Part one: Purpose in Sun Glare
Cradled by the tall rocky hills, a small town lies, marked by a distinctive gray building structure. The building is fairly new, and particularly curious looking. It has the resemblance of an iron. It was the medical facility, and when it was built, everyone made a big deal about it. Especially the adults. The town houses, shops, and other buildings of the town crowded around it; that iron-shaped building was built in the center, as if trying to give off the impression that it had been there first --that the whole town of Mabase was built as an offering to it. Maybe it was.
The main road out of Mabase traveled on the large cable bridge that stretched over a river. Mostly adults used that road to go do adult things: work, drink alchohol, gamble, or what ever mature activities adults spend their time doing. The greenish paint on the bridge was peeling off, and it had the appearance of being rather old and untrustworthy as a bridge. A thirteen year old girl walked towards the worn-looking bridge. She was entering sixth grade today, and she had never crossed the bridge to the other side. She was afraid of crossing bridges, particularly this one, which looked less sturdy than others.
She had straight black hair that curled up at the shoulders. That morning, she pinned a single pink flower burette in her hair. She was mildly excited, but school wouldn't start for another forty minutes. She had a simple looking face that was more handsome than pretty, save for her almond shaped eyes. Her height was a problem for her; she stood taller than everyone else in class, measuring almost six feet. Her name was Rita.
---------Rita----------------
I was getting closer to the bridge. I wanted to stand mid way on it and look over the lake as the morning sun turned the water's surface to gold. But I became distracted by something I saw on my way there: that kid from my class last year, Nandaba Naota was sitting under the bridge with that high-schooler again. They both looked pretty boring. He wore a light blue coat and brownish shorts. She wore her school's uniform: a dark blue pleated skirt and sweater. He had short dark brown hair and she had a red sort of color hair that stopped at her shoulders. It looked fake.
Is it normal for boys these days to go after older women? What's so great about her, anyway? Not that it matters. Stuff like that is so unimportant.
The girls in my class usually gossip about that sort of thing: boys, love, romantic dreams they hold. I think it is a waste of time to worry about that stuff. Mom left because she wanted to find true love overseas after Dad died. I don't blame her for leaving. This place is really uninteresting, full of uninteresting people living uninteresting lives. But I doubt she will be able to find anything like true love. She should try to acheive more realistic goals like starting a shop, or going to college. Finding love abroad is such an unproductive endeavor.
My brother isn't much better. He is a freelance writer. It wouldn't be embarrassing if only he wrote something other than children stories. That is just so uncool. Besides, none of his stories make any sense. What is the point in writing a story that no one understands? I find him particularly unaccomplished as a writer, especially compared to authors of literary merit like Goethe or Mark Twain. Besides that, not once have his books been accepted to be published. He has sent many of his creations in to numberous different agencies, but they are quick to deny him any patronage.
I reached the bridge, and walked along side the railing until I stood above the edge of the water. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. This bridge really is pretty creepy. I'm afraid of it collapsing while I am on it, and sending me down into the water. I imagine it is not only deep but terribly cold --cold enough to submit one to hypothermia. It's a scary thought. My brother laughs at me for my phobia. He crosses this bridge every night on his motorbike to go drinking with friends.
I looked out at the river, but the glare of the sun on the water was too harsh. I had to shade my eyes. It was supposed to be a pretty scene, but I was disappointed. I blocked the sun by hiding it behind my raised hand. When I looked down at the edge of the water, I saw that Nandaba Naota was standing up and gathering his things to head towards school. The highschool girl was lying on her back with her limbs spread out. Maybe I should be walking towards the school now, too. There wasn't anything special to look forward to there. It was just a place to be, a place to wait, a building designed to make kids feel like they have a purpose. Just like this town. It's just a place to exist, a place to waste away, it was designed to make people feel like they are living.
I turned my gaze towards the large medical facility --the one shaped like an iron. What was its purpose? Everyday it exhales large billowing clouds of steam that hide the sky. The artificial cloud blankets the town like artificial fog. It's kind of eerie, yet unforgivably mundane.