My Love, My Sunshine (Chanlix)[ COMPLETED]

13(final)

Time skip-3 years

Author POV

They say time is a thief, but now Chan saw that in fact, that it was not. Time was a merchant. Time was not a thief, but a friend guiding him to his final destination, preparing him for his final purpose. To be a writer.

Writer is a weaver of words. He/she takes the threads of words, and weaves them into a pattern that could fill another person’s mind with beauty, or the choice of words may be patterned to create a wide array of responses and emotions. The consciousness of the reader might be awakened - by the weaver’s mere words.

“Mr. Chan do you have anything to say to all the new and starting writers out there?” a female reporter asked.

“Well, all I would like to say to the new
staring writers out there is, when you are writing a book, it's just not writing your thoughts. It's creating people. It's creating an alternate universe to ours. You have the power to destroy a life, but to also make a new one. You have the power to see the destination, while your people are left wondering if their creator will allow them to see that accomplishment. You are their God, their Creator. You have the ability to make anything happen. Life, Death.
Sickness, Health. Rich, Poor. Compassionate, Cold. Sane, Insane.

Happiness, Sadness. You have the ability to control all this as the words are carved by your hands. You have a universe in your hands - Yours, and only yours. And one day, you will share that universe to others, and give them a chance to see yet another story of another person. You are your own God. Writers, Artists, Directors - They create another alternate universe, and they are Gods and Goddesses too. They are, in a sense, your brothers-and-sisters-in-arms. It’s breathtaking, when you realize just how much power you have. And what will you do with this power, knowing you have so much?”

“Wonderful answer, Mr. Chan.”

“Thankyou” Chan replied. He looked fresh and happy on the outside but he was still broken waiting for his heart to fix on the inside, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“So Mr. Chan as we all know you are dropping your new book named ‘My Sunshine Lix’ is this book related with your life or your ‘lix’ as the title suggest?”

“Yes, it related with my life” Chan said smiling softly as he opened the first page of his book and he was met with the smell of a new book.

They say that the strongest link to sparking a memory is through one of the six senses - not sight, taste or touch, not even sound, but smell. After Chan smelled the book he was reminded of lix. All those days they had spent together in the book store and library searching and smelling all the new books.
Memories are as preserved flowers in saffron pages, the gentle reminder of something passed. It brushes through the subconscious, recalling memories that bring out the deepest spark of nostalgia of the soul.

The happiness is infectious. It starts as a tingle in Chans fingers and toes, much like the feeling he has when he is anxious, but instead of worrisome it's warm. He can feel it pass through him like a warm ocean wave, washing away the stress of his day to leave him refreshed inside. The feeling is a blissful evocation of time spent with Felix with the books. How he loved those days when they walked around and simply talked, laughed and made silly jokes. Those were the days he loved, and enjoyed every minute.

The happy memory comes as a welcome stranger through the door, suddenly present and lighting up the room with a smile.
The happy memories that nurture are forever the simple, the humble and every day, the things that mother earth and heaven bestow.

He looked at the picture of his lix which was on the last page.

A photograph, that was all it took for the tears to burst Chan’s dam of restraint. He clutched the solid book tight in his hand, able to see a ghostly reflection of his face in the thin sheet it was laminated with.