“KRINGG!!” I took the ringing plastic off my side table and switched it off. I rubbed my eyes as I put the annoying clock back to where it usually was. Here comes another normal day.

I started my morning as usual – with a series of callings from my mom telling me to get off my bed. Then came the hygiene department, where as usual, my brother owned the bathroom to apply his hair gel.

Then there was boring school, where all we really do is ignore the teachers and end up studying at the last minute before the exams. My classmates pretend I’m not there, laughing to their jokes and whisper silly secrets to each other. I don’t mind, though. They don’t know what I experience every night. It’s more fascinating than talking about boys or the latest top hit.

When I reach home, I find lunch on the dining table, cold, waiting for me. I eat it, finish my homework and sleep. I’m getting ready for tonight. After dinner, I’ll maybe read a book or two, later I get into bed. I set my alarm clock then close my eyes, excited.

“KRINGG!!” The same sound woke me up from sleep this morning, and every other morning, woke me up at twelve midnight this time.

I set my alarm clock at 6.00 a.m. tomorrow just in case I get too tired to set it by the time I get home. I pulled my sheets then changed into a pair of jeans. After I combed my hair, I opened my windows and jumped out. Then, as if I have wings, I flew.

It was amazing when I first discovered this secret talent of mine, but nowadays it feels just like walking – only lighter. The secret is just to believe.

The cold night breeze swiped my hair off my face, touching it gently. I was soaring, my hands straight cutting through the empty skies. Tonight was quiet like always, apart from the noises of girly chatters I here every day at the canteen. Finally, I reach my destination.

It was an abandoned local orphanage I found as I was traveling around one night. It was tall and had a toddler-sized clock on the top floor balcony. I never entered, though. I don’t want to know what’s lurking inside. I would sit on the roof, relaxing, enjoying the quiet nights of Wildflower Fields. Sometimes I’d watch at the few people that are still awake at this time, walking around the neighborhood, searching for the same thing I am – peace.

When the clock reached three – yeah, it’s still working, what a wonder – I jumped off the roof and flew back home. On my way, I heard a tune in the air. I stop at mid-fly, concentrating to hear where it came from. My eyes followed my ears sensors to a double-storey house, so I flew lower, curious to know what the tune was. As I got nearer, I could tell it was a person picking a guitar. Then I got to a window. It was wide open, letting the slow tune out. I looked in and saw a boy around my age plucking an acoustic guitar. Luckily, I found a nearby branch to sit on. Soon, I found out he was composing - playing, writing something down on a few pieces of paper then played again. I was his only spectator, cocking my head a bit, enjoying the tune. Then I noticed that I’ve sat there for about an hour or so.

“Shoot!” I whispered to myself as I slapped my head. I got off the branch, and I believe it made a small crack sound because it definitely got the composer’s attention. He stared at me, wide eyed. My face flushed but I didn’t do anything but bob around in midair.

“Hi,” he finally said, getting closer to the window, leaving his guitar leaning on his table.

“Hello,” I replied, my voice hoarse from the sleep. The composer came closer, probably trying to examine what I was standing on – which was nothing, of course. I could see his features clearer now. He was really cute with broad shoulders.

“Are you floating?” he asked. Then I saw a clock on the wall, and it was almost four thirty. I panicked to get back home.

“KRINGG!!”

Labels: fantasy