"I tried feeling you in my fingertips, tried searching for you in places where you have gone, continuously searching for something that can make me feel that you are here. You were with me. We shared memories. There was you and I. It was not a dream."
-Fate, Allie Santos
~~~
If I live in a country that experiences all four seasons, I think I will never help but wish that it's always Autumn. Somehow, there is something about Autumn that feels lonely, and somehow, I can relate to that. For me, Autumn has always been the season for sadness. That's where I belong.
I have come to the realization that no matter what I do, no matter where I go and no matter how much I wish for things to happen; nothing will ever make things move and happen the way that I want it to.
"I'll find you." I said, more to myself than him. In a distance I can see the uncertainty in his eyes that it hurts looking at it.
"I will. I promise." Somehow there's a voice inside me that made me believe that I will. I have to. It's the least thing I can do for him.
I can see him starting to fade from a distance, his reflection on the surface of the creek vanishing with every small ripple it makes. I tried reaching him, tried to touch him even on my fingertips but he seems so far away. Standing between us is a glass, a glass that I should have seen long before this happened. That invisible glass that separates reality with fiction. It exists. I know deep in my heart that it did exist, only love made me blind from things like this.
"What will you do when I'm gone?" there was something in his voice that made me feel like he wanted to stay in the world that I created. But I can't do that. I just can't.
"I don't know. Maybe wait for you to remember me."
"What if I won't remember you? What if when you find me I'm already dead?"
I could have made him stay in my life but I know deep in my heart that he is not meant to stay here. It is only a small world that I created with the use of the pen. Nothing is ever real in fiction.
I was about to answer when he looks at me with sad eyes and said, "Eventually you'll forget, I know that. There aren't many people who like to remember anyway."
He then moved towards me and sat beside me. Slowly he places his head on my shoulders and I can feel the sad longing of that innocent touch.
YOU ARE READING
THE WRITER
FantasyPUBLISHED BY: VIVA PSICOM PUBLISHING CORP There was a pen. And then a story. And then a man. Once lost. Once found. Then lost again. And a girl trying to piece together a story that will break the thin walls separating fiction and reality. "All yo...
