PROLOGUE
Fiction, stories consist of words, made up of phrases formed by sentences that leads to every page-turning paragraphs, it touches the heart while teases the mind.
Fiction, has been said a Fantasy, a product of an author’s great mind but do you know where it came from? Do you know how it was written perfectly, bonded with the use of a pen into papers compiled all together?
I’ll tell you, one thing it was never a fantasy, fictions, and stories was never unrealistic because each stories, means something, each words provokes what every heart felt; what every man is suffering.
**********
I don’t know why but it just happened, it just happened like a coincidence, by chances maybe and this story is her world, this was not just her story but rather the story about me, about The Insignificance of a Student’s Teacher.
We are all living in the same world; and this world is a small world, we always meet at the center.
We are all united in one plot, Taking, heading to the same pathway.
We are all searching for something: each one of us is vanishing in emptiness, something that we cannot find in this world.
We are living in the present world but chained inside, locked inside reality that always brought by destiny, no matter how you try to hide, it just finds your way back home.
As I can see it someone is searching for her own identity while someone is trying to be back in her world and I am trying to make her realize everything.
I know everything, I am the key and there is a door unlocked, a passageway to the light, an escape from this maze: I created it and I am locked with it.
We are all in this garden maze, looking for our way out but every step we take, we fall behind the footsteps that our barefoot creates.
I know how it started; where it started and I know how it would be ended.
INSIGNIFICANCE, as people tries to define their world, as she calls her teacher because she never really understood why He is in that way, why he acted that way;
“Everything has a reason and that reason is for you to find out DEAREST MARIA”.
*********
First day of the class, summer had just begun as I watch the early light loom over my face. I can’t help but tell myself, a question: Am I dreaming? I told myself I was dreaming.
It was just then when I felt the midnight breeze, the cold nights where there was darkness I always see, those winter chills that terrifies but made me strong; changed.
I am here in a new world out of it, out of that…. Then suddenly reality comes to life, probably it was time, yes it was time.
It passes by too fast but like a man he walks through life and left his footmarks in the sand.
I can still remember, back then, it was not too long ago, it belongs to my past, her past; she was no longer what I used to know, she had changed, I knew she had been changed. I can see it through her eyes when back then was tears but now I found there was enlightenment to her world: life.
She is Maria the girl I used to know, the child I used to remember but now she is Ms. Maria as what I heard the young ones called her, it still doesn’t change the fact that I knew her, I knew where she had been, I knew Maria behind those walls, behind that profession. Like what I heard, she was a teacher now, no wonder, maybe she’s Insignificant too but I knew she would never be in the way that she hated me to be------INSIGNIFICANT.
Let me begin with a short story. Let me tell you this simple story, a story of a search, of hatred of a misunderstood world and this is her story.
She was a girl, a plain young one, she was one of those students’s I handle but she was different, she was with something that at first I never understood but as time goes by I realize. I knew her. I knew her already, where she came and where she was going.
Memories, memories, memories just memories, they are the old photographs of every man, once gained back: retrieved, it brings as much as a realization.
I always wake up at night, looking through an open window pane and outside, far apart from where I am, I can see her, inside that house; that house that sheltered her, chained her and kept her away from the unchanging world.
There was always a girl, staring at a starry night, looking way up high at the blue corned moon with little light that shatters whenever she looked up at the stars.
I always find her smiling and it was the sadness that is written all over her face.
Then there are times that I’ll find her looking at me over the window pane while she screams out a goodnight greeting calling me “Mr. Nice”.
She was a precious child, a precious gift abandoned, and that is her. She was cared and adopted by a Nun, named Sister Therese and that child was knowledgeable about that reality but the truth is she was living in lies, all that a child should know is that Her mother was already dead, She lied to her.
“Even ANGEL’S has a drastic past”
I used to walk around, walk my way to the village, I see a lot of people, different faces, I hear different voices, each time but the only ones that captures thy eyes is that girl with the Nun: MARIA, that’s what I used to see every morning after dawn. Maria, she always greets me whenever I pass by saying a warm morning greeting calling me “Mr. Nice”. She was just a child then, a child who doesn’t know much about this world, if only she knew the truth, if only… she’ll never call me nice because I was never that person she thought about. She was just a child who never knew how to speak her name well.
It was her childhood when she was still innocent, wherein she doesn’t know anything about this world; she never knew how it feels like to live in this insignificant world.
She was an angel in her youngest years, she was plain and she was nice that how I wish people could be like her, she never judge a stranger, she never asked me who I am, she treated me as a family, as a friend as a teacher indeed, but it was too long ago, too far that my mind cannot comprehend because she had been changed.
She was a strong one, whenever Sister Therese clears her wounds, there were no sounds, no crying at all no matter how painful those scars that she got from running, endless running in this place she called her playground. She always smiles at the pain, I don’t know how she does that, and I see myself in her.
Strong. She was, that was Maria because a strong one knows how to play with pain.
She was a strong one, whenever I asked her if she’s hurt, she’ll just tell me that she can take a lot of wounds, a lot of pain the only thing that only matters is that she learned how to step up whenever she falls. That was the best thing about her but it’s no longer here, vanished: gone.
That young girl always makes me smile, and I have spent the rest of those days playing with her, teaching her lessons and so she does talked a lot questioning why, what and who.
The most memorable thing that child had ever asked me is just a plain question that until now was fresh in my mind;
“Why were you alone, don’t you have any family?”
Family, yes a family, but how could a lonely man define that single word, how could a man in misery be with a family if he never really knew what that word means, she asked me if I have a family like her, she told me that the Nun was her family, it teases my mind, how could possibly anyone treat a stranger as somebody like a family, that was the worst words I fear the most, I am a senseless man. I got no family, I told her then she told me that she could be my family.
At that moment she smiled at me, it felt like I was not talking to a stranger, not talking to a child but an adult who knew everything.
I told myself she was just a child, a child who knew nothing, unlike an adult who knew about the ups and downs in this crazy world.
I never answered her question, nobody knew about my life, my past, myself that I keep hidden. The next thing was silence, no words, no comments until the child hugged me, it was in that moment when I felt that there was sadness in my heart, but still I smiled at her, she made me happy even just for a while , the child made me realize something that I had lost, something that I cannot find from those simple things that I do.
Someday she’ll realize everything, I know one day, everything will change, she is still young…
And I just woke up in the reality that they were gone already, they left me before I knew it, and I missed that young girl who taught me a lesson... But then I realize she was wrong with that, I learned to hate the world because nobody cared, Forgotten.
Year’s had passed since those days, everything’s changing, people’s changing, memories vanishing, fading away. But still her memory was there, it never fade away, those words, was still left. And I am still that insignificant man the world knew.
I knew that someday somehow, we’ll meet again, our paths may crossed because in this world that where we live in, there were no corners, we will always meet at the center bounded by destiny that brought as where we supposed to be;
“Way Back Home.”
She was looking for something, searching for herself, the life she had lost. All that she knows is that she was the new her, created and molded by changes, abandoned by the truth. She was a young one living in lies at the expense of the unchanging world. She was suffering from fear, hating the world because of its insignificance.
She was a student, and her world is her teacher.
I am the reason why she discovered the truth; she thought that I lied to her but reality: she was the one who assumed, the one who hated before knowing the truth, before understanding everything.
She was never a stranger but always a family. I never learned about that, that’s the hardest lesson the child taught me but I refused to take. I am the root of all this! Was it my fault? Am I the reason behind the chaos, was this a whirlwind of a situation? Was it a coincidence that our pathway had crossed in our present world? Or it was just destined for us to find our place back each other’s hands. I don’t know but I know only just one thing, I left her alone, I’m the one who made her life insignificant, its not HIM that made her life in misery, MISERABLE!.
I learned the most important lesson:
I can never escape past; you can never walk away from reality.
I am looking forward, for the ending of this story: her story, my story.
Could it be a happy ending for her? Could it be for me?
An answer is what you are searching for, Dear reader.
But I am looking forward for realization.
As the light slowly sets down, the night conquers beyond, moonlight rises atop while time passes by as seconds fades into minutes until it will went as hours that sooner be days vanished into weeks, years.
“You can’t go back to start again, you can’t go back to create a new beginning, all you have to do is fixed what was broken”
It was already midnight, he was still awake, a man in his mid-twenty’s, a long haired guy, he was a blonde, a bit of a simple guy from head to toe. He looks as much as a stranger you can never trust but inside him was a pure man, pure intelligence with a great mind that knows how to be logically correct and reasonable as always.
He was lying in his couch, a velvet sofa, free from dust and dirt while in front of the couch was a square-shape glass table.
A black lop-top rest aside, blinking on the screen was written notes, sentences, paragraph maybe; it is unfinished with a dot.
“The ending I am looking forward to the ending, looking forward for her ending, the most important part”. He was talking to himself; he was alone inside that house where he stays, where he lives, inside his home: embraced with pure silence.
Outside the house was a raging wind swaying in a winter breeze of a cold summer night. Everybody is already sleeping, all of the lights inside the houses were already out, all was close but oddly there is one standing still in the darkness, fading – his house, what was his name? I bet you thought it’s confusing, you want to know? Well he is someone with a dual identity, duality like character and attitude, his character differs from his attitude.
First day of the class, he begun typing again, “what about the first day of the class?” he spoke again, questioning no one but himself then back at the empty screen he wrote:
YES it was the first day of the class, I met her, she met me “no it’s not me, not myself! Off course but a man named ROBERT WELINGTON”.
She was a plain child silent as an angel.
While he was a nice looking person, with an infectious smile, and those eyes with fierce and power, the way he speaks was plain with silence but his voice goes loud like thunder.
“May I know your name?” very first words that came out on his mouth, he sounded like a clown speaking, the scary type that you can see in the movies, sounded funny maybe but totally terrifying, then she wanted to smile but she’s frightened.
“Ma...” he cut off her words, completing the missing syllables “Ria… Maria, Maria, Maria, you ARE Maria? Oh you are Maria…”
He sure looked and sounded crazy as he keeps on repeating those words, sounded a fool to ask someone’s name even though he knew it already.
IT WAS MEMORIES, MEMORIES, MEMORIES NOTHING BUT MEMORIES.
“Yes Maria. Maria Anderson, Maria Clarisse from West coast Ohio sir,” while those was her first words, I heard those with a trembling voice in such nervousness, I sought the fear, it was in her eyes, I sense her intelligence as I glared at her without a blinking eye.
“You graduated at Westside Dalton Academy in Ohio don’t you Ms. Maria? He said with a silly smile.
“Yes sir, yes… education... Graduated there now I’ll be your co-teacher Mr..? May I know your name, the faculty haven’t mention anything about you”
“My name, you don’t know my name? Have you forgotten me already…?”
“I’m sorry sir but I can’t remember any coincidental situation in my life that I have met someone like you. Sir I bet you’re a total stranger”
“Forgive me for acting strange, impolitely insane; in a layman’s term…oh forget that …..Robert Wellington is my name, the one who handle the philosophy class and you?”
“I’ll be handling the literature class, according to the Dean, Mr. Robert...”
“Before I forget, take this book and discuss it to the class, or if you want read it first…READ IT FIRST, IT’S ABOUT YOU… no more questions just do what I say, maybe you’ll understand everything lateR
The dawn is breaking; he’s still searching for the perfect ending of his story.
That would be too fast to start it that way but too good to tell you why it happened like that,, just go with the flow… you’ll never understand things easily why don’t you try to look at it in a different way.
“No that is wrong totally wrong! Delete.delete.delete” the writer spoke to himself again, it should be this way:
Then he began typing again.
“Maria is your name young girl? You are Maria” I was staring at her from head to toe then suddenly I glared at each faces inside the class, all were clean looking, plain. Simple yet appealing but when turned to her what I sought was those black pale eyes, eye shadows darkened with black, the way she dress totally different, she got those piercings on her nose on her lips.
“Its Clarisse not that stupid name, Mr. Know it all” she acted like a rebel and I never allowed students in my class to act in such manner.
“But in this card that I have, it says here your name is MARIA CLARISSE! You know what you shouldn’t hate that name that was the nicest name I know!”
I am considered the terror teacher in the school, everyone is afraid of me because they always think that I love to make their lives in misery: Miserable but truly they don’t know anything about me, about my intentions, they don’t know what’s the reason behind those actions that I do, they never understand the way I AM, the way I SHOULD BE.
“Do you know what I do in my student’s who doesn’t know how to follow rules? How to act decently, how to respect someone who is called an authority? Anyone! Now get out of my class, I never want to see your face in this class again, understand!”
Silence entered the picture, silently she walked away, she went outside the class while the insignificant man tried to smile even though inside him he felt sorry for that girl, but he need to do that its according to what he believe is right.
AND HE IS RIGTH with that.
Then he began his lecture at the class while the poor child went to the school library alone, you can never see her cry, she was with that strong personality but somebody saw there were tears in her eyes.
“What’s with that crying, look at yourself, you’re wearing that rock like black style then you are crying, oh what a poor sense of style you have little girl”
Someone came, and comforted her.
“I thought you hated me, why were you here, you should be in that class anyway, you just need to leave the hell out of this room, and let me be alone!”
“You know what let me tell you something you don’t know, there’s nothing wrong with you, why were you punishing yourself in that way, you were just a young one, you need to enjoy life itself and stop acting that way!”
He shouted at her with a soft voice of guidance, and then he sat by her side.
“Who the hell are you anyway to tell me what should I do? You’re just one of them who’s trying to change me and tell me that everything’s going to be okay after everything that happened”
She tried to go away but she can’t her stopped her.
“I know nothing about you, why don’t you try to say something so that I can understand what’s going on with you”
“Reasons, so you’re asking for reasons, there are no reasons; I’m just created to end up this way”
“No. people always have reasons; I DO THINGS FOR A REASON. People cant be happy for no reason, neither cry for no reason, and so does the world has full of reasons, so I therefore tell you that you are with something, you’re living with pain, consider that hatred!”
“But what about insanity, craziness, crazy people cry and laugh for such unreasonable reason”
“But there are still reasons... with that even in that situation reasons exist; there is a damage in their brains that’s the reason. And another thing to tell you is that He has a reason why you were suffering like that”
“What is His reasons, to punish me for my sins,, hell!”
“NO. You don’t know a thing. It’s because HE wanted you to realize how complicated this life is, challenges, its how you define the state of life’s complexity when we go to struggles causing us pain like what you are feeling right now”
“Well I can say that is too much for me to take, doesn’t He understand that.”
“He UNDERSTANDS. You are the one who don’t understand a thing, you don’t know a thing at all MARIA”
“OKAY you win; I’ll tell you what happened”
“I’ll be listening dear child.”
I was an orphan, and I knew that ever since I was born, grew and learned how to speak, there was a nun who took cared of me, and treated me as if I was her own child.
I hated to be in the orphanage where my true parent’s left me, it’s overcrowded there and some of those people there never knew how to treat a child well but that nun was different.
One day we decided to move away, from that orphanage and there we started a new life in a well established village, she became my teacher and I learned about so many things.
I learned and realize that life was so much easy, no complexity.
She taught me to believe in God and let Him to be in the center of my life, the reason why I’m alive and living in this big wide world, I thanked Him for everything that I had and for giving me that nun to guide me and helped me to live in this Insignificant world.
Maria was never my real name she is the one who gave me that name and my true identity was still left unknown
“Now why you hated that name?”
“No forget that, you’ll never understand anyway Mr. insignificant”
“Mr. Insignificant? What did you just called me?”
“Insignificant, meaningless, simple as senseless like all of those things that you are trying to explain to me, furthermore reasons I don’t understand you!”
“It doesn’t mean that once you don’t understand something: it is meaningless. You need to open up your mind; you just need to be open-minded to understand things that you call insignificant”
INSIGNIFICANCE; AS PEOPLE TRIES TO DEFINE THEIR WORLD, YOU KNOW WHY? IT’S BECAUSE PEOPLE CONSIDERS LIFE AS THEIR WORLD.
“Its in the way that people describes it UNFAIR but to tell you nothing has been created unfair, not in balance, either imperfect”
“How come you say such words?”
“If you tend to look at things in a different outlook you’ll find a thousand reasons to consider it perfect, days that turned into nights, crying and pain that turned to hatred that sooner vanishes away into memories”
“Memories, Just memories like the past?”
“Yes. The past, you cannot deal living in the present world while not considering your past”
“past is past, it can never gained back what lies in there is just something that you cannot change, that’s why we don’t need to looked at it or either remember such a thing about it”
“But the past can change you, the past can change a person no matter how lonely, drastic it is, it can just do something to a person: its either he will learn from it or either be drowned from the mistakes that just belongs there”
“I’ll tell you what had just happened to Maria, to me...”
She had spent the rest of her childhood with Sister Therese, together they became happy and contented in their plain simple lives, but suddenly, everything had changed.
Like a blink of an eye, changes went by and just happened.
I brought her down to the nearest hospital but it was too late, it was too much late to save her life and I went back home all alone, feeling sad lonely and pity for that young child, that little girl she had left behind, I sat beside her, that little angel but I cannot look at her, I cannot take care of her anymore, everything just ended and I ended everything.
That woman became no longer a nun, a mother she became, to a child who was never her own.
She decided to live at the Lincoln homes at Ohio where I used to live and for years they had become my neighbors, for such lonely years but lately I haven’t seen them, I don’t know what happened to her what happened to that child.
“if only she knew who I am, who the real me is, I Know truly that she will never call me nice but rather mad man, because who I am belongs to her life, I am not just someone but somebody in her past”
“Why do you need to do this.., are you pretending that you know nothing about HER even though you know more a lot about her more than she knows about herself, I am lying to her I told her such lies that you were already dead so that she would not look for you but someday somehow she will discover the truth behind those lies, maybe I should tell her before it would be too late, so that she could understand and not merely hatred enter thy picture”
“NO. It would not make any sense, No. Sister, you should keep it a secret, let Margaret…”
It was at that night, I was wide awake and I heard her talking to someone over the phone, Sister Therese was talking to someone over the phone, though I never knew who it was, who is over that phone that she is talking to I realize that she was talking about me, I heard that she was talking to my real parent, she knew it all along but she had choose to lie to me and made believe that I was just an orphan she never knew that I was longing to know about who I am, who my parents are…
“But MR. V…”
Those was the last words I heard from the nun, since that night, days went by and I have forgotten those memories that happened but I don’t know why It just happened.
It just happened like a coincidence, why? I am asking myself, why? I’m bringing back the dreads of vain of a winter’s tragic moment when there was a decision, a wrong decision that made one’s life miserable.
“Margaret? Who is Margaret? Is Margaret your real identity dear child?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Wellington there are words left unsaid, and death ended up thy hope of knowing the truth”
“Death. Death? What happened?”
“She had kept a secret to me. A secret about her condition. She is dying, she is suffering from a life-threatening illness and it was already too late for me to discover, she had died. She died that same night.”
I had been change, once in my life and that changes everything in her life, after hearing those words, those words that truly broke my heart into pieces, it crushes into my mind until now, it is pain. It is hatred, it was my life broken.
“I’m sorry but she’s dead, she’s dead Mr. Wellington, we could do nothing about it”
Death. Why her? Why does tragedy happens in a man’s life, why does it happened so fast… why do we need to meet someone in our lives if by then she will just stay in a short matter of time, you would be given a life to use but in the end would be taken away from you, and what is such sense.. Taking a pathway to fix you after it rained, trying to face the sunlight again and start a new beginning?
INSIGNIFICANCE: it doesn’t make any sense at all, because that is what life is all about.
INSIGNIFICANCE; it is like a whirlwind, just a maze where you face a thousand troubles before you’ll find your way out, realizing what you need to know, what life has meant to you.
Insignificance: its not what you think is right, its your thoughts about the world, you made it yourself, you’re the one making it by every step you take that alters, defines who you are.
“What a sad story, dear child. So tragic, so painful,,, I can feel your pain Maria, my dear student,,, I understand where it came from because that’s what exactly I am with, pain. Hatred, it just does something to a person”
“Mr. Insignificant, now tell me your life you already know mine”
“My LIFE. Very poor choice of thinking Maria, very poor choice of words,,, I don’t tell about me,,, what you see in me is already enough to describe who I am what my life is,,, my words define how I feel how I find my life as itself, INSIGNIFICANT.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want Mr. Wellington, you have said so much already and I already learned so much from you today,,, you weren’t bad and mean at all, unlike what they said about you.. Mr. Nice, yes, Mr. Nice you’re such a nice person”
“That’s what you think, like what I have told you… you don’t know a thing; you don’t know a thing at all MARIA”.
INSIGNIFICANCE: I made it myself, it is not what I think is right. I made a wrong decision; I have done something that I can never change, no matter how I tried to escape from that mess-I just can’t.
“I created it and I am locked inside it”
MARIA: She became my TEACHER.
My STUDENT became my teacher.
I LEARNED something from what she had said.
I learned about her pain, I found out the reason behind her misery. She was abandoned, she was just a poor child who thought that she founded hope in an INSIGNIFICANT world but suddenly it was just a stream of light, it vanished because HE took it away from her.
HER LIFE. Her life is not exactly what the way she had hoped for but rather it was taken to a path where it was planned to be.
“We’re heading to the same pathway. I’m trying to go back to her life where I truly belong”
HEADING TO THE SAME PATHWAY called realization.
“The past, like what I had said: matters”
He spoke again, it had been a sleepless night that had gone into day; the bright moon faded away from darkness and there’s a bright ray of sun that went by.
“The plot is still incomplete… where are those missing words? I need those to complete this story, this fiction but every word I wrote defines a lot of meaning: it resembles the past, who I am, Mr. Wellington behind this written prose”
He stop for a while and left… he went out of his house, it was the first time that he sought the life after all that happened: he never left his house not even once. He had locked himself in that house the day that he suffered from insanity: PAIN, DEPRESSIONcaused by a sudden death.
******
“I am living in my fantasies, I just found myself as a coward… I cannot accept that what’s done is done, that once broken cannot be fixed again perfectly and what’s gone can never be gained back again.
REALITY is reality and this fiction is a part of those fantasies, my fantasy, it cannot fix my life, the life that I had lost, it is just memories and realization brought by regrets.
I should have done those things like what ROBERT did but VINCENT was never ‘ROBERT’ he was just a part of VINCENT WELLINGTON”
He told those words to nobody but himself.
He went back again and started finishing the plot;
That girl never knew anything about her past.
He knew Maria since the day she was born and raised as a child. HE WAS NEVER A STRANGER BUT ALWAYS A FAMILY.
Maria was never an orphan but just a child who had been left alone.
“Let Margaret”
“But Mr. Wellington… Margaret is already dead, your wife is dead!”
“NO! Shut up… shut up…! Margaret is not dead… she was never dead… don’t ever tell me those words again! You don’t know a thing at all”
*****
Margaret was her wife, she died upon giving birth to an innocent child.
Margaret was everything to her, the reason why she wanted to live, the only reason why he exist in this world.
I gave her to that Nun ten years ago; I gave her away and named her Clarisse while the nun called her Maria, yes MARIA, she looked like Margaret.
Every time I see HER; I am dying, knowing that she’s just a memory of Margaret… she’s killing me deep inside.
I told the nun to take care of that poor child. SHE NEED NOT TO KNOW ABOUT ME.Therefore she lied to her the way I did.
“She called me Mr. Nice”
She was that child?
She was the same girl.
I had forgotten her memory for years, I am the reason why they left, and I told her to go;
“You better go away, I don’t want to see her again, she only reminds me of a big mistake I had done”
I thought that decision had made things clearer for me; I thought that it is the right thing to do.
“Everything has a reason”
I am vanishing in emptiness, something that I cannot find in this lonely world—called life, so I ended up in that profession because Maria left me an important lesson to learn:
I thought it was right, telling myself that it’s for a child’s own good
But every time I face those children, it feels like they only remind me of Maria, the child that I am searching for.
“I had been changed for good”
I tend to be mean, because those children need to learn something they really need:
To understand the complexity of life itself—full of reasons.
They need to know that everything I do is for their own good, to fixed them and not let them astray.
“There’s always a reason why I hated all of you, there’s a reason why I hated Maria”
I had been a coward, for those lonely years now that what I was looking for….
I should have told her the truth... she need to know who I am
But I refused to…
I JUST LET HER LEARN AND LIVE THE LIFE THAT SHE WNTED.
At some point in my life I knew I had fixed what was broken, I had fixed her.
*****
She knew me a s a TEACHER But still I’m the INSIGNIFICANT man she knew….
She grew up and learned to live the life that she had.
Those struggles, defines her; Defines my storY.
And this fiction is about Maria…and Maria was not just the student, the girl I used to know…
BUT
THE CHILD I LEFT, WHO GREW UP AS AN ADULT AND BECAME NO LONGER MARIA BUT MS. MARIA AS WHAT I HEARD THE YOUNG ONE’S CALLED HER.
“THE WORLD HAS NO CORNERS THERE ARE NO CORNERS, WE ALWAYS MEET AT THE CENTER BOUNDED BY DESTINY THAT HOLDS US BACK WHERE WE SUPPOSED TO BE---WAY BACK HOME”
---ROBERT VINCENT WELLINGTON
“Fiction: stories consist of words; it is the voice in an author’s mind that provokes what he felt in his heart, what a man is suffering”
Fiction has been said a fantasy, a product of an author’s great mind but do you know where it came from?
Do you know how it is written perfectly? Bounded by the use of pen into papers compiled all together.
Answers: is what you are looking for DEAR READER.
To tell you, it is all my fantasies, a part of my past.
Maria: she is never a student and Robert: is just VINCENT.
He was never teacher…
BUT Maria is just the child I had lost, the family that left me standing here…
I am VINCENT WELLINGTON.
I am ROBERT WELLINGTON
I’m trying to fix a broken life from this fiction but in the end it is still FICTION.
It can never become REALITY.
“I CAN’T GO BACK TO THE PAST AND CHANGE WHAT WAS BROKEN RATHER GAINED BACK WHAT WAS LOST THE ONLY THING CONSTANT IS THAT I CAN START A NEW BEGINNING NOW”
And that is how I wanted to end my story.
THE END
