THE WRITER

IX: Turning Point

"Love and pain goes hand in hand, and that no matter what pain I would go through, I will still continue to believe that what we have is love, and we'll go through whatever pain there is together."

-Fate, Allie Santos

I write too much. I write everything that I think of. Nonsense things, mostly. Some of it are just a jumble of words that when read in sequence, meant nothing at all. As a writer, I think that's the practical way to do it. That maybe in that jumble of words they can find something worth writing about. Something worthy of someone's approval. Words that can touch someone else in ways that they can somehow relate.

The problem with me is that I find these words easily. Hence the story. Hence the pen. Hence, Aiden. Hence, everything that caused me pain.

Nothing else is important at this point. Momentarily, when the pen touched my fingertips it is as if all else is resolved. I have the pen. I am prepared with the words. All I need is Aiden.

~~~

If you are faced in two different choices one of which is your longtime dream the other your happiness what will you choose?

At this point, all I wanted to do is to save him. To not let him feel the pain and maybe eventually forget. He is not supposed to be feeling this way, he should be back to where he is supposed to be.

"Why did you bring me back?" his voice is in pain. Suffering. I couldn't bear to hear every word he utters.

"I want to know you before you disappear. At least let me have a remembrance of who you really are and not what I wrote about you."

He takes a deep breath, for a moment I thought he is going to throw the pen away again but he sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Where did you come from? Why aren't you supposed to feel anything?"

"The only thing I remember is that there was a plane crash. I was also from here. I know that, there are things that look familiar but I cannot place them exactly. All of these are like puzzle pieces all jumbled and I have no clue how to piece them back together."

I feel blood draining from every inch of my body as I utter the next words, "Are you dead?"

"No." I feel relieved that he isn't dead. "But I don't know if I'm alive either."

He paused for a while and I let the silence drape over us, to give some sense of protection from hurt. But life doesn't always work out that way. "I am so scared, Allie." He said, his voice trembling. "All I long I thought I was only lost." He gazed in my eyes and I cringe at his pain. "I feel like I'm disappearing.

~~~

2 Dead, 1 Missing in South Hampshire Plane Crash

A small private plane has crashed on the outskirts of South Hampshire, July 3, 2012, killing 2 people while the other one is still missing.

The private plane was said to have departed from Gilligan City on Saturday afternoon and crashed into a sea just a few meters of shore of South Hampshire, said Governor Castillo.

The plane crashed while preparing for an emergency landing due to a said problem with one of its propellers.

The three passengers were brothers, the oldest was said to have graduated from college and was just......

I wasn't really expecting to find out something after seeing that newspaper lying around my apartment. It was old, at least about a few months ago. It just came with a small parcel I ordered but I ended up reading it anyway.

I remember he said something about a plane crash. And that he isn't dead. In that feeble attempt to help him, I searched the names involved in that crash.

The two passengers who died are said to be, Tristan and Andrew Gallego.

There are search parties everywhere for that missing guy. There are posts about him on the internet. He is supposed to be tall. His hair a shade of black. Small almond eyes and pointed nose. He is 21. I clicked on a picture of him to see who he is, and all of a sudden my breath seems stuck in my throat. My heart tightened and it makes it hard to breathe. Under his picture is his name written in bold, red letters, like those letters that I usually see on my rejected manuscripts.

The first time I met him, he was asking for help. It was nothing but a riddle back then. And slowly, as I read the paper , describing in detail the man I just wrote about I knew. I just knew. The one who has been missing for months is him. He was asking for help. He was asking to be found.

AIDEN GALLEGO. Each letter bleeds with pain.