I was only twelve years old when Grandfather died suddenly from a massive heart attack while he was sleeping. His death was not only devastating to us, but also to nearly everyone in the whole town since nearly everyone knew him and loved him dearly as much we did. Grandfather could be a very strange man sometimes when he had his moments but also was a very kind man, who can easily be friends with anyone.
Nearly everyone in town, from Grandfather's closet friend he knew for more than twenty years to the mailman and butcher, arrived for his funeral. So many people came in sympathy for my family, telling us how great of a friend Grandfather was to them and how much of a shame his death was to them, bringing us endless dishes of food, and trying to get us through the horrible time.
As I went to bed that night of the funeral, welcoming my younger brother as he climbed out his bed and onto mine, I thought back to the final words Grandfather said to me before his death.
The final words he spoken after telling us the legend of the Spirit Woman.
"Promise me, my boy, you and your brother will never leave each other's side. Promise me, Helia, you will never go into the deep part of the Forest by yourself," grandfather had told me. "I refuse to lose you like I lost my brother. Promise me?"
There was such intense firmness in his eyes that harden with a certain fire, but featured a sheer of madness beneath the look. The glare startled me with its intenseness, so I nodded in order to make the intense firm madness to disappear from his eyes.
Even though I nodded my head, there was a fire of anger burning inside of me by his words that set off my anger and made my body nearly tremble. How dare he think I would be as stupid as my granduncle, I thought with anger, wanting right then and there to lash out at him with harsh words. He seemed to think just because I looked just like Damon, I would be as stupid and make the same mistakes: foolishly going into the deep area of the forest, falling for the charms of the temptress of the Forest, and becoming the new prey to her.
Five years have passed since Grandfather's death, and we were slowly moving on with our lives. It was the only thing one can do after tragic happen, moving forward instead of back. I was now seventeen years old, close to being eighteen, and took the role of the second man of the house, taking on twice as the responsibility than Arthur, the youngest one, had.
Despite the fact Grandfather was no longer with us, not much has really changed in the Gabriel household. My mother thought at first it would be better if we moved to a new house. Our house was a beautiful cottage house in the middle of the forest, a river with a calming stream near the left side, and an old games and a tire swing tied to an oak branch in the backyard where Arthur and I spent hours playing together when we were little. Being only a one story house, there wasn't much room inside but there was plenty of cozy warmth and family love to go around. We had a small living room with a complete furniture set, coffee table, and fire place; a small kitchen and dining area where we have our meals; a clean bathroom right down the hall; and three bedrooms-one for mother and father, another that was shared between Arthur and I, and the last one was Grandfather's being redone into a guestroom.
Mother's intentions were good and selfless, but Father insisted we stayed here. The house was made by distinct relatives over hundred of years ago who wanted go away from the town life and have quietness around them, and generations and generations of our family have lived in this very house ever since.
The town we lived in, or rather-considering we lived in the forest-nearby was called Ivy Gomes, a quite little town with its' own charm. Less than two thousand families lived here, and had everything a town would need with a school that goes from preschool to middle school and a large high school a few blocks away, a large library filled with a nearly endless supply of books, and lots of shops and stores were you're bound to find whatever you need.
We also had dozens of different cafes and restaurants, but my favorite one to go to was Helen's, a café that was a cross between a coffee shop and a bakery, very quiet and played a selection of relaxing music to really bring in the calming mood, and was famous for its' white hot chocolate and mouthwatering pumpkin pie. I was sitting at a booth table, nodding thanks to the blonde-haired waitress who brought my tea and slice pumpkin pie.
Ignoring my surroundings, I retrieved my journal, which was both my journal and sketchbook, and turned the book to a fresh page, letting everything unimportant go as soon as I grabbed my pencil and began to draw.
I inherited the artistic gene from my father who got it from my father, who was Grandfather. Although my father was a good artist, he chose to show more interest in fencing and swordsmanship than drawings. Grandfather, on the other hand, never lose sight away from his passion, and was always one to embrace it. Often memories of my grandfather, when he wasn't the old storyteller with tales to share, would be up in room for hours and doing nothing else but draw, often times looking back like he sensed a presence and would smile as he saw me watching him. If he wasn't drawing, then he was painting. If he wasn't painting, then he was sculpting. No matter what form of art he would do, he would always make it an absolute masterpiece. Because he saw how much art interested me, he decided to be my mentor, teaching me everything there was to know about art, looking impressed as he examined my work, and saying he wouldn't be surprised if I made an amazing career out of it.
Of course I would never take him of his word, but I've been in love with art ever since. Art was one of the main importances in my life, besides my family and friends, and I had no intention of ever changing that. I loved creating works of art with my bare hands, loved watching a blank piece of paper slowly transform from blankness to creation, and especially loved the feeling of myself letting go when I dove into a new project.
The picture I was drawing was an inspiration I got from a dream I had recently. When I was done, I studied my picture and nearly went through a roller coaster of emotions whenever I saw her face.
"Her" was the girl of my dreams; the one I tried hard to draw on the paper but knew my copy could never be amazing as the real thing. Very beautiful indeed with her delicate, breathtaking face, her slender and curvy figure being hugged by her plain white dress, beautiful eyes with such innocence and warm gentleness, a small yet soft smile blossoming on her beautiful lips, and long hair cascading down her back with some strands flowing like they were caught by the wind.
Never had I seen this girl before, but I haven't been able to get her out of my mind. Never had I experienced these strange feelings I was feeling rising inside me whenever I looked at her face and thought about her. My heart would suddenly race by the thought of her, stomach would be tied in hundreds of different knots, and my body would turn from hot to cold and then hot again.
Slowly I closed my eyes and envisioned the dream that came to mind a few nights ago. I was wandering around in the forest late at night, unable to see my way through anything because it was so dark and there were too many trees surrounding me, and wandering aimlessly for what felt like hours-till she suddenly appeared.
Out of the blue, suddenly appearing from the trees was a maiden who was the very incarnation of beauty. One small, sweet smile from her made me frozen in place, unable to think or what to do or say next. And as she slowly lifted up her hand and beckoned me to go wither, those strange feelings came to life and were burning like fire inside of me.
I knew right then and there how much I wanted to be with her, kiss her angelic lips and hold her, love her and wanted to be with her forever.
"Helia!" My beautiful maiden was gone from my eyes and my dream came tumbling down, quickly snapping me back into reality. Ironically this was the exact same way my dream ended, only this time instead of my brother it was a dear friend who always know how to make such fashionably late appearances.
"I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something important?" Timmy tried to look innocent, but I saw the look of smugness in his eyes.
"I hate you." I said simply.
"So I was interrupting something important?" He sat across from me, slides my plate of pie toward him, and started eating it without even bothering to ask me if I still wanted it.
"Correction. I really hate you," I told him. "Nice of you to finally show up-two hours late."
Timmy grinned as he ate more of my pie.
Timmy was your average, every day too skinny to be broad yet too average to be considered scrawny either, had dark amber eyes and would be wandering around aimlessly as blind as a bat if he wasn't wearing his glasses, and orangish light-brown hair. He and I have been best friends since we were seven years old, but were as different as two people could be. While I was in love with art and very fond of poetry, Timmy was really the brains of the group who'd preferred science and computers over anything else. Although I would rather be alone most of the time, I was a bit out-going and able to make friends while Timmy was a bit shy and awkward around other people.
Our friendship really showed opposites really do attract.
"So, where have you been?" I thanked the kind waitress again when she saw Timmy stole my plate and brought me another slice of pie, setting it down in front of me, and then quickly started eating before Timmy could steal it from me. "You said you wanted to meet me here by here and you got here at twelve, two hours late."
"I was busy." He said, as if that alone was acceptable enough to be an explanation.
"With what?"
He shrugged. "Doing late minute chores, going to the library and borrowing some books," A faint shade of red colored his cheeks as he was suddenly sheepish, looking down at his nearly empty plate of pie and mumbling the last part of the sentence.
He mumbled the last of the sentence so quietly; I had to lean in closer. But even when I did that, I still couldn't hear him.
"Say again," He tried speaking a bit louder, but it was still quiet and I still couldn't hear him. "A bit louder please."
"HANGING OUT WITH TECNA!" More than several nearly tables and waitresses going around the place stopped when they heard Timmy's outburst, turning around to see me holding me in laughter while Timmy looked like he was a second away from murdering me.
"Nothing to see here. Move along." He waited till everything went back to normal before he turned his head to give me a chilled glare.
Looking into those cold eyes, I wasn't able to hold in my laughter anymore so I threw my head back and laughed hard. "Well that certainly explains the fact why you're blushing."
Right on cue his blush brightened, cheeks flamed so hot I could feel them, and his entire face looked as bright as a tomato. "Ha, ha, ha," he tried to be sarcastic, but there was still breathless anxious heard in his tone, rolling his eyes at me as I continued to laugh. "You're a real comedian."
I took in a deep breath after letting out my last chuckle, finally gaining control of myself. "What did you and your massive crush-"
"She's only a friend!" Timmy insisted, but I knew better.
"You had on since middle school did together in the library?" I asked.
He shrugged again, trying to act cool and casual about the meeting like it was nothing as he used his fork to play with the crumbs left over on his plate, but I knew well enough he was shocked and in disbelief. "I was looking for a new book, she was researching some things on the computer, and we bumped into each other and hanged out."
"Uh-huh," I commented. "Did you finally ask her out?"
"Of course not!" He exclaimed, shocked by the question. "Have you gone insane?"
"You're the one insane," I told him, choosing to ignore the irritated way he rolled his eyes at me. "You were at the library for an hour with a girl you've been crushing on since middle school. How can you not ask her out?"
"Because I can't."
"Why not?"
He continued to play with his fork and plate, as if he hadn't heard me at first. After awhile of him playing with his fork and me watching him, he sighed and admitted, "Because…"
"Because why?" I demanded.
"She would never go for a guy like me." He mumbled.
This time I was the one who was rolling his eyes, thinking my good friend was acting like a good fool right now.
Timmy may be awkward around other people and doesn't always know the right thing to say, but I've seen how he was with Tecna. Whenever he was with her, he seemed like a different person who was the opposite of shy, always smiling whenever she would turn his way, they would chuckle at each other's jokes, and he would always seem so calm and relaxed.
Conversation between them was always so easy and natural, because they had many things in common. Like Timmy, Tecna was obsessed with science and computers, the right person to go to when seeking information on the newest gadgets practically lived in the library and read more books in a whole week than I can finish in a entire month. She was also awkward around people, but unlike Timmy who shies himself away she was too serious for her own good.
Aside from being a sharp brain, she was also quite the looker with her very attractive face, short hair colored a shade that was a cross between light purple and hot pink, teal bluish-green eyes bright with intelligent, and a very good figure.
"Timmy, I can tell Tecna really likes you. You like her back, so stop worrying and ask he out already." I said.
"No offense, Helia, but I hardly think you would be the right person talking about romance when you don't have any crushes on your won." Timmy said.
Now that was something I couldn't agree with. He knew me too well enough to know I really don't date. Some girls have asked me out before, but even though I was flattered I still turned them down because half were girls I've friends with at school while the other half really weren't my type. True was I really don't date, because I was waiting for the perfect girl to come along. The perfect girl would be my dream girl, someone who was easy to talk to and shared my hobbies, was as lovely on the inside as she was beautiful, and was the right girl for me.
"Your dream girl doesn't count." Timmy said, as if he was able to get into my head and see what I was thinking.
"She's out there somewhere, Timmy. I know she is." I said, though I already knew he would think my heads was in the clouds again.
Timmy shook his head while rolling his eyes, then his eyes lowered down on my open sketchbook and looked at my new sketch of my dream girl. He shook his head again, this time doing a satisfied smile. "The only place where your dream girl seems to exist is in your sketchbook."
Ignoring him, I looked down at the picture of the beautiful, smiling girl, sighing as I brushed my fingers against her cheek while envisioning how soft and velvet-like the skin would be. Maybe my head was in the clouds for thinking there was someone for me, just taking time to reveal herself, but I was bit of romantic and knew somewhere, out there, was the girl for me, probably thinking about me, too.