supposed to bring it.” the question seemed to pull her back to the reality, that we need now to pay.

“I reached out I’m sorry,” she said and reached out for her wallet inside her pink shoulder bag. Like nothing happened at all. “Here.” she then gives me her card., I let out a deep sigh of relief.

Just after we finished paying for the groceries, I just stared at Claire while we were on our way to the Mall’s exit, she was walking calmly as if nothing happened.

“What just happened? Did you see a ghost?”

“I did see…”

“A ghost? I guess you didn’t sleep much last night too. We’re on the same---”

“Haze. I saw him earlier inside the mall,” she explained without a pause.

“Haze? Where?” she just ignored me and continued pulling me. “It’s just Haze, but why did you have such a reaction earlier at the counter?” I asked, but she just shrugged her shoulders. “Did he give you lots of paper works that you haven’t finished yet?” I added out of curiosity. They’re both working at the same company so it’s possible that it could be the situation.

“No, that’s not it. Ias also am confused as you are, why did I have that reaction earlier?”

“Then forget about it, he’ll never confront you in your workplace just because, if ever, he saw you earlier. It’s none of his and your business.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Why should I be bothered by his presence?”

“You are indeed bothered. You can’t hide that fact. But the question is, why?”

“Never mind. Whatever.”

Those two words will always be her ending statement whenever she doesn’t want a topic to be continued. Claire loves dodging my stares, my topic, and everything she doesn’t like.

I sat on our sofa and let out a deep sigh, while Claire gwentinto our kitchen.

“What a day!” I uttered and Claire glared at me, seemed already preparing but it sseemedlike something iswasissing.

“Aren’t we supposed to eat lunch in a restaurant?”

“Oh! We forgot.” that could be a chance to spend Claire’s money on a nice restaurant, what a waste.

“Nope, YOU forgot. You hurriedly told me to find a taxi,” she argues.

“Okay, fine. Haven’t you remembered that it is you who’s hurrying to go home because Haze might have seen you?.” as expected she just rolled her eyes does her eyes never get tired of rolling repeatedly?

What should I do with this woman? I remembered that I need to check my emails, there might be a chance that one of the companies that I applied to could’ve sent me a response early this morning.

“I’ll be back in a minute, will be checking my-Claire gavefore I finished my words, Clairegaves me a thumbs up, which meant, go! I hurriedly went inside my ropened next to Claire’s room, and oopenedmy laptop.

As I browse my emails, no response yet. I’ll be checking this again later or tomorrow. I do believe that one drop of hope can turn into a poison that can kill an army of doubt, have hope always

Morrilae.

My laptop beeps. “One mail received!”

Hmm? What’s this message could be?

“It’s not from my email account. It’s Claire’opened uttered in disappointment, as I open her mailbox it was from a Publishing Company. I didn’t open it yet, since it’s not for me.

I found Claire inside the kitchen preparing our lunch. I got her attention by showing her my laptop. She just gave me a What is it? look.

“It’s from a Publishing company and sat on the sofa while continuing to browsiseemede mail she received, because it seems like she was not interested at all. “…did you resign and then apply for to other company?” asked I, confused why would she be resigninghe loves her current job right now.

“I did apply for that company…. but as a writer.”

“Ah! Maybe this is the result, have you submitted an entry poem or is itcontinued cooking” She nodded and cocontinuedooking. I asked first for her permission iould open the entry and read her poem, I am her number one reader, and she then gave me a nod again and a thumbs up. The mail says, your entry is,

I am her number one reader, and she then gave me a nod again and a thumbs up. The mail says, your entry is,

“Your entry is…” said I then slowly conticontinuedead the whole paper sent. “…ACCEPTED!” I screamed, out of excitement. Clariviel did it again! But when I look at her reaction, can’t see any amusement on her face at all, neither did I see anything that could prove to her that she is happy with the news.

“Why? Isn’t it good news?”

“It is.” she bluntly replies, but why does it look like it isn’t?

“Is there any problem with the result, are you expecting other news aside from this?” she stopped what she is cwasrently doing and look at me, did I just see a sad eye? “…you told me earlier that you willwouwouldlling me the reason why you’re suddenly spacing out, early this morning. I’ll lend you, my ear.” I added trying to dig up the cause of her long face earlier.

“Well, it goes like this, it’s nothing important though.” she bluntly replied. But no matter how sugar-coating she might’ve done to suppress her feelings, that doesn’t mean her life is sweet enough. I could still see a drop of bitterness within her, especially these past few months.

She sat beside me and lean leanedhead on the back of the sofa, I looked at her and she just starestarede, forced a bit of smile as fast as she could then turned her stare at the ceiling. I just copied whatever she is dowasg.

“If it’s important for you, then I can’t see any reason for that issue to not be important to me. Spill it.” I said knowing how deep the thoughts Claire must have been keeping from me, just to avoid being interrogated like this. I could keep the best secret from her but Claire doesn’t have the expertise at that, I knew her more than she knew herself.

She took a deep sigh before uttering words, “I submitted last month my book, the one that I let you read.” emotionlessly she uttered. So, that was then the reason for her long face earlier this morning.

“And then? Did they tell you it’s trash?” I asked and never waiwaitedr any reply from her. “What a nonsense taste they have then,” I added. I couldn’t help not to roll my eyes.

Claire has been working on her writing skills for years now and her company itself couldn’t show much appreciation for her work. They are simply wasting a talented author.

“No. It’s just that, I haven’t received any response yet or maybe they throw it already—”

“No way.” I cut off what she’s trying to conclude because it’ll just be negative. I faced her but she just closed her eyes to hide those emotions. “You’re overthinking things again,” I added.

She is so expert at overthinking things, “Keep in mind that it is excellent work, Claire. They are the ones who don’t know to read such a masterpiece.

If your Publishing Company is not helping you with your writing journey, leave them.” I suggested as calmly as I could, not to put pressure on her. “You can always find another company that could see your worth as a writer. There are many opportunities there for a person like you.”

“I won’t resign, yet. I mean, I can still wait. I am now only one mile away from my dream to be an author and I don’t want to restart again from scratch.” she replied then forced a smile again.

“If that’s what keeps you going, I’ll support you.”

Claire already finished cooking after we discussed a bit of her issue earlier, we’re both quietly enjoying our lunch, sitting beside each other on our favorite sofa. The house is quite silent today is it because this lady beside me is still being chased by her thoughts about her unpublished book? She keeps on sighing, frowning and her eyebrows are bridging the little gap between them.

Is she able to swallow down her food properly in that situation?

If only it was already midnight, she would again be crying inside her room drowning herself with negativities. She doesn’t even care if her anxiety gets worse.

I tapped her shoulder as she spaced out, looking at spaces. “It’ll be okay, Claire. It will be,” said I in a soft, comforting voice. I’m not good at giving advice but when it comes to Claire, suddenly I’d utter words of comfort unexpectedly. No clue at all.

“I’m not okay.”

“I know” I agreed. “…and you don’t need to pretend to be okay in front of me if you are not. You can always pour it out, just then you’ll feel the lightness in your chest that has been pulling you down. Every author like you knows how heavy a small burden is, but that, too, shall pass away.”

I looked at her and forced a sincere smile, she just let her head slowly lean on my shoulder. Then, a second after, I can hear her sobbing. She is in pain. I just closed my eyes and let the time flies. I’m always open arms for this soft-hearted lady, I can see that she’s been always tough, and that’s why she carries such heavy thoughts with her.

Slowly, I grabbed my laptop beside me, with just my right hand not to interrupt her, and opened the mailbox to read one of her entries. Most of her poems are sorrowful, and few were written with happy sentiments, for her, writing is a comfort zone to let her thoughts be spoken through rhyming words.

BITTER-SWEET LIFE.

Almost wasted my energy, should I refuel at a near station?

Numerous times have I assumed, that maturity would fill me instantly,

Even if I never ask for it, it’ll consume me unexpectedly.

Curiously I wrote things about myself, will I ever understand, me?

Reality has hit me hard; I almost lost my memory.

A different me was activated, I needed to be on guard, or else.

The crowd will suffocate my lungs, it blocks the air I’m wanting to inhale.

Enough time for me to live, and to leave, should I choose between the two.

The world is turning its back on me, but never the back of this lady.

She has been a comfort and a sweet perfume at times life offers me bitterly.

Though things are pulling me down, whether they be light or heavy

Her hand keeps on pulling me back, to where she knew I belong.

When will I ever thank her, for being my hopeful song?

Written by: C.M.

I couldn’t help but smile, this is the treasure I always wanted her to see inside her. This talent is not just a mere talent any Publishing Company can find along the highway, they need Claire.

After reading her poem, it makes me re-think what I have done to this woman that she can mention a bwaster and rude friend in her poem, so sweet, though I hate sweet gestures like this.

“maybe the person mentioned wasn’t—”

“That’s you of course, who else?” haven’t noticed that Claire is also reading the poem and is now probably glaring at me but when my eyes landed on her stares, the sadness within is powerful.

“You can also be an actress, Claire. Sadness suits you well,” said I, teasing her, those words do make her laugh for a second. That is her, she may be consumed by sadness for an hour but in just a minute, all eventually fades.

“Life has given me this kind of power, to make sadness dwell long enough within me that it makes me even prettier, right?” said Claire with her sweet-sarcastic smile, look who’s bragging about her own wasted tears.

This time I need to give her a cold smile for that pride, “Yeah, you’re pretty but not quite when you cry. You look like a broken-hearted college student—”

“Never mind, whatever,” said Claire rolling her eyes and leaning again her head on my shoulder.

When will this lady beside me ever feel that herexher existence enough see herself is a masterpiece along with her poems that are so heartfelt, I don’t even know how on earth she put her whole sincerity between those stanzas and rhyming words. It gives me cringe every time I read her poems, but it’s always worth reading. Yet I will not join Clairlooked her sobbing today, I mean ever.

I will let her always have the stage.

“You know what Claire, I have read some statement somewhere on social media, that says, it’s okay to cry,” said I and look at her calm eyes. “because they concluded that even at the beginning of our life just after we were born, crying is a wonderful sign that proves we are alive,” I added and let out a deep sigh.

“Maybe the dream of being an author supposed to be yours, it fits you well.” She responds.

"Congratulations" they cried out.

It was an astonishing melody to listen

The power dwells confidently and flickers

"She did it. Yes, she did."

A soft wind blew the tarpaulin

hanged on a moistened rusty gate

Footsteps approach loud and joyful

The door opened then closed,

Its screeching commotion continues

Again, opened and then closed.

Laughter and handshakes,

Tapping of shoulders

There is so much compassion

My eyes looked around

I found his footprint and a medal

Golden glitter surrounds its circle

My palm reaches for it

As it hung on our wall, my neck desires

even the beat of my heart whisper

"I want to be like her" I mumbled

My feet wandered 'til it arrived in my room

Quite felt chaotic with crumpled paper

Inkless pen, dusty books, folded mini table

Hence, I turned the room inside out

All of a sudden, it became peaceful

Prim and proper I sat,

Flipped a page of the book she loved

I almost felt a quake under my chair

My head is spinning unhurriedly

Even my pen couldn't comprehend

What and where to write down

It has forgotten what the alphabet is,

or how to put numbers together

Wasn't it easy?

This roof above me became my shield,

Quite stronger; my umbrellas now hid

Though it doesn't let me get soaked

The loudness between raindrops never gets old

On each corner of the house: it wails

Drop, drop. Drop, drop. the sorrow is heard

Still, it sounds joyful, as it slams into the ground

They seemed delicate, like someone is crowned