My Six-Year-Old Boy

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.