Hallmarked Fantasies Read online

  Hallmarked Fantasies

  By Lefee Ouy

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 ………………………….………………………….……………………………… 3

  Chapter 2 ………………………….………………………….……………………………… 7

  Chapter 3 ………………………….………………………….……………………………… 11

  Chapter 4 ………………………….………………………….……………………………… 13

  Acknowledgments ………………………….……………………………………………….. 15

  1

  “September 19.”

  "This story is set on a certain small island, somewhere remote off the east coasts of Malaysia, at a certain academy."

  The constant whizzing of air contrasted heavily with the setting sun. Its solitary light slowly inched itself into the tranquil bedroom.

  "Due to a huge typhoon hitting this isolated island's school during schooling hours, the students and teachers are forced to barricade windows and spend a night together as the tycoon continued to roar through the evening."

  Once a room of monochrome hue became glazed with a rich streak of orange that had now seemed to have pierced itself through the open window and dark interior.

  “The protagonist, a student at this academy, hears a cry for help from outside the safety of the academy walls. Being a reckless boy with a flourished sense of morality, the protagonist rushes outside towards the fleeting voice in hopes of providing aid."

  When considering how even the most minute sounds could be heard, my voice also seemed to resonate impressively in this quiet room.

  “After a long while of searching for what was once an audible sound, a mysterious and beautiful girl suddenly appears, unconscious and laying flat on large patches of grass. The sight was almost surreal, the world around the girl was filled with a slew of activity as the storm-drenched sky showed no signs of calming, yet this girl laid motionless as her cascading black hair continued to react to the wind. The protagonist stood absorbing the scene before him, even as the rain beats down harder on his uniform and heavier winds continued its attempt to knock him off-balance.”

  A surging passion, that similar to the flicker of a match, seemed to charge itself through my very being and was now giving life to all of this unnecessary text.

  “The protagonist did not recognize the girl; he had also not recognize the situation around him. It was only after a warm welcome from a nearby thundercloud that the protagonist flinched from the sudden exposure to noise and was able to regain composure of his surroundings. As the bellowing of the strong winds rushed themselves back through his perception, the protagonist swooped the girl up in his arms and mustered what he could to heave the delicate body to a nearby toolshed.”

  These passionate thoughts seemed to scatter quickly alongside the subtle breeze present within my own world.

  “Returning to the school escaped the protagonist’s mind, what could he have done? He wondered if his friends and teachers would worry over his unbeknownst disappearance as he gently placed the charming girl in a position to recover on a large table. The protagonist had various thoughts ring through his mind asking who the girl was, if she was the one crying for help and when the loud storm from outside would let down. And at that very moment the protagonist had come to a sudden realization, dizziness began to build within the protagonist and the world turned somewhat fuzzy and gray. The boy had asked himself how he was able to hear meek cry of a person from a distant in the first place when the storm outside made it hardly possible for him to communicate clearly with his teachers and friends whom had stood next to him. How could any string of events had led to what was happening now to this boy?”

  I couldn’t even trust my luck this time around, this one was subpar at best.

  “…”

  What does a guy need to do for some inspiration? With a soft ‘bop’ sound, I had knocked myself in the head and stopped the audio recorder on my phone. Glancing around the room,

  there really was nothing to glance at as the room was pitch black.

  “Heh? What is this, am I dead?”

  Moving around my joints as they cracked one by one as if to confirm my existence, I stretched myself out as I stood up and begin shuffling through this all too familiar layout towards the light switch. Immediately after recoiling from suddenly being bathed by blinding light, I hurried myself towards the window near the bed as my eyes continued adjusting to the unnatural light around me. I closed the two doors on the window and secured in a surprisingly firm manner and plopped down on my bedside.

  I swear for the life of me that I was elegantly thinking of a sunset all but moments ago… Letting out a sigh was the only retort possible at the moment. Opening my phone that had been in my grip throughout this entire scene I had gotten a pop-up alert saying that my cloud storage was full and couldn’t be backed up which was simply dismissed.

  “Almost 2 o’clock huh?”

  I just sat there under a myriad of thoughts of my own until one thought seemed to stand out more than the rest.

  Mosquitos.

  It’s two in the morning and the window was just closed— there must be at least one mosquito with the taste for blood that wandered in here, right? That was the first conclusion I jump to but I still forced myself up as I stalked around my room and shook anything remotely black in color in an attempt to draw out any mosquito, although to know avail. Scanning through the surface of the compact pinewood desk placed in front of the bed, an empty glass cup triggered a sudden quench as I acknowledge my throat was dry and in considerable pain.

  Forget about mosquito bites, a glass of water and good nights sleep, at least what’s left of it, would be the best course of action. In truth, I was just getting sick of looking at every detail of my room considering I’ve been doing just that for the last sixteen years; the resolve to get water and sleep was simply me pandering to myself expecting tomorrow to come hold my hand with a smile.

  Quietly pacing myself outside my room and through the narrow hallway, I reflected on what had just happened almost subconsciously. I had gotten intimate with those recordings again; ever since an innocent me from back when decided to keep a journal (not a diary) for myself through recording my voice. I still keep consistent with it today, and to think that this all resulted from some playful suggestion by a teacher who believed in being able to see oneself develop through life by keeping tabs was exhilarating. Nowadays, all I’ve been able to achieve with it is incessant ramblings of random fairytales; honestly, I should gamble on studying scenario writing or become a novelist if I enjoy sitting on my butt for a large part of the day screaming into an abyss and recording the interaction for no one to hear.

  It’s all superficial when someone realizes that its just me being useless to society by talking to myself by crafting mediocre plots for stories. I may be somewhat well versed in linguistics due to a mixture of class placement and these recording, and I’ll also give myself points for being self-aware of this stuff but they immediately get taken off by the fact that I enjoy what I’m doing.

  Reaching the silent and void kitchen I was able to at least find the handle to the fridge and take out the jug of water from inside it. Judging by the fact that the jug was really not all that cold, dad must have boiled some tap water right before heading off to bed. I silently thank him and mom for replenishing the jug and regret the fact that I don’t interact with them as much as I would like to considering that they come home late if not at all since they both travel abroad for business trips at varying times from each other or rarely even together. After indulging myself in the satisfying sounds
of fresh water being poured into a cup of ice, I make my way to the stairs, albeit in a much slower pace as if not to spill any water from the brim of the cup.

  Navigating myself through the heaven that is pitch black darkness, I try my damnedest to pass the time by describing this large house but no matter what I say to myself, some divine force within me is saying that the house itself is not important enough to use any mental energy on; it may be true enough, people say having a house and having a home are two different whole different things although this house is the roots of my humble upbringing.

  It’s already a little while past two when I close my bedroom door while slowly sipping the now chilly water.

  “Someday, someone will resonate with the signals I send out. It’s not a bad thing if no one does either; everything’s a win-win right now.”

  After placing the cup down slowly on the desk, I essentially leap into bed and hug myself as I display actions a baby would do in bed. I’m splintering into various directions at once—grief, followed by anger, then panic. The last thing I need this late at night is to feel those either of those emotions again, instead I force my thoughts to go the current place that would calm me—sleep.

  2

  “September 21.”

  “I remember hearing from some one that it takes much less mental energy to condemn than to think.”

  I fidget my legs impatiently as I run that quote through myself a number of times. Today my voice trailed off much faster than expected, I could not even attempt at recording anything meaningful.

  “I get the feeling that condemning each and every aspect of my life until calling it a life anymore would become a stretch is a great idea; at the least it would be much simpler to do so than continuing to contain aspirations. Imagine I would abandon everyone and everything that has supported me throughout my life. What if I were to begin giving up on the education given to me and not pay back the parents who raised me by at least allowing them to know my life would not be dangerous before their lives come to an end.”

  The oven makes a high-pitched bell sound to signal that the pizza was reheated and ready to be eaten.

  “Why would any one something as shameful as that though? If someone was given everything on a silver platter and is given the task of finding their way to a happy life, why would anyone opt out of that and instead decide to find a faster way to the end of life? Is the fact alone that our common goal is inevitable death enough for people to find happiness by climbing through life only to find that their goal is to fall back down? As long as everyone enjoys that climb, is it morally correct to judge that they lived their life wrongly because society and human history defines it as wrong?”

  Nothing seemed acceptable at that moment. I knew the pizza was ideal to be eaten in the oven, but I refused to go retrieve it even though I was lounging around at the kitchen table like I was a stubborn kid who was angry at their parents for no particular reason.

  “Sometimes people can just be lazy y’know, they forget about what they want at a given time and go astray or they don’t think their goal is achievable and won’t accept any alternative. Humans are selfish and I’m no exception to that, sometimes I would think that striving to isolate yourself in comfort is a much better goal than changing history; when someone thinks like that, their wrong, right? Being able to live life with no worries is delusional and avoiding reality to remain in your own small world made by reality and not give back is even more so. Maybe if someone changes history drastically enough then they’d be able to afford being ignorant and living in their own small world for a time. Knowledge maybe considered the basis of power but ignorance itself could be considered bliss.”

  I really am wanting to be abstract today. Its seems like a way of avoiding getting schoolwork done if I suffocated myself with my own thoughts; perhaps I could use less mental effort by condemning my thoughts and continue leading my life until I find anything that would give it an ounce of importance, not even to society but to me personally. While pondering this, the seafood pizza seemed to have mysteriously moved itself from the oven to my fingers as I registered its distinctive tanginess. There are various assignments to get done yet I never seem to have the time to finish them, it might just be the effects of being apathetic; everyone else around me seem like they have amazing control over things, but I don’t. I’m alive for a good time, not a long time. Despite knowing this, my head often feels as if its wrenching itself through every second of time when I live. This is where passion is supposed to come into play, they say time flies when your doing something you love.

  “I wonder what happens when someone finds that their passion is a delusion and a half or if someone searches endlessly for a passion to escape to, be it anything, but would forever come back empty-handed. Where could passion be found if it becomes lost with life in general; how long could someone live knowing they’re not going to find happiness until the bitter end.”

  It seems as if I’d loop my thoughts around despite unknowingly doing so. These thoughts seem to resonate with me so closely, its probably just puberty taking its emotional toll a little later than it should. Hopefully it could be shrugged off at anytime in the near future. Tonight would be a silent night, both parents are away and I’m too carry on with what they’ve left me; I’ve always wanted to ask them how they managed were able to find a passion for themselves they were younger but I’ve never found the time or place to discuss these words if they were to come out of my mouth. While doing schoolwork I’d often tell myself to trudge along and retain whatever knowledge the task is wanting me to have by doing. Knowledge isn’t anywhere as incentivizing when one’s fantasy is to achieve blinding ignorance. I frequently think to myself that I want to be happy but my happiness won’t make any others happy, only me. That’s a shame considering happiness must manifest its environment and not only be the selfish fantasies of the weak. Nights seem to always be like this for me, I cloud the perception that drives and things never go well. I remember thinking yesterday that this house, my home, was were my parents cherished me and aspired together in order to lead me a life in where I could be self-reliant. Today I want to twist that, I’d rather say that I didn’t and still don't exist on purpose and I don’t belong anywhere, all that matters is that everybody is going to die.

  “Life is too short to be pondering things that will never be accomplished, I will never be able to fully control everything that happens to me but the least I could do is control my feeling towards it. I’ll continue wandering and clench my teeth until my life comes to a natural end if only because I am aware of the possibility of achieving any ludicrous dreams.”

  It’d already seemed to be a bit too much for me to be going on tangents and not driving along my life while sober. Like a flash of light, my entire body vibrates sharply for an entire second as a cold breeze crawled down my spine and I see that I’ve situated myself in the middle of showering with the water spraying itself directly on my scalp; the cheesy aftertaste of the pizza isn’t lingering and is replaced with a strong mint-like fragrance of toothpaste. Apparently manifesting my own thoughts does not affect my aptitude towards completing this wholesome routine, although it is humorous that once I desire ignorance it could come to me to the point where I simply remember typing assignments in detail and then lose all details of moving around here and there to where I’m at now, nude in the bathroom. Putting both my hands on the wall as the water invites itself down my spine I began realizing time was being too fast on me, not being aware of the time around me doesn’t make me get to the happier times in life faster but only makes me miss the opportunities given that would help reach that goal; it’s still a shame that I must take those opportunities though.

  “I wonder… If I were to force a passion upon myself, would that give me the happiness I seek in life; even if the interactions with people that I make on that path would be anything but genuine?”

  I’ve always believed that hope is what guides us, fate is what leads us, and destiny is wh
at awaits us. Sadly even the validity of this prospect is a terrifying thought to behold; receiving the short end of any one of those desires is enough to halt an individuals ambition. After slipping on boxer shorts and flipping the light switch off, I sank myself into the almost plush queen bed; I didn’t give out a small sigh when relaxing my entire being on the spotless bedsheets, it was more of a raspy huff that resonated itself through the room. I felt as if I was spilling out my soul for the night as I thought of tomorrow’s miserable schedule before returning here. Dozing off, I complimented myself on being able to keep this bed and this room in general at such a high profile, without all the personal belongings being neatly organized along the desk and room, anyone would be hard pressed to believe that the room was ever occupied in the first place; that was how clean it was. With eyes closed, I stretched one arm up towards the ceiling as if I were grasping onto the air and murmured in the most inaudible sayings.