There he was sitting again by his small apartment’s window. The most powerful man of this country for those who understand its essence. Philosophising. Scheming. Well, what’s going on inside that head of his, nobody knows. He has the most orderly and tidy brain of his generation, capable of abstracting and understanding every cause and effect pertaining to his beloved country and playground.
Death’s reverie…
…..
The man I’m talking about is in his mid-20s. They say that a man undergoes different changes in his lifetime.
At twenties he is a peacock, at thirties a lion, at forties a camel, a serpent at fifty, a dog at sixty, a monkey at seventy and nothing beyond… Yet he is all those before he came out of the university. How he grew up to obtain the mind of a philosopher, no one knows. He just appeared suddenly at the center of everything to keep a government from sinking. I regard him as the wise serpent, controlling the country and it’s relations. Some see him as the devil himself. To an observer he is simply a dove.
A shadow is looming from the west. But the whispers from the east reached here first.
A new president was elected by the majority, a philosopher-king, who shared his ideals. Probably. The country is going towards a new turn. With these two powerful brains behind every calculated moves.
Skeptics see wrong turns of their gambits, but failed to appreciate it leaning toward stability. Well the country’s turn will bore me if they succeeded, though not as boring as collecting the skeptics. The world for these two gentle tacticians is full of obvious things which can be turned.
Let me tell you about that man by the window I’m quite curious about. I’m bored with stability. Men always sought power for power’s sake and that makes their vanity less boring. But this man’s game is like that of my dear Fate’s hand writing. I wanted to kill him of course for being her copy. Should I? But he is now a friend, and my Fate’s favorite masterpiece. Maybe. He is unlike the souls I have so far collected. Napoleon was interesting, Hitler was mad but statistically significant. The simplicity in my particularly-particular friend’s life is so interesting and contrasting to his complex mind. Truth is, his story was not written in my book of life. Or death. My dear Fate won’t allow me to peek at this fellow’s page in her books. I think she might just erased the pages knowing my curiosity once quenched is quick to deliver, my gift. I wanted to take the soul of this man for my collection. Life will bore him anyway.
But Fate, gave me his interesting life to observe, and I never refused her gifts. Oh well, death is boring to anyone who don’t appreciate it. Especially, most careless creatures.
But for now, I think wearing a human skin will allow me to take a closer look. Isn’t it Fate? See you on planet Earth.
This man. He is just a philosoper.
…..
There he goes again. The observer. Sitting on a wooden chair, smoking his first cigar of the day. A peculiar man.
Along the street of D______, stood an old builing. A building made of stories waiting to be told.
D______, is the perfect street for a commoner. It’s complete with all kinds of trade. You can find here any that you might need. Located in M_____.
…..
“Ah. That boy.” The old woman started her story.
“MH found that boy in a dark alley one day. He was a pathetic looking creature. Close to death, I tell you. MH, who would never care for anyone but himself brought that kid here, no one knows what he saw in that kid. But he brought him up like a son. Feed him, dressed him and taught him everything.” The old woman continued.
“He was an orphan?” I inquired.
“Worst than one. He had nothing. Not even the will to live. As if he had already saw everything at that young age. Close to death I tell you. He might have embraced it. Or Death himself.” The old woman replied.
“Did he now?” I blurted.
…
What’s wrong with this body that I acquired? Having these stupid dreams.
…..
Morning rays past uninvited through the unshielded window kissing the sleeping stanger’s face. Beside the window is a bed made of bamboo, where the stranger lies peacefully. He has curly black hair, square-jaw, a beak-like nose, and an acetic complexion.
Clak Clak Clak Sounds heard from a distance, waking the stranger. His eyes slowly openned, raising his left hand he shielded them from the sun’s morning kisses.
The man sat on the side of the bed, while scanning his surroundings as if figuring out how he got there. Or maybe, why in the world he came back.
Beside the bed is a table swamped with opened books, from the old bookshelf beside it.
The man went outside the house. This house, was build in a small clearing within the middle of the forest. He followed the sound, and saw an old companion.
“You’re awake,” an old man holding an axe said. While he carefully placed another piece of wood to be chopped.
“Sadly, yes I woke up,” the stranger greeted his companion.
“Did you find what you wanted?” The old man asked.
Stunned. The stranger replied, “Yes, something easy to find. But impossible to hold onto.”
The old man laughed heartily at his companion saying, “I wonder what it is you found. But try to hold on to it.”
“Anything to hold is better than nothing, if you decided to keep on living, my old friend.” The old man continued.
“This world that you created. Why is it so boring?” He asked.
“Is it now? Hahaha,” The old man laughed.
The stranger just shrugged.
…..
Something is emerging from forest as soon as the dusk fall. A figure of a young boy cloaked in darkness. A pack too big for his frame to carry was hanging on his back. He turned around as if saying farewell to someone. But no one can be found.
This boy is an assassin. Or was an assassin, he is supposed to be one. But what happened to his destiny? That’s what we are about to find out.
…
I keep on having this dreams. Nostalgia is not what it used to be.
…..
I feel as if a new me has been awakened.
…..
02:32 I’ve searched and searched and haven’t found love yet. It has taken so long that now my flowers are dying.
Somehow managed to look for love in all the wrong places and was rewarded with a special trophy. I wonder if a bunch of wilted flowers is any good?
Huh, to look for love in all the wrong places wasn’t the last task of the quest! Now I have to flirt with disaster.
02:36 Doing what’s popular, but the wrong thing.