[Fiction] Dream Scape

It is almost surreal, he thinks, the scenery unfolding before him. A sea of silver grass dancing in the wind, rustling in his ears, almost lulling him to sleep. Above, the sky is blue and vast, adorned with thin, wispy clouds gently swept by the wind. The hill upon which he is sitting is a carpet of emerald, soft grass inviting him to lie his tired back.

He does just so, closing his eyes and spreading his arms wide besides him and just—feel.

He doesn't know why he's here, or how long he has been here. It feels like forever. Like a dream.

Maybe it is?

A soft melody is caught by his ears, the voice reverberating through the landscape. A song?

When he opens his eyes, the sky is a velvet dark blue. He pushes himself up, noting with just a small relief that the stars help give a little light to the darkened meadow. He can still hear the rustling sound of the silver grass; a voice singing from afar. He knows that voice. He feels like he should know—who is it?

Standing up, he braves the night and makes his way down to the dense sea of silver grass. That’s where the voice is coming from. He steps carefully, squinting his eyes as he walks on a pathway between the tall silver grass towering over him.

Logically, he knows it is impossible to find someone amidst the dense silver, under the night sky like this. But he knows, somehow, he’ll find her. It is a dream, after all.

Blindly wading through the tall grass, he follows the source of the singing. With each step he takes, a vision—flash of memories?—starts to come before his eyes.

Crunch.
He had a life, a family, and friends.

Crunch.
He was in class, sitting at the far back, looking disinterestedly at the whiteboard. He had stayed up all night, unable to sleep due to the screams and shouts echoing from downstairs.

Crunch.
He saw a lady in her early forties, sitting at the dining table with hands covering her face, shoulder shaking with emotion. Mother. At the end of the hall, his father was busy talking to the phone, voice tense and heavy as he was ready to leave the house.

He remembers feeling tired, worn out, maybe a little angry but mostly sad.

He remembers going out to clear his mind. Running has always been a mean for him to let out the heavy burden in his heart. Sure, he cannot run from his problems, from reality, but he can run.

He remembers seeing a sudden headlight from the corner, remembers how he was too stunned to move, remembers hearing the high-pitched scream of a brake and—that is the last thing he remembers.

* * *

The voice is getting clearer, a melody so gentle like a lullaby.

He follows his instincts, letting his legs move on their own, leading him. It’s still too dark to see, so he halts, closes his eyes and inhales.

When he opens his eyes, the sky is once again the color of brilliant blue.

He continues to walk through the sea of silver and green, accompanied by the gentle wind. He knows he is near, when his eyes catch sight of a clearing not far ahead of him.

He hastens his pace; suddenly feeling a longing so strong it is hard to breathe. His feet move faster, and faster until he is finally running, and—

There is a lady, standing in the middle of the clearing. Her long, wavy hair teased by the wind. He cannot see her face, for the sun is directly behind her, casting a shadow just so he could only see her smile.

He runs into her welcoming arm.

* * *

There is a constant beeping sound coming from afar. At first, he can only hear it faintly, but slowly, the sound gets louder and louder in his ear.

His eyelids feel heavy when he tries to open them. His whole body a dead weight when he tries to move.

He hears a muted conversations, voices speaking at just above a whisper. The beeping continues steadily against his ears, like an alarm clock he should wake up to, hit the snooze button and then curl back to bed.

He is in bed, isn’t he?

Strengthening his willpower, he forces his eyes to open, and—the world blurs around him. He blinks a few times, slowly, lethargically, trying to get a clearer vision.

To the left, he makes out the form of a lady. Her long, wavy hair falls across her back and shoulder.

Ah, he thinks, it's her after all.

She doesn't see him yet—she’s speaking to someone. He tries to call her, but his voice is so hoarse he cringes at t inwardly. So he tries again, and says, “M…om?”

The lady—his mother, turns her head so fast he’s afraid she’d get a crick. He feels his hand is held and raised, feeling the soft skin and warmth of her hand. She guides it to her cheek, and he feels the tears streaming down to his weak hand.

“You’re awake.”

He looks up to his mother’s face, looking so old and tired and fragile and—he forces his facial muscles into a small, gentle smile.

“I’m back.”

- NeverEnding -

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[Fiction] Matchmaking Matchmaker

It started with a movie date.

No, scratch that. It couldn't really be called a date if there were two boys and one girl, correct? It had started with a phone call from Fabian to Aaron, asking to go to the movies.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” Aaron had said, not finding the idea of going to a movie date with his male best friend to be appealing.

“Pleeease,” said the voice from the other line. “Help me here, it’s gonna be awkward if we’re alone. I don’t know her that well.”

An auburn eyebrow was raised. “Oh?” Aaron smirked, “Who’s the girl?”

“A friend. Met her on Soundcloud. She has a cute voice. You’ll like her, so come on”

Hah, Aaron thought, he wanted me to be there on their first date? Lame. “Fine,” Aaron told him. “You’re paying.”

A resigned sigh. “Sure.”

* * *

Her name was Dee. A small, lithe girl with fair long hair and a shy, shy smile. Figured, Aaron thought, this was the type Fabian would like. From her gestures—and the fact that she was willing to come a long way to meet up—Aaron was pretty convinced Fabian didn't need his help.

The movie they ended up watching was some chick flick, most likely picked by Dee. If it was Fabian who chose this, Aaron would give him a smack over his head later. He felt like falling asleep already.

Even so, being the good friend that he was, Aaron thought, he’d give his two companions a little push. The chance came later, when the three of them had dinner. Dee talked excitedly about the male protagonist, who was very romantic, which translated to Aaron as a big sap. Then again, Fabian, would be that kind of boyfriend, wouldn't he?

“So which part of the movie did you like?” Aaron started, trying to get an opening.

“Uhm, I don’t know, there are so many scenes I like,” her eyes were getting dreamy, Aaron noted. Yep, not his type. “I like it when the guy could guess what the girl wanted without saying anything, and that he actually bought it for her.”

“Right,” Aaron offered a smile. Figured that movies like these ruined relationships. They get girls’ expectation on boys to be so high. What was wrong with just telling your guy you want this, or that? He’d still buy you the stuff. “He’s very observant,” Aaron told Dee. “Just like Fabian here, right?”

Fabian blinked. “Erm… I guess?”

“On my birthday last year,” Aaron continued, “He gave me a jacket with hoodie, exactly what I wanted at the time, and I didn't even tell him I wanted that.”

“You were pretty obvious about it,” Fabian snorted lightly. “The way you kept looking at those jackets—Korean style, right?—whenever we happened to hang out in a mall, and that you were browsing it online to find that exact model.”

“See? Observant,” Aaron thumbed at Fabian while giving Dee a big, broad smile which say, come on he’s your perfect boyfriend material.

Dee looked at the both of them, lips forming an almost cooing smile and said, “You two are so sweet.”

Aaron and Fabian looked at each other, then without being commanded, making a motion of someone throwing up.

* * *

Fabian insisted that Aaron took Dee home, since her house is in Aaron’s direction, but still! Aaron mouthed the word, ‘Are you fucking sure?’ because that was the important part of the date, right? When you drive the girl home and see if—if there will be a second and third date? Maybe try and see if you could kiss her?

So you. Do not. Tell your best friend to drive your date home, is he an idiot?

Fabian did seem like he didn't have a clue, though, as he mouthed back, ‘Yeah, why?’

Aaron’s palm landed on his face.

“What is it?” Dee asked curiously, having not seen the exchange between the boys.

“Nothing,” Aaron smiled a bit too brightly at the girl. “Let’s go then.”

* * *

It was much later that night, when Aaron gave his clueless best friend a ring.

“Dude, you’re seriously okay with me driving her home? Are you an idiot?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that? It’s on your way home.”

“Still,” Aaron let out an exasperated sigh. “It was going so good! I think she’s into you already. You should have just driven her home, see if there’s any chance for the next date. Moron.”

“Wait,” Aaron could hear the confusion in Fabian’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

Really? “What are you talking about? Didn’t you ask me to go so I could help you approach this girl?”

“What? No! I wanted you to meet her and see if you’d like her. I think she will be good for you.”

“Wait—waitwaitwait,” Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose, “You wanted to play matchmaking for me?”

“Umm…yes?” a pause, then, “and you wanted…to help me win her over.”

Then, there was a long, horrible pause in which the two best friends inwardly swear at each other’s stupidity.

- NeverEnding -

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[Fiction] The Dream House

He looks at the half-constructed wooden house in a further corner of their small village, where trees grow tall and the grass expand like a green carpet. The house is made of pine, which grow in the forest northwest from their establishment. Luca gathered the materials himself, logging the trees and transporting the timber with a cart. His job as a bounty hunter for one of the noble houses in the Capital allows little time for Luca to work on this house. Despite starting a couple of months ago, the progress of this construction sure is a little slow. Not to mention he completely neglected the house and avoided coming here for two weeks, before, because seeing the house made his chest constrict and it was hard to breathe.

The frames for the would-be house have been established, with the flooring nearly finished, save for the terrace. Some parts of the walls are already built, but he will need to screw the wooden walls better. To the side of the building was a stack pine woods, sawed and sandpapered.

He inhales the fresh air, closing his eyes and tilting his head up. Sunlight at this early morning feels nice, warming his skin and giving him energy to start his day. Perfect weather for a day off. He walks over to the house and puts down his tool bag, opening it in search of hammer and nails. Today, he will make sure to finish building the walls, and maybe start putting on the roof.

* * *

“Are you still working on the house?”

Luca halts his steps on his way back, and turns to the right to meet the eyes of Mrs. Calley, a middle-aged woman who is the mother of his childhood friend. He smiles at her. “I am, I made a promise after all.”

To that, she gives him a melancholic smile. “I believe it would be a lovely house. Aria would surely be happy.”

He politely returns the smile. “I sure hope so.”

* * *

“You know what my dream house is like?” a rhetorical question, Luca noticed, as he was sure she would tell him anyway even if he said nope, I don't. “A house made of wood, surrounded by greeneries and nature. It doesn’t even have to be big, but it would be nice if it had a lot of windows to let the sunlight in, and to look out at the scenery outside.”

Luca hummed his response, not bothering to open his eyes or move from his current position, laying on the grass under the big tree they had claimed as their spot.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” she pinched his arm lightly. “Jeez.”

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” he replies lazily, opening one eye to look up at his companion. “What, you want me to build one for you?”

She beamed. “Would you?”

Luca snorted. “I’m a bounty hunter, not a carpenter.”

“But you’re good at woodworking! Not that it’s a surprise since your father had taught you ever since you were old enough to be holding a saw, an axe and a hammer,” her laughter ringed in his ear then.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position and adjusted himself to lean against the tree trunk next to her. “You do know I don’t work for free,” he smirked.

“Why of course,” she waved a hand. “How about—once the house is done, of course—I cook your every meal for the rest of your life?”

That, right there, was a hint so crystal clear Luca had to blink and wonder if he was hearing things. The subtle pink on Aria’s cheeks when he turned to look at her though, told him otherwise.

“Stop staring, would you?”she pushed his face away with a hand, and Luca couldn’t help but laugh and laugh and laugh—and he ruffled his childhood friend’s brown hair.

“Deal.”

* * *

He comes to install the doors and windows today. There will be two windows on each side of the house, except for where the kitchen and diner area. There, he plans for a wide window extending along the wall. He’s spent more than half his savings to build and fill this house. It was a good thing he was given a mission with satisfying reward just a week ago.

After the doors and windows are in place, it is time to coat them with lacquer. He’s done the walls three days before. Luca works on the house until the sky starts to bleed as the sun is setting.

He comes out of the house, smelling of fresh lacquer. It feels good to be able to breathe fresh air again.

Standing a few meters away from the house, Luca silently admires his work. There is pride blooming in his chest. He never knew he could—and would—actually build a nice house. He makes sure the house will shelter from the cold of winter and the heat of summer. Sturdy enough to fight a strong wind and stand still. He imagines the house would smell of freshly baked breads or condiment from newly cooked soup, and a wistful smile adorned his face.

Tomorrow, he’ll move the furniture in.

* * *

He’s gathered some wildflowers today—whites and yellows and pinks—and arranged them in a small, slim vase. He holds it in front of him as he enters the house, now furnished and ready to be inhabited.

“So, I built your dream house,” he starts with a smile. He has practiced this line so many times before, although this isn’t how he had expected to tell her. “It may be small, but it has everything needed in a house, right? And a lot of windows, as requested.”

His smile turn somber then, as he looks into the bright green of Aria’s eyes, and says, “I really hope you like this house.”

He reaches out and places the flowers next to a portrait painting of Aria, framed in black.

-NeverEnding-

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[Fiction] On a Fine Day

I stretch my back and let out a big yawn, before jumping down from the tree branch that was my bed for the past few days. I like being in high places, so I can observe what is around me.

I arrived at this neighborhood about a month ago, having traveled from the much more densely populated area that wasn’t even livable. Both the people and the strays must have had some anger issues.

This area, though, looks quite nice and friendly. When I just arrived, I passed by a small family restaurant and went to the backdoor in search of food. The young lad who was a waiter there happened to see me when he was about to throw away some garbage, and called out to me—my instinct immediately said food, food!

So help him, he gave me some leftovers—it’s probably lucky those humans were dumb enough to not finish a perfectly fine food—and water. He crouched there as I ate, and I simply ignore him. He had my thanks, but I left immediately after I was done eating.

I don’t want to be bound yet. I like my freedom. I like living on the streets and going to places. Or maybe, I just haven’t found my human.

I walk leisurely along the neighborhood, saying hi to Bradey, the young white with black spots who acts like he owns the place. Although he isn’t really what I’d call friendly, so far he hasn’t acted like he’s looking for a fight. Then again, I’m not going to claim his territory. I’ve seen the places he’s marked and I’m not interested.

I turn left at the corner, and hearing the hum of engine sound, I leap up to a brick wall lining along the streets. Better walk from up here rather than be ran over by those steel running machine they call a car. I’ve seen my litter mate got hit by one of these things, when we were only about three months old. Wasn’t a pleasant memory to remember.

Around the corner is the house of an old couple who, as I’ve learned from other strays, like to feed us three times a day. Though, it’s probably still too early, because when I peek from their garden and into the house, they were still in bed. It’s the wife who usually would feed us. I decide to hang out just in front of the house, joining some other strays who are already there.

In this part of the neighborhood, There are four other cats other than me and a female dog who, as I’ve observed, thinks it’s her job to break cat fights when they do happen. It’s kind of hilarious.

‘So are you planning to stay?’ Mitzi the female calico asked suddenly. I kinda feel like she has something for me, though it is not that season yet.

‘I dunno, this place is nice, yes, but I still want to explore to South.’

‘South?’ asks Sally the dog. ‘Not recommended. Lots of bad kids there, they’re awful to animals.’

‘Oh.’ Right, if my memory serves me right, Sally kind of ran away from there and settled here. She used to belong to a family, but situation forced them to move and she was left behind. What irresponsible humans. That’s why I like living like this, no exclusivity. I belong to myself.

‘Why don't you just stay here?’

Well. The strays in this block are fine, but the ones a couple of blocks away? Meh. Sally sometimes wander there on her ‘patrol duty’. I got to follow her a few days ago. ‘I’ll think about it.’

The sun is getting high, and not long, I hear it. The rustling sounds of Granny preparing for our food! We’re already gathering in front of the gate even before Granny is in sight. She brings us dry cat food, which Sally has learned to enjoy, too.

After meal, we scatter to mind our own businesses. I wander the neighborhood to find a high spot I can perch onto and take a nap, while thinking of Sally’s suggestion. Maybe after I check all the surrounding areas, then I’ll decide where I’ll stay—at least until I get bored and want to venture elsewhere.

One block away from the granny’s, I find a nice, green house. I sneak into their front yard out of curiosity, wondering if there would be any trees or walls I can climb to, and—my eyes meet a pair of feet. I look up and find the human lady looking down at me with big, stupid grin.

“Hi, Kitty! Are you new here?”

‘Can you not call me Kitty?,' I replied.

“What? Meow, meow, so you’re new! Come here, meow!”

Don’t meow me, thet just sounds stupid.

“C’mere, meow, meow!” she reaches out her palm, an invitation for an introduction.

I steps closer to the human lady now crouching in front of me, sniffing tentatively at his fingertips. There’s just something about this lady which is very inviting. I meet this kind of human sometimes, one with the aura which draws me close.

“You remind me of Pretzel. He passed away a month ago, he looks just like you. Why don’t you stay, hmm?”

I don’t really understand what she’s saying, but I like how soft her eyes are. Though—‘Sorry Lady, I don’t want to be owned just yet.’

“Hmm?” she obviously doesn’t understand what I’m saying, but it doesn’t matter.

‘Nice to meet’cha, but I gotta go now,’ I said and turn around, stepping away.

“Aww, Kitty! You’re leaving already?”

She sounds so sad, so I halt my steps and turned around. ‘I’ll drop by later. Prepare some food for me.’

Then, I walk on, thinking maybe later, I’ll drop by this house again. The Lady seems to like cats, so maybe she’ll give me some food.

For now though, I’m going to find a place for a nap.

-NeverEnding-

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[Fiction] Long Dark Hair

She wakes up with a start, feeling her heart thumps against her chest. Slowly, she rises, pushes herself up to sit in bed, then grabs her throbbing head.

She doesn’t remember her dream.

Sighing, she reaches out blindly near her pillow in search of her smartphone to consult for time. 06:27 AM. Well, might as well wake up and get ready.

* * *

The thing that annoys her the most before leaving for work every day is seeing strands of hair all over her floor. They might not be too much that she’d fear getting bald at the age of 30, but it’s enough to worry her. It’s probably the stress, it was just her luck to land her on such a demanding job. Within just a couple of months, now she has hairfall problems.

Still, she cleans her room every day after work, making sure the floor is clean and hair-free. But then when she wakes up the next morning, there will be strands of hair again. Thin, fine strands that she probably missed while cleaning. But no matter how clean she thinks the floor was the night before, come morning there will be hair again on her floor, it’s starting to get frustrating.

There was a light touch over her exposed lower back, making her jerk lightly in surprise. Swiftly her hand came up to check, afraid if there was some insect running down her skin. But what she found was simply a single strand of long, dark hair.

She frowns. Must be her hair falling. She just washed her hair, after all. Her eyes than catches the corner of her room, just by the bed, where there lay long strands of hair in disarray. The amount is not so much that it shocks her, but it’s enough to forge her worries of getting bald spots so young.

“And I’m only twenty-five,” she sighs to herself, before making her way to search for a vacuum cleaner.

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[Fiction] Don't Know What Love Is (But You Do)

He never thinks he has the capacity to love. After all, how would he, one who was raised without love, without ever witnessing what it was like to love and be loved, be confident that he is capable of such feeling?

He was born out of obligation. His mother married to the family in order to bear an heir. His father compensated her with a comfortable life, materially speaking. Took care of her family’s debts, but that was it. It was more of a symbiotic mutualism. Like a business transaction. That, he can understand.

“Be a good boy. Excel in your classes. Do what your father told you to,” is what his mother always say. “Don’t be a burden to me.”

He doesn’t know love.

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[Fiction] Whispering Wind

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
She walks across the snow-covered ground, steps heavy and deliberate to carve footprints in the otherwise perfect carpet of snow. Her cheeks were pinked from the cold, and her hands were shoved deep into her mantle’s pockets.

It is still in the early morning of a cold February, and it is curious to see her deliberately daring the snow in such hour, yet without a clear direction. She simply wanders the neighborhood, leaving her footprints along the roads as if waiting for someone to catch up to her.

There used to be one.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
As if on autopilot, her feet bring her to a still empty playground where she used to frequent. She pauses at the entrance for a moment. This is a place she used to spend her time. With him. At least, until about a few months ago.

Slowly, she makes her way to a wooden bench near a dried tree, and settles herself there.

“It’s been two months, Aran,” she tells the empty playground. “I miss you.”

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