The Road Less Traveled By
The grandfather clock strikes twelve.
It is where reality meets fantasy.
Calm wind breezes.
Grass dotted with morning dew tickles my barefoot.
My feet guide me to the huge tree by the glistening stream.
I kneel down.
I dip my hand in the cool water.
I lift my fingers.
Water drips down my elbow.
Someone taps my shoulder.
I do not need to look back.
It is him.
His heart beats in sync with mine.
He grasps my hand.
We walk across the meadow.
I stared at him.
He looks back at me, beaming.
I smile back.
He grips my hand firmer.
If you find yourself so low that you almost need to look up just to look down, just come in this place and I’ll be always here with you. OHFT…,” he says to me.
He steers my head to his chest.
I close my eyes.
Tears trickle down my cheeks soaking his shirt.
He caresses my hair.
This is our secret hiding place.
It is always morning here.
No one knows this place but the two of us.
I just realized the beauty of speculative fiction. It’s becoming a supernatural being with the power to fly and getting lost in a place where no one knows who you are. You can even make the people who hurt you become aliens with balloon heads. You only have to be armed with a needle to defeat them.
There was a time in my life when I greeted everyone I met on the street with a smile. And they smiled back. It was a nice time—no assumptions, no doubts in your heart—just a simple unadulterated smile.
Somehow, through the passing of the years, the smile turns to a frown. And like everything else that is changing gradually, I didn’t realize it until I saw this girl on the bus.
That day, I was on the bus with Mark Galang. As a gentleman that he is, he also paid for my fare that day. He is such a kind-hearted guy. Bless him.
Well anyways, he pointed me this girl. But even before he mentioned the girl, I already noticed her the moment she came up the bus. There was something different about her. She smiled to everyone. The driver knew her, the bus conductor knew her, and the street fruit vendors knew her and even gave her some lanzones— it seemed everyone knew her, apparently except me. She wasn’t that beautiful. I mean, not stunningly beautiful like Demi Moore or Catherine Zeta Jones, but she was nice to look at. At first though, I raised an eyebrow at how she acted. Well, in the course of time, I’ve developed a negative attitude of doubting everyone’s intention. I guess that would explain the frown.
Mark told me that they met the girl in Chowking, where he works. As I’ve suspected, the girl has a very high self-esteem. She is the kind who’d be the first one to approach you and introduce herself. She doesn’t need a middleman.
I’d like to have that kind of attitude. But then, you can’t help but to doubt everyone if you’ve been hurt too many times. I don’t know but… I just thought it would be nice to go back to the time when I don’t carry even a hint of a grudge to anyone—the time when I have a smile ready for everyone.
Until that time comes, I guess writing speculative fiction will be my cover.