The Stranger - 1

The Wanderer's Lesson
Everything was so quiet.
Everything was just so quiet.


I was alone in the cottage.
 
I was alone on the dirt roads that encircled the forest.
 
I was alone in the homes of others,
For all of my neighbors had died of starvation and disease.
 
And I was the only one who had managed to survive. 

 
As I entered each home,
Searching for more food to add to my shrinking collection,
I would see the bodies of my neighbors
Strewn across the room -
Careless of where they fell;
More concerned with where they were going.

 
Every time I entered a house,
I would first search for bodies lying about -
Rid of life,
Dreaming in another dimension.

 
When I would find a body,
I would kneel next to it,
Fold its hands over its heart,
Thank it for enduring so much suffering,
And wish it endless happiness
In the world where it had made a home.

 
I found the bodies of several classmates;
Several friends I had made as a boy;
Several young children who were unable to take many chances;
And some of babies, unable to experience the world -
To see it for what it truly was.

 
I felt infinite remorse for those fallen children,
But I lamented the deaths of the elderly even more:
 
They had endured the worst
For they had remembered the most.

 
They were born here.
They were raised here.
 
They learned how to speak here;
Learned how to feel here;
Learned how to love here.
 
Here they became men,


Met their wives and raised a family,
Grew older and wiser, more observant and modest,
And came to understand the nature of change.


They had lived with their memories for so long
That they could not go a day without thinking of the past -
The days when everything was beautiful and everything was bright;
The days before rebellion and darkness,
When butterflies still flew in the sky
And hearts still beat for others.


Just thinking of how intensely they remembered...
How every memory forced them back to their pasts
Where they stood in their old pairs of shoes;
Ran in fields of grass with good friends and schoolmates;
Laughed as pouring rain soaked them from head to toe, socks and all;
Shook as they kissed their first loves and cried at their fathers' burials...



When I thought of how intensely they remembered...
I felt so sorry for them.


The world had become so broken, so ugly,
That the only joy life harbored was hidden in their memories.


How many nights they retreated to their memories...

How many nights they yearned to return to their pasts...

How many nights they sobbed,
Knowing that their grandchildren would never experience life as it was
Back when everything was good and beautiful...


It was a sad way to go.
It was the worst way a person could go.



Every time I found an elder in eternal slumber,
I would kneel on the ground and take his hand,
Holding it endlessly as I tried to imagine the memories he had had before he left the world.


After I had knelt with the elder for many moments,
I would kiss the back of his hand,
Place his hand over his heart,
And say to him as I let my tears fall freely:


"I hope that you are living your memories there, dear neighbor.

I truly hope that everything has become real
And you are happy once again."

 
 
 
 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 
 
Each night passed slowly.
Each night was lonesome.

 
Each night I wanted to draw,
Wanted to remember -
To keep my promise to Jaehyo -
 
But I was running out of paper.

 
I only had a few sheets left,
And I knew that those sheets needed to be saved.

I don't know why or how I knew this,
But I knew it all the same.

 
I told myself that I would know what to draw when I found it,
And then I put the paper back in the dresser.
 
I placed the pencil next to the small stack of paper
And touched the drawings on my skin as the emptiness of the room weighed down on my shoulders.
 
 
There was nothing to do at night
But remember.

 
That's all there ever was -
Remembrance,
Even if it was uninvited.


That's all anyone could do-
Remember,
Even if they didn't want to.
 
 
 
 
 
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 
 
One morning, some time after I had put the paper away,
I was visited by a stranger:
A wanderer of time and change.


 
I opened the door to leave in search of cans
When I saw someone walking down the dirt road -
 
The same road that had always been empty
And had always left me isolated.

 
I was afraid to move away from the door,
Afraid to encounter the approaching stranger.

 
I feared that he would be a rebel
Coming to beat me -
Coming to steal the last bit of purpose I had found in my life.

 
So I watched in complete silence
As the stranger came closer and closer to my cottage.


 
He was walking with his head down
And his eyes on the ground,
Watching as each foot hit the dusty earth,
Not wanting to look at anything around him.

 
He was wearing a black jacket.
His hood was covering his face.

 
He walked slowly with his back straight,
His eyes never leaving the ground for even a second.

 
As I watched him walk up the road,
I felt that he was not harmful at all.

 
I could see the sadness hanging above him;
I could see the chains of defeat shackled to his ankles;
I could feel the pain of remembrance with each step he took.

 
After many minutes passed us by,
Almost as slowly as he was walking up the road,
The stranger was standing before my cottage.

 
He stopped in front of my home -
His head still hanging,
His eyes still concentrated on his shoes.

 
After standing still for a few seconds more,
He timidly approached my door,
Where I was standing patiently,
Curiosity filling me to the brim,
A strange sense of compassion clouding my thoughts.

 
He stopped moving when he had come within an arm's reach of me.


With him being so close,
I could see that his jacket was covered in blood.

 
His hands were trembling at his sides;
His knees were wobbling with fatigue;
His arms were limp and lifeless;
His breathing was soft and timid to the world,
Just as my mother's voice had always been.
 
 
We spent an eternity in silence.
 
I was looking at him;
He was looking at the ground.

 
Finally, as a gust of wind blew through the bare trees,
The stranger took a deep breath
And said with all of the strength he had left in his body:

 
"How...how is grass growing here?
It's all dead...everywhere else."

 
I took a small step closer to the stranger,
Trying to show him that I would not disregard him,
And answered:

 
"A boy named Jaehyo. He made the grass grow.
 
When he died, I brought his body out here.
When his body touched the earth, the grass grew.
When his body was blown away in the wind, the grass stayed behind.
 
This is his grass. This is his memory."

 
The stranger nodded his head in reverence of Jaehyo.
He carefully bent down to touch the grass,
To feel just a bit of the past.

 
His hands trembled as he touched the grass.
He was so overwhelmed by the feeling of life beneath his fingertips that he collapsed.

 
I sprang from the doorpost and offered him my hand,
Offered to help him up.
 
But he just laid there,
Looking at the grass with so much grief,
Longing for the days he and I both remembered so well.

 
As his hands held the grass tightly,
Like a child holds her mother's hand,
The stranger said as if recluse from his own understanding:
 
 
"It's...it's been so long since...I've seen grass.
I almost forgot...it ever existed."
 
 
Since the day of the rebellion, the grass had stopped growing.
Everything had stopped growing.


Everything was dark;
Everything was dead.

The flowers,
The crops,
The trees,

Our faith,
Our hope,
Our happiness -

Our families.


Everything was dead.

And there was nothing we could do
To bring any of it back.


It was gone.

It was all gone.

Hidden, murdered, buried.
Everything was gone.


I watched him as he touched the grass nostalgically,
Almost as if he was trapped in a dream.


I still could not see his face,
But the arches of his body and the movement of his fingers were more expressive than any face I had ever seen.


I could read every emotion,
Feel every tinge of sadness,
Just by watching his movements.


He was expressive in a different way -
A beautiful way.


He gave off an energy of positivity,
An energy that had left the earth to live somewhere else;
An energy I had not felt in a long time;
An energy I could not identify;
An energy I had to find -
An energy I had to feel.


The thought of finding this familiar and foreign energy
Compelled me to sit next to the stranger,
To touch the grass as sentimentally as he did.


As my fingers brushed each blade,
I was reminded of Jaehyo and his last request.


I had promised him I would remember;
I had promised him I would make myself remember.


There were so many stories that had disappeared,
Left the earth unknowingly, unannounced, along with their keepers,
Headed to a world far out of reach for the hands,
Far out of reach for the mind.


But there were so many stories hiding behind those empty homes;
Hanging from the branches of the trees;
Spiraling in the cold gusts of wind that would sing survivors songs of solitude;
Sleeping under the dark sky,
Day and night,
Every moment undisturbed -
Every moment waiting to be heard.


To keep my promise to Jaehyo,
I had to find all of those stories that lied in wait:
Waiting to be told,
Waiting to be heard.


And that man,
That simple stranger, that curious wander, who had become one with the past
Had a story to tell -
A story to be heard.


If everything was to be remembered,
Every story had to be told.

Every story had to be heard.


He had to tell me his story;
I wanted to know his story.



"Would you like to rest for a while?" I asked the stranger.

He did not respond for many moments.


He was someplace far away,
In a distant world I could not see:
A world where the sun shined,
The roses were a bright shade of red,
The trees had leaves and almost touched the clouds,
And the grass grew, tall and green -
Always.



When he was suddenly removed from the world for which he longed,
He replied to my question dreamily:


"Yes, I could use a bit of rest."


I helped the stranger to his feet.
He was so tired that he could not stand without wobbling.


He leaned on me.
I walked him to the door one foot at a time -
Left then right. Left then right.


I lead him to a chair.
He sat in it gratefully.


I went to get him a cup of water.
When I had returned, he was already asleep.


I placed the cup of water on the floor next to the chair,
And then I sat on the ground -
Right across from him.


I looked at him for several moments.

I could not see his face,
But his body was still more expressive than any face I had ever seen.


Looking at him then,
It felt like I had gone back in time.


He was curled up on the chair,
Hugging himself as he slept,
Like a child in the middle of the night,
Waiting for his mother to tell him a story,
To kiss him goodnight and wish him sweet dreams.


When I looked at him,
I saw a boy with many memories,
With many stories to tell.


But as I looked at him more,
I also saw something else -
Something I could not identify,
But something I knew was there.


What that something was I had to know.
I felt in my heart that I had to know that something, whatever it was.


So as the stranger slept,
I waited -

Waited for his memories,
Waited for his stories,
Waited for his something -

His something worth knowing.

 

 

 

___________________________________________________________________________________

I'm sorry for not updating this story in so long! I'm trying to make more time for updating, but it's not really working out so well.

Well, guess who's finally here?(;
Now I can really start to dive into the story!

I hope that you guys haven't decided to give up on this yet! I'm really excited to continue this story, and I hope that you will still want to read more of it.(:
I promise everything will get better from here. <3

Comments/opinions/suggestions/criticisms are always loved and welcomed!

Like this story? Give it an Upvote!
Thank you!
Back to Top ↑

Comments

You must be logged in to comment
Meowrr #1
<marquee behavior="slide"direction="left">It's alright, I understand. Good luck in your school stuff and I'll be waiting here ~ :DD</marquee>
SilverSea_SpiritStar #2
hi..new reader...this story seems real...I love this....you are a great author..<br />
fanfic_v #3
omg, u have such a beautiful gift for writing... i always look forward to ur story's updates and i was not disappointed at all... keep on writing... :)))
Meowrr #4
Awwwwwww ... I almost cried reading this ... It's touching </3<br />
Poor Jihoon, I hope he'll be happier now <3
ZazieBee #5
Ya-ha, U-Kwon is finally here ya?<br />
He was here to give the story that B-bomb wants to hear...<br />
And thank you for updating...
-memories- #6
your writing ...<br />
amazing .<br />
the story is written as a poem .<br />
very beautiful .<br />
♥
syazie_990401 #7
So glad that you finally continued~:)this is really beautiful and i'll be anticipating the future chapters^_^
ZazieBee #8
GREAAT STORY..<br />
U-Bomb story huh, I'll wait this. I like U-Bomb!! (ignore that- not important)
mrswoojiho #9
GAHHHH THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL I CAN'T EVEN--
AbriMathos #10
Yay! I was hoping you didn't give up on this. I can't wait to read Zico's story! I understand you not having time to update...school seems to be kicking everyone's arses -_____-
Back to Top ↑