Tale Of The Half-Blood Wizard

At 09:00 sharp I arrived home.

The bus taking me home had taken me to my destination safely. Deep in my heart I said 'I am home,' I did not know where I got the courage to finally make this move and be in this place after leaving it for 7 years.

Nothing had changed there from the last time I decided to go. Everything was perfectly the same, so quiet and strange. I walked slowly along those stoney streets. Dried grass grew a long the side of the dusty streets.

Tranquil. Only the sound of my shoes colliding against the hard dry stoney street I could hear. It took me 20 minutes from the bus stop until I finally stopped in front of an alley of that dirty market.

Dogs' howling was faintly heard as if to welcome me and said 'Welcome home, little loser,'. I made up my mind to finally went in the alley, the path to my old house.

When I finally reached my front of house, I opened the gate. It still looked well cared. The sound of the creaking door indistinctly heard from the metal hinge which was a bit rusty. Slightly I saw a shadow of a little girl passing by me. Her expression was a bit in a hurry. She was carrying a small book, then she disappeared. Next, I saw different things. The same girl was crying hysterically with the body full of scratches from her own finger nails. I bent down in front of her, but then she was gone.

"Why didn't you tell me you would come,"

A voice shocked me. I turned around to find the source of that voice.

"Only a short visit, a week perhaps," my voice was awkward. Being secluded from people made me feel awkward to meet face to face.

"Why only a short visit? This is your house."

"I need to go back. There are things that need to be done," I came to him intending to hand him something. "The best pumpkin cake is from my place. I bought some for you," I handed a paper bag of cookie jars.

"You are still ugly in spite of living there for a long time," He whispered to me while grabbing that paper bag fast. "City girls are supposed to be fair and beautiful," He added quickly.

His mouth was still as sharp as it used to be. Time did not make him repent.

"Listen! I went there to study and to work, not to upgrade myself to be beautiful," I was upset, but he burst into laughter, instead.

...

My name is Tsabitha Youenha, 27 years old. My friend used to call me Tha. I lived and grew up here, but when I was 20 years old, I decided to move. My sharp tongued friend was Erick. He was my friend in the first years of high school. Although he was fastidious, he was my best friend.

Erick and his family were the ones who took care of my old house. Erick had ever worked with father, but when his younger brother had to continue studying out of town, Erick chose to go home and accompanied his parents.

Erick opened the door for me. He walked me in and helped me tidy my stuff, including preparing a room for me. He was so skillful at doing all those things. I had to admit that in spite of his hurtful mouth, I saw new things had changed from him.

"I want to go out now, only for a while," I put my stuff on the table in the living room. Erick stopped his work. He looked at me in disbelief.

"It is late now. Do it tomorrow and I will accompany you," He replied shortly.

"I have things to do tomorrow. If I don't do it now, I am afraid I will not have the time," I insisted as I wanted to leave quickly.

Erick came along with me somehow. We did not talk much along the way. I was too awkward to talk with him as we had been out of contact for quite a long time. We were too awkward to walk side by side. We could hardly find topics to talk about as being disconnected, some topics might have been out of date to talk with him, too.

Petrichor aroma smelled faintly when we almost reached that place. The shade of thick pine trees hid the moonlight. The fallen leaves thickly covered the ground like a carpet. Bushes along the paths we were walking were dewy wet. I checked my cell phone, it was 1 a.m when I arrived there. I walked slowly to a small old gate near the woods. Quietness welcomed me. The wooden door felt so cold in my hand when I pushed it opened. And like usual, it was not locked.

I went in alone, while Erick was waiting for me outside. Quite a lot of people were there but it felt so quiet and distinct.

I walked along the path heading to the end, cold and dark with no lights. The wooden walls built around the place prevented the lights from outside to penetrate in. When I arrived there, I put a bouquet of white lily on a white marble written 'Zie.'

"I am home," I whispered. I sat beside the tomb, taking out some cookies and two boxes of our favorite milk. "How are you doing there? Are you okay? Do you eat well?" I rubbed the tomb gently. "Wait for me," I whispered.

...

Erick took me to his workplace. It was 2 a.m sharp. Someone called him some time ago, and right after that his expression changed.. After 20 minutes passed, we finally arrived at Erick's workplace. It was a minimalist house not far from the cemetery we just visited. I was walking behind Erick, following him heading to a small wooden door on the side of that house. A man around 60 years old was busy working on his cell phone.

"I said iron wood, but I was sent meranti (types of wood)," He said while indicating 3 logs of wood in front of him. "I ordered 20 firewood, but 17 arrived," He looked so much upset.

I was not interested in their chats, but my eyes were attracted with hundreds of wooden dolls in a room behind that man. A room sized 7x9 was more like a doll warehouse, from small sized, medium, until largest sized, which was around 2 meters tall. I touched one of them which was displayed not far from me. This might be quite expensive, I assessed it. The dolls were full of details and finely carved. The face lines, eye lines, and everything were done in great detail and neat. The clothes were finely and neatly sewed.

"Let me go there. Ask them to send the wood back," Erick's voice was in high peak to end the argument.

...

"Your girlfriend?" that man chirped.