I’ve moved to http://saladdbowll.blogspot.com
I’ve moved to http://saladdbowll.blogspot.com
The crowds give another resonant applause. Some even give standing ovations and whistle. I smile and walk away from the stage. Another brilliant act from Mr. You-Know-Who.
The crowds love me. But who do they actually love? Is it me or the characters that I’ve been impersonating of?
I am the greatest impersonator in the whole world. This week, I am the great Sir Charlie Chaplin. Last week, I was the handsomely dashing James Dean. Next week, probably I’ll be … I don’t know. I don’t have any idea what I want to be. But I know, I will give another genius performance despite whoever I choose to be.
I have been playing, acting, impersonating or whatever you like to call it, others until I forgot who I am. I forgot who I … truly … am. I don’t know my favorite foods, what kind of colors do I like … I don’t know or I just simply forgot.
This got me thinking, if I played these characters half of my … bogus life, who played ME?
“Mom! I want another bedtime stories!”
I smile. Little John is 5 years old this year and I have never missed one night, telling him a bedtime story. He enjoys it very much. This is what I’m looking forward to every night, after an exhaustive day at work, telling him a bedtime story until he falls asleep.
“Tonight, I will tell you a story about the King of Sorrow. Close your eyes sweetie and imagine yourself in the place where I’m about to tell you.”
Once upon a time, there was a kingdom resided near the Nile river. They called it The Land of Warriors. The land was as far as the eyes could see, full with beautiful flowers and trees. The Land of Warriors by far was the most promising land during its time. People came from all over the world just to trade in its most famous market, The Warriors’ Market.
The Land of Warriors was ruled by a very mysterious king. They called him King Mashoor. None of the people in The Land of Warriors ever saw his face as he remained discreet in his palace. His palace, as described by its people, was located on top of the sky. Nobody knew how to climb up to his palace. And as the legend has it, the king himself never touched the ground.
People also said that The Land of Warriors never once failed in battlefields. That is why the land was called The Land of Warriors. They have won thousands of war. Their enemies feared them from afar. Rumors had it that the people of The Land of Warriors could not feel fear. That was the main reason why they never lost a battle. They were not afraid to die. Not afraid of their enemies sword.
“How was that they failed to feel fear? Every human must be afraid of something.”
Every newborn in the land was tattooed with an ancient mark on their left shoulder. This tattoo was believed to absorb all their fears from their body. That was why they could not feel fear. That tattoo made them unstoppable.
What the people did not know was that every night, when they were sleeping soundly in their shelter, the king came down to every shelter and absorbed every nightmares, fears, timidity and sorrows from his people.
The tattoo was actually a mark. A mark for the king to individualized his people from the outsiders who resided in their land. Both men and women. The outsiders could never get the tattoo because only the blood from the native of The Land of Warriors could mixed well with the tattoo ink.
This tradition went on for several hundreds of years. The people of The Land of Warriors all lived in harmony as they did not have to feel sorrow, timid or any negative elements against anybody else.
What they failed to notice though, their king was suffering a great deal of pain, as he had to face all the accumulated sorrow, timidity and fears. He suffered alone in his palace. Regardless of how he felt, he kept on doing what he was doing, making sure that his people were living in tranquility, in harmony.
The king grew older and sicker day by day and one final day, the king just failed to wake up from his slumber. His face changed, from an old, grey and wrinkly man, to an astoundingly handsome young man. He smiled. He knew he had fulfilled his duty to his people.
His palace drifted away and vanished among the sky. The people of The Land of Warriors stood still as they realized that their king was gone forever.
One fine man from the crowd kneel down and looked upon the sky and said:
“I will always be with you, wherever you are, your highness. Take my soul and I will be forever yours”
With that, a very bright light came out from his mouth, eyes, ears and hands. He too started to vanish into the thin air. Soon, the whole kingdom followed suit what the fine man did, and they too vanished slowly into the thin air.
The birds were still chirping as The Land of Warriors vanished slowly, following their king. According to the legend, the people of The Land of Warriors did unite with their king in the other world and they still lived in harmony.
“Mom, I’m tired”
I smile. I tuck in Little John in his blanket and kiss his forehead.
“Good night honey”
I switch off his light. I can feel my tattoo, on my left shoulder, glowing as I walk away from Little John’s room. Probably, a legend is not just a legend.
Similar like any other couples, they bicker. Unlike any other couples, they bicker a lot. Almost every day. Every time they meet up, there will be yet another argument that will either end up winning on his or her side. They squabble on petty things like, why is he wearing HUGO BOSS’ perfume, why is she eating chicken feet, so on so forth.
They are having yet another dispute. They are screaming on top of their lungs, fighting for the highest pitch. Another frivolous issue. Suddenly, she stops. She stops giving her thoughts. People is glaring at them. Of course. It is what people do when there is a couple’s fight in a fancy restaurant.
Suddenly, she realizes, this is not what she wants in a relationship. Fighting, bickering about unimportant issues. What will happen if they are married to each other? She looks around. A table, not far from theirs, a man is holding his girlfriend/wife hand, and telling something funny to his girlfriend/wife. Another table, a couple just gaze lovingly in each other eyes, other people do not matter anymore. The world is theirs.
That is what couples suppose to do. Cherish each other. Look deep in each other eyes and say lovely things to each other. Not spend a day with fighting over, who is the better singer, Britney or Christina? She feels tired. 2 years with him brings nothing. She gives up.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore. I don’t think we are perfect each other”
He stops talking. He stares at her. He let out a long breath and put out his right hand.
“Give me your left hand”
Obliging whatever he says, she put her left hand on the table, waiting for his next step. He takes her left hand and held it together with his right hand. His fingers entwine perfectly with hers. He smiles.
“There. We are a perfect match. My fingers fill in your gaps perfectly. Not too tight, not too loose. Now, can we continue with our much heated ‘debate’? I think I’m winning”
She smiles. Now she knows why she loves him in the first place.
You know why God created gaps between fingers? So that someday, the one who made up for you will come and fill in those gaps by holding your hand forever.
Note: This story is inspired by a message I’ve received from a good friend of mine. Thank you.
She was alone in this world. Despite all the wealth her husband had given her, she had nobody. Her womb had betrayed her. She failed to bear a child for her husband. An heir to their wealth. Her husband had turned ice cold towards her for such a long time, she failed to remember when the ice treatment had started. She never loved him anyway. Not anymore.
All she had was her large beautiful garden, beset the house. She took care of her large garden by herself. She liked it in there. She felt like she was in another realm, where she could escaped all the loneliness surrounded her. She spent most of her time in the garden, talking to the mighty trees and colorful flowers. She was the happiest inside her garden.
When she was glum, it was her garden that lighten her up. The flowers started sprouting their beautiful petals. and in no time, her garden was resolved into a breathtaking Eden. Her garden was her friend, family and lover. Each morning she woke up just to tend her garden. Caressing each leaves and flowers brought joy to her.
She knew her garden will never betrayed her like her husband did. She knew her garden could take care of her like nobody could. She knew that she loved her garden more than anything in this world.
“Good morning honey. Here, I brought you and your mistress some tea to drink.”
She put down the cups and poured the tea into each cup. Then she placed the cups down, in front of an enormous oak tree. She smiled sweetly. There, inside the tree’s trunk was her husband’s and the mistress’ faces, struck out. Based on their faces, that wasn’t an easy death.
“My garden, my lovely garden”
And with that, she walked away from the oak tree.
The cold midnight wind brushes her face gently. She tighten her black leather jacket. The street eyes are leering at her. She isn’t afraid. She never afraid.
Midnight wind helps to clear up her mind from things. Simple things like the laundry, bills, car maintenance and her cat. At 32, she still cannot managed these small things.
Restless. One word that could describe her. She never stick in one place. Always moved out from one apartment to another apartment. From one man to another. The only presence that she holds dear to her heart is her cat.
Her head replays the conversation she had with Mark, her 2 years boyfriend and now an ex-boyfriend, last week:
Mark: Why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me away? We’ve been together for 2 years, I know that I love you. I know that you are the one. I love you Kelly.
Kelly: Don’t say that. I thought we agreed …
Mark: ***k whatever we agreed. I love you. Say that you love me.
She walked out from his apartment and never looked back ever since. She have done this for more than a dozen times. Why should it be any different for Mark?
She knows her heart is incapable to love a man like any woman does. Her heart has long gone before a man could capture it. No one knows whatever happened to her heart. How does it becomes so cold towards love.
She walked inside her dark apartment. Something soft brushes her feet. She lifts up her cat and hug it close to her heart.
“I love you Dinko”
Love is overrated.
My very first fiction writing attempt (although I did A LOT of this during the primary and secondary years)
– – – –
Every ending is every beginning. It could be a horrible ending but lovely beginning, where you wish that it ends in sudden. Or it could be a lovely ending and horrible beginning, where you wish that it will never end.
– – – –
He looked down the thin icy surface. Nothing. He saw nothing but a sheer reflection of himself. The forest around him remained motionless. Not a single sound from the forest that night, as if the inhabitant of the forest knew what he had planned for that night.
He started to strip down his clothes. First the tie, then the heavy coat. He took his time. The air was frosty. He remained calm as he took off his tailored made trousers. His body started to quiver. He didn’t stop. Until he was finally in his boxer and Polo’s shoes. He arranged and folded his clothes carefully. Then he sat. On the thin icy surface.
He sat in the middle of a frozen lake. A lake in unknown forest. How did he know about this place? He did not know. He looked around him. It seemed like the trees and the moon were the only companions for him that night. He didn’t remember how he managed to get himself here but everything seemed so familiar. He felt like he knew what he was doing.
He stood up and walked slowly on the thin icy surface. A crack. He stopped. Another crack. He looked down. Cracks were everywhere from where he stood. He just stood there waiting for the moment. The moment where everything ended and new beginning arose.
Within a blink of an eye, the layer where he had stood broke and he fell inside the lake. The water was icy cold and pitch black. He fell deep until he touched the bottom of the lake. There he stood silently. Waiting. Patiently.
Suddenly, he saw a spark in front of him. The spark created more spark until it became a light. A light that could blind ones eyes. He didn’t blink. He embraced the moment. The moment where the light surrounded him. He felt tranquil. He closed his eyes and felt asleep.
The light eventually faded. He opened his eyes and started to frog-kicking for the surface. Slowly. Hastily after he felt like his lungs was going to burst. As he took the first breath when he was resurfaced, he knew that was his new breath. He looked around. The darkness still around him but the forest no longer remained motionless. He have found his new beginning in The Lake of Rebirth.