A Glimpse of Luck (Slow Updates for School)

Chapter 1 - The Journal (5th Revision)

Chapter 1 – The Journal

Deston sat in the middle of the throng—his hands running on the cool steel frame of his wheelchair. The party was in full swing, food and drink all around.

He looked around, seeing every villager. Everybody was smiling, enjoying the party ran by Mat Antenin, the Steward of the North. That day seemed to be normal, as normal as the clouds drifting in the sky. All looked calmed, peaceful and happy, chatting with their neighbors and friends with extreme delight.

It was mid-fall morning when the party started. Mists gathered amid air, concealing the suns, which was not bothering. Forming thick layers of haze, dust hovered aloft towards the sky and the clouds gathered in an area yet there was no sign of rainfall. They turned darker and darker with the wind gaining some speed—the air being noticeably humid and warm—as the party continued. It was as if something was going to take place that day, which seemed bad for Deston.

Deston felt the cold breeze passing across his cheeks, complementing to the coziness of the surrounding.  It was refreshing and stimulating and it gave Deston a strange sensation. He thought that hope was lost, though he wanted his life to improve. As impossible desires, he had considered his thoughts. However, he thought that everything could possibly happen.

He surveyed his surrounding and observed for the table. Deston did not want to get himself into a populated place, though wanted to get a cheesecake on the table. He was too shy, leading him to starve. He observed around the table, waiting for the opportunity to grab some. When the table was less populated, Deston quickly moved his wheelchair towards the table and grabbed a lapful of it.

Deston ate another cheesecake: it was his fourth. His goblet of strawberry juice was half-empty, which swayed as Deston’s hand shook in confusion. He did not want to drink nor eat anymore. His stomach was full already, full of cheesecakes and strawberry juice, though he had not eaten yet the main dish.

He envied everybody. His cheeks turned reddish as he continued to stare around. Bearing in his mind that he could not be like them, he sighed immensely.  He had thought that he was despaired and hopeless. He was unlike them. At the moment, he had sought to be normal like a common typical and average man in his late twenties.

Deston thought of something astonishing. He wanted to strengthen himself, not wanting to think of anything terrible. Thinking of something worse of his condition might make him lonelier.

Deston felt the urgency to sneeze, closing his eyes. Deston clumsily took out his handkerchief from his pocket. Before he could sneeze, the wind blew taking it from his hands. It swiftly landed on the ground when the wind slowed for a moment and was meters away from him. He had to get it. He had to move his wheelchair and pick it up.

Moments after it landed on the ground, a man picked Deston’s handkerchief. Deston furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the man, trying to recognize him. It was a face that he had not seen before; a face that he did not recall seeing from his past. Deston stared at the man, recalling more in his deep memories. He recalled more but the man was not really in any of his memories.

The man looked at the handkerchief for so long, reading what was embroidered on the handkerchief. He turned his head to every direction, looking for the owner of the handkerchief. Giving the man a mighty glare, Deston just gave him a sign that he was the owner of the handkerchief.