The Lucky One

Chapter Six: The Injury of Zafran

Your heart beats a little bit faster

There's tears where there used to be laughter

Now that I'm gone. . . .

You talk just a little bit softer

Things take a little bit longer

You hate when I'm gone.

     ~ Greyson Chance, Home is in your Eyes

Chapter Six:

The Injury of Zafran

In the darkness, Mark had not actually slept. For the past few seconds, he settled himself rattling the rocking chair, entirely drowned to the rhythm of the ticking of a luminous wall clock, or so it seemed, high against the wall. When he had turned resentful of its horrifying beats, he helped himself up from the chair and dashed before the wide window, the light gradually illuminating dimly.

As he was about to draw the curtains out, a soft creaking, almost peaceful as though it was after his attention, sounded below the sole of his right foot. When he looked down, the lights flashed blindingly bright from the woods. On the exact portion where his right foot had rested was a loose floorboard, partially sinking half an inch, but something seemed to hold it from dropping out deeper.

He ducked down and examined it. The floorboard was not nailed, obviously placed there to cover something below. Drawing his hand to reach it, Mark edged his nail on the floorboards’ gap, lifted and placed it aside. It was twice an arm’s length and still glowing.

What was uncovered appeared nothing but a hollow space for a second or two. It did not give much implication of importance. But when the walls of the hollow space beamed brighter, what lied there was a leather-skinned black guitar tucked sideways, its chamfered edges were reflecting back the amount of light inside.

There was a sudden rush of lightness and excitement that surged into his chest. Without talking, he brought the guitar out and returned the floorboard upon the hollow space.

Mark dropped himself on the edge of his bed near the table and gave it a soft strum. The sound emerged in harmony.

“This is great!” he barked under his breath.

Then melodies started popping out of his mind as he snatched the black journal notebook placed under the lamp shade on the table. He brought out the pen from his pocket and began humming a tune as he wrote on the lines.

There’s a dog in the neighbor I saw

Looking through the whitewash fence

A pretty girl was petting him

But he seemed not to mind at all

Hey, if I were him, I’ll never get tired

You’ll be surprised petting me 24/7

Here’s to the dog living next door

And to the pretty girl who made me want her more

Oh, it must be heaven on my case

But to him were, oh, just ordinary dog days

Since I moved to a new town square

I told my friends of the pretty girl there

They laugh at me like I wasn’t here

Oh, how I’d die just to have you near

Hey, just count 13 months and I’ll be back