I Hope You Dance

1

Prolouge:

I have always hated going to places and promoting my fictions. I know it will help increase the market of my books, but whenever it happens, the same questions are asked all over again. I'm sick of it. 

I arrived fairly early. The organizers lead me to the wide glass box room overlooking to the high-towers here in our place. The usual thing I do whenever I go inside the room is to check myself. How I look, and how I'll be presenting myself to the interested people. I hate the length of my long-sleeved shirt with few anchor embellishments and this flowy slacks. People always define me as an old sack. Who cares? It's all I have in my small closet.

I headed to the small stage facing lots of chairs. I hope those seats will not be fully occupied. I paced to the nearest chair and placed my own copy of my book on my lap.

This will take a while.

"Stories, whether it is fictional or realistic are believed and are expected to set off happily and all the problems are resolved. A lot of people does, but not all. Especially me." My voice rosed around the place. It felt releaving half nerve-wracking telling that in front of many aspiring writers, avid readers and critics who always asks me, why am I that tragic to the stories I write. I don't explain telling that 'everything happens for a reason' nor 'I experienced it and I want to apply it to everything'. That's so common and the people who's asking you will never be satisfied with it. I do it honestly. I don't want to sound pretentious. I write what I believe, nothing else.

"Why is that so?" A uniformed woman asked.  Trying to dig everything out just looking at her face. With her left brows raising making her wrinkles evident.

"Plainly because it is realistic. People wants real, the truth. Those quotes and phrases that can lift them up from their false beliefs." I replied looking straight at her.

"Were you you able to experience it? Like those sad scenes and lines from your fictions?" She added.

"Luckily no. Indeed experiencing would be the most essential and appropriate to be able to write one. But in my case, I observe deep and ask deeper."

She sat down. It seems that she's contented and I wish she got my perspective. I usually don't get that a lot. Hence, people just wouln't stop asking over and over again. And I'm just getting used to it.

"What's your new book all about?" This time, a sweet appealing young girl asked through the open mic. Holding a childish handkerchief and presses it to her neck.

"I always believe that when I write, I won't settle just ending it and make it marketable. That's so unprofessional. I make it catchy, readable, not exaggerated and most of all it can get into your deepest emotions that'll make you realize things. And this story is all about Jenna. And is entitled, ' I Hope You Dance '.

Jenna

Probably some people starts their day thinking on how not to be late in school, in work and in different appointments the daily life offers. But questioning me that, I will probably answer that I always start hoping and praying that this day wouldn't be so hard to me. Remembering those days that I couldn't even open my eyes, can't breathe and sometimes can't move. I know it's very unfortunate but this is the fate I have on my shoulders.
I'm physically unhealthy. My lungs don't work that good so mother opted to just keep me inside our house in all matters, asthma probably. And those past long years that I've had, made me the weakest and hopeless object in this world. Remembering those days that I can't go out and play with my friends, I can't eat those foods that every child is very curious about. I don't even know what Pizza tastes. My usual diet is vegetables, fruits and crops. I can taste meat twice a month either once nor none at all. I even forgot what roasted chicken tastes.

All day I'm beside my mother watching her doing things that sometimes tells me that "You should be bored, you deserve it!" Well, that's true, indeed. Sometimes when I'm not feeling well, my mother is going loco and just rushes me on our way to the hospital. And again I'll stay for quite long. She raised me lone. And even though this world gave me such a bad life, but having my noble mother just eases my sufferings and I feel so happy and blessed. Reason about that? Well, usual fights that lead to physical hurting just made everything the problem a whole. Financial and my father's bad habits summed it all. My mother worked as a cook in a restaurant but now she based herself in our home and receives orders and get paid with extra tip to help my expenses in the hospital. We are lucky to have those kind of neighbors, those who can't cook well and kind ofcourse. Since father left us when I was 15, we haven't heard any from him or even his so called friends. Eventhough he left us, we still bother to care but it seems he never cared for us.

Right now, I'm inside my hospital room, casting my glare outside the window and just seeing the falling leaves pass by. This room have all the entertainment every bored and unhealthy patient needs but I don't see any interest on it. I prefer watching the tree and sometimes I imagine we are talking. I'm serious about it. Well, I'm hoping I can get out of here as soon as possible and maybe never go back.