The first one

It is hard to write a story. A challenge I have not yet taken on. It is a dream I have been putting off for the

longest time. To my mind, the dream appears as a beautiful pond. The water is clear, undisturbed, and the

birds are singing their heavenly ballads. Little worms crawling around, doing their routine… and flowers!

Oh, beautiful flowers of the most breathtaking colors. Yellow, red, purple, combined with the green of the

grass and the trees, that also add a brown to the mix. A fascinating dance of colors, working in harmony

to soothe the eyes. There is however something wrong with this place. All the colors, though beautiful,

seem to be lacking a certain vibrancy. As if an invisible curtain has dimmed the light. It looks like a ghost

version of a lovely location. It wasn’t always like that! I used to see it more clearly a while ago. I used to

feel myself there, walking around the nature, filling a wooden bowl with the water, and tasting the

sweetness as it flowed through my body, reviving every organ in the process. I could feel the sunshine and

its kindly warmth on my skin, and the occasional breeze, that brought to me the fragrance of all the

flowers, the grass, and the trees combined. But not anymore. With every passing hour, I feel the image

getting marginally vaguer, as if I am being drifted away from it.

Now, I am sitting in my room. With the window open to a dark winter sky. I can hear the howling of the

wind, laughing at me. Laughing at me for being here instead of the dream pond. For being too much of a

coward to take action sooner. A sudden rush of rain with a loud explosive thunder, dissipates a fear in my

mind. A sudden feeling of loneliness takes over. I think to myself. I have been pursuing a degree that does

not interest me in the slightest, for finding a “secure” job that is not even on the horizon yet. All the while

wasting every moment by getting further and further away from my dream place. I have no recognition,

nothing to show for all this time. Years have passed since I was considered a young talent. It is funny. I

remember writing some stories when I was a teen and reading them for the literature class in high school.

My teacher was so proud of me. And he would tell me that I have a great potential. And I need to follow

this. I remember not perceiving the passage of time while reading fantasy novels. I would start in the light

of the day, not going out of my room for hours, living in the imaginary world, and stopping only to turn on

the lights when it became dark. Oh my friend, those were the days. It was also the same when I was writing

back then. It seemed like I had instant access to this fountain of creativity, and I would just write word

after word without much thinking. I used to feel comfortable in my skin. And feel special.

Now look at me! I am the personification of what could have been. The once thriving pool of ideas has

withered almost completely. The sound of the wind becomes louder, drowning my thoughts. It is not

entirely bad. It is like a numbing drug that helps me keep all these frustrating thoughts away. Although

temporarily. Because they will come back, tenfold stronger, when I am trying to sleep. All in all, existing is

not bearable anymore. To get away from all this, I start getting dressed to meet some friends. Friends who

have no idea what my dream is, and frankly, would laugh their asses off if they heard it. They would sing

the same song as the wind in my ears: “How could you go so fast in the opposite direction of where you

dream of being!”

I take a look in the mirror before leaving, looking at my face. I look so much better than I expected! Much

younger, full of life and excitement, and filled with hope! I am bemused. This is not how I look now, and

this is not how I feel! So, what is going on? I notice something bizarre when I try to examine my reflection

more closely. The image is not moving as I move my face around. It just stays there, looking directly into

my eyes. Its expression has changed. It is not happy anymore, but rather filled with pity. As I blink, the face

disappears and is replaced by my real reflection. Though this image is what I was expecting to see in the

first place, I am shocked! Shocked at how old, frail, and sad it looks. And then I start to feel pity towards

that reflection. Ignoring the momentary hallucination, I start getting out of my apartment. I always enjoy this part. As I walk down the stairs towards the door, I hear the creaking sound of the wooden floor making

a playful music. It always makes me feel excited about what lies ahead outside. Like a prelude to an

adventure.

As I get out, I am instantly at the mercy of the weather. The rain is falling heavily, drenching me in a few

minutes. I forgot my umbrella again. But I don’t feel like going back. The strong wind makes it cold and

hard to maintain balance. I keep walking towards the rendezvous. As time passes, the rain starts to recede.

At this moment, as I look up the sky, I see a blinding lightening, creating a pattern all over the sky with its

tree-like branches. TREE! Unexpectedly, this reminds me of my beautiful pond. I search inside my head,

trying to recreate the image as clearly as I can. It is not as good as it once was, but it is somehow better

than recent times. There is a difference this time. There is a ghost walking around the nature. As I look

harder, I see that he is the reflection from the mirror. There is a small fire. He goes and takes water from

the pond, pouring it into a pot to make tea. He looks back at me. And gestures with his hand that I should

approach. As I go towards the lake, I feel the image become clearer, the edges turning more crisp, and the

resolution increasing. I feel the breeze again. For a moment I get lost in perceiving all the beauties of the

place in flesh. As I gather my attention again, I see that the reflection has vanished again. It is only me in

the pond. But the water in the pot is starting to boil…

A sudden bump into a stranger in the pavement! I get back to reality again. I apologize to the passing

pedestrian, and keep moving towards my destination for tonight. As I feel somewhat filled with awe and

fascination, I decide to tell my friends about what I want to do from now o