“Where am I?”
Jim’s hands were trembling and his face was ashen dark with panic as soon as he discovered that he had almost killed someone. He never thought that clumsiness will culminate a murder. Actually, it was nothing but a minor accident; with few cuts or scratches here and there and a top up of splotch of blood. Voila, a minor accident. But no one knew what was running in a complete eccentric fiction lover. It’s wholesomely tangled, with loose strings and – ridiculous chains of obtuse imaginations. Freaky!
“I must have gone nuts! Please tell me you’re okay…dang! I knew this wasn’t such a great idea.”
“Urghh…pain…ouch my head…my leg.”
“Blood!!! Your head is a bloody reddish mess…migod!!! I’m dead, I’m dead…and your leg? You've sprained your leg too? Dad’s gonna kill me. Affirmative.”
“Will you just stop mumbling? Help me up, buffoon! Are you some sort of a psychotic retard? …pain!!!!”
“Terribly sorry. My fault.”
Jim knocked off from his innocuous thought and tried to get back to reality. Well, almost – he was not body and soul perfectly walking in reality. Just toss him a can or hit him with something hard. That will perhaps help him to gain his lost consciousness. Right in front of his eyes, not! Right in front of his green emerald eyes, there was Death with his scythe. The figure or what known as Death was in his great black cloak and his bony finger knocked on the thin transparent glass of an hourglass, checking and estimating when the last grain of the sand would finally diminish. Death wasn’t in its gloomy mood, today…not today.
“Owh boy…”
“Will you just snap out from your fairy-tell yada yada? Death? I’m not dead enough to see that freaking Death. I’m hurt, all right? Gosh you’re a klutz, aren’t you? Why owh why? You just screwed up my life. Great! Here I am on the floor, ‘accidentally’ hit by a klutz, now waiting for the ‘klutz’ that’s having the time of its life to pick me up and send me to the clinic…sheesh. Quit it, klutz.”
“I’m sorry…wait. Did you just read my mind? How do you know I’m thinking of Death? You have that psychic power, don’t you? This is amazing! I’ve injured a girl. And whoa…like the ancient prophecy that there’ll soon rise a…”
“Dimwit, for crying out loud! Somebody help me. This guy is just an abomination, a lunatic! Okay, I will just go to the clinic all by myself. OK? ALL BY MYSELF. Where could have all the gentlemen gone to?”
Jim was practically busy with all the ‘awesomest’ theories, possibilities and even hypotheses - where all his ideas came rushing and accumulated the cells of his brain. Who would have known a small fragile boy like him will end up meeting a girl with a gift? Like Jim said, the “awesomest gift”. This was a strange thing about this one particular Jim. He was absolutely obsessed, possessed and definitely a robust fiction maniac. When everyone was having trouble to have their own imaginary friends, Jim would just have to snap his finger and a gush of unimaginable imaginary friends will appear. Though it sounds superficial and absurd but Jim was a character and he was a walking living boy and he had a collection of action figures; maybe a spawn of old gumballs shouldn’t be count as an action figure and a dog named “Dog”. Well that dog, Dog served as a loyal friend and it survived the whole 5 amazing years before it was killed, electrocuted and you can just imagine what had caused the tragedy. Yes, our Jim, our very own Jim. Yes it’s him.
“So…how d’ya get the power? Did it just pop out one day or you stumbled upon a clandestine book of dark arts at the attic?...”
“Or when you unconsciously ate a toad in your cold mushroom soup, is that what you’re thinking of?”
“Wicked…you really can read people’s mind! I’m sure will terribly outburst in hysteric happiness if I’m blessed with such power. You know what? You are ‘awesomest’…”
“No…don’t tell anyone about this and don’t ever EVER mention or slip about it to anyone…not anyone…including your dead Dog. Got it? And please work on your vocabulary. There's no such thing as 'awesomest'”
“I…”
“Don’t you ever dare…not the principal, not the old masochistic neighbor of yours…like I said; no one. Got it memorize? And no 'awesomest', please. My 7 year-old brother is brighter than you.”
Jim nodded and shrugged in disdain. He can’t afford to think of anything when someone could already figure out what he was about to say. Mischievous later, good boy today.
“So…”
“Sarah. My name is Sarah and you’re Jim? Nope sorry, klutz.”
“Sheesh. What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Owh here we are…thank you by the way. Bye, Mr. Klutz”
“My name is Jim…”
Jim froze and stopped. Maybe he was a klutz. He deserved it. Jim smiled and faded as he walked into the trail of the setting sun. Jim contemplated the whole event. Maybe it was not pretty bad life after all. Who could have ever imagined, spilling a cup of mocha on the library floor will result in an amazing discovery. It was a new specimen for Jim. His room would be illuminated with passion and scribbles in his diary. Well Sarah didn’t tell him that he could not write about it, didn’t she? The fire in his eyes crackled. And the moon would have to wonder what Jim will be writting in his diary. Jim with his endless imagination. Perhaps it will be good if we grab a book...maybe we will one day sound like Jim and if we're lucky enough, we might come across Sarah. Maybe...perhaps.
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