Beyond Light And Darkness

Bright Corner

I

Dear reader,

Allow me to introduce myself as Lexington. Often referred to simply as Lex due to the tongue-twisting nature of my full name.

Today it dawned beautifully. Upon waking early, I recognized a familiar whistle-my friend's signature call. We Commenced on our customary morning walk, which inevitably led to another unforgettable adventure. You see, I consider myself an adventurer, part of a close-knit circle that excels on such escapades. It sounds like a scene from a film, though I hesitate to recount it all; truth be told, you might find my tales too incredible to believe.

Our outings commence at daybreak and conclude well into the night. Did I mention I'm just eleven years old? Despite the day's end, I remain exhilarated, eager for the next dawn's promise. Returning home, I forego dinner in favor of swift slumber, avoiding the slow passage of night, as if the night never existed. Each day unfolds uniquely, filled with its own distinct adventure.

I may have exaggerated slightly about skipping entire meals; after all, sustenance is essential. I dine on lunch, sometimes brunch, and occasionally dinner. Breakfast often eludes me, though not for any particular reason-I simply overlook it.

I reside in a middle-class town, within a modest yet respectable home; Entering my neighborhood, the first thing you notice is my house, marked by a big red door covered in stickers, each one placed by my hand, a testament to fleeting moments of childhood whimsy. Opening the door, there is a wooden door on the right leading to another apartment. It remains perpetually locked for my neighbor's privacy. Ahead, the stairs unfold in a peculiar pattern of faded yellow and red squares, intersected by triangles, like forgotten fragments of an artist's unfinished dream. Climbing these stairs, you are met by a large poster of a clear horizon. Often, I find myself standing there, lost in contemplation, as if the poster could offer an escape or a glimpse into a different reality. To the left, another wooden door leads to our apartment. Inside, the kitchen is immediately in view. The house, with its four bedrooms and two bathrooms, extends around this central point. And above it all, a roof. My family, though reserved from mention here, is honorable and caring. My mother, always concerned, frets especially during my escapades. I reassure her, yet her worry persists. As for my father, a soldier in the military, his absence is keenly felt. He works diligently, usually from dawn until midday, though exact details escape me.

I am an only child, a circumstance some deem fortunate, others less so. Personally, I remain undecided. Life keeps me occupied; I thrive on activity, always proclaiming, "There's always something to do. Life beckons, and we must answer its call." Thus, I persist day after day, unwavering in my resolve until my last breath.

It has been a pleasure conversing with you, dear reader, even as I do all the talking. Duty calls; my mother summons me for a task.

Dear Gentle Reader,

I must beg your pardon for the interruption earlier, an unavoidable summons by my dear mother for an errand, as previously mentioned. Many of my peers avoid such tasks, their reasons perhaps rooted in laziness-an aspect of which I am admittedly ignorant. Personally, I find purpose in such responsibilities; they afford me a sense of usefulness and satisfaction. Moreover, I view them as exercises in discipline, a notion I hold dear. Gratitude fills me for the life bestowed upon me and the individuals who gifted it. It is inconceivable to me to refuse them any aid within my capability.As I have alluded previously, and perhaps now explicitly stated, I am an adventurer at heart. Today, I shall recount to you one of my exploits, one I trust you will find more credible. Let us undertake this tale together; It began like any other day. "Whistle, whistle, whistle..." I awoke early, as always, to the familiar sound of my friend's distinctive call. It never failed to rouse me from slumber, each note a beckoning to adventure, a promise of thrilling escapades ahead. Rushing to the kitchen, I hastily grabbed a slice of bread before hurrying to the door. There, waiting eagerly, stood my friend Yazide. Though we had known each other only a few short months, our bond felt as though it spanned years. His sly demeanor intrigued me, and I relished his company. I must also mention Yazide's older brother, Houssin, whom we admired.Together, we embarked on our day's journey, first stopping by Yazide's home to summon Houssin with joyous shouts of his name. From an upper window, Houssin appeared, whispering in hushed tones to avoid waking the neighborhood. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he assured us with a nod, swiftly joining our eager trio.On this particular day, we chose to explore the nearby forest-a rare instance of planned adventure, guided more by the wind's whims than our own designs. Returning home briefly, I packed a small backpack with essentials: two water bottles, sandwiches layered with jelly and peanut butter-a map of sustenance for our trek.The forest greeted us with cool, refreshing air that seemed to invigorate my very soul. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting intricate patterns of shadow and light upon the forest floor. As we ventured deeper, towering trees and vibrant wildflowers captivated our senses. The birds' melodious songs filled the air with a rhythmic symphony, a nourishment akin to food for the body and reading for the mind. Amidst this serene setting, I felt truly alive, each moment brimming with excitement and wonder.Our exploration revealed treasures-sparkling streams, secret clearings adorned with wildflowers (admittedly an exaggeration, but the heart knows no bounds in its enthusiasm), and a fallen tree offering a panoramic view of nature's splendor. Pausing at a clear stream, we dipped our feet into its cool waters, reveling in the simple joys of camaraderie and nature's embrace. Between our wanderings, games and picnics punctuated our adventure, weaving imaginative tales of forest creatures and their secret lives. We raced through sun-dappled glades, played hide-and-seek amidst verdant foliage, and shared laughter over shared snacks beneath a clear sky.As the hours waned, we reluctantly decided to return home, retracing our steps along the untamed paths we had blazed. Though fatigued, a sense of fulfillment accompanied us, a testament to the day's exploration.Upon our return, I eagerly regaled my dear mother with tales of our forest odyssey. Her smile of shared joy stirred an indescribable warmth within me-an emotion I struggled to comprehend, perhaps akin to happiness. Amidst laughter and animated recounting, I reveled in the affectionate embrace of family and the unwavering support of cherished friends.

After all the conversing and mirth, his mother declared, "Alright, it's lunchtime, but before, L., can you go run to the store and bring those groceries I wrote for you on the list? It's on the table in the kitchen."

Do not be bewildered, dear reader. L. has departed momentarily. Do not mourn his absence, for it shall be brief. I shall persist in narrating his story for the present.

"Of course, Mother," L. replied promptly. He proceeded to the kitchen, retrieved the list, and exited, making his way toward the grocery store.

Lex entered the store, gathered everything listed, and upon exiting, turned right. Suddenly and abruptly, a strange beggar grabbed Lex by the wrist, He looked at him. "the beggar stood hunched, his posture betraying a once proud bearing now burdened by hardship. His clothes, though not filthy, bore the signs of weariness. Over a simple shirt, he wore a faded green coat that hinted at better days. His hat, worn and tattered, revealed a glimpse of unkempt hair underneath. His face, though somewhat clean, bore traces of despair and sorrow etched in its lines.

There was an air about him that defied easy categorization. Despite his attire, there lingered a fleeting impression of former dignity and hidden wealth. It was as if, in those brief moments, one could glimpse the shadow of a man who had known better days, now leaving one to wonder how life had betrayed him, Despite the belief that life, with its beauty and wonder, could not possibly betray him, it was clear that this man had betrayed himself." Lex pondered these thoughts as the beggar uttered: "Can you spare any change, Son."

Lex answered; "I am afraid I do not have any, Sir." The beggar uttered "I once was like you, optimistic, full of life. But look at me now, begging for coins from a boy. Life is unfair and unkind. It is a cruel world out there, kid. Do you know what I speak of?"

Lex scarcely responded while trying to disentangle himself from the clutch of the beggar's grasp. "I must not be talking to you, as I am not permitted to do so with strangers."

The beggar, with resentment, replied, "Must you look down upon me, boy, as I, to you, live an unconventional life no one understands, or knows, or tries, at least? I, you, we're the same. I am just a version of you that is developed and broken. Go on, kid, for I doubt you grasp the weight of my words. You're yet to develop the skill."

The beggar released his grasp from the poor boy's wrist, and Lex walked home, empathizing with the beggar for his wretched and miserable life. Lex's gratitude for what he has grown much stronger. He dismissed the beggar's words as the ramblings of a sorrowful, desolate man.

Upon returning home, they ate in silence, adhering to the belief that conversation during meals was inappropriate. Lex never quite understood this concept; perhaps it was rooted in the idea that one should fully immerse themselves in the act of eating, undistracted by idle chatter. After the meal, they washed their hands. His father, wearied from a long day of labor, took a nap, and his mother followed suit. Lex, however, did not sleep; he knew that napping in the afternoon would make it difficult to fall asleep at night, and he was adamant about drifting off quickly at night to hasten the passage of time.

Retreating to his room, Lex closed the door behind him and picked up a book for the first time. It had been sitting on the bookshelf, gathering dust. He carefully wiped it clean and began to read. The story was about a boy embarking on numerous adventures in search of treasure, and Lex felt a spark of inspiration.

As he delved deeper into the narrative, he found his thoughts wandering, distracted by something indeterminate. Later, while flipping through the pages, a word surfaced in his mind: "The beggar." He couldn't fathom why. He pondered aloud, "Life is quite beautiful, honestly. I do not see any other side of it. So, why did the strange fellow"-as he had come to refer to the beggar, a fellow stranger-"say the contrary of what I believe and know? Why did he claim the world is cruel and life unkind? What a peculiar fellow he is," Lex chuckled softly, "He must have been joking, trying to scare me. Ah, I understand now. It's impossible that life is unkind or that the world is cruel."

Dismissing his ruminations, he returned to his reading, savoring the fresh smell of the pages which heightened his excitement. For the first time, he lost himself in a book throughout the afternoon, unaware of the passage of time until the sun began its descent, casting a blue shade across the sky. He heard his friend calling his name. Without haste, he gently closed the book, placing it on his little student desk, and went out to join his friend, ready for an evening of play and conversation.