The Collector

CHAPTER 1

It was a peculiar day when it all started. My limbs were shut tight against the cold. Mists bursted out from my mouth like a cacophony of steam vents from a train I used to see in a nearby village when I was a child. Leaves fell down from the line of trees that borders a rugged path like a confetti of vibrant red and yellow streamers. Everything felt magical.

It was then that I came across to another path that leads to a certain clearing, of which I am sure I have never seen since the past sixteen years of my life in the remote town. It was a hidden cove, hid amongst the shadows of willow trees that swayed gracefully in a cold, gentle breeze of an afternoon break. At first, I was unsure and uneasy to proceed but then, not just of curiosity, but volition, I was led.

In there was a thing I have yet to discover. It has been waiting for someone; for somebody. It has ever since, ever been desiring to be seen and found - like a trap of some kind. The resolution that "nothing is an accident" made me feel slightly want to beat myself for being inconsiderate at making decisions, since I haphazardly seen the situations as a mere coincidence and therefore, an "opportunity". In a small and brief strolling by within the area, I could not help but recognize a thing lying at the middle of the clearing. I inched closer.

The object was minuscule, but not too tiny not to be seen with the naked eye. The sad thing to remember was that although it doesn't look appealing to look at its close contact, that fact that it is an emanating light, lures anyone to the point of his demise. Soon.

It was a shabby, antique, and glimmering item. - A white gemstone that beamed of diverse colors, in about a hundredfold, encased in an ancient, silvery metal frame that protruded in curved directions guided around the gem. The colors appear sporadically the moment it was tilted or changed in its angle in a fraction of a second. There was some etching on the metal frame, which I believe was a sort of some ancient language. Attatched to it was a brown lace, mildly covered in moss that proved the object was lying there for about some time since it has been abandoned.

I was stern and a little bit shy at first, but soon picked the thing up for close inspection. The first thing that came to my mind was that I could make a living for it. I was, after all, never been fond and into jewels or trinkets of sorts, and so I was resolute in selling it. My bereft family would somehow feel a little bit comforted to the idea of some nice and warm food on the table after an onerous tragedy that hit - an irrevocable calamity. The money could make us survive for a whole lot year, for it seemed to me that the item was not like any other thing. It was otherworldly.

One thing that crept me out was the fact of a deafening silence around me. It was not like that this occasion was very common, thus insignificant. To my subtle fear, I kept the seeming necklace to my pocket and manage to return home in a short while.

A path that led home.

Our house was not like any other. Some nearby villages were blessed with decent houses, fair and steady enough to resile an unexpected wind surge. Our's was as rugged as an old mountain cabin that has discretely withstood several torrential storms, albeit left light damages on its roof and walls. But still, nothing beats a snug and familiar place like home.

When I was a kid, I used to climb our roof and settle there through a very close tree beside our house once, every morning. Fortunately, I have not injured myself for doing it so frequently. From there, I reveled at the feel of the wintry, mountain breeze that chilled, though interestingly soothed the inward soul of a young wanderer. The scenery of a far away mountain, the sight of the quiet houses of the town below and the breath-taking view of the local wildlife that sure pleased a curious, little child made a memorable impact in my past.

I entered my room which was past right of the corner of our house, passing straight from the door. Maybe if the fireplace at the common area were lit, I could never felt tensed - that it somehow reminds me of my family, still intimate and complete. I unbuttoned my furry coat and hanged it on the wall were small hooks waited. My boots were placed under the rustic bed; patched sheets of blankets were folded on which I slept every night. I lodged on it, trying at first to think about things on the past and of the future things to do.