Here’s the first chapter of the novel I’m writing. ^^ Written by yours truly, mithfalath. ^^ [This will not be an official entry to NaNoWriMo. I have not started early. But I will still write as I please. ^^,]
Chapter I. Sunrise
“Get up Eric! It’s already 10 past 6. You’ll be late.”
“Yes ma. I’ve heard that a couple of times already.”
As soon as I started entering high school, I would always wake up very early in the morning, which I wasn’t used to. Every time she told me that line, I knew all along that the long hand of the clock hasn’t even reached 10 yet. But I still wake up nevertheless. Because it’s too early in the morning, I don’t fix my bed. As I get up, I pray solemnly. What do I pray about? I pray that something extraordinary will happen this day. Because I’m tired of the everyday ordinary activities that this ordinary life has came out to be.
Resistance. Yawn. The morning dust. Stand. The stairs. Since I’m upstairs, the only way left is down. I see there my usual breakfast – a cup of rice, a pair of toasted hotdog, which I always liked, and a glass of water. This has been the norm every morning for 7 years now. I feel like being tired to this everyday event, but I have no choice.
Scoop. Bite. Grind. Swallow. Drink. All finished. The next thing to do is to go to the bathroom to freshen myself up. I then remember when I was still in elementary, my classmates used to tell me that why is it that I eat first before I take a bath?
“Why, what’s wrong with that?”, I asked.
“Nothing much really. You might just vomit because the food in your stomach is not stable yet.”
“Not stable? What do you mean? But I don’t feel like that. It seems okay to me.”
After that, I started to wonder, am I different from the others, in one way or another?
Twist. Splash. Soap drops. Shampoo spills. Splash. Twist. All finished. This is the only time of the day when I actually realize that I am awake. The cold water instantly reminds my body that there is life ahead of me, time’s a waste, and that I’d better get going already.
Clip. Uniform. Watch. Hairspray. Phone. Wallet. I’m good to go.
“Oh wait. Darn. I forgot I have an assignment in Science. Oh well, might as well copy from my seatmate.”
Monday. Monday is flag ceremony day. I reached school 20 minutes later after a travel, which surprisingly has no traffic jam.
The morning sun. The queue of students in the field. The security guard patiently checking on the students’ identification card. The vehicles passing by the street. The irritating sound of the bell. National Anthem. Many are singing, more are chatting, and more still not paying attention to what is currently happening. This I don’t wonder why – because I’m one of them. This is yet another typical Monday – the worries of the new week, examinations to accomplish, and scoldings of the teacher.
Door entrance. Room 103. A step. Two steps. This first year in high school is already boring me. They say that the best years in life will come from your high school life. You will meet your most treasured friend, your most special one, your most hated enemy, the best group ever. It will be like a second home. There will even be times when you would prefer to be with your friends than with your family. Bah! I can see that. I’m like a thousand miles away from all these expectations of mine. What’s so special about this? Is this worth my life? Will my friends be of any help to me? How can I know them?
I’ve always known to myself that I am not one of those Hello-I’m Eric-Can-I-Be-Your-Friend type of guy. But I do want to make friends. That’s why if somebody approaches me that way, then why not. I can be your friend. I’d like to be your friend. I’d love to.
Wait. Did I just said like… or love? Heck who cares, it doesn’t really matter. As long as I have friends.
“Eric, we have test later in Language. Can you teach me about past participles?”, Francis said.
Francis is probably the first person I met and actually talked to here in this school for obvious reasons – one, I met him in the long queue of line because he was my classmate; and two, he also happens to be my seatmate. So we introduced each other and found out that his name is Francis. So I call him by his first name.
Sigh. I’m not good in giving out introductions. How will you get to know me better, and how will I know if you’re one of those friends that they are talking about?
“Errr, sorry, I haven’t studied yet either. I didn’t even know there will be a test.”, I said… but I lied. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. My heart beat faster. I’m sorry. I’m not good in teaching stuff either. The truth is that I knew there will be a test, and I did study about it. I’m really sorry.
How can I make friends if I keep on going like this? This is non-sense. A class of 30 individuals, each with their own hopes, goals, and expectations, brought together by fate in this 4-sided room, with only a guy in front of us that’s about 30 years older than us – how can there be something out of nothing? We don’t even know each other. Yes, our introductions made us know each other’s names, but even that, I’m not good at it. It’s a good thing I remembered Francis’ name well. There must be something, anything, or even someone who can change this everyday catastrophe. Is this home?
Study. Listen. Participate. Nap. Eat. Listen. Participate. Listen attentively. A little more nap. Before the day ends, our teacher decided to appoint homeroom officers so that we’ll all be organized. I was appointed secretary. I write. I will write. What about? I don’t know. I just had a position in this class.
The class president was rather beautiful and she caught my eye. Her name is Patty. I can’t remember whether it was her who approached me, or was it someone else’s fault that I got to know her. Thankfully though, she’s really kind and helpful and instantly, we became friends. I also learned she was the class valedictorian in her school. What a brilliant student.
Keep. Arrange. Clean. Rearrange. Look up the sky. The day’s done. It’s almost five in the afternoon. Time to go home now. This quotidian day is ending again. Sun sets. Students wave. “Friends” wave.
As I enter our home, there were some sweat in my shirt and that’s why I have to change immediately. I grabbed my pen from its usual place, my pocket, and placed it near my phone and my wallet in my desk, where they all used to lay since their existence.
Dinner. TV. Study time which is definitely shorter than the time I’m exposed to TV. Computer. More TV. Snack time. Bed. Day breaks. Welcome nighttime. I always loved the dark and silent environment created by nightfall. I feel like I can tell to everyone my secrets. It feels like I own the world. Everything is under my control. My heart always felt like bursting – with emotions that I cannot hide everytime the twilight arrives. Am I searching for something? Am I going in the right direction? Will I ever be contented?
11 post-meridiem time. Drop. Drop. Splash. It rained. It rained so strong that my pillow is somewhat wet now. Come to think of it, since when did it started raining during nighttime? This lacrimation really is a result of tremendous elation, I can feel it. But why?
Pillow. Mokona doll. I’m off to sleep now. Oh namida, I know you couldn’t stop.