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floatingstories

From the lone wolf’s track

As she walks from those different sequences of the same sidewalks she moves her lips as if chanting something so religious that she is deeply devoted to. And then she looks up and sees people and she sees those stories floating above their heads or sideways. Those aren’t necessarily real ones, but they are what she wants to believe they are. And then she does what she has been doing for so long, make it all up.

She makes up stories of how it could be, how it must be like to… or how it would be and she smiles sometimes but sometimes she wonders too long for her to notice she has reached her destination. Her stories come from her everyday journey, on different tracks of the same mind.

These are the stories from the sidewalk (the name was already too popular and copyrighted for me to take it as my title) which come literally from the sidewalk on the way back to her home.

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Cage

Why can’t you just un-cage yourself?

Because I have been shut out of my cage, and that has caged me.

Back to me

Her hair strands have curls that fit into mine. She has been the one who had sung for me when I didn’t even know how much I would wish for that when she would be gone. Her smile and laughter come straight from the beautiful mind of a child. It hurts when I even imagine her crying or feeling alone. But she is coming home now. She is coming back into my arms.

Another life Part II

I am running with her right now. The one who had to go has taken my hand yet again and is running in the dark alley. The alley is lit with moonlight and bordered with beautiful trees on both its side. She had done this style of running before too, though I forget when. Her hair is as intoxicating as before but when?

 

“Don’t look back.”, she said in a panicking voice, lost of breath.

 

I snap out of the intoxication and my eyes go wide wondering what it was. I turn back anyways. There it is, one of the situations in which I should have listened to what she said but I just went dumb shit. There was a guy chasing us with a knife in his hand.

 

What happened? Why is he chasing us? Why are we running? I ask recurrent overlapping questions to myself, in my head.

 

We have reached a dark corner where she pulls me right in to hide with her. We are sitting here now with her hands covering both of our mouths to not let go of any sound of our presence.

 

It feels beautiful because she is glowing in the moonlight but I wonder how the man with the knife won’t notice her glow. Then I realize that it must just be me and in the flick of a moment I start hearing her voice echo all over the place. I look at her awestruck at why she would be so loud, but she has not moved her lips but I am hearing her voice.

 

“I was walking past the KU corner area, when I caught a glimpse of the beautiful yellow light that filled the entire room. I saw this man far away in the corner of that room killing a woman with the knife he is carrying right now. I looked at him in amazement but kept walking hoping he wouldn’t see me, but he saw me. I walked faster but when I turned back he was following me hastily. Then I found you.”

 

WHAAATTT? We are telepathically connected? This is so cool. You are only now telling me about this?

 

Hey, did you even listen to what I just said? That’s what you took from all that?

 

To both of our horror, the man with the knife had found us and was looking at us with his big angry eyes accompanied by a creepy smile carrying a knife holding it way over his head wanting to stab another.

 

I am running with her right now. The one I thought had gone has taken my hand again and is running on shards of glass. The shards of glass are all square, crystal clear. I run looking down then when I look up I realize she has done this before too, though I forget when. Her hair still intoxicating like before, but when?

 

What’s it this time? I ask in my head talking like I had more scenarios like this before wondering why I would say that.

I hear gunshots breaking the glass behind us to pieces and understand half of the story that may have happened.

 

So, these girls had held me captive for classified information, I was done playing their stupid hostage games. They had kept me knelt down on my knees and tied up in a dark room lit only with a faint red light. All the members were females, all in the business of drug dealing since teenage. They wore fishnets and high heels that looked way too painful. I sat there hoping I could take the drama. Their thighs just didn’t do good to my eye level. I stood up and proceeded to walk right out of there. Now they are trying to kill me.

 

What? Now your story makes no sense at all. What thighs? You just stood up and proceeded to walk? WHY DIDN’T THEY TRY TO KILL YOU RIGHT THEN? WHY IS IT SO HARD TO THINK WHEN ONE IS RUNNING? WHY AM I OUT OF BREATH EVEN IN MY HEAD? WHY AREN’T THE GLASS PANES ENDING?

 

Because you are a piece of lazy bum thats why. They couldn’t kill me then because they needed the information I had. Then by the time I was out of the room they realized I never had the information to begin with, they had the wrong person. That’s why they are trying to kill me now to clear all evidences.

 

How is it that trouble somehow always find you?

 

It’s not trouble finding me that bothers me, how do I always find you? That-

 

Before she could complete the sentence one bullet shot out of the vamp with red dreadlocks and army camouflage suit, flies in slow motion tracing a straight line leaving waves behind reaching just close enough to her head to fly away her hair.

 

I am standing somewhere. I am not running with her now. It is distinct now that I am not running. I am less tired than before. Was I running before though? I don’t remember but this feeling is relaxing for sure. I see a huge blank white space in front of me so I turn around. Its not blank there.

 

I see her sitting there. Calmly, motionless on the edge of a hill with a magnificent view of the mountains and a purple sky. She was wearing white and it all looked heavenly with the complementing green of the grass and trees.

 

“Come, sit with me.”, she said out loud. It sure felt nice to hear her voice out in the air.

“This is so calm. Feels different, but from what I don’t remember.”

 

The wind blows her hair back and side towards me. It still intoxicates.

 

“I don’t want to run anymore.” This snapped me from her smell.

“You don’t have to. You’re sitting now.”

“It’s really beautiful not to run for a change.”

“Please don’t be the one who goes.” I say to her.

“What do you mean?” she asks me.

What did I mean?

 

I am on the roof looking at her in the next building when the Yakuza members come to me.

 

“She has to go.”

 

I swear I could have lived with indifference but not absence. I see her walking towards the black Jaguar. I can’t understand a thing. The revolution, the house, the armed men, the knife, the kills, the leaving. I hardly cared about anything but the leaving part is keeping me frozen. She had reached the doors of the car when I thought it was appropriate to wave her goodbye but I just ran out of the there. I ran as fast as I could down the stair, almost fell on the doorstep and slipped across the corner.

 

Please don’t be the one who goes.

 

She was running too. Not away, towards me. She didn’t go because she ran away one last time towards the right way.

 

Another Life

I was sitting on the floor, head resting on the wall. I was hiding from them with a knife in my hand. I was afraid that they could hear me breathing because my lungs screamed louder in the condition I was. Blood stains on my clothes were invisible to me in that state of mind.

“This is the revolution.”, screamed random voices from outside the window. The whole house had wooden flooring and furnishing so in the least I could hear footsteps clearly and prepare myself. I heard nothing for a long while so I decided to go downstairs.

Just as I was about to reach the ground floor I caught a glimpse of how bad it was outside. I knew that because i saw only red outside the door, and by red I mean a solid color with no depth that seemed so surrealistic. I felt trapped so I decided to go back up.

I walked upstairs silently trying to be careful of any armed people I had seen going up before. It all happened so fast. I was in the store room perhaps out of their sight when I heard gunshots and of people barging into the house. I hid their, held onto the knife that I could find there and hid right there. I was planning to run away from there but one of them discovered the store room. He was tall and he had a gun. I remember how fast my heart was beating then when I suddenly stood up and from behind his back stabbed his neck. Some blood splashed onto my clothes. I didn’t think much of it, I couldn’t afford to either.

I reached the second floor by the time I recollected my memory trying to keep myself sane. Suddenly there seemed to be what sounded like continuous gunshots. On looking out the window near the stairs, I realized there was a hail storm. I still can’t understand what happened to the weather because I remember it being sunny that morning.

Just when I was about to reach the door to one of the rooms, I heard a voice saying,”Don’t go there, come to the roof.” It was definitely her voice but where was this coming from? I didn’t question her instructions, I never really did. She was like my gut, and I knew my gut could not be wrong. So as commanded, I went to the roof. I stopped and peeped through the hole in the wall, the only source that lit the stairway. The light from the hole illuminated my eyes and there I saw her. I saw her held at gunpoint by one the villainous men. She was facing me and the armed man was facing her. They seemed to be having a conversation of some sort but all I could think about was how the sky had never looked that blue like it was that day. Her hair swayed in the subtle wind while I wondered why the chaos felt blissful when I saw her.

She is so calm even while looking at the gunman. 

I felt her eyes catching a glimpse of me. Something came over to me after that look, I looked at my knife imagined the entire scenario of how I will sneak to reach the gunman’s behind and stab him on his neck and save my girl. But by the time I got my master plan figured out, she came to hold my hand as I looked at her confused. She ran down holding my hand, pulling me in my state of confusion. I looked back at the rooftop, the gunman lay dead on the floor.

Whoa, girl. What did you do in the blink of my eye?

Even when we were running downstairs I wished so badly to have been the one to save her. A worried girl held hostage by an ugly old villain, I smack the evil out of him and save my girl. She would have come into my arms running and I would have saved the day and flew away with her. Okay a little too much maybe, but the smell of her hair had always been intoxicating for me. If you thought my wish was a little over the top, you probably can’t handle what’s coming next. It started snowing inside the house and the stairs seemed never ending. I realized how we had been running for a while now but hadn’t reached anywhere I knew of my own house. She stopped for a while, turned to me for a while and smiled. The subtle smile was beautiful but it was not the same like old times, I could see pain in her eyes for some reason.

“This is for you.” she said looking up at the ceiling that poured down snow flakes. I loved the cold snow. But now I really wish we had more time to enjoy that. We heard more gunshots so we took cover. I had lost her by then. I panicked at how easily she got lost. How could this happen? Why don’t I feel conscious in this reality?

I found myself entering a random room that looked familiar. A room that reminded me of my childhood. As deeper I went into the room, the clearer the memory got. It was the room I shared with my elder sister. She was near the window, looking out. She looked beautiful and I realized how I had never noticed her long hair before. I went to sit beside her and asked her what she was seeing.

“It’s ending. Look the police are clearing it all up.”, she told me.

We talked endlessly about our past memories together, feeling the most nostalgic I had ever before. I don’t remember talking to her like that. I had never felt that connected to her before even when we lived in the same house for years. It was beautiful how she was so beautiful.

I then remembered my friend, where had I lost her? I went to the roof to look for her. The house was back to its original size and I looked around the house and finally caught a glimpse of her in the next building. She was surrounded by Yakuza members talking to them with a grave look. I remember her noticing me but she acted indifferent to my presence. It hurt me deeply but it was nothing compared to when the Yakuza members came to me and said, “She has to go.” I swear I could have lived with indifference but not absence.

Please don’t be the one who goes. 

Sing

I met a girl who wanted someone to sing for her so much that she recorded herself and listened with content.

Playlist

Your old playlist has a piece of me.

My new playlist is you from the past, when I was still a part of you.

Normal

I just googled what normal is.

Now i have to google what are standard, usual, typical and expected.

 

Change

You are the reason why.

Piece

The flute piece that emerged like a high tide ocean’s wave, woke up a piece of me that I didn’t know existed.

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