A Meter Distance

Journal Entry No. 1

(The second page on Luthor's observation journal)

Journal Entry No. 1

September 7, 2017

I am aware that this date has already passed and after writing quite an intensive introduction, it seems too late to write this entry. Despite everything, I believe that it's still crucial to start this journal with our first meeting.

It is a tradition in Clark High to conduct a training camp for clubs and student organizations at the end of the second term. I didn't want to go, but as vice president of the student council, it is imperative that I attend the said training camp as one of the facilitators of the event.

L̶o̶o̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶t̶ i̶t̶ n̶o̶w̶, I̶ g̶u̶e̶s̶s̶ a̶t̶t̶e̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶ g̶a̶v̶e̶ m̶e̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ i̶n̶t̶e̶r̶e̶s̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶o̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶ f̶o̶r̶w̶a̶r̶d̶ t̶o̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶d̶a̶y̶.

The training camp was held for four nights and five days on the outskirts of Pampanga. They let us stay in a hotel. In the morning, there will be team-building activities and at night, more activities. I genuinely cannot fathom how these students still have a lot of energy after all those tiring activities. He may not like this, but I'm sure my little brother Loki shares the same sentiment as I, who was also forced to attend the said training camp as he is president of the two-membered QED Club.

On the fourth day of the training camp, I was once again forced to join an "exclusive" activity reserved for the vice president of each club and student organization-that is egg-hunting.

My younger brother laughed at me a lot when he heard about it. I have an inkling that it was an impromptu activity and it was he who proposed the idea to the teachers. It is quite obvious that the goal of the activity was to tire me and make me "move."

It was an afternoon when the activity began. As I have no intention of tiring myself by looking for colored eggs, I decided to walk more into the forest. I learned upon checking the forest's map that there was a small waterfall located farthest right from its entrance. Considering the trajectory and my stamina, I calculated that I will be able to reach it in 12-15 minutes.

And so, I walked. I was greeted by the fresh cold air and the relaxing sound of falling water. I was also greeted by a stick and a very cautious woman with long auburn hair and equally brown eyes. She was glaring at me, her right hand pointing the stick in my direction and her left hand tightly clutching a worn-out book.

"How did you find this place?" I recall her asking. She's a foot shorter than me and probably not a year younger. She's wearing a knee-length cerulean dress, an indication that she's not a Clark High student . . . or a student for that matter.

My thoughts were cut off, however, when the stick she was holding almost touched my nose. I blinked, untangled the hands behind my back, and moved to touch the stick. Although before I can do that, the woman's eyes widened and suddenly hit my hand before running away and hiding behind in one of the giant trees.

I was too shocked to immediately register the pain. When it did, I couldn't help but let out a pained groan. She must have heard me as I noticed her head poking out from the tree in my peripheral vision. There was guilt present on her face, but the suspicion is undeniably still there.

She stepped out from the tree and kept a three-meter distance between us before she firmly repeated her question from before. Massaging my slightly swollen hand, I told her that I saw that this area is on the maps and thought that it would be an ideal place for a breath of fresh air. To calm her down, I apologized for scaring her and assured her that I have no desire to harm her.

I did all that while maintaining eye contact but when she visibly shivered, I moved my gaze to her stick instead.

She's still pointing the stick at me. It's a fairly large stick. I do not want to aggravate her and get the risk of getting hit again by the stick.

It was only when she lowered her weapon that I raised my eyes to meet her. She looked serious when she fired her question.

"Can I trust you . . . to not touch me? And I mean all kinds of touches. A touch of a finger, a touch of the hand, even a brush of the shoulders. B-because if that happens, I'll disappear. If you promise me that then I'll allow you to stay in this place for as long as please." [1]

I initially took her question as an extreme caution of men. She probably had a traumatic experience with the other opposite sex that even the sight of "us" triggers a negative and slight disillusioned response.

But that doesn't seem to be the case, because when I told her that she could trust me, she immediately introduced herself as a half-human spirit that resides in this forest.

It sounded ridiculous. She seem to know it as she only shrugged her shoulders when I only blinked at her in response. She sat back on the giant chair-like stone, saying that it was my choice if I believe her or not.

Looking back on it, I believe I now understand why I decided to go back to the forest and start this observation journal.

She is strange and weird. Not to mention, good-natured and too trusting. She claimed an act of nonchalance but it was obvious that she was waiting for some kind of interaction with the way she occasionally stole glances when I decided to stay for a few minutes.

Her peculiarity and "state of being" piqued my interest even though I wouldn't even bat an eye on doing things that will not give me benefit, much less decide out on a whim on observing a stranger that isn't even a student in Clark High so why

[ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴀʀᴇ sᴄʀɪʙʙʟᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ɴᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇxᴛ ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ]

Going back, I asked her if I can come back tomorrow. It wasn't a surprise that she said yes. Although, her saying that I was good company even though I didn't talk to her for half an hour straight was what gave me the conjecture that I might have been the first person she had conversed to in the entirety of her human life. . .or as a spirit.

Well, I'll just ask her the next time we meet.

Observational notes from today's entry:

The subject showed great caution and fear when first subjected to human interaction, but showed signs of calming down when intentions were made clear that she will not be touched and even expressed  suppressed excitement at the mention of the observationalist coming back for another interaction. Observationalist L.M. is also looking forward to their next conversation.

[1] Verbatim transcription of the subject's question