The Story that Brought me Back

Another cold night on this busy city. It's half pass 10 yet a lot of people are still walking on the streets eager to get to their destinations. Teenagers exited for some party they are about to attend, office people who just got off work, and some who are out for a night shop. Amidst these people one man in his run down office sits on his chair, in front of his desk that's facing the window. He just sits there and stares blankly on a white sheet of paper with a pen in his hand. He kept staring and staring as if some words would miraculously appear on them or something would come to his mind worthy of being written on those white sheet of paper. His mind has been empty for a long time now he tried reading, listening to peoples stories and even going on some trips to find something that would re-open his imagination. After doing all these still there's nothing to be found, nothing but complete emptiness.

I've been staring at this paper for who knows how long and nothing still pops on my mind. I have loved writing since I was a kid and I still do but what I am experiencing now is something I don't know. Is this what they call writers block because its been more than year since I last wrote something worthwhile and all I have now are just scratch. Sighing I closed my eyes and let go of my pen before massaging my brows. Knowing that I won't be writing anytime soon I turned my chair around and took sight of my beloved office which now looked like a storage room.

Lots of documents are scattered all around dust covering them, lots of crumpled papers thrown on the floor and even on his desk. His trash bin so full of trash, so full that the trash has now piled almost burrying the bin. He looked at the bin and wished his mind is like that, overflowing with ideas waiting to be written but life is just not that easy isn't it? The man sighed and looked at the moon through his window. After a while he looked at his reflection on the window glass and there he saw himself, his hair had grown so long along with his beard, dark circles under his eyes showing how less he sleeps and his eyes, his eyes now so empty just like his mind.

Seeing his appearance he chuckled.

"Guess a night walk might help me. I need a breath from all this dust."

I told myself before taking my coat from the rock along with my hat.

Walking out the door I was met with the cold wind and people going on with their night. I simply fixed my coat and started walking towards nowhere letting my feet lead him. After minute of walking my feet led me in front of a fountain that's in the middle of the park. I watched the fountin as water flowed from above going down. The water looks so beautiful with the silver moonlight kissing it. He took in the beautiful sight in front of him before slowly walking around. After a few rounds he decided to take a sit on one of the benches. From where he is he saw something red flashing from the bushes in front of him.

"What's that?"

Curious of what that might be I came closer to see what it is and there lay a small black Canon camera. I took it and examined it if its broken or not. Seeing no scratches I tried turning it on and it works.

I tried taking a picture of the fountain and it really works. Looking at the picture I took I saw that the camera had pictures in it too. Wanting to see them I let my hand swipe to see the next picture and its the open sky, a vast light blue color with hints of clouds and next is a picture of two people, a man and a woman. From the looks of it they are lovers. I looked at how happy they are, how they have their brightest smiles. Seeing their smile it made him smile too and that's when it hit him.

 He has forgotten how to enjoy and to laugh with people. He got so worked up in writing that he forgot he has a life outside. He remembered how he enjoyed writing when he was a kid. How he would write all his dreams and how his day went, when his mind took him to different places that he has never gone before and showing him what he has never seen before, how his eyes would shine so bright whenever he writes and how happy he was when got to read what he has written. He forgot all of those, he forgot the reason why he wanted to write, he forgot the joy it bought him, he forgot the kid in him who taught him all these, he has forgotten who he is. He wanted to write to give joy to people, to take them somewhere through his stories, to let them feel emotions through his books and to give them something to learn from his stories. 

Letting all these sink in his knees grew week and he knelt on the ground still looking at the picture on the camera. After a while he continued viewing the pictures and thats when he knew, the camera has a story stored in it, the images had a story and he has seen through it. Like a tons of stars exploding in his mind, words started flowing into his mind with different scenarios, colors, shapes and the images he just saw. The feeling of finding himself again made him smile his brightest smile whilst hugging the camera near his heart. His heart is beating so fast and he could feel his brain working like the wheels of a clock. Happiness won't describe what he's currently feeling, he is more than happy as the excitement flowed all throughout his body. Not wasting anymore time he ran as fast as he could to back to his office, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he felt tears flowing down his cheeks. The tears of happiness he felt at the moment knowing that he is back, he found himself and he won't let him get lost ever again.

 Slamming the door open not removing my coat amd hat I directly went to my desk and took a sit, picked up my pen before staring at the blank paper in front of me. I took a deep breath and with trembling hands I started writing down my thoughts filling the once blank white sheet of paper. Ideas continued coming in and as they come I wrote everything down not letting any details go. At times I would look at the pictures on the camera to add some more details in my mind before continuing. 

On this busy night while people are going on with their lives, a man sits in his run down office sitting on his chair, in front of his desk that's facing the window. He just sits there, he sits there writing his very own masterpiece. With eyes full of wander, with mind full of stories to tell and with the thought to share his story and bring joy to the people out there.

No more blank papers could be seen but only papers with a story, a story that is waiting to be shared. And I call it 'The Story that brought me back'.