conundrum | liskook (on hold)

1 | a writer's block

LISA

Lisa shut her eyes close as she felt her sweat dripping against her sun-kissed skin, feeling in one with the nature surrounding her. There wasn't any gush of wind gracing her little adventure, so she had to suffice with what she had.

She stood at the center amidst nature, the height of the grass nearly reaching her waist while she stared solemnly at the white sand and the vast ocean in front of her. She stood there in laconism, her ears perked up on the white noise ringing in her ears as it buzzed unceasingly. She listened to the sound of the leaves on the trees around her as it ruffled against one another, she tuned in to the sweet melody of the birds as they chirped merrily above her head.

The second time she reopened her eyes her vision had staggered, and the next thing she knew, the sky had already begun to color itself in different hues, nightfall coming down the pike. The sea had retracted itself from the shores, allowing Lisa more space to trace her steps into the wilderness. Lisa sighed to herself as she traipsed her way down, away from the tall grass that fenced her and onto the sandy beach, sweeping her hair gracefully behind her ears to prevent it from being a curtain. Her footsteps trailed after her, leaving an imprint on the damp sand as she ventured deeper, closer to the heart of the waves.

She took out her analog camera from her bag that was slung around her shoulders, hurriedly taking a shot of the picturesque view blatantly exposed in front of her very own eyes. As quickly as she took it out, she shoved the camera back into her canvas bag, scanning her surrounding inquisitively. She didn't wanted to miss out on each precious second. Her eyes were the perfect lenses, her memory the picture, her mind trying to absorb everything it could comprehend as it conveyed magical words into her brain.

The closer she stepped towards the waves, the harsher the winds gushed in between the strands of her wavy hair, finally unleashing its full potential while the celestial objects in the sky circled opposite one another, carrying out its usual rotation routine.

She tried to search for some sort of inspiration in this, really, she did. But as she casted her gaze on every little detail accessible to her, dread began to gnaw down her throat like a pair of sunken claws. This was one of the worst writer's block she has ever struggled with so far, going on a full-page hiatus for almost two months now.

"Perhaps I'm going wrong somewhere," she thought to herself as she spaced out on the ripple of the currents going through the sea. The thought had crossed over her mind profusely. She thought, and she thought hard. She tried to form beautifully interwoven words her brain had theorised in the span of the hours she spent gazing out into the ocean, yet the structure of the whole plot she created in her bustling head still seemed a little bit off.

"I can't really write a story when I don't even have a story to begin with, right?" she muttered to herself, picking on the thin thread that strung out of her canvas bag. She remained mummed, her thoughts keeping her at bay. And as if a light bulb had finally ignited from within her, an idea had struck her whole as she miraculously discovered the solution to all her problems. Her eyes immediately lit up in glee and excitement over her newfound discovery.

A tragedy.

That was exactly what she needed. She needed an experience of a lifetime that will help her gain an upper-hand to all the emotions she was not capable of feeling before. Lisa turned to situate herself on the bench a few meters away from the group of teenagers playing their last game of volleyball before the sun got ready for its deep slumber, intending to take out the journal where she scribbled down words and ideas that might make it into her book. And when she turned her eyes to scour the place for one last glimmer of inspiration, she finally found her answer.

There, lying under the huge willow tree on a cushion of grass not too far away from the seaside, laid Jeon Jungkook – the university's Volleyball team captain. His eyes were softly sealed against one another, his hair flying softly in accordance with the direction of the wind as he calmed his heartbeat down from the previous, intense game of volleyball. His eyelashes were long and curled up, his jaw sharp even when he laid flat against the ground. His arms were tightly entwined around a volleyball ball, his grip never loosening as if it was something he held especially dear to his soul.

Lisa felt her breath unusually hitch at the strange sight presented before her.

She could feel the faint fluttering of her heart caged in her ribs as she casted her gaze on the beautiful creature laying on the soft grass, his forehead void of any emotions as he wore a look of tranquil on his face. She watched as his group of friends, athletic boys and girls alike, stumble their way towards him, teasing as they tugged onto his limbs, begging him for one last game. She stared at him with an inexplicable longing, ignoring the background where she could softly hear multiple footsteps running about, the sound merging with the white noise she heard earlier, the waves crashing against the shore and the mellow strokes of the wind.

If her eyes were actual camera lenses, the boy would be the main focus, everything around him naturally blurred into a neglected backdrop. His background, his soul and his delicate features - he had all the perfect characteristics to submit into the male protagonist act. It was all too flawlessly carved into the setting. Almost too good to be true.

What did Lisa care, anyway? She had already fallen in love with the idea of it, rather than the heart-rending boy, resting under the shade of the old oak tree as he minded his own business. Perhaps at that moment, she hadn't realised it yet. In time she'll be perplexed by her own feelings.

Time will figure things out for her. She need not worry. She shouldn't have to worry about the boy who will soon be doomed to bring out the hidden heartaches and joy in her life.

The boy, the boy who adorned galaxies in his eyes and the prettiest of smiles.

He was the perfect victim for her little adventure.

_____

(unedited as of 12 April 18)