Trail Of Broken Dreams [ONGOING]

CHAPTER 11: EVERYTHING WILL BE...

The saying 'the more you look, the less you see' is completely subjective; however, it does not apply to the meadow.

Is it the buzzing bee? The Eden-green grass? The endless crystal-blue sky? One might even begin with the whispering of the wind which rhymes with the sweet symphony of the songbird but what I noticed first were a grasshopper and a dragonfly whirring and fighting.

Walking in the meadow feels like walking on a page that just fell off a paradisaic storybook or better still; maybe, I just landed in the legendary Land of Oz.

It wasn't just the sights that pleased these feelings. The sounds, smells, and tastes were out of this world too. I could smell the sweetness of baked apple and the syrup fresh smell of flowers in the air; I even could see the weeping waterfall; the mountain, shaped as an old hag's teeth; a dewy-eyed fairy tree cloth with cobwebs that looks like a silver fishing net; whilst sitting on a high rocky surface under a huge black walnut tree with many leaves on the ground surface which as been falling one by one, resulting to its now skeleton-thin shape. All this I noticed while sitting next to Miss Charles.

"The views are breathtaking right?" Sarah's words crash with the steady thunk-thunk-thunk of ripe nuts falling to the ground.

"Nah, one might easily confuse it with... 'Pretifying' that's the word," I said, listening to the ear-burn wind as it pass.

"You know, my Dad always takes me to see acme of the mountain every Thursday; sometimes in the rain, we usually hide under an oak tree," Sarah said somewhat teary.

"That's one hell of a Dad," I replied softly.

"You still haven't told me why you brought me here," I said filling in for her silence.

"Oh that, I need your help."

"I figured," I said, expecting her to say more.

"I don't know if you could please write me a poem about the meadow," she paused.

Before I could say a word she quickly cut in, "It's an assignment."

"How sure I'm the right man for the job," I reached for a stone and throw it aimlessly faraway.

"After the Café stunt you pull, the poem amazed me; is like you, the rain and the words understand each other," she paused again to see if I'm listening.

"Nice compliment for someone considered to be a stalker."

"Stalker?" She said suddenly, "who says you're a stalker?"

"But you know you aren't bad with words, we are just coming from where I saw your work," I said, evading her question.

"That's different, that's a song and besides it was what I felt."

"Felt?" I asked surprisingly.

"Yeah, those are my sorrow in harmony."

"Oh silly me, sorry about your Dad."

"Oh Khalid," she exclaimed.

"So you remember my name," I said, trying to make her laugh.

"Why not? That's my Dad, Dad's name."

"Wow, so many memories."

"Not much to stop it from fading away," Sarah mused.

"If you don't mind, what happened?" I said, acting like a normal sympathetic teenager.

She bent down cleaning a teardrop on her eyes. I noticed quickly and said, "you don't have to say anything if you don't want to." She sit upright again and began talking.

Years back; my dad and I usually head to work/school together; I was just 12 then. We witnessed two grade 10 students; one black, the other white, fighting; we were reluctant to know what was happening until we saw a police officer stop by. He arrested the black boy without questioning and told the white kids to go their separate ways. I saw my dad immediately pissed up after this event and I asked him why was the black boy arrested. He told me not to bother; always obey the rules and regulations; and not get involved in interracial bullshit.

This didn't dawn on me until a year later when going on a father-daughter bonding trip, it was about to rain and we decided to go home, I was cold so I had to lie down on my dad's lap in the front seat while he speeds off not to let the rain caught up with us. It was a lonely road, the path we drove takes us past two police officers in a car. My Dad immediately pulled over when he saw the car trying to ride in what will normally look like his blindspot.

One police officer shouted, Put your left hand out of the window. Open the door with your right hand, come out gently, and hands in the air.

My dad followed all their instructions, I was half awake then still lying down due to the cold.

My dad got out and ask what was the problem? The officer ignored without giving any answer and walked around the car inspecting. The officer told him to open the boot and the glove's cabinet, and there he saw me lying in the front seat; This time fully awake and scared, I was just yelling Dad, Dad, and all he could say was everything will be alright hun, just listen and do what they say. The police officer saw me and ask my Dad who I was, despite hearing our conversation; he replied, his daughter. Just then, the officer burst into laughter; immediately, the race jokes began prolly because I was white and my Dad was black.

He kept on asking if he is my dad, that I should not be afraid, that I can tell them anything. I replied yes multiple times he then asked my dad for his ID and other stuff, which he gave to them. When the officer saw he had no case here, he went to tell the other officer parked away from us. My dad bends down once more to tell me everything will be... Then I heard a gunshot.

I can see Sarah holding back her tears at this moment. I tried my best to console her.

I could feel some dewdrops of rain on our hands. Just then, I noticed Sarah and I has been holding each other's hand for quite a time now. The cloud soon passed, leaving the grass and earth to steam gently like incense smoke.

Night had fallen and the Owl hooted as they ghost past moon-splashed trees and the scurrying of frightened rodents ruffles the leaves.