Before We Met

            This is a tale of a boy and a girl. Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t one of romance. I find those too clichéd anyway. Romance is overrated, and romance is fragile. They say love is created through destiny, but maybe it is the same for friendship as well? Who is to say that we were not destined to meet every single person in our life?

            This story is about me and a girl. Let's call her Fi. She is someone I got to know not too long ago, as we go to college together. The strange thing is, I feel like I have known her for ages. When we talk, there is a certain fluidity to it, unlike when I talk to someone I don’t really know. We bonded abnormally fast and seemed to trust each other really easily. We also had this thing for sensing each other’s feelings and are at each other’s aid just when we both need it the most.

            However, there was one thing that really bothered me. Neither of us remembered where, when, or how we actually met each other. Now, you may think that this is rather minor, but I have a habit of keeping tabs on how I met everyone I’m close to, and it really bothers me. Then one day, I had a dream.

            This dream I had was unlike any other. It was so clear that I actually thought it to be real, and that I was actually there. But it was impossible, because I saw myself from a third-person point of view. Not myself as I am now, but myself as a child. I was playing in a sandbox with a girl of about the same age. Right away, I knew that the girl had to be Fi. But how can that be? Of course, I don’t remember when I met her, but I was positive that I haven’t known her for that long.

            It felt so surreal. My dream continued flicking through scenes of me and Fi as we grew up together. My 9^th birthday where Fi gave me a toy lightsabre as a present, the time when we turned 13 and had to go to separate schools, and another scene at 16 when she was in tears and I was there consoling her. I was dazed and confused. If these were memories, I definitely did not live them. So, what did they mean?

            I woke up with a jolt, covered in sweat. I looked at the clock. It was already 6 in the morning. I wasn’t planning on going back to sleep anyway, so I got out of bed and cleaned myself up for class. All the time, I only had the dream in my mind. I was still clueless as to what I just dreamt of. Were any of those scenes real?

            I was still daydreaming about it as I walked to class, so I wasn’t paying attention as to where I was going. I was walking at a normal pace through the corridors towards my class when BAM!! I crashed into someone and both our books flew in all directions. I hastily looked for the person I walked into so I could apologise, when I saw that it was Fi. She, apparently, wasn’t looking where she was going too. When we made eye contact, however, all in that split second, everything instantly made sense.

            The dream I had were definitely memories, but not mine. I never lived them. But I may just as well have had. I then knew that somewhere out there, in a parallel universe, in an alternate reality, those scenes actually played out. Fi and I were childhood friends. We grew up together. More importantly, we helped each other through life. Fi and me had already known each other before we even met! But as fate had it, we didn't live in that strand of reality, but our lives had always meant to be intertwined. And even though she never told me, I knew she had the exact same dream.


-Izzat R.

Castle Heart

            The walls were breathing. I couldn’t help but notice this fact. The stone walls seemed almost sentient. I did not know where I was, or how I even got here. I was just there, in a narrow corridor. The floors and walls were made of stone and lit torches sat in wooden brackets lined up along the walls, illuminating the corridor amidst the moonless dusk that has befallen. I felt lost, but strangely unafraid.

            I walked slowly along the hallway. From where I was, I could catch glimpses of a deserted courtyard through supporting pillars. It seemed as though I was in a kind of medieval castle, one that has been abandoned for years. Wild vines were growing everywhere and nature threatened to engulf the castle. A slight breeze blew through the night air, causing the fires burning in the torches to flicker and sending a cold chill down my spine.

            As I approached the end of the stretch of stone, I could only just make out stairs leading downwards, into the dungeons it may seem. I didn’t know what possessed me to do so, but I knew that I had to go down those stairs. Unlike the corridor I just left, the stairway was dark, lit by not a single flame. I proceeded cautiously, feeling my way along the walls with my hands.

            It seemed like a long time before I reached the bottom, but when I did, I was somewhat relieved that I was welcomed by another lit corridor. However, this one was different. It was the walls the emitted the light. A warm dark red glow was given out by the walls, despite it being made of stone. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the new light, but I was determined to push on. I could just feel something calling me.

            This hallway was lined with many doors. All were made of the typical heavy wood found in castles. I approached the first door and immediately I felt sorrow and grief overwhelm my being. I had no intention to even grab hold of the steel door handle but managed a peek through the metal bars of the small opening on the door. What I saw was too painful to describe here.

            I pushed on past door after door, each exuding strong emotions – happiness, anger, and melancholy. I dared not open a single door. I continued until the end of the hallway, where a single door stood, unlike the others. This one was bigger and more intricately designed. There was also no space to peek into the room that lay past the door. Strangely, I felt nothing from behind the heavy oak door. This was the first, compared to all the locked up emotions in the other doors. After a minute of bracing myself, I laid my hands on the door and pushed as hard as I could. The hinges of the door resisted, but creaked open nonetheless.

            The room the lay beyond was very plain compared to the beautiful design of the door. Only an average bed stood inside, and upon it laid an unconscious – or sleeping – girl. For once, I did not know what to do, but curiosity got the best of me. I approached the girl slowly, not wanting to disturb her slumber. I examined the girl cautiously. She had the sweetest features I have seen in a long time. Even in slumber, she seemed as though she was smiling, maybe due to a dream she was having.

            Unexpectedly, a melodious female voice spoke in my head, “Finally”. I looked at the girl with shock. Her lips had not moved. Then, as if on cue, her eyes slowly opened. When she looked into my eyes, everything seemed to make sense. She smiled and said to me “Come on outside, it’s a beautiful day.”

            We ran outside together, and the desolate castle that was once there, now looked as though it was brand new. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and the fountain in the courtyard spouted beautiful streams of water. Even with all that was going on, only one question played in my mind, “How could only one person do this?”

-Izzat R.

Cries Of The Heart Pt.2

            The void of darkness greedily engulfed me once more, and as usual, I let it take me with a smile on my face. I needed this more than anything else, and especially more than reality.

            Vivid images started forming around me. Images of dreams lost, dreams impossible, and dreams yet to come true. 

            Happiness and joy surrounded my being as the improbable became mine and the impossible only an arm’s length away. The feeling was like the warm sunlight on the back of my neck after a long thunderstorm. A rose petal drifted down from high above. I caught it in my palm and smiled.

            I basked in the moment – This very moment in my dreams where nothing could possibly go wrong.

            But then again, could it?

            As quickly as I was brought into my world of dreams, I was snapped back up into reality. Back to where the rain was falling heavier and it was colder than it has ever been.

            The bubble of hope and happiness that was welling inside me disappeared and an empty hole was left where it once was.

            I couldn’t help myself but to grasp my chest in pain.

            Maybe I was wrong. Maybe retreating into my own personal sanctuary so often wasn’t the answer to everything.

            Are having false dreams really better than facing the bitter truth? For at one time or another, we must face the ruthless world that is reality.

            The world where people who say they care for you don’t really do. The very same one where the people you care for with all your heart take you for granted.

            Call me a coward, but I am not ready to face the real world again – At least not yet. Not until the wounds of my last attempt has healed.

            So I guess until then, the world will have to make do without me. Though I doubt I will be missed.

-Izzat R.