THE WRITER

XIV: Figments, Dreams and Reality

"There are dreams that are better off as dreams." - Fate, Allie Santos

Two months later

"And this," Katie says as she hands me a picture of a girl standing in the creek. I couldn't make anything of her face since she has her back turned. Her arms outstretched as if trying to hold on to someone, and there by the distance is a guy, tall, hair a shade of brown his hands slightly raised as if hopelessly trying to reach out for her too. "Is the book cover."

I smiled. I take it from her and hugged her, "It's perfect, Katie. Thank you for believing in me."

"Keep doing what you love best, Allie. You're a great writer.

Tomorrow I will have a book signing of my own. The first ever book I have written has sold more than I could ever hope for in its first print. It was the wish I asked for. And I feel genuinely happy.

I try to reminisce all that's happened. How it all started. But then, as I sit here in my sanctuary alone I know is that Aiden is safe. Safe. Unharmed. They found him. I was able to help him. He is alive but then he will not remember. He will wake up every morning and he will be at home and he is going to be surrounded by the people who lost him. He was lost then found, nothing else but that. Everything that happened in between will not matter. I repeated that over and over again until I'm satisfied—contented.

In the back of my head, I keep on thinking about the things that I could have done, and maybe, just maybe, in some vague circumstances the future will finally be in my favor. And him.

There is one that part of me that almost wanted to keep him, but then a bigger part of me wanted him free. Because that's what love's supposed to be.

I rest my head in the palm of my hands and let my mind drift and reminisce. It is going to be the last time, I promised myself, one last time and I will try not to remember.

My mind wanders back to the very first time I saw him. It was dark, dark like today. I was sitting in my favourite hiding place near the woods. I was alone thinking of the things that made me lonely. I was reading the manuscript I just send Katie when I heard footsteps. Heavy and hurried.

I remember something about a light. It was blinding. And I was squinting my eyes to be able to see. And then the light begins to dim and I was able to make out an outline of a man.

I waited for a light to come. Or at least just a mere outline of a man who has dark brown hair and has half moon eyes. No one came.

Aiden, in my world, is just imaginary. Nothing else, but pure fiction.

Fictitiousfiction...