“Aww, umma… Do I have to do it today?” The childish whine escaped from my mouth as soon as she reminded me about the chore that I so painfully dread.

“Yes dear, you promised that you will get the job done by the end of the week.” She turned to me as her hands were busy drying the plates before placing them in the top cupboard where she always kept them.

Her words got my brain working as it reconstructed the scene that happened in the very same room that we were in at the moment seven days back into the past. Indeed, I remembered that I gave my word that I would carry out the task that she has assigned for me to do within the requested period of time since I had to finish my Biology project that was due on Wednesday. I have no other reasons that I can give to further procrastinate the errand. Plus, I already assured her that I would carry out my responsibility and I have to keep my word.

“Okay, umma. I will get to it right now. I will just call my friends that I am busy today.” That earned me a smile from the person who gave me life in this world. She wiped her hands to get rid of the moisture of the tap water and headed in my direction. I could feel her fingertips on my scalp as she ruffled my hair and placed a kiss on my forehead. She said that she will be out of the house for a few hours to lend a hand at the charity bazaar that was going to take place in the community hall in our neighborhood to raise funds for three different orphanages in different towns. She added that she will bring home some of my favourite black sauce noodles from the Mr.Sung’s restaurant for dinner. I bid her goodbye as she walked out of the door, leaving me alone in the house. I let out a sigh as I fished out my Sony Ericson C510 from one of my jean’s front pocket and search for the number that I was looking for before pressing the green ‘call’ button on the keypad.

My prediction for my friends’ reactions came true when I contacted them to deliver the bad news. Soo Jin blew her top and said that she will never speak to me again while Eun Ji was disappointed that I could not make it to the movie but she understood my situation. I changed into an old worn shirt and track bottoms before ascending up the foldable ladder to the small dusty attic that we have under our roof. The dark cramp space was filled with antique heirlooms that my parents inherited from their parents, like the old chest-of-drawers filled with black and white photographs that my mother got from her side of the family, stood against the wall at one end of the room. There were also a few large bookshelves filled with huge volumes of books and an old treasure chest that I knew was filled with my old playthings that I could not bear to part with. I gathered up my long hair into a bun as I scanned around the room, seeing that I have my work cut out for me.

For the next few hours, I spent my time cleaning the loft as I swept, moped, wiped and cleaned the thick blanket of dust, filth and grime that covered everything that was in the place. I moved items which I thought that were blocking the way. Little by little, a cleaner and spacious looking space was beginning to take shape. Drops of salty liquid hard work travelled south from my brow to the tip of my chin as I stood up from cleaning the last bit of dirt that I could see on the floor.  Satisfaction swelled up inside of me as I took in the sight of the clean attic and compared it with its previous state just 240 minutes ago. I decided to stay longer and poke around for a bit since I have not step foot in this place for quite some time.

I made my first stop at the huge wooden treasure chest which contained the gems of my past. Assorted toys greeted my eyes as I lifted the curved lid; pictures of my carefree childhood began flashing in my mind. I picked p a woolen sweater that was once part of my daily wear when I was a baby, hand knitted by my mother herself. I felt it was a wonder that I was that tiny at one point of life as I continued to look at the collection of baby garments that a doll would fit nicely in.

Next, I wandered to the three towering bookshelves that took up one whole wall. Books were my first love as they can take me anywhere as I please; let it be to the past or future, reality or fantasy. There was no harm trying to excavate a few books to fill up any future spare time as the school year was fast approaching its end. I ran my forefinger lightly across the spines as I read the titles that were embossed horizontally on their sides. When one catches my attention, I would pull it out from its place and read the blurb printed on the back cover. After going through half of a shelf, I already have a stack of six waiting at my feet for me to move them to my own bookshelf in my bedroom for the time being.

Ecstatic with my findings, I was about to leave when I spotted something rather out of place. A small dressing table, half hidden by a few cardboard boxes filled with miscellaneous items that belonged to my mother, had one corner slightly raised and was higher compared to the other three sides. My curiosity got the better of me and I suddenly found myself closing the distance between me and the source of my interest. My eyes raked the bizarre sight from top to bottom and saw that was something underneath the leg of the dressing table. Crouching down, I tugged at the object pinned between the floor and the varnished oak leg. The mystery came in the form of a handsome black leather bound hard cover book which looked like an old diary. I brushed the dust coated cover with my hand and noticed that the book felt right at home in my hold, as if it was meant to be that way.  I can no longer hold back my inquisitiveness for another second and I turned to the first page filled with writing. The cursive script of the author was neat and was big enough to read the words comfortably without spoiling one’s eyes due to the absence of one needing to squint to read the contents of the page. Envy sprouted within my being as I recalled how would my teachers comment about my own minute and untidy letterings.

I looked at the top left hand corner where the date was inscribed and saw the page was dated today, some fifty years back. Goose pimples marred my skin as I felt a cold draught blowing in the room which was impossible as there were no windows. Some intuition told me that was someone, or rather something, boring their eyes through the back of my head. I slowly turned behind and a gasp escaped my lips as the book slipped from my grasp, falling to the floor with a soft thud. My eyes showed me something that should not be there. A male phantom with dark brown hair gazed at me with his pair of hazel eyes. He walked towards my direction and I could only stand still, rooted to the spot with a loose jaw. He scooped the diary and he wrapped my hands around the book, offering a smile as warm as his touch.         

That was how I met Doojoon, the wordsmith of the journal. At first, I was apprehensive to continue reading as it was intruding someone’s privacy, even though the owner had passed on a long time ago. But after some persuasion from the writer himself, I gave in and started look through the contents of the black book. Stories of sweet memories shared between the phantom and his female lead filled the set of fastened paper from cover to cover. It was almost like watching a movie playing in my head when I read the page of the day. The love that he had for his other half was every girls’ dreams and hope in life that they would find a person that would love them as deeply as he does. Although they were not rich, he found the time and the simple pleasures that they did together more precious than any amount of riches that the universe could offer. I, who have not experience my first love yet, could not help but feel slightly jealous of his lover because she had received so much love from a single person.

I started to become closer to Doojoon as time passes by. He would always appear when I started to read the first word of the day’s entry until the moment I close the book. He became one of my best friends and I could share all my heart’s burdens with him. For some unknown reason, I found out that have no difficulty telling him anything at all. He was the one who I double my joy when I shared it with him. He was the listening ear and my shoulder to cry on when troubles appeared in my usually smooth sailing life. He would give me a few words of sound advice and try to change my perspective of the situation that I am in. Doojoon had a way of seeing everything in life through rose tinted windows. We would also have some fun by dancing to the music from the old record player and tape player that we found in the attic or playing some games with what was available up in the storage space. My mother thought that the reason why I have been spending so much time up in the small room under the roof was due to the presence of the amount of old books that were there.

My friendship with the ghost in my attic lasted for two years when it came to an abrupt end. It was a normal evening as I climbed up the ladder to the attic. As usual, I sat down on the old study table and pulled Doojoon’s dairy toward me, flipping to the page where I have left off yesterday. I turned to the last page of the book and began to read it. The entry was about a day their spent to the beach. Again, I was pulled into realistic world that the diary contained. My five senses and my heart immediately connected to the scenario of the memory.

The feeling of refreshing sea breeze combing my hair.

The soft and grainy feeling of the warm sand between my toes.

The hot blazing sun that hung in the clear azure blue sky.

The crashing of waves as it met the beach.

The sway of coconut trees as it danced to the direction of the wind.

The peaceful quietness that meant the beach belonged to both Doojoon and his female lead.

The warm aura and glow that enveloped the loving couple.

I felt it all.

 As I reached the last few words at the bottom of the page, a hand on my shoulder told me that my unusual friend was there beside me. I was a bit taken back when I saw sad look on his face where his usual smile playing should be. I stood up, alarmed and asked him what the matter was. He said nothing and pulled me into a hug. Hesitantly, I patted his head with one hand and raised the other arm to wrap it around broad shoulders. We just stood there for what seems to be forever with my heart pounding against my rib cage, racing at the speed of light as thousand of thoughts raced through my head.

At long last, he finally dropped his arms to his side and thus releasing me from his cage of warmth. I looked up to see orbs of molten hazel reflecting the heart wrenching sadness that he felt. Never before have seen him in this state and it worried me to no end. Am I not his friend that he could confide his problems with me as I did with him? What is it that was bothering him to no end and weigh his spirits down to rock bottom?

He slipped his hand into the right pocket of his trousers and pulled out his clenched fist a second later. His hand brushed my long fringe that was obscuring part of my face to the side. When he removed his hand a moment later, my locks stayed in place to where he pushed them to. Silently, he went over to the aged table and picked up his diary before handing me the object. I saw that he had put a beautiful black bookmark adorned with white, silver and golden butterflies hand painted on both sides. He stretched his hand and tapped his finger on inside of the cover of the book which was next to the last entry. I started at the paragraph of words that I had never noticed before as the truth dawned on me.

The diary was a fake. The entries were not real. The memories were made up. The reality was that the girl passed away at the tender age of twenty five due to a rare disease that there was no cure for it that time. Heartbroken, he started writing down the happy scenarios that he could come up with her to bury the sense of loss that he felt when she was gone. He rewrote their story so that their time together would never come to an end, that they would not have an ending. For two years after her death, he penned down his thoughts of them together, believing that she was still by his side. On the day he stopped writing, he made the decision close the book of frauds and to join her on the other side.

I tore my gaze from the book and looked at him with salty drops of wetness dripping down my cheeks. He gently wiped them away with his thumb and slipped the book out from my hands. Doojoon flipped to the centre of the book and removed a palm sized shape piece of paper from the story book. He put the paper into my hands and I felt my eyes widen at I took in the image on the paper. It was a worn out black and white photograph that were yellowing at the corners. My eyes travelled to the old piece of glossy paper, the sight of it nearly stopped my heart from beating.

My mind went blank when I saw the picture of Doojoon and a doppelganger of me in each other’s arms, smiling without a care in the world. I managed look up in time to see him planting a kiss on my forehead and hear him whisper asking me to never forget him as my vision turned black.

The next thing I remembered was my mother shaking me awake as I found myself on the clean attic floor. She commented on what a great job I have done and said that dinner is already on the table.

Before she turned and left the room, she said, “That is a beautiful hair clip you are wearing, dear. Did you find it in here?”

I could only nod as I watched her descend down the steps. When I was alone, I pulled it out of my hair and found a butterfly themed hair clip resting in my palm. I found the book mark on the floor and picked it up, flipping to see the other side. The last sentence that I read in the diary was printed there in his elegant cursive script.

The words ‘I wished all of this could be true but I know it is just a wish’ in gold ink made my heart skipped a beat.

I turned the pages of the black book I found by my side but the pages were free of ink. I just collected the things and ran back to my room for a quick wash and went down to eat. I asked my mother about the black diary that I found and she said there was no such thing in the storage room since she threw out all the note books she found last week. I ran back into my room to find the diary gone. I searched high and low for the diary in my room and also in the attic, in case I have accidentally left it there by mistake.

It seems like that book has been gone, thrown away before someone could flipped through it and discover its magical contents.

Or if it was possible, the diary never existed.

The illusions of a man about his lover never have been thought of or written down.

But yet, the butterfly ornament hairclip and the butterfly themed book mark seemed to be physical evidences to prove that it really all happened. The precious memories that happened in the little room under the roof tiles, from the day I met him till today, seems too real and life-like to be a dream.

But, how does that explain that a whole two year period was cramped into a span of a few hours? This only happens in dreams, don’t they? The strange thing was that I don’t recalled dozing off.

After the epic debate between my heart and my head, I only have one question after what had happened.

What took place in the attic, was it fact or fiction?