A skeleton gem resurfaced from my Baby Mac's archived backup:
a short story I wrote 6 years ago.
The Boy’s Story
The boy in the first story knew that in the woods, it wasn’t
The Giant Spider, The Hardhearted Cyclops, or The Double-Crossing Lilies whose
traps he should avoid to fall for. He knew that the most dangerous thing in the
woods could manifest in the form of a Sweet Tinkerbelle, of a Soft Lion, of a
Dulcet Girlfriend, or of a Warm Stranger. Chancing upon a sweet, soft, dulcet,
and warm knight in the middle of the woods, the boy knew all the signs point to
this dangerous thing. He gambled his most precious cookies and gave a handful
to the knight.
The boy lied.
His mouth says the cookies were for his granny or his
girlfriend. But his head knows that the cookies are a weapon to chase off the
most dangerous thing. His heart defeats him. The cookies ought to kill the
knight he stumbled upon. The boy understands in every respect it is wrong. But
what the boy could not understand is his heart’s claim that what is wrong seems
to be giving him every right feeling to stay and watch the knight’s death. But
after 43 or so nights, the knight remains strong as his dark horse.
The answer wasn’t brought by the 43,000 steps of walking to
the farthest desert or the closest oasis but by the 43,000 steps of walking
back and forth between the knight and the horse’s stable. What the boy didn’t
realize 43,000 steps ago is that the knight survives because the gorgeous horse
is protecting him; breathing out onto the knight’s lips the air of miraculous
immune system.
In hindsight, the boy holds the simplest resolution: to
avoid the dangerous thing. But the knight is just so sweet, so soft, so dulcet,
and so warm that the boy cannot resist him. That the dangerous song eclipses
him.
“You are my sweetest downfall. I loved you first, I loved
you first. Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth. I have to go, I have to
go.”
Eventually the song was halted by the girl’s rescuing hand.
On foot, they got back up not the flanking castle but the most peaceful home by
the woods’ end.
In the second story, well... the boy got himself caught in
the netting of a tree’s arms, searching for the cure for the girl’s fatal
malady. Temptingly back in his shining armor, the knight now offers the boy his
own cookies. The boy threw a doubtful frown upon him. The boy knew the knight
did not return to kill him with the poisonous cookies but to imply that the
most dangerous thing has become inevitable.
At this point, this story’s climax has become predictable.
In fact, the beginning, middle and ending of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth,
seventh or eight stories would always be like this; the dangerous thing would
forever be a curse cast upon the boy’s life. Indeed unlike any other
fairytales, the boy’s story is not about hunting the most precious thing. The
boy knew he has every precious thing imaginable: The Persistent Sun, The Breath
of Fresh Air, The Thumping Heart, and The Woods’ Riches. The boy’s story has
been about avoiding the most dangerous thing. Personally, the author never
believed in sad endings. Just towards the middle of the boy’s story, he was
surprised the knight is betraying his thoughts.
My thoughts. My bias for happy endings.
The most dangerous thing is too good that it is true in the
author’s life. After so many stories he has penned, the author knew that once
again, falling vulnerable to the beauty of his story, he too was caught by the
most dangerous thing. Love.
The boy grew to be known as Ceth. The woods as Jurassic. The
song as Samson.
Bei, you told me you hated to be judged unjustly. You may be
a Jaime with respect to your
relationship with your James and Ceth but I never imagined that you could be a Jaime in every sense it could be. That
even to Ceth, you could play Jaime. I
should have suspected but I deferred. The thought that I’m the only Ceth gave
you the benefit of the doubt. But am I correct to suspect that there’s more
than one Ceth in your ShortBus?
I thought you were the perfect fit. The fittest knight.
You were too good to be true too. And now I know why; some
good things never last.
The boy loved the knight. So much.
