Folklore

Altered reality

  Some stories make you cry, smile, and realize something, but the worst thing is when wanting for more, crave for the other pits, longing for much better endings, but the ending isn’t always the part where you can be satisfied, it where you begin to search for your existence, the means of asking. Comparing to a book, acting like a book, suffices your mind with false hope, hoax ideas, poisoning every ivy’s intertwined your writhed head, so the last part is to grieve, drown in the deeps, tangled, dangling upside,e down, as your thoughts trickled it’s every inch of its essence and lay on the surface as nothing happened. Withered waiting for something to happen; flourish upon the emptied bottle of cracked glass.

  Midsummer in the suburban place it’s is my hometown is so boring, but our family chose a more traditional, typical way to spend it here. Just a few blocks away are fields of rice and a small stream. It always seems so simple and peaceful. 

  But this story doesn’t start with me, well pretty much…

  A summer that you’ll expect the unexpected but with a twist; I love twisted stories. So can we start? 

At the cabin where we usually spend the night star gazing and sipping hot chocolate made by my grandma, summer breeze at night is the best, tall grasses swaying through the swift of the cold dry wind, moon, and stars twinkling at the night sky, cicadas and many insects on the field of rice humming, perfect for relaxing summer vacation. I and my other siblings sitting on the floor playing with Whiskers, an old cat adopt by grandma. Grandma sitting on her rocking chair as usual browsing her book, mother sitting near the edge of the balcony mesmerized by the view of the evening, sipping her cup of hot chocolate. The rest of the evening we enjoy hearing another old folklore from grandma, grandma is such a great storyteller even mom pays attention to her, her stories and riddle made my childhood magical. I love particularly her stories about angels, elves, and fairies. The way she spoke the words and detail makes me wonder how if, that tale was true, not just folklore pass and pass from others' mouths. I wonder how if we could live in that kind of surroundings, what we could wear, we spoke if I am an elf or fairy, or just me, my original self. I ask her many questions, many as I can render out of my little naive innocent mind. The evening ends with such a new magical thought left inside my head. We kiss grandma on her forehead before heading to our room. Grandma whispers to me something before letting me go, she utter “a wish upon a star is a wish from a magical mind.” I just give her a sweet smile then walk inside. Before I sleep I do my routine, first I grab a book, am not contented, reading fantasy stuff is been an addiction since I was six, then writing a wish in my teal blue journal and greet myself goodnight, hug my fluffy pillow, snooze out, dream my fantasy.

The next day, I woke up on a sunny morning, sunlight beaming its yellowish hue in the window glass. I slightly scratch my eyes, adjusting in the light of the room, rustling my blanket, folding it properly to pile up neatly together with my pillows. I stand up slowly beside my bed, combing my tangled hair with my fingers, then a knock on the door awakens my whole composure. Old gray-haired woman peeks her head on the small opening of the door and smiles at me with delight; her glasses twinkled as the sunlight beaming through the window struck onto her glasses, she greeted me with milk and a bowl of cookies in her hand, my grandma always so sweet whenever where her. That’s why I always agreed with my mom taking a vacation here, regardless of how boring the town is, it’s always her that gets me excited, we used to stay here when we were younger though, and I witness how she cares genuinely about us, although mom is working that time, away from us, grandma provides us almost all we need. I’m fifteen now so I pretty much understand she needs to work hard for me and my brother. She always keeps intact, checking what she can do, helping us sometimes with our homework, she’s a pretty good mom, but still were longing for her presence so much. Grandma strode slowly towards me, handling the tray of breakfast, I take it sweetly and put it on the circular table beside the bed, hugging her after. She sits on the couch across the bedroom and gestures at me to sit with her while consuming slowly, appreciating how milk, cookies, plus porridge she provides for me; looks so deliciously prepared, the small cubes of carrots sprinkled on the top with the slice of four strawberries forming like a flowers garnish with a green leaf. I set with her politely, sharing some cookies she bought. I feel euphoric every time we come here, I think, I simply adore my grandma with her stories and riddles combo with her delicious delightful dishes. My brother is kind of not into it but I always persuade him through, these years however I don’t need to persuade him, his eleven years old now yet still a baby for his big sis, he of course always get annoyed, but I don’t care as long as I can be his good sister, also I usually retold every detail of grandma’s stories for him,  and now his fund of it a little. It’s almost eleven A.M. in the morning when we finish chatting; grandma is such a good storyteller. I want to write stories so badly, so I got my collection now, she even signs it, I booked bind it, cover with brown leather adorn with my designs. Flowers and ferns in gold color lacing every page, outside is the same but with a twist, a lock right at the center and some stones, violet, green, and blue color on each corner it’s just the first book though the second one is feathery contrast to the first, it’s more on glitter and fluffiness, it’s for the magical stories for angels, so the first one is for fairies and soon to be finished, it’s for elves, but am still planning for it, pending because of school papers and some stuff. We get out of the room, head on the common room “sala” in Asian term, seeing my brother watching a movie on the big screen, it is Harry Potter Deathly hollows, I gasp in every scene where the death eater strikes their wand unleashing dark magic, we watched it already several times but, we still love it, wonder upon it. My grandma however opposed it, she’s kind of has something about witches and wizards, I watch her head through the kitchen with my mother preparing foods for lunch. I sat beside my brother and kiss her pinkish cheek, I pinch it making him grunt, annoyed by my action, but I just smile and sit with him. The smell of the dishes being cook, traveled from the kitchen to the sala, where we watching, my stomach growled as I try to resist the feeling of enticing the aroma swirling through the air, my brother, however, takes his foot on the floor and ran for the food in the kitchen, I hear mother and grandma giggled so I decide to pause the movie for a moment, now truly entice by the food prepared, waiting to be eaten by the crazy beast. I smiled as I see mother watching my little brother eat the whole lasagna, she gives him even more slice, grandma calls me upon, letting me sit on her side, I feel warm and bless for this moment, eating happily with our favorite food. That dinner is the first time mother let her attention to us and that’s the only moment that I felt alive and warm. I want to wish upon the star with the moon along with the brighter greater sun above, to last this moment for eternity.I  Amintoxicatese by the minutes that I feel every movement slowed and time stop, freezing the moment. I pinch myself slightly to prove that I am not dreaming again and smirk when I felt the pain inflicted upon my skin. I mesmerize how my brother’s face lightens as he feels truly the mother’s care he’s been longing to. Warm tears trickled along my cheeks, feeling of love energy surging swirled around the entire room. Grandma embraces me, patting my head, and gently strokes my curly hair from my ears. I hug her tightly freezing the moment for later.

  It was a dream where everything seems normal outside and anything seems something special that meant to happen, so clear that even you ask there is always an answer; someone will give a small word, a small talk, now is the present where everything is different, upside down from left to right, side to side, I use to dream about it and at the same time cried and ask myself why did I fall upon the hoaxes? 

  I am battered to death, use, battling for my own life, showered in blood every day, drain with energy, and manipulate to conduct, finish certain things. It seems like I am the only one who can dream about these things I never told to anyone because I don’t want to be punished anymore out of these stupid thought’s, I don’t even know anything about it, but I fascinate this. Why is it so real? Feels like I want to live there than hereThe smell of fresh blood always stink the fresh air in the morning and dead bodies are everywhere lay on the ground, nobody cares, rotten, smuggled, beheaded but flowers that I called “kou” means light in Japanese,  somehow flourishing through this scrutinizing environment. Every day I look at the small opening at our ward, where’s a small beam of light makes its way onto my dark cell. Gleams it light radiating to the walls, a propelling a hope through my inner self. Helping me to strive, get out of this place. 

  Although things here are so different from what my dreams always conveyed, it feels familiar in a strange way, I kind of recognize some odd things, like a familiar landscape foofaraw and smell of some greenery, flowers it always feels like home. Some other night I peek through the small hole where I could see the serene moons high above the ground, the bigger one is yellowish and the smaller probably the farthest, has a  pink tint in it, and the smallest is almost like a star so I can’t tell what color it is, it glimmers white, blue and purple at times. I love how these beautiful moons, still beam their sacred lights upon this dreadful place, making scenery alive and flourishing. But it's the total opposite trees and the structure of this place are so horrible, everything here is tragic looking, dark and gray, wreckage from the past, slowly decayed as it ages through these days, escaping the havoc of the present. I envy how they escaped, jealous of how they withered-escaping the whole tragedy, y wish to be freed but I have no means, anyone who tries gets struck upon the deadliest curse. They say the only way to get out is to level up and surpass the stages upon the level of the battle arena. We’re slaves here and stuck, and I don’t know how long, when, why, how, I just woke up in a cell, land here where I spent time learning, coping, decoding things surround me. I am still a low-level wizard though I can’t even cast a powerful spell without a guide of the elders. I can’t grasp how long I’ve been here, whenever I get killed in the battle arena I revived in my cell, as usual, almost naked only a pair of undies with my wand. It’s not easy to win and losing in duels, it depletes your level and skills the reason why I cannot see toms leave this level; level two, wizard woodland Elf. I sigh out of frustration and relief at the t same time because in e small steps I learn how the magic, casting spells to render upon hard circumstances, somehow inside my brain its scribe not to forget again. So I slowly gain my confidence to tackle every battle or duel I got into. And then a dark smoke forming suddenly hovering above me, being stun at the moment flashes of electricity struck against my body, every nerve, flesh, and veins feels like popping out of explosion d to the amount of energy traveling through my entire body. My eyes are convoluted, surroundings glitch turns t  black and white. Then I lay there helpless naked, burnt, whoever hit me this spell is a great sorcerer, a high-level player here in the arena. I shut my eyes uncontrollably.