My Enchanted Story

I was seven years old when it happened. At that age, the world was still simple. The days seemed longer, adventures were everywhere, and places adults considered forgotten were playgrounds waiting to be discovered. I grew up in a small village in Victorias, Negros Occidental, Philippines, a place surrounded by sugarcane fields and the remnants of an industry that had once brought life and prosperity to the area. Not far from where we lived stood an old sugar mill that had long been abandoned. The mill itself was no longer the busy place it must have once been. Rust had taken over the machinery, weeds and vines crawled over the buildings, and nature had slowly begun reclaiming everything that people had left behind. There were old houses that had once belonged to the workers of the sugar mill. Most had already lost their roofs. Their wooden walls were weathered and darkened by years of rain and sun. Inside, there were no longer proper floors—only dirt, roots, fallen leaves, and whatever else nature had carried inside. Nearby stood a huge old tank, probably once used for storing or processing sugar. Rusted train tracks ran through the area as well, remnants of the trains that had once carried sugar and other products from the mill. To an adult, it was probably nothing more than an abandoned industrial site. To us children, it was an entire kingdom. We ran through the fields, climbed trees, explored the old houses, and played games among the ruins. We knew that the place had once been busy, that workers had lived there, and that trains had once traveled along those tracks. But to us, the past didn't matter. The abandoned mill was ours. And one late afternoon, when I was seven years old, that place became the beginning of something I would never forget. Something that would change the way I looked at the world. Something I would only understand much later. That afternoon, my older brother Rene, my older sister, and several of our friends were playing together in the old mill grounds. We had been running around the field for what seemed like hours. The sun was beginning to sink, and the bright afternoon light was slowly turning golden. Shadows stretched across the grass, and the old abandoned houses looked darker as evening approached. Eventually, someone suggested that we play hide-and-seek. Everyone agreed. One of our friends volunteered to be the seeker. Let's call him Tony. Tony stood somewhere in the field and covered his eyes. "One!" We scattered. "Two!" Everyone ran in different directions. "Three!" I looked around desperately for somewhere to hide. "Four!" I saw my older brother, Rene, running toward one of the abandoned houses. "Five!" He disappeared inside. I immediately followed. I figured that if Rene was hiding there, it must be a good hiding place. The house was one of the oldest structures in the area. There was no roof anymore, and much of the original floor had disappeared beneath years of dirt and soil. But what caught my attention wasn't the house. It was the tree growing in the middle of it. A large cotton fruit tree stood where a room must once have been. Its branches reached toward the open sky, spreading across the ruins as though the tree had claimed the house for itself. And it was covered in fruit. Big, beautiful, ripe cotton fruits. I stopped. I forgot about the game. I forgot about Tony counting. I even forgot that I had followed my brother into the house. The fruits looked unbelievably delicious. I walked toward the tree. There was something strange about the way they looked. I can't explain it even now. They seemed almost brighter than everything around them. The afternoon sunlight passed through the branches and touched the fruits, making them appear golden. I reached out and touched one. It felt real. I looked around. Rene wasn't there. Maybe he had already found another hiding place. It didn't matter. I had found something better. Fruit. I climbed the tree. Being a child in the province, climbing trees was nothing unusual for me. I was small, quick, and comfortable among the branches. Up I went. Higher and higher. Eventually, I found a comfortable spot where two branches formed a natural seat. I settled myself there. Then I picked one of the fruits. I opened it. And ate. It was sweet. Very sweet. The kind of sweetness that makes you immediately want another. So I picked another. Then another. And another. Before long, I had completely forgotten that we were playing hide-and-seek. I had forgotten Tony. I had forgotten Rene. I had forgotten that I was supposed to be hiding. It felt as though time had stopped. The sun continued to descend, but I didn't notice. The golden light began entering through the empty windows and the roofless walls of the old house. Everything became quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful. For a moment, it felt as if the old abandoned house wasn't abandoned at all. It felt alive. The golden rays seemed to surround me, and sitting there among the branches, eating the sweet fruit, I felt as though I had entered another world. A world where nothing could hurt me. A world where I could stay forever. I remember thinking how wonderful it would be if I could simply remain there, sitting in that tree and eating the delicious fruit. I don't know how long I stayed there. Maybe minutes. Maybe much longer. It felt like forever. Then, suddenly— "Nin!" I heard a voice. Far away. "Nin?!" I stopped eating. The voice sounded distant, almost like someone calling me from inside a dream. "Nin! Where are you?" It was Rene. I looked down. There he was, standing beneath the tree. "I'm here!" I shouted. Then, almost annoyed, I added, "Why are you calling so loudly? Tony will hear you!" Rene stared at me. "What do you mean?" He sounded confused. "It was almost twilight! Tony and the others already gone home a while ago." I froze. "What?" "We've been looking for you!" He looked up at me. "It's getting dark. We need to go home." I looked around. Only then did I realize how much time had passed. The golden sunlight was fading. The sky was becoming darker. Rene shook his head. "What are you even doing up there?" I smiled. "I was hiding here." Then I held up one of the fruits. "And eating this. It's delicious!" Rene looked puzzled. "What fruit?" "Cotton fruit." "What?" "It's big and ripe." I picked another one. "Look!" Rene looked up at the tree. "Really?" "Yeah!" "Can you give me one?" "Sure!" I happily picked a fruit. "Catch!" I threw it down. Rene caught it. Then I picked another. "Here's another!" I threw it. Then another. And another. I was having fun throwing the fruits to him. But suddenly, Rene shouted. "Hey!" I stopped. "What?" "What are you throwing at me?" "Cotton fruit!" "No, it's not!" I laughed. "Of course it is!" Rene looked at what he was holding. "These aren't ripe!" I stared at him. "What?" "They're all unripe!" I looked at the tree. The fruits around me still looked big, soft, and perfectly ripe. "How can that be?" Rene sounded irritated. "What are you talking about? There's nothing here!" I looked down at him. "There are lots!" "No, there aren't!" He sounded increasingly annoyed. "You're throwing unripe fruit at me!" I couldn't understand. I had been eating them. They were sweet. They were soft. They were delicious. So I decided to prove it. I picked the fruit I had been eating. The one I knew was perfectly ripe. "This one!" I shouted. "I'm going to throw this one. You'll see!" I threw it down. Rene caught it. He looked at it. Then he looked back at me. "Nin..." His voice had changed. "What?" He held up the fruit. "This is unripe too." I stared at him. "No." "Yes." "But I was eating it!" Rene shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." He sounded genuinely disturbed now. "Just get down." "But—" "Get down now." His voice became firm. "It's getting dark." I looked around the tree. For the first time, something felt wrong. The house suddenly didn't feel as peaceful as it had before. The golden light was almost gone. The shadows inside the old house had grown long and dark. I looked at the branches around me. The fruits were still there. Big. Beautiful. Ripe. At least, that's what I could see. Rene couldn't see what I was seeing. And I couldn't understand why. I slowly climbed down. When my feet touched the dirt floor, Rene immediately grabbed my arm. "We're going home." I looked back at the tree. For just a moment, I thought I saw something moving among the branches. Something small. Something that wasn't a bird. I blinked. Nothing. Only the tree. Only the empty house. Only the fading light. I followed Rene home. That night, I kept thinking about the tree. I couldn't understand what had happened. How could I have spent so long there without realizing the sun was going down? Why did the fruit look ripe to me but unripe to Rene? And why had the place felt so peaceful? At seven years old, I didn't have the answers. I simply thought it was strange. A child's strange little adventure. But looking back now, I realize something. That afternoon wasn't just a game of hide-and-seek. It wasn't just a child getting distracted by a fruit tree. It was the beginning. The beginning of my encounters with something I had no name for at the time. Something that belonged to a world hidden beside our own. A world I would slowly come to know. And the tree in that abandoned house... was the first door I ever opened.