1 Chapter 1: The Dream and the Inspiration

A black butterfly landed on Anthony's hand. It stayed there for a while and after a few seconds, it flew away. He watched it go up to the heavens. I found myself running towards him with a grin on my face.

"Anthony!" I called for my best friend.

He nodded and smiled. I was quick to embrace him to feel his usual warmth and care again. I looked at his angelic face and soon enough, a shower of calmness enveloped me. Several butterflies with rainbow colors flew around us. The biggest one landed on my shoulder.

"Ma said that butterflies could represent souls visiting the living."

"Yes. But sometimes they are just butterflies." I muttered. "But I did see my grandmother visit me in that form. She was a yellow one, her favorite color."

"How are you, Bianca?" he asked. His brown eyes with specks of gold and silver looked at me with great concern.

A bright light emanated from where we were standing. I realized that I was inside a dream as my thirteen year old self again. Anthony looked just the same before an unknown illness took him away from me. His visits made me feel happy and sad all at the same time because I knew that once I wake up, he would be gone.

Again.

"Anthony, if only I can tell them, if they will believe me..."

My eyes began to mist.

"Hush, everything's going to be alright."

He gently held my shoulder and caressed my cheek.

"You know that I see things other people can't see. It's not easy when they think that I am crazy and weird."

"People are scared of things they don't understand. Don't mind them."

"Can you stay?" I pleaded. "Don't leave me."

He gave me a wistful smile. He gently stroked my hair and leaned close to my ear.

"I never left." he whispered. He pointed at my chest and then, his. "Summon me, Bianca."

I woke up.

It was eight o'clock in the morning.

I was tempted to sleep again and continue my conversation with my best friend. His last words greatly disturbed me. For a while, the real world have not registered on my mind yet.

Then, remembering that I have a book fair to attend to, I jumped out of bed and took the quickest shower in history and hurriedly left our house.

I got on a taxi. On my way to the event, I could not help but remember my dreams.

They just felt so real.

"Could Anthony be visiting me?" I asked myself. "What could he be trying to reveal to me me these past three years? He had been telling me, always, to summon him."

It may sound like a coincidence but as I dreamed more of my best friend, another character was seemingly created on my thoughts.

Almost every night, as I slept, he came into my mind.

I knew him by the name of Antoine Sta. Maria.

Maybe my intense wish for Anthony to return to me again and see him as a grown-up man made this wonderful character pop out of my head. My "buddy" and this ideal being shared a lot of things in common.

Surprisingly, their manner of talking and mannerisms are almost the same!

If only Anthony lived up to my age of twenty-three, he could have been such a lady-killer and as desirable as Antoine. My silly best friend always had that charm and good looks that made high school girls swoon at the sight of him even at such a young age.

I sighed as I reminisced the good times we were together. I took my cell phone and checked for messages.

A reminder was set on my screen:

March 30, Anthony's death anniversary

I pursed my lips together and gathered enough strength to stop myself from crying.

I could clearly remember that almost ten years ago, he got sick and became brain-dead.

Or, so they thought.

His last conscious days were shrouded in mystery. The doctors could not tell what was wrong with him. They injected and pumped medicines into his system yet nothing worked. Tests were done. They just can't help him. Black sores covered him from head to toe. I told my mother that something supernatural might be happening to him.

She firmly told me to stop talking nonsense. I cried and sobbed helplessly as she led me out of the hospital for fear that Anthony's adoptive parents might be stressed over my presence.

On the last day that I saw him, he was sitting on the bed with a distant look in his eyes. Upon seeing me, he forced a weak smile.

"Bianca, come..." he held his hand out to me and tapped his bed, gesturing for me to sit beside him.

As I could not bear to see him in his weakened state, I turned my back with tears in my eyes and ran to the chapel.

"Please don't take my Anthony." I prayed.

Soon, I felt a gentle wind caressing my hair. I turned around and saw a boy walking away.

"Anthony!" I called. "Wait up!"

I followed him. He went to the hospital's garden and pointed at a Narra tree. Then, he seemingly just disappeared.

Out of fear, I ran back to Anthony's room. Doctors and nurses came into my view, trying to revive a boy. I almost screamed and fainted when I saw the boy they were trying to save.

Minutes later, he was declared brain-dead.

His parents hoped for him to wake up but I knew that my Anthony was gone from me. The body that was lying on the bed was already an empty shell.

After a week, his body also disappeared. A search was made by the hospital staff and the police. Even reviews of CCTV* recordings have shown no trace of him. The media feasted on his mysterious disappearance. His adoptive mother could not take the pain of losing him. She had a nervous breakdown and rarely went out of their house for years.

(Closed-circuit Television)

I never talked to anyone for days. For weeks, I could almost see and hear him by the door inviting me to play. I surely missed his warm smile and his persistent nudging to make me go to school.

For so many nights, I cried and sank into deep sadness. Sometimes, I would wish that I would be taken to where Anthony is. But as he always reminded me to be always brave while he was still with me, I knew that it is my duty to follow his advice and never disappoint him.

Almost ten years passed and I somehow learned to move on.

Without him.

Or so, I thought.

I finished school and became a Technical Assistant for a big company.

I also became a part-time writer.

My specialty is in the paranormal.

Obviously.

The things I saw that others won't believe me, I turned into writing. I posted these on my website. A lot of people liked my stories especially the gory ones.

But, one of my characters stood out the most.

Young girls fell in love with it.

What I meant is, they fell in love with him.

They could not get enough of my fictional character, Antoine, who was just a product of my dreams.

This gorgeous French-Filipino young man found a way into their hearts. They found him to be perfect and ideal. He is the type of man they would be proud to introduce to their parents and marry.

What a man!

The truth is, I wondered what was special with him.

Surely, he was gifted with such otherworldly beauty and exceptional talent. His gorgeous face and built would make girls from age thirteen to a hundred fall under his spell.

With all his likable characteristics, I just found him unattractive.

Why?

Eh?

I knew he was greatly inspired by my best friend Anthony.

Maybe, about eighty percent of him is Anthony dela Vega.

I could not imagine myself being attracted, not even in the least amount, to my silly best friend. Having any romantic feelings for him or even a crush is definitely out of my mind!

My reverie was interrupted when the taxi driver called my attention upon reaching the shopping mall. As soon as I paid the fare, I ran and crossed the road mindlessly. As luck always had this hobby of making fun of me, I tripped and landed facedown. Maybe, I fainted for a while as everything in my sight went black.

Then, I heard a loud thunder that made me come back to my senses.

"Thunder?" I thought. "But, it's summer."

I looked around and saw myself lying on a field.

When I regained my wits back, I noticed a very attractive man looking intently at me. His eyes, with such otherworldly beauty, glimmered as they moved to look at me from head to foot. My first thought was that the Angel of Death has come to me and and is ready to take my soul.

But, he seemed very familiar.

Gold eyes.

Checked.

Weird round glasses.

Checked.

Black shirt.

Checked.

This can't be happening.

I found myself inside Antoine's world.