LUCKy

Chapter ONe

Mark Stan's POV

Someone once said, "Think Positive",—I mean, everyone once said—so, positively, I consider myself lucky for having only a year left to live. I mean, not that I have ONLY a year left to live, but the fact that now I know WHEN I'm going to die―also one once said, "Not at this extent". I know that thinking positive is somewhat too brave, especially for my case and it is too much impossible, but, for the story's sake, I do. I have always been thinking and stressed out of how my future could get any better or how can I make any difference―or if I could make any difference at all. People always wanted to be special―I mean different. But the thought of everyone wanting to be different made me wonder that everyone's the same―coz they all want to be different. Hmm, sound spiraling. And now I'm finally free of thinking warily―to be the type of person who doesn't care about the future. Like, hey! I am now one of those who give no care about life. I did cared so much about my life, planned my future step by step, that it tires me to the bones of my―I don't know, ankle? Anyway, I was once doing all sorts of things needed to be done, just to be one of those who wants to succeed and eventually actually succeeded. Passing projects in due dates, memorizing theses, feeding my mind with things that our teachers and professors said―that I realized, is this all we will ever going to learn? This is some kind of child deprivation, only that were not child anymore and not the having fun part of being a child is being deprived from us but the knowledge. This is such a spoon-feeding―like other GOOD student, and et cetera, I did do a lot of things. So now what? Where are those memorized speeches now? What should I do with those algebraic expressions that extends long enough to fill out two pages of my examination papers? What good those researches in P.R. 1 will give me? I have always fooled my emotions and feelings―acting like I isn't tired―just to do those things but look at all of it now. Its all useless.

I am a dead meat now―I mean maybe after eight months. My parents―like how you would expect parents would act when their child is going to die soon―they're desperate to find cure or to cure this barnacle-stuff inside my head. We've been to so many hospitals and a lot of doctors but no one could help. They don't even understand what's really happening to me, or rather why it is in me. All of them just repeatedly explained what's happening and as I can see―even mom and dad desperately hides it from me―it all cost as a lot of money in a trash. But then this last doctor we've talked to, Mr. Patrol, finds out that the tumor, like some other tumor, is caused by a spreading cancer cells. Mr. Patrol also said that the cancer is spreading rapidly that a therapy will be no more of a help. Therapies are done to slow down the spreading of the cancer cells but in mine it'll not work for some technical-medical explained reasons. When the cancer cells finally invaded, I mean covered―though its kind of a the same coz the cells are like some Spartan warriors trying to bring down walls of castles in a world called BRAIN―all area in my brain, it'll kill the brain―and when I say the brain it is my brain. An estimation of Mr. Patrol about my lifespan is that it'll only be just around eight months or a year so, but only if I got lucky―lucky huh? He also, hesitantly, said that I am slightly lucky to be able to move normally―that'll only last for a couple of weeks from now, he said―because it doesn't yet affects any physique movements or acts of mine. But still, yeah―a little sarcastic for that! I am really lucky for that―that the Spartans didn't yet go straight through the walls and killed me, just generously gives me chance. Have a chance to do what? People might actually think of doing what they were dreaming of if they'd be in my shoe. But oh, actually its funny that I don't have any dreams. Sorry to disappoint you but I do have no dreams at all. It all happened the moment my life was decided. I'm going to perish any soon, so why bother thinking about dreams? Maybe its just usual that it was one of those very first things that you will be forgetting when you know you're going to die any soon. So now, I don't have any dreams at all.

At first―the first days that Mr. Patrol told me everything about this Spartans stuffs in my head and the life-span―I was really scared and somewhat mad about something. I have no one to blame, and it hurts having no one to blame about. I cried and cried all day―my parents did too. Just that dad cried longer than mom―and just stare at a complete nothing after. It is actually just a very gloomy―if you look at it in other different perspective and in expected view―but I feel like it is more of a complicated one because I'm not that sad―though I cried a lot. Maybe because I have learnt to be positive at all times, and now causing some other energy in my mind saying, Think positive, Stan. Think positive. So I realized that I still have time, but just a year though? It is that short? What am I supposed to do with just that a little time? Its like, if I want to learn different band instruments and do a one man band show―of course, mine―for a year, I will only finish the part where I was just about to be buying the instruments and half-way of learning it. Oh! What should I do?

But then―considering again that I have this Spartans inside my brain, getting my brain all worked up is not such a great idea―so finally and without any other option, I have accepted the feeling of exhaustion and warily go to the side of acceptance―an acceptance of I'm going to die. And so I think, since, it is already here; why not make it the best last year―or months? Did I really manage to think about that? Well, what the heck-else should I do? Be sad and gloomy; again? Find something to make my hopes up? Or just cry and cry and cry? That's boring and dark―I'm a bit scared of darkness. I know that after just a year I will be just this big-brown-dead meat.

I proposed my what to do list―which is to make it the best year or months of my dying life―to my parents and after all the arguments, my parents come to thinking that they just want me to make the rest of my life happier. They have agreed about that―like I was just proposing some project to make our city a lot easier. My biggest and last proposal got accepted. Yes! Of course I was startled and surprised that afternoon. I didn't even think that they'll listen to me because it sounded silly―but they did. They miraculously did agree. I thought they would want me to rest and just rest my whole little-left of life, find cure and do therapies―and that of course means that I will, 'til I die, be in a hospital, just lying in a bed like an already-dead kid. But instead, they said "Go on kid, make it the best days of yours", It was a jaw-dropping moment. Well, obviously, I was thankful and happy about it that I hugged them so hard. That's Great! I was really having trouble timing the right moment to tell them that but I guess I did a great job. I come to thinking, I'm really great in persuading people that I could be such a great entrepreneur, but counter attacked it, ―But still no. I don't have much time for that. So since it was agreed, what now?

A/N: So? Haha! Should I continue?