Dust Wind's Night

Silence has descended upon the starry night. I walk on, feeling the rough sand beneath my feet. The ocean breeze kisses my cheeks and ruffles through my hair. It is night and everything is quiet. Sitting down, I stretch my fingers towards the vast body of water, desperately trying to reach something. I close my eyes and enjoy the breeze as I listen to the quiet gentle waves. When I re-open my eyes, I see someone – a girl with a big sunny smile. She is carrying a small orange bucket and a sand shovel as she runs towards her siblings, laughing joyfully and helping them with the construction of the sand castle. She sets the bucket and the shovel aside as she scouts around the half-finished sand beauty. My breath quickens as I take a step towards her. The strong sense of déjà vu hits me as I hear my own heart pounding against my chest. My ears are ringing and my visions blur. Then, I hear it. It’s the sound again – the heartbreaking cries and the screams of sorrow. I can see the girl chasing after the bucket as the wave devours it. I can see the brother seizes her by the arms to prevent her from walking further into the ocean. I can see the girl crying and struggling to be free. And so, I close my eyes and everything falls into silence again. Letting out a breath as I shudder against the frigid air, I am back to the peaceful night. Ocean is a wondrous thing – it holds the best tale in the world but also the saddest memory of a person. The wave is washing the shore now, taking some parts of the beach with it as it retreats back to the ocean. I wonder what part of me is being taken as I sit here. What am I sacrificing? Some point in our lives, we have to make sacrifices. The girl has sacrificed her bucket, but what about me? What will I sacrifice?

Outside the Window

Outside my window, there was a tree, a very ordinary tree. It had a very ordinary tree trunk, which was neither thick nor thin. It had very ordinary branches, which were neither leafy nor leafless. It had very ordinary leaves, which were neither shriveling nor thriving. It was a tree that was commonly seen in the park, by the sidewalk, in the garden, and even outside of another person’s window. Even though there was nothing unique or distinctive about this tree, it was different for me. It was special, very special.

During my years studying in elementary school, I would not say I was the most outgoing person, nor would I say that I was one of the famous ones or one of the leaders in the school. I was the complete opposite. I was the anonymous. I was the quiet one. I was the ghost. Due to the fact that I felt miserable about myself easily and lacked the skills of socializing, nobody really paid any attention to me, much less than talking to me. Thus, I became the ghost of my elementary, the “Silent Legend” as they called me. Luckily, nobody bullied me at school or they just did not even know that I existed.

Anyways, life was not the most exciting thing for me at that time. School life especially, was exceptionally boring. Daily school routine goes like this: wake up; go to school; listen to teacher talking on and on; recess; teacher talking again; lunch; teacher talking again; and then home. Boring? Yes. Exciting? No. So, to prevent myself from being devoured by a monster called boredom, I started to observe the tree, the ordinary tree outside of my window.

As days and months went by, I found out that the tree adopted a different appearance and behaviour as each season passed by. When Spring came and spread life across the land, the tree would sway happily from side to side as if it was welcoming Spring. As Summer approached and the temperature was at its highest, the leaves would gather as if trying to shroud the tree from the searing sunlight. When Fall rested upon the land and the leaves danced away with the wind, the tree bowed forward as if it was sad about the leaves leaving. As Winter crashed angrily into the world and armies of snowflakes dyed the world with pure whiteness, the tree stood there motionlessly as if it was hibernating through the cold, harsh season.

To me, the tree had emotions. To me, the tree was not just a tree, it was a person. No, not it. HE. He was a person. He was a person who knew my loneliness; he was a person who would be by my side and listen to my stories; he was a person who would be my best friend. And so we did. We became best friends. Everyday I would rush home after school. Everyday I would be excited to see his new behaviour or appearance. Everyday I would tell him new stories about school, about me. Everyday no longer was a boring routine but an exciting adventure. I found a friend. I would never be lonely anymore. I was happy. However, the feeling did not last long.

High school was unfamiliar and I thought that life would still be the same as it was in elementary, but I was wrong. High school was a much larger place than elementary school; it was a completely different world full of very diverse people. Lots of people started to notice me due to my imaginations and creativity. They started to approach me and before I knew it, I became one of the members of their social circle. I made friends. I was happier, happier than the time I spent with my tree. And soon, instead of rushing home after school everyday, I stayed and spent time with my friends. Soon, very soon, I stopped observing the tree. I stopped talking to him. And slowly, I forgot about him. He went back to the ordinary tree just like the first time we met. We no longer walked on the same path; we were strangers.

Now, standing in front of a mall that used to be my house, I saw trees swaying with the wind. But they were not my tree; my tree was gone; he was gone for a long long time. I did not know if I was sad or not for I only felt emptiness in my heart. Nothing. No emotions. But, I felt some part of me died. Some part of me died with the tree. Some part of me was buried deep down at the exact same spot the tree used to stand.

“Thank you, my friend.” I whispered softly. I knew he had heard me. I knew he would not be lonely anymore. Because, I heard him. I heard him clearly from the soft wind.

“You’re welcome.”

Hope

Darkness had crept in, slowly, softly, but with murderous intents. Everything around me screamed in rage and fury. I blocked my ears with my hands, trying to shut the voices out, but my actions seemed to futile for I heard their voices ringing, resounding, and echoing inside my head.

“Coward! Coward!” they shouted. I could hear them closing in. I could feel them. A cry of panic escaped my quivering lips as I scrambled out of my room. I ran and ran, not daring to look back.

I did not know how long I had been running, it was as if I had been in a trance. I did not know where I was going, everything inside me was screaming for me to run away. I stopped abruptly, out of breath and out of energy. I looked around and found myself standing on the rooftop. The rooftop of my school. I crouched down, too overwhelmed by everything.

I sat there, sobbing quietly, though, no tears had come out of my eyes. The night was tranquil. Silence seemed to have descended upon the ground, as if time had just stopped. Not even the wind was blowing. I did not move for I was too tired and too scared. Suddenly, someone caressed my cheeks. I looked up, but no one was there. And at that moment the wind started. Gently at first but increasingly strong. It touched my skin, ruffled through my hair, and whispered in my ears. Whispers of hope, of encouragement, of love. And the sun started to rise. I peeked out from the strong light and felt the warmth of the sun. The wind embraced me and pushed me forward. I felt a small smile creeping along my lips as I advanced toward the future.

I Rain

“It was raining,” I said. “It was raining all day long.” He turned to look at me, surprised my sudden urge to speak. We had been in a fight for a couple of weeks locked in shared stubbornness.

“Here it goes again, the Epic World War III,” Emma, my sister, had said while rolling her eyes.

It was not my intention to fight with him, however, fights just seemed to be our way whenever we were together. He and I are too different. In fact, we are the complete opposite, like east to west. If I were to choose to soar freely in the endless blue sky, he would have preferred to roam wild on the vast earth. If I were to adore the pureness of white, he would have wished for the serenity of black. We are like magnets, positive and negative, south and north, yet we are attracted to each other. We are inseparable.

Every time we fight, every time we argue, we will always fall into dead cold silence and ignore each other for a long time. Yet, whenever we have an argument, I still cannot seem to let go of him. I will stay in the same room with him, still wants see him, but somehow, I just cannot seem to bring myself to talk to him.

“It was raining,” I repeated. There was a pause as I waited. He did not respond. Closing my eyes in despair, I continued, “It is still raining.” I could feel the painful tug in my heart, it was as if something was ripping it apart.

I am drowning in despair, it is as if the dark is trying to devour me. Everything is over, and this time he will leave me. I hugged my legs tightly to my chest and buried my face in my knees, trying but failing to keep my tears from flowing. Suddenly, I heard the shuffling noise of papers, the creaking of the old, wooden chair, and someone’s steady footsteps. I did not dare to hope whose footsteps they were as I tried to shut out everything around me. It hurts, and I wish I can just stop feeling.

The tears were overflowing as I gasped silently for air. Then, just as I was about to give up hope, I was suddenly wrapped in warmness. Stunned, I looked up and saw his beautiful cerulean blue eyes staring into mine. A look of surprise crossed his face, as if he had never expected me to be a crybaby, which I wasn’t, well, usually not in front of him. He stroke my back softly and gently, as if I were his most precious treasure. I pressed my head deep into his embrace and heard the familiar, strong and rhythmic beating of his heart.

“Hey, look, it’s not raining, the sun’s out today. Why don’t we go out for a walk?” he smiled warmly and patted me on the head lovingly. I buried my face into his chest and nodded. Silence fell upon us again, but unlike the awkward silence from before, it was soothing. He tightened his arms and kissed me on the forehead.

“Je pluie,” I said, my voice muffled by his shirt.

“Quoi?” He quirked his eyebrows with a mix of amusement and confusion. “As-tu dit, “je pluie”?”

I nodded in response, just wanting to savour his warmth.

“Veux-tu dire, “Je pleure”?” he frowned, bewildered.

Without replying, I hugged him tighter. This seemed to have taken him by surprise for a warm laugh escaped his mouth. I have always wondered why we are together. Why are we so attracted to each other? I have always avoided to explore deeper into this question for I am afraid to lose him.

Now, I finally understand why. I finally understand the reason why black cannot exist without white, why good cannot strive without evil, and why I cannot live without him. Because, I belong to him. Where he goes, I follow. Where I stay, he comes. He and I are one at heart.

“Pourquoi pleures-tu?” he asks gently.

I look at my hand, intertwined with his, and smile.

“Parce que je me rends compte à quel point je t’aime.”

And I hear his reply this time, loud and clear with his gentle laughter.

“Moi aussi.”