Some Things Are Meant To Be – Chapter One
Timas Brauss
Shark's on all sorts of peculiar machines. He was so badly injured, no one thought he would be able to pull through. But Shark's a survivor and, against all odds, he seems to be recovering. I've spent a lot of time with Shark since he was admitted to hospital; I think he appreciates the company and besides, I quite like being around a disciple when there are demons on the loose. And anyway, I'm always happy when there are this many intricate machines around! Whenever I visit Shark, I spend at least half of my time scrutinizing these machines, contemplating how they work, and whether or not I could build something that does the job better, given a little time and the right equipment of course.
But even surrounded by this selection of delicious machinery, I just can't seem to be able to muster up the same enthusiasm as before. It's like there's something missing, like a section of my interest has given way to something else. I just can't focus entirely on them. Or on any of my laptops. Or anything else for that matter. I just keep thinking of her.
And then I get annoyed because, whenever I think of her, I get these strange tummy feelings, and I can't identify what they mean. I've always understood everything; there's never been anything that could confuse me. But I don't understand this. And so I consider it more because I'm trying to figure it all out, and then I get more of the strange tummy feelings and in the end, I just end up thinking about Meera. All the time. Always Meera. I think it's possible that she used her magic and put one of their bizarre disciple spells on me. I can't be sure though.
As I'm trying desperately to focus on the machines, a light on one flashes a bright yellow, and suddenly I'm thinking about Meera's blonde hair. Automatically I shake my head, before deciding that shaking one body part just isn't enough and shake my entire body instead. Ultimately concluding that such a mountain of a shake should be sufficient to rid myself of any unwanted thoughts, I glance at Shark. He's looking at me with an eyebrow raised and a concerned expression on his face. "You know, mate, I've always stood up for you when people have said you're mad, but I think you've just lost it."
I can't blame Shark for thinking I'm going mad, I think I am too. So, still looking at Shark, I sit down beside him on his bed. Now he looks even more concerned. So I look straight into his eyes and I say "Shark, I really need your help." At this point Shark laughs at me. He says I'm the smartest person that he knows and if I can't figure it out then no one in this universe or the next is going to be able to help me.
"Look, mate," he laughs, "That's just the way it is. Unless it's girl problems, I can't help you." I think about this for a minute. I've only ever heard someone mention 'girl problems' twice before; the first time was in the early years of secondary school, when a female in my class decided that, because I liked computers so much, I clearly had no interest in women, and therefore she could rant about her 'girly problem times' to me. The second was when I overheard some male youths discussing their current love interests, and apparently one of them never spent a day without some sort of 'girl problem'. Considering the options, I conclude that the type of problem Shark is referring to must be the latter. I also conclude that Meera is most certainly a woman. On coming to that conclusion, I turn to Shark, once again looking straight into his eyes, and say "Shark, I really need your help."