The Day Before~
I have opened up my eyes. They are staring at the sky.
This is always the same. My soul has leaped out of my body, so it seems as though I am floating up high in the sky, looking down at this world. I can see the hill and the sharp cliff's edge. I can see the dark woods, in which I once hid for hours when I was hiding from another monster. Today, I don't hide. Instead, I turn my gaze to the main street.
I can see all the people. I can see a man standing at the bus stop, waiting for the next bus. I can see a little boy playing with a ball. I can see a woman, waiting for a taxi. I can see a poor man, collecting cans. The closer I look, the brighter, the faster I can see. And I can't stop looking. I can't stop staring.
There is a large crowd of people standing in the middle of the street, next to a giant tree. There is no sound. That's always the same. I have to get closer. I have to focus. I have to understand. What is happening? Is it cold? Is it sunny? Is it warm? I could freeze my soul in the frozen air, or melt it in the burning hell.
It's warm. I can't see anything. I want to get closer, but I can't. Nothing has changed. Nobody has moved. I just can't get any closer. I just can't. My soul in the air, a monster in the city.
And then I can. I could swoop down to the crowd. Fly across the horizon and see with my own eyes what is happening there. I can admire the colors of the roof in the distance. Green hills. Dark brown trees. People. Nothing else. Only people.
'Good morning, Lucas.'
'Good morning, Mr. Emerson.'
'How are you? How are you doing today?'
'Pretty good. And you?'
'Fine. Just fine.'
That is the usual dialogue. I don't like Mr. Emerson. He is a good teacher, but maybe I don't like him because he is too good a teacher. Mr. Emerson is a nice person, but I like nice people.
'Alright, class, sit down, close your books and listen to me.'
'Okay, Mr. Emerson. '
'We're going to talk about the great Edgar Allan Poe today. Would anyone like to give an example of a poem by him?'
'Sure, Sir. The Raven.'
'Anybody else?'
'The bells. The Bells.'
'Maybe someone would like to tell us what was Edgar Allan Poe's favorite subject?'
'His own death.'
'Quite right. Alright, class, enough is enough. Can someone tell me how he became famous?'
'Because of his death?'
'Maybe because of his works?'
'That's true.'
'Alright, class, for today, you'll have a fifty percent cut on your homework because what we talked about today may be new to you, and my class isn't just about learning things, my class is about listening and learning, and my class is also about having fun. If anyone has any questions, feel free to come. And as usual, good luck in your exams.'
The bell rings. The students run away. I get my things and leave this room. I go to my backpack. I put my homework there. I put my lunch there. I put my books there. And then I look around and think about what I need now.
A soccer ball.
I shoot it hard against the black trash can. I miss. No problem. I shoot it hard against the black wall. I hit the soccer ball. It bounces back. I shoot it hard again. I miss again. No problem. I shoot it hard again. And again. And again. Until I hit the black trash can. I smile.