Haig
“Help! Help!” I shouted. Suddenly, I sprang from my wooden bed, and realized that everything was just a bad dream. The door of my small bedroom cried out. I saw my mother was wearing her old pajamas. She walked towards me. The wooden bed was cracking as she sat down on it.
“Why are you shouting?” she asked. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing, I just had a bad dream and it seemed real,” I replied.
“Dream? It is the first time that you had a dream.”
Maybe I just shouted because I have not experienced having any dreams before. I always sleep well every night. Sometimes I took a nap in the afternoon. Is there something wrong that I did to have a bad dream? I remembered the only weird thing that happened, about the old man who gave me a bluish cloud that he said was a power, but seemed to have no effect. Everyone says that having a dream is just a normal thing, and everything will be alright after you wake up.
Maybe the old man is just crazy and making a monkey of me. Do I look so weak that there are many people who are underestimating me? I know that the only problem was with them and not me, and I am just a fool who let them break down my wall.
“Do you want to sleep again?” My mother looked at my eyes.
“Maybe not, it is already morning. It would be better if I helped you prepare our breakfast.” I stood up from my wooden bed.
We got inside the kitchen and I helped my mother chop the meat, so that we could cook food for our breakfast. I can’t forget the old man that was very serious in every word that he said. I can’t decide if what to believe, if he is just a crazy man or he is really a powerful one. He had proved to me that he had power. First, he was the one who made the bullies disappear, and nobody knows where they are now. The parents of those bad boys are searching for their children, which started last night. Secondly, he is so powerful that he disappeared from the spot where he was standing. Do I need to find another evidence to know that he is powerful?
“Aw!” I exclaimed. Accidentally, I chopped my finger with the sharp knife. The dark red liquid spouts out from my finger. I covered it with my blue shirt so that the bleeding would stop. I’m thinking about how unlucky I am. I know that it was my fault because I was thinking about many things at the time, and instead of chopping the meat, I had chopped my finger.
“Oh Haig! What happened?” my mother asked, appalled.
“Nothing, I just wounded my finger.” I replied with a happy voice, but the truth is that it is a voice that is fighting against extreme pain. I closed my lips with a bit of force and pressed my injured finger that was covered with my blue clothes.
“Your face is telling me that you feel pain.” She glanced at my finger.
“It’s just a little wound, just let it heal by itself,” I replied. Though I could not stop myself from whimpering because of the extreme pain that I felt, I did nothing but hold my breath.
“Don’t be stubborn, I can also see some blood in your clothes,” she said. “Let me see your finger, so that we can heal that.”
She took my hands. “Look, it is not just a little wound that will heal easily. Don’t move it, because if you apply even just a little force, your finger will be totally detached from your hand,” she said worriedly, profound emotions and bewildered.
I did not say anything. I just looked down at my feet and did not move. I can see a thick, red liquid that is dripping down on the concrete floor.
“I had already told you not to help me in preparing foods for our breakfast, but you still did. Now look what happened to your finger, you will surely regret if you had totally cut it.” She said while looking for a textile that can be use to tie around my finger.
While my mother was searching for any textiles, I noticed that my finger was slowly healing itself. The pain that I felt has gone and my finger has come back to its normal condition. Looking at my finger incredulously, so cool. I seem to be a vampire in the movie [Blade] whom however you cut my body, it will come back to normal.
My mother hurriedly went back towards me with a long strap that reached the rough floor. She held my hand and was appalled by what she saw. “Where’s your injured finger?” She asked, curiously. She also got my other hand and searched carefully, she scrutinized every potion of my hands and was puzzled because she saw nothing but my normal hands with five fingers each, mauve nails, and the rumpled center on each of my fingers.
I don’t want to tell lies to my mother, but I also don’t want to tell the truth for an unknown reason. She still won’t believe me even if I tell the truth.
“Injured finger?” I asked back. “No, I don’t have an injured finger.”
“But… I saw it clearly, just a while ago,” she replied in a confused and incredulous manner. “It is impossible that your injury healed so easily.”
How can she say the word impossible? I know that there are many impossible things that she can do more than what happened to my finger.
“Sorry mama, you wasted your time just for my sake,” I mumbled.
I continued chopping the meat, and I am not afraid anymore if I chop my finger with the knife that is glittering when struck by the light that came from the lamp. My mother can’t move on from what happened. She sometimes glares at my hand. After a few moments, I had already finished chopping the meat. I leave my mother in the kitchen and I got inside the bathroom and take a bath.
From the window of my bedroom, I can see that the sun is already going up in the wide blue sky. I wear my blue shirt and trousers, looking at the handsome reflection in the broken heart-like shaped mirror. High nose, short and straight black hair, brown skin, mauve lips, and high eyelashes. I am confused about why I have bluish flecks, though my parents both have brown, round eyes with black flecks.
In my brain I screamed, “Yahoo—I can live forever!”
I shifted my hands on the front of my chest back and forth many times, with a bit of force. It is incredible! I can’t believe that I have this kind of power. I don’t need to be afraid anymore, even if there is someone who will try to cut my body. I will just laugh at them.
Many impossible things that happened to me started when I met an old, weird, and powerful man. He was really a powerful one. He made my dream come true. I am now a superhuman! There is just something that comes to my mind, about the condition that the old man said. I don’t know if what was the condition that he meant for me to become a superhero. I admit that it was my fault that I did not know what the exchange of this power was. It is my fault that I did not listen to what the old man wanted to say. Well, I don’t worry too much, because there is nothing that can be hidden forever. I am pretty sure that I will know it sooner or later.
Though I already have power, it never came to my mind to stop schooling. I want to see my classmates who are studying their notes, writing something in their notebooks, and listening to our beautiful and handsome teachers. Nothing can stop me from going to school and doing everything I can to achieve my dreams. I understand that this power will not help me achieve my goals and may even endanger me.
Our beautiful teacher, Jayne Salvador, fixed her things on the polished wooden table that is covered with a fine mantel. She carried it with both hands and went towards the door. She opened it and got out of our classroom. My classmates are hurriedly going outside the classroom. They are congested at the door of the classroom. I don’t know what they are thinking. What I only know is that my classmates seem to be in an elementary class and not in high school. They see that those children are more obedient than they are, following what their teacher has told them—the right thing to do. Unlike those children, my classmates cannot follow even the smallest instructions from our teachers. But I know that I can’t blame them too early, because sometimes stupidity is cleverness. Being disobedient sometimes can help us avoid danger.
Looking outside the window that is made of glass on my left side, I can see that the students are going outside their classrooms too. I fixed my things and put them inside my blue backpack. I zipped my backpack and slung it across my back.
“Hey!” France exclaimed. “Where are you going?” he asked.
France is my classmate. He has been my classmate since my elementary days. Until now, in high school, he was still my classmate and also a seatmate. France was a kind boy. He sometimes defended me from those bad students who were oppressing me. He is handsome; he has a high nose, round, brown eyes, short, curly hair, thick, black eyebrows, brown skin, and an average height.
“I am going home, you know, it’s already midday,” I replied.
“Wait for me, I will join with you,” he said while fixing his notebooks. He unzipped his black backpack and put his notebooks inside. He carried it on his shoulders and started to walk.
“Wait, you have not fastened the zipper on your backpack,” I said. “Let me zip it.” I went towards his back and zipped up his backpack.
He said, “Thank you.” Then we went outside the classroom.
We just sat down on the bench first, waiting for the throng of students to disappear. After a few moments, we went outside the gate and took the street. The structures that never felt tired of standing beside the street will always be there, whatever happens. I fell in love with the way the huge structures stand firmly so that whatever hurricane passes by, they stand still. The structure is better than any other, because it’s just saying nothing and doing nothing. There’s no criticism about the structures, nobody can judge it, because it is doing nothing against the people.
“It is nice to know that there are no bullies anymore,” France said.
I replied, “They are just lucky because they did not show their faces to me, or else I will kick them out of this world, ha-ha.”
“Whoa, you are really angry at them?” He queried “I had heard the news that those bullies were missing many days ago, and their parents are still searching for them until now.”
“Yeah, I also heard that news,” I replied.
Though I knew I did not tell anyone about this thing. I know that nobody will believe me, because I am the only one who can see the old man. The other people will just make fun of me, because they will think that I am a crazy boy who is talking nonsense.
“Where do you think they are now?” France asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care wherever they are now, they might be happy there. We should not care about them, they have themselves every time and we also have ours,” I replied.
“You have a point…” he said. “We better not think about those inconsiderate people who don’t care about us too.”
“Oh yeah, we better walk fast so that we can arrive at our house early,” I said while looking at my shoes and minding my own steps.
We walked fast on the concrete road. Sometimes I look at what is ahead and also look back to see how long we have already traveled. After a few moments, France stopped walking.
“Haig, I will just be here,” France said. “That is our house.” He pointed his finger at the big, beautiful, white-painted house beside the street, several feet away from where we were standing. I knew that unlike me, France came from a rich family.
I just nodded. France tapped me on the back part of my shoulder. A sign of farewell. He went towards their house. He went inside the door and shut it. I continued walking down the quiet, wide street.
After a few moments, I arrived at our house. I got inside the house and searched for my parents. As usual, they are not here, because it is midday now and they are busy working. Maybe my father is on the farm, and my mother is on the market.
I will just do the things for myself. I am quite capable of taking care of myself, feeding myself, feeding the animals, and feeding my dog named Cyril. Cyril is a female dog whom I saw in the street many months ago. She looked weak and pitiable at that time. That made me decide to take her home and take care of her.
Every time I am going towards our house, Cyril will also run towards me. She will jump and lick me anywhere. She always wants to play with me, and sometimes sleeps beside me. The only problem with Cyril is that she is sometimes dirty and makes my school uniforms and clean clothes dirty. This too. I am in love with my dog. Maybe because I don’t have any sisters or brothers, that’s why I am treating Cyril as my younger sister.