PROMPTS

Iambe

Laughter. 

When was the last time there was laughter in my life? It has been so long ago that it has already escaped my memory. 

For years after my brother's death, our home became a house to shelter our heads against the storms but a constant reminder that someone, something is missing: warmth. There is that sadness that no one seems to want to talk about in public but is there, haunting us day by day. 

Father kept to himself. There were rare moments that his eyes took on that pained look but  his features remained stoic, his face hard, giving no clue as to what was in his mind and heart. 

Mother. Ahh, mother, the strongest among us. Even through all her pain, she has never put her suffering self first. Even through the toughest moment of our lives, she held us together, our pillar of strength. But at the end of the day, when she thought no one would hear and see, the tears she had been holding back would freely flow, longing for the firstborn son she can no longer kiss and hold.

As for myself, I convinced myself not to feel. Everything I did, I did because I have to. For the love of country. And as a dutiful son and soldier.

I was doing really well. 

Until she came. 

When she did, the walls I built around myself started to crumble and I was powerless to stop it. 

It started when I first saw her hanging on that tree, exasperatedly talking to someone on that walkie-talkie. Who would look adorably cute while obviously annoyed and helpless at the same time? I decided right there and then that she is no ordinary woman. Against my better judgment and before I could stop it, a slow smile worked itself across my face. 

Then she blabbered all this nonsense about how I should look when my nosy neighbors finds her gone.  She called it post-breakup condolence period.

"If anyone asks you why we broke up, say you got dumped. Let's just say our personalities were too different. And let's make it six months. You can't date anyone for six months after I leave.

I took a deep breath, forgetting for a moment that I am sitting across a not so ordinary woman, only to be reminded by the same woman herself. 

"That's it. Let out deep sighs like that. Don't eat or smile. You know you'll look all haggard and listless. "He obviously got dumped ruthlessly after clinging to her like crazy."

I am not sure what made me scoff and snicker: her animated face, which again looked adorably cute, her hand movements or her audacity to give such a preposterous suggestion. 

I have never met anyone like her and I didn't know how to deal with the likes of her. I was intrigued. 

Then, came that night by the boat. She gave me a glimpse of who the woman is behind the blabbermouth. That we could be sharing the same bloodline, which of course I couldn't help but refute with a playful tone and once again, a laugh. 

Who is this person that I am becoming? I don't do playful. I don't share something as intimate as my name. I don't smile, more so, laugh. But I know that I am changing. 

She is a walking, talking enigma. A puzzle I so wanted to complete. If only I could.

And time, or was it fate, was on my side that night. She was not able to set sail.

So here we are, with my trusted men, sharing clam bulgogi and some soju. 

I looked around and saw my men having a hearty laugh over food and drinks and friendly banter. Her head thrown-back in carefree laughter, as if she belonged here. As if she is meant to be here. With me.

That is when I saw her. Really saw her. She is not the picky princess she claims to be. She is not just the richest swallow to ever crash land in North Korea. She is not some crazy blabbermouth who only thinks of herself.

She is a woman. A beautiful woman whose face is surpassed only by her beautiful soul, exuding warmth and gentleness, compassion. Love.

Time stopped. Everything went in slow motion. I couldn't hear properly. Everything sounded muffled except the loud thumping of my heart. For a while, I stood there unmoving, just staring at her.

As if she sensed that someone was staring intently at her, she looked up, caught my gaze and looked right back. That laugh still hovering on her lips, her eyes, half-crescents with mirth. 

It was at that moment that I knew she was the one. She was it. My chaos. My calm. 

- The End -

Author's Notes

Here it is, my D8 (Laugh) entry for #CLOYTOBER 2021

I do not own any of the images used in this story. Credit to the rightful owner.

Iambe is the Greek goddess of mirth.

Thank you again, dear readers, for your constant support. It means a lot. Let us all spread love, laughter and kindness, ayt?! 💕