Is there life after death?

This is probably the question of all people in the universe. Where do we go after our age had reached its limit, and our cells had stopped regenerating? It is basic science stated that human body would eventually rot beneath the ground, leaving only the bones until Mother Nature ate them and left us with nothing.

Evanescent; our existence is like bubbles – short, quickly fading and disappearing. It is just like bubbles on the surface of water, which eventually would vanish no matter how we tried to blow them after the water is gone.

How about the so-called human souls?

Now that is another mystery. What is soul; how can you define something that does not exist to the eyes? What kind of matter is the soul – is it a gas or the most unlikely, liquid? In which part of human body could I see the soul – suppose I dissect my brain, can I see it curling up beneath the nerve systems and impulses?

This is a very interesting matter to solve.

Oh wait.

Where am I?

Pale grey bricks pedestrian walk with mirrored buildings on each side. One ice cream parlor on the left, filled with teenagers and one newspaper stand not far from it, packed with white collars. Symmetrically arranged trash cans and potted plants were on the right side. The air filled with the smell of sweats, unpleasant carbon monoxide from car exhaustions and a little bit of rain. I notice that it was raining last night and thus I must have not wandered too far from my apartment.

This is the street of the time square, only three blocks from my place. This is quite a record. I usually ended up next to the river at the edge of the town.

They said old habit dies hard. I like to think, and I would likely lose inside my thoughts, wandering around like the world does not exist. I paint my own world inside my head, outlining them in black with knowledge and coloring them with ideas and imaginations.

I glance down to my shirt that I vaguely remembered wearing it in hurry. It seems like I did not put myself in humiliation this time. I wear proper buttoned up shirt with long trousers, completed with loose sweater, which I am grateful for the air is getting chilly. But then as it always happens, I did not bring out my wallet and phone again. I guess I should postpone the urge of eating ice cream for later this week. I only have one strike and I still have two more for this month. I am not allowed to eat ice cream in this cold weather, but I am a firm believer of three strikes theory, which makes everything is allowed before the third occurrence.

 

It must have been the lunchtime for people suddenly come rushing out of the buildings. The surge of people comes in simultaneously massive waves and I found myself getting a hard bump on my back. I am not one of those sturdy people who have a good balance, and thus I can feel myself falling.

“Careful there, kid.”

A quite huge arm wraps around my elbow from behind and it pulls my body up, helping to steady myself again on the solid ground. I brush the non-existence dust from my shoulders and proceed to glare at the person who passes me nonchalantly as if nothing happens. He was not the one who helped me up and definitely the one who bumped me earlier to the edge of falling.

“People don’t have any manners these days.” I said intentionally loud and I should have afraid for my body is nothing compared to his. But I need to voice out what is right or the society would remain as it is and more people would have been bumped without receiving any apologies.

 He looked behind his right shoulder and I knew he was a bit confused.

“I’m talking about you.” I made myself clearer. He looks pissed for a moment before noticing my facial features. I have been told that my face is void of any expression and my eyebrows are always scrunched up which making me looks stern. It is proven to be quite useful at times like this. The man mumbles a short apologize and continues his walk down the street, probably going to a small bistro around the corner. It is actually my favorite. They serve the best spaghetti in town.

“Some balls you have, huh?” I almost forgot about the man behind, who helped me up earlier. I look up to his face and he grins widely, showing his pearl white teeth with a smile rivaling Chesire Cat. I had to tilt my head more because apparently, he is a giant. I am quite tall for my age, but he must have been drinking milk directly from the cow because he is almost two meters tall, or exactly 198.5 cm. I have good eyes for mental measurement. The hair on his head is in the form of messy curls and it reminds me of a bird nest with a top hat on top. He has a quite amusing fashion sense – a blazing red coat with black shorts, long black and white stripes socks, giant red boots and an old looking book with glasses hanging inside on his left hand.

But the most interesting from all his features is the small flames hovering above his head. They emit smokes in white color everytime the man moves. Sometimes they appear to be dancing or vanishing before suddenly appearing again in the different side of his body. The man does not seem to be burning either. This is intriguing me. I make an attempt to open my mouth for several questions before the man interrupted.

“He’s a weird guy – is that what you wanted to say?”

“No I didn’t, but who wouldn’t though?”

He laughs loudly at this and I noticed the deep of his timbre. His voice is strangely soothing. It could lure anyone to his spell.

“People always said that to me the first time.”

“I could totally see their point.”

“That’s an unusual response. I like you, kid.” He lets out another cackles and reaches out his hand to ruffle my hair. I tense up at the slight touch, reflectively knocking his hand away and taking steps back.

This might be not my best manner, but I have my own personal issue at the moment. I am not fond of people’s touches. It works like an allergic, creating goosebumps on my arms, and shivers around my back. It was in my system since long ago – since I started to build the mental wall before others.

 

The twirling flames of his again gain my attention. It seems that they became restless at the instance I pried away their owner’s hand. The white smoke becomes more prominent as they continue to vanish and appear rapidly. He must have noticed my intense fixation on his flames as he grins again, now it appears wicked than before.

“Say, did you see a pretty boy running around here? He’s about as tall as you, with light brown hair – probably dyed, and doe eyes. He looks like a girl actually.”

“I believe I didn’t. I don’t look at people.”

“But you seem to enjoy yourself looking at me.”

I keep my stares blank and my expression straight. He should know better that I would naturally notice his giant body and his terrifying choice of clothes. “When I said ‘people’, I meant they’re humans who wear white shirt and tie, black trousers and briefcase which commonly found on the street at this hour, frantically searching for food. In normal hours, they’d walk back with dragged legs and slow steps, showing their depleted motivation and desperation to prolong life. However because today is Saturday, those ‘people’ would refer to humans who wear casual clothes revealing too much of skins which is completely unnecessary. They’d stroll down on the street with high heels or other fancy boots, hoping to see a potential mate.”

His expression shifts from curious to amusement. His eyebrows rise up high that they would have burst out wings and fly. “Your point is?”

“My point is, you do not fall to both categories, which means you’re not one of those ‘people’ and thus you were caught in my line of sight. Speaking of which, there is one young man eating ice cream in that parlor behind your back who seems to match with all of your criteria.”

I point my finger towards the man and he unexpectedly notices me. He lets out a squeak, and proceeds to run his legs down the streets. It is either he was so fast or my eyes were playing trick on me, I could see his feet were floating several inches from the ground – exactly 12.4 inches. I squint my eyes in suspicion. What is really happening?

“Oh it’s really him. Thanks, kid.” He pats my shoulder, and again I take a step back immediately. “Nice talking with you, Sehun,” and he smiles, now full of teases, before walks passed me to go after the running man earlier.

“You’re welcome – hey, how did you know,” I turn to face him again but he is nowhere to be found, “… my name?”

Oh this is strange, indeed. Maybe I misheard him saying my name – that is the only logical explanation. Speaking of explanation, I still need to find out how he made those hovering flames.

But for now, let me just leisurely reminisce the strange event earlier while eating my lunch. 

 

 

 

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I hope this is not too weird. 

Oh well.