I sit beside a fountain in a small corner with a building behind me and another to my left. The raindrops pound on my unprotected head. It has been raining since before I came outside but rain calms me. It takes away my fear, pain, anger, sadness, and even my worry. However, it is none of these that drove me outside. Today it is emptiness that drives me to find solace in the rain. The lack of exciting moments, memorable events, and noteworthy achievements. This day I see I have nothing in my life except me. The emptiness comes from doing nothing in my life, achieving nothing, having nothing. I am like a drop of water in a stream. Then I think, “Or am I.” I look at the fountain and I smile as my mind begins to wander.
It was midday yet the sky was dark as the clouds refused to let the sun give us it's light. I saw a girl around my age, sitting under the pavilion out of the pouring rain. As I approached I noticed that she was drawing a picture. The picture was a blur of colors blending together giving me the impression of anger and happiness, pain and joy all at the same time. I looked in the same direction she seem to stare every once in a while. All that was there was a gate. I continued in her direction till I was right behind her. I speak softly behind her, “That's a nice picture.”
She jumps up holding the notepad to her chest and spins around, her face seems to show utter surprise as I never would have expected. It was as if she had never been surprised by anyone before. She circles behind me and back into her seat, “How did you do that?” she demands.
“Sneak up on you,” I reply, “you were so involved with your picture any one could have come up behind you.”
“No. I can sense when people are around me. Even when I am sleeping. How did you keep me from sensing you.”
“Sneak up on you,” I reply, “you were so involved with your picture any one could have come up behind you.”
“No. I can sense when people are around me. Even when I am sleeping. How did you keep me from sensing you.”
“I don't know what you me...” I stop suddenly when she jumps up quickly once again. She pushes passed me and as she darts through the gates she yells, “Tell me later.”
I look past where she was sitting and see three men getting out of a dark blue car. For some reason I move in front of the gate to block their way. I knew they were after her but why did I try to stop them. I hadn't even known her for five seconds. Then again she might be special like me.
They yell at me, “Move out of the way boy.”
One of them tries to manipulate my thoughts and I can feel the fire of adrenaline rushing through me. No, she's not like me. My mind begins to rush calculating angles and velocities as they pull out their guns. She's special in her own way. I am off as they pull the triggers by the time the bullets reach where I stood I am half way across the city. But just as special.
The noon bell brings me back to the now. As I listen to it's ringing another rain-drenched “memory” comes to me.
I sat on the riverbank admiring the splashes and the rushing waters. I glance at the field behind me and at the hill as I hear the Bell chime. The Bell, symbolizing the rule of the High Clan. That we are under them and they are over us. There is no escape. The horrible news if how my parents died catches up with me and I weep. I look back at the river and see a body of a woman in the river. My sorrow blinds me for a second and I think, “Just another death,” then I realize who it was, my guardian.
“Celina, NO!”
They had killed my only link to this life. I take out my knife and prepare to stab my self when I hear shouting. I turn around and see soldiers lining the hill. I prepare to let them destroy me when I hear a motherly voice speak to me softly.
“Close your eyes.”
“There is no need I am fine with seeing my enemies destroy me,” I snap at this mysterious voice.
“Close your eyes!” The voice demands. My eyes snap shut to avoid the motherly wrath that would have been sure to follow disobedience.
“You believe you have nothing to live for. But you do, so listen closely.”
As she speaks I hear, feel and see things.
“Live for the face of joy.” I see a woman who appears to be laughing at me for my embarrassment.
“Live for the voice of reason.” I hear a young man speak my name as if trying to make be understand.
“Live for the touch of peace.” I feel a soft hand on my shoulder as if trying to comfort me.
“Live for the rush of energy around you.” I feel some one dancing around me though I see nothing nor can I hear the drums I know are playing.
“Live for the face of defeat.” A man shakes his head with a smirk and eyes closed.
“Live for the voice of emotion.” A woman cries my name in worry.
“Live for the touch of a friend.” A invisible rough hand grips my shoulder and seems to push me forward to do something unknown.
“Live for the rush of knowledge in your veins.” I feel as if I know all that is around me. Though my eyes remain shut I can suddenly see all that is going on. The troops that were charging at me seem to be moving through molasses. My knife in hand I launch into battle against 53 men, 17 woman, and three hounds, in order to live for the future.
I sit back and think some more. I am nothing but at the same time I am every possibility. From each of my “memories” I realize that I can change at any second. Cowardly to brave, peaceful to filled with fight, just from one event. I just need to make the story. My story that changes others stories through tales and ideas. The rain is still pouring down as I head back inside, my soul no longer tainted with longing. Maybe I am the water droplet in the stream, or maybe, I am the water droplet that creates the stream.
