Snow White is a Gangster (Published under Cloak Pop Fiction)

Chapter 42: Nightmares

Chapter 42: Nightmares

My mind was telling me that it was just a dream–that everything was just an illusion. But it felt so real that I could almost hear my heart beating furiously against my chest. I had the urge to touch everything with my fingertips. I saw the tree house sitting like a large nest on a green, lush tree. It was beautiful and a welcoming haven to me--to us.

"What are you doing down there? Come up here!" Tawag ng binatilyong lalaki mula sa tree house bago ito muling pumasok sa loob.

Lihim akong napangiti at saka mabilis na tumakbo tungo sa tree house. Maingat at medyo nahihirapan pa ako sa pag-akyat rito. Madalas ay mapapasala ang tapak ng aking mga paa sa kahoy na hagdan na magiging dahilan upang mahulog ako. Subalit sa pagkakataong ito, nagawa kong makaakyat sa itaas nang hindi nasasaktan ang aking sarili.

When I entered the tree house, I saw cans of paint and yards of canvas. I saw smudges of ink on the desk and crumpled papers on the floor. The windows were open, welcoming the air breathed by the trees surrounding us. It was messy and beautiful. It was dark and lively.

I saw him sitting on a stool in front of a canvas. He was painting a peculiar garden that has a lot of black roses. Standing in the middle of it was a lady wearing a black dress. Her white bare back was turned to us and her long hair was pushed to her side. Even though I couldn't see her face, I knew she's a beauty.

"Who is she?" I asked. She must be someone from his class and I couldn't help the jealousy that was slowly creeping into me.

He laughed in his delightful musical voice, the one you would prefer listening to in the middle of the night, and said, "Don't you recognize her?"

Mataman kong tinitigan ang larawan subalit anumang pilit ko ay hindi ko mapag-sino ang babaeng naroroon. Kung totoo ngang kilala ko sya, nasisiguro kong hindi ko maaaring kalimutan ang kanyang ganda.

Ibinaling ko ang tingin sa pintor ng obrang ito at hindi ko mapigilang hindi suklian ang ngiting ibinibigay niya saakin. Ang liwanag at kislap ng kanyang mga mata ay hindi kayang itago ng mga anino na dulot ng mga puno. Siya ang araw at buwan sa lugar na hindi nasisikatan at natatanglawan ng mga bituin. Ang bawat ngiti niya ay naghahatid ng saya sa aking damdamin.

"I don't really know her," I said when I returned to myself after being lost by staring at his eyes.

"You'll know her when you get older. And I'll wait for that," sagot niya. Hindi pa rin nawawala ang ngiti sa kanyang mga labi habang ipinagpapatuloy ang pagpipinta. Gustuhin ko mang maupo sa isang gilid at ipagpatuloy ang pagbabasa sa nobelang iniwan ko ay hindi ko magawa. Sa halip ay nanatili akong nakatitig sa larawang kanyang ipinipinta.

Staring at the woman in the middle of the black roses was like being hypnotized. I couldn't look away; I couldn't even move my body. I wondered at the power it has, how it could captivate me that hard. And then as if magic, everything about the painting began to move. It started to look real in my eyes–-as if I was just staring at a scene through a window. The movement of the leaves and her hair because of the wind, I watched them as they danced to a slow music only that painting played. The color was more vivid beyond the oils and the paint that I started to doubt if it was just really a dream. And then the woman turned slowly until I met her eyes. And it all suddenly became familiar. I was staring into familiar eyes, a familiar face, and familiar body. Suddenly, the woman became me. Suddenly, I became the woman. And it terrified me.