The Adventure of Albino Moonlight.

Albino is a boy who wants to be really, really pale.

Every single day, without eyes to watch or taunt him, he will always find himself standing under a really blue sky that slowly dimmed, showing a slit of white that getting brighter as the night fell.

It was like a grin, ready to taunt him at the most stupid momentnwnwenoewnoewnwoe
 

Another paper met its end in Moonbyul's palm as she crumpled yet another one after writing less than a paragraph. Really. If she cannot produce anything decent tonight, why bother? Who knows what she will say? Another jeering, perhaps.

Why bother finishing that story?

Her lips formed one pout after another for not finishing the story. Not after she swears she can almost catch the softest snoring at every snippet of the story recited just the other night, and every other night before it. Either it's really an effective bedtime story or it's just effing boring.

She didn't even start guessing about the calls that came after the first night. It is basically just talking about the most random stuff or abrupt bedtime stories that at most times. The clock hanging on the wall was ticking at 2 AM. Drumming fingers had been going on for some time as that boring, stuffy feeling became progressively massive at each drumming. Moonbyul stared at the telephone in front of her, unconsciously squinting her eyes.

3, 2,1...

It never made a sound.

She had half the mind to call back before remembering the the numbers were deleted soon after for confidentiality reasons. Right. 

She didn't dwell much on the reason for the impulse and continued reading the journal that has been left (almost forgotten) at the edge of the table. Deciding that she has no energy or will to continue on it, she put it aside and put her chin on her stacked palms, staring long and hard on the telephone, like expecting it to grow legs.

The night goes as quiet as it can be.

--

There is something magical to be witnessed on a movie night. Fingers were becoming increasingly greasy with additional caramel syrup tossed mindlessly on a giant bucket of popcorn, and another spray of it as the cashier eyed her with curiosity. Or disgust. Probably the latter. 

Looking at the dark sky made her hum happily. No clouds today. After handing several bucks to the dazed cashier, she made her way to the open field, trying so hard not to step on anyone's foot or legs and finally take her 'seat' and tuning out in front of the screen. 

It's an outdoor movie night.

She always skips the Spaghetti Western kind of nights. The shooting guns, just the mere pop of it, always sends her ears to a whirlpool of ringing until the next day, like she couldn't escape from the bad cowboy. She might have the guts to watch it if someone could give her the gun to shoot him back. 

Today is The 60s Day.

Every single eye f