Every child, in a momentary phase in their life ought to encounter a boy named Charles. Not that all of them remembered him as a boy, but it was the image most of them found together with their childhood dreams.
For a girl named Bebeng, however, it came to her as a distant memory. She remembered a tree; yes, there was this tree. And then there was this "Charles". Strange though, she thought, for she had met a lot of Charles in her life now, but this one was a strange one. She had a faint memory of some song, and now that she thought about it, never did she know exactly what kind of creature he was; what he actually was.
It all started, in a way most noble stories began, once upon a time. So Bebeng sat comfortably on a wooden chair, and tried to recall the day she had her own "once upon a time".
Once upon a time, in a peculiar Sunday afternoon, a petite girl, Bebeng, together with her St. Bernard dog, was taking a stroll down the path of her Grandma's house. The place was surrounded by trees, for it was summer, and that was the time most kids, like Bebeng, visited their Grandparents' houses and spent summer there. It was called a peculiar Sunday afternoon because it really was peculiar, how, although it was clearly summer time, the rain came down merrily on the green trees.
So Bebeng already had an idea that this particular summer day was going to be a strange one, and boy, was she right.
As she and her dog were walking down the path, with an umbrella of course, Lila, her sweet loyal dog, led her to a big Sycamore tree. She stood quietly for a while, listening to the sound of falling rain, when she heard an unfamiliar tune—a whistle. Something, or someone rather—we will never know—was whistling a jolly tune, and it went on and on, as the melody of the tune kept on playing merrily on Bebeng's ears.
"Hullo." The whistling came to a stop, and it was replaced by Lila's barking. Bebeng had to hold her leash tightly, as she felt her body being tugged by the dog to a direction. "L-Lila! Do hold on, please. You know I can't see."
This one was true, too. You see, she's blind, and Bebeng couldn't see the creature her dog was leading her to.
The barking stopped, and for a brief moment, Bebeng waited, listening, trying to decipher what was going on. "Hullo." It was a voice. A boy's voice. And although it was only the voice she heard, she felt a slight motion on her mind. Her instinct, though at that time she didn't know it was her instinct, told her boldly that this was a new playmate.
"Hullo," replied the gentle voice of Bebeng. Her curiosity and delight with her new playmate grew, and she couldn't stop herself from saying, "What's your name?"
"What's a name?" She heard the voice speak. She found the question rather strange and she tilted her head while saying, "Oh, a name. It's something... used to call someone, For example, my name is Vanessa. But a lot of people call me Bebeng. You should call me Bebeng, too. That's my nickname."
"There's a nickname too?" the voice asked, confused.
"Oh, but it's all the same thing."
"Well, if that is so, then my name is Charles. And my friends' names are... James. James and Eric."
