The Search for Freedom

My father wasn't totally a cruel man. What he did was a way of showing care and worry. Scolding a child was a way of disciplining them. He still had a heart that even though I did something wrong, he wouldn't hurt me. My father was so full of love that he could recognize even the smallest mistake I made, but he didn't know the greatest mistake of my life. I didn't know what to expect from his reaction if he knew I killed someone. Would he listen to my explanation? I really need courage before telling him.

I was afraid of hurting and killing someone, though I was hurt. I didn't want them to experience what I experienced. I was afraid of being imprisoned, though sometimes I fought those bullies. I was afraid of doing something unlawful. I was afraid of myself. I was afraid of the things my body could do. The dark magic in me was a stroke of a stray curse.

Sitting on the chair, looking at the bowl of sweet-potato-chips in front of me, I sometimes softly squeezed my nose, catching the flies that wanted to perch on the table and squashing them with my fingers.

If all my problems were as small as flies, I'd already caught and squeezed them. I would not put them in a jar because they would be able to escape. But my problems were still problems. Even if it looked like a fly, sometimes they were difficult to catch.

Cyril started to bark, and I didn't know why. until I realized there was a swarm of flies approaching me. I didn't realize that they were not just a few. I heard their loud chattering. However, I was thankful because they didn't attack me. They halted at my front and seemed to be talking to me. In the few seconds that followed, they formed a whirling hole. A disgusting hole! There was a very strong force coming from it, then pulled me inside.

A moment elapsed after I heard Cyril's continuous barks. I felt dizzy as if something was spinning me around. The flies brought me to a place I didn't know, then they suddenly disappeared. I realized everything had changed in a few seconds. What else could I do? If everything had already happened, it would be better to find a way to go back.

It was morning there! I screamed in my brain. I knew it was already sundown in our town. peculiar. Perhaps I was in another country. Standing on a road. There were many trees on both sides. I didn't know what kind of trees they were because I had never seen similar trees before.

Perhaps it was only my hallucinations. I stood up and gave my face a slight slap. It wasn't just slight. I felt a bit of pain. That kind of boy I was, if I didn't want to give myself pain, it would be different. Everything was really not a hallucination. They were real. I had mixed feelings. I didn't know if I would smile or cry about being there.

While walking on the concrete road covered with withered cherry blossom leaves and flowers, I saw many huge houses and buildings. It was a city. For sure, the people who lived there were wealthy. But what was I doing there? Why did the flies bring me there without any clear reason? Those flies were ruthless. Perhaps they were vassals of darkness or vassals of the bitchy old man.

My problems multiplied since he showed his despicable face to me, but he hadn't shown himself again. Perhaps he smelt that I would chop him into pieces if he demonstrated with his devilish face.

The place where I was was cool and serene. However, for me, the most beautiful place wasn't in the world. Maybe that place was an imaginary one. He could not see anything but emptiness; he could not hear anything but himself. There were just a limited number of people who could see what was beyond that void. There was a limited number of people who saw the hidden paradise.

When I was younger, most of the evenings I would climb and lay down on my bed. The best part was when my mother would tell me a story, a story that until now had reverted in my mind.

The Mother would always start on the word, "Far and beyond this world, there is a place, a place where you can see nothing but a void..."Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

After saying those words, I couldn't help but fall asleep. It had made me more confused about the next words my mother would say. Because I wasn't asking her about unimportant things, I also didn't ask her about the whole story. I knew that she only told me the story to make me fall asleep.

After a few minutes of taking the road, I saw a park ahead. I thought I would get there and take a rest for a while because I was tired of walking. So I walked nearby and sat down on the white bench. Perhaps I couldn't go back to my parents anymore. I knew that I could not survive in that place alone. My family, friends, or acquaintances were not there. What should I do?

In my brain I screamed, "I was lost!" Grasping my head and messing with my short hair, which took a year to grow, That thing too was so strange. Although nobody had cut it since I was born, it had only grown an inch after sixteen years. My father's hair was like mine, so slow to grow longer. That was why we were not cutting them, or else we would become bald-headed.

Sometimes I thought that I wasn't born on Earth, that I wasn't a normal human, that I was born in another world, a world where abnormal people lived. A place where there were no accidents and nobody died, a place where everyone lived happily and peacefully forever.

There were many differences between me and other people. From how my hair would grow to the things that were happening. It seemed that many of the impossible things I'd witnessed were magic. I could not believe how magical my life was. But alongside that magic, there were hidden bad effects on me, effects that could not be seen by just looking at my face. It was hidden in my very smile.

But I was in a place I didn't even know. There was no magic that would bring me back to the place where I was born. There was no magic in times of sorrow. Magic would only show itself in times of happiness. It was just the same with those plastic friends who would only talk if they could get something from someone. It was preferable to have a loyal friend from a flattering foe than one who only became your friend for money.