Oneirataxia

Shredded Paper | short story [eng]

[tw!] implied/referenced delusion and maladaptive daydreaming // pic illustration from twitter ᰔᩚ

writer's note:
the idea of this chapter came up when i surfed into my twitter timeline, and the pict (just like i put on the wattpad media) popped up. it was like, clink! there's something in my head that has to be quickly written down. and then, i went to my group chat and i asked my friends, which one the saddest : fictional lover from book or from movies/series. the answers for book are two people and for movies/series is only one person. so, i decided to go with fictional lover from book!

i hope this chapter is not giving you guys any disappointment. happy reading!

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If Alice could go to Wonderland by chasing a white rabbit down to the rabbit hole. Then, she met with many peculiar creatures and befriended with them. She could also turned her own body into big or small, any size she wanted. Not just that, she, too, had an intense dangerous time travel trip after the moment she went through the looking-glass for the sake of helping her best friend known as the Mad Hatter.

Alice could come and go freely into her fantasy world. Living side by side with creatures there as if Wonderland was her second home. She had everything she desired. She made her own extraordinary dreams into something vivid. Too real and even people she told her fantasy journey to didn't believe what she said. They said that Alice was nothing but a delusional little girl.

But, I am not her. I am not that Alice who's coming from a fairytale that mothers love to read for their children in their bedtime. I suppose that I am better than her.

I am more than Alice.

There is no a rabbit hole I have to go down or a looking-glass I have to walk pass through. I do not need all those things to fulfill my desires; to let my imagination out of my head and change it into something I can spot with both of my eyes wide open; to create my own fantasy world in realistic way.

The only thing I have is a book, a tragic romance book that I'm deeply in love with. Not that I want my love story to be as miserable as the plot of the novel, but I want the main character to feel the joy in his life. He had enough craps to deal with, went up and down just to reach his only happiness which was getting together with the love of his life. But then, at the end, the writer had to kill off his lover in a very gruesome way to die.

I simply want him to get out of his grief and join me in this wonderful world, a real one. I can be his new lover. He can get more than he deserves. I can take care of him. I can give my whole body and soul for him so that he doesn't have to suffer from the unfairness he got in the book.

Not the same as Alice, I cannot just directly jump in through the book pages–just like Alice did with the rabbit hole nor the looking-glass–hoping that I could go inside the book world and save him from the disaster. It doesn't work like that.

The book pages are nothing but words which have been arranged beautifully into sentences that became a whole plot of a complicated novel story. And for that reason, I need to think of the way how to get him out of the book.

Surely, it's easy for me. I don't have to think hard about it. My mind is built different. There are dozen of ideas inside my functional brain.

I quickly run to my stationery table which placed at the corner of my study room near the rack of my reading books and grab one of my black marker. I walk back to my previous position then stand in front of the empty space between the study room door and the fireplace–a sage green colored wall with no photo frames or art painting on it; a completely empty wall.

I stare at the empty wall for a moment. Trying to figure out what should I do first. After that, I take steps closer to the wall and start drawing the sketch of him that I already pictured in my mind.

A few minutes passed, the sketch is done. There is still a one thing left before the final touch later. I walk fast to the table I use for reading books, and there it is, the tragic romance book I talked about earlier. It lays on top of the table.

Without hesitation, I open the book and shred the book pages into pieces, from the very beginning to the very last chapter. The shredded papers floating around the room like leaves fell down from the tree. I look up with pride. There is a hopeful smile on my face.

"We'll meet soon, my darling," I murmured to myself before collecting the papers on the wooden floor.

After all the shredded book pages have been collected by me in my left arm, I grab the scissors along with the glue on the stationery table. And then, I start to cut them with the following of the sketch pattern using the scissors carefully. Eventually, all the papers have been cut out, then with the fully-hearted motion I stick the papers onto the sketch on the wall using the glue.

I let out a long heavy sigh. The job has taken at least thirty minutes of my time and I really hope this will work out as my expectation.

Because, all I want is nothing but give him a life he always deserves.

At last, the final touch, I say something under my breath with both of my eyes closed,

"I give my mind, body, and soul for you so that you can live the life you are worthy of. I am here to protect and please you with the love you always need. Here is the world and you may live in it with me for eternity."

I blow the words I said as strong as I blow candles on top a birthday cake. And I wait for five seconds. I count it down silently with my inner voice.

The count down is over, my eyes still wide shut. I'm starting to panic because nothing happens. Everything still the same. No form of life but me in this study room. I don't want to directly jump into the conclusion so I give another five seconds, perhaps something will happen for real.

An uneasy movement I sense near me followed by the raspy voice, "Thank you for bringing me to life, my dearest."

My body is quivering as a reaction for hearing his voice for the first time. I open my eyes impatient and suddenly tears fall down.

The tears of joy.

I see him. A perfect form of a human being. He looks so real despite he came from a fictional world. I successfully created him.

I run to him and pull him into a tight loving hug. Both of us are smiling and still in disbelief and shock that this moment is actually happening.

I am indeed more than Alice.

-end.