THE WRITER

IV: Something Much More Than Fiction

"All my life I had lived in a world where it is better to dream than stay awake. And little by little, I have come to create a world of my own, a world where fiction is nothing but a mere word."

-Fate, Allie Santos

~~~~~

I woke up and tried recalling what had happened yesterday. It still feels weird and it is weird but I cannot help but feel a little bit psyched because finally, after the longest time, something interesting is happening in my life again.

I stood up from my bed and opened the window; I let the air enter my room for a change, I have never done that, but this day I did. I let the cold morning chill enter my apartment as I try to inhale the smallest tinge of sunshine slowly peeking out from its hiding place.

It is a foggy morning, not a lot of people are out of the street running because they're late for work. That's exactly why I love Sunday Mornings. I love the peacefulness it brings. I let the curtains tied to one side this time, lately it has been drawn back hindering any light from entering my room, but this time I let myself soak in the soft rays of the sun.

"Sun isn't always damaging, Allie, especially the early morning rays. It is good for the skin." My mom used to tell me that every time I complain about the heat, maybe she's right.

Lately, I have been entertaining thoughts that I usually try not to remember simply because it hurts. But ever since I met Aiden, things started to change. I am able to somehow embrace the past, let the memories sink in. They don't hurt me anymore like it did before, but still, there's that part of me who wanted things to be more than just a memory.

I reached for the pen she gave me and smiled. At first I thought it was just something that she used to tell me as a bedtime story. I thought it was mere fiction. A story passed down from her family and it was then my turn to listen to it.

But only when I reach the lowest point in my life that I realize it isn't only a fiction. It is not just a story passed from generation to generation. It is true. All of it is real. All you have to do is believe.

He might be waiting. I told him to wait. But I am not expecting that much since it may just be the effects of elation that I happen to finally meet him. My dream man, finally, in front of me. Maybe it was just a dream.

I took a bath and dressed up a bit. I wore that laced dress that has been waiting in my closet for almost an eternity. Over it, I wore a cardigan and then my flats. I walked out of my apartment and headed straight to the creek.

"I've been waiting for you for so long." He says. He's there. My heart did a little jump and I can feel my lips curling into a smile.

I moved towards him and sit beside him. "You're here."

"You told me to wait. So I did." This time I let myself memorize his face. How his eyelashes rest and touch his face whenever he blinks. How his almond eyes turn into a half moon whenever he smiles. His tall nose. His almost blushing cheeks. His hazel colored eyes.

"This isn't what you expected, is it?" he says. I wasn't really expecting. All those twenty long years I've been wishing in that creek, the first five were wishes made by my mom, hasn't been answered. I didn't really expect that the twenty first one will come true. I was never aware that the waiting time for wishes takes at least two decades.

My gaze fell on the creek, I threw a stone a little bit far from where we sit and the stone created small ripples of wave as if trying to tell me something, some kind of a warning of which I ignored. "Not really."