DayWalkers

Are we strong enough to learn a beautiful lesson from a tragic past?

Once upon a time, my father died. It might not be a right way to start a story, I guess but then I was never a creative person. My father tried to save a kid from a burning apartment. He was brave and foolish. I can never forgive him to leave me. My story is cliché. Well aren't all stories the same?

My mom was trying to speak to me about something but I was consumed by Linkin Park. These tunes are a soothing alternative to my mother’s blabbering about her new husband, her new stepchildren and her new mansion in a small town. I don’t belong there. The small rustic house in my father’s hometown is my home.

My room was big, only room on that floor. My step father welcomed us with a warm smile. My ‘ brand new’ siblings were as puzzled as me. ‘Our’ parents were too happy to observe this. It must have been rough on those kids too.

They let me have my dinner in my room just for this week.  Maybe John can sense the air of hostility and discomfort from the look on my face. His kids looked disappointed in me. Not my fault, I thought to myself. They expected too much from a brat like me.

My ‘new’ siblings often like to wander off to the Market Road. They said to me that I will get tired counting the stores and stalls set up there. I hate crowded places, something unusual for a big city kid.

I might not be a creative soul but I loved reading and there was big library down the street, which could have been the largest in the world if it was not transformed into a Trade Center, which was apparently necessary for the town’s growth and development as my stepfather said. During weekends and holidays, the kids in the neighborhood occupied every table in the library, leaving no room for me.But there was a place, right at the center of the library: a space between fantasy and nonfiction. It was weird, a mix of warmth and cold, as if it resonated with the ambiguity of the genres it resided within. Just a minute after I sat there, a blonde girl, of my age accused me of stealing her place but then she laughed it off.

 

She was beautiful like an angel. She looked as if she stepped out from one of the fairytales into reality. Wow, I sound like a typical admirer right now, but can’t help saying it how it is.

 

We remained quiet for a few minutes. She was enjoying her book but her smile and her sparkling blue eyes were distracting. The warm light touched her skin and her fingers were playing with the golden hairs: an innocent romantic masterpiece.

 

“Are you reading that book?” she asked me pointing to my book: The Ender’s Game. “…what are you staring at?”

 

“Your face…” I bit my tongue. What am I saying? Fool… I said to myself

 

She smiles and says “Don’t mind, I am not your type. I am not like these kids who are here just for free air conditioner.”

 

“I am here to read. Not for free AC room. I was just curious.”

 

“About what?” she asked me with a rough tone but still maintaining that warm smile.

 

“…this spot right here, a mix of fantasy and reality, cold and warm, graced by beauty and intellect!”

 

She started to laugh and that is how we began to talk. We had a lot in common: our interest in traditional music, books and paintings. She told me she liked that place because this place brings her back to reality when she is lost in her fantasy.She was an interesting girl. We met every day on the exact same time: 01:30 pm to 03:00 pm, followed by a small meal.

 

My mother joked about me changing a little day by day and often inquired the reason behind it. My step-father guessed that I was in love. No, it was not a romantic story. I wonder if it was a ‘Fairy Tale’ or a ‘Teen Fantasy’. They should be happy about this change though I was not happy with the fact that my step siblings were using it as a laughing stock.

 

She always leans on the fantasy shelves while I rest against non-fiction. There was never a split second, where her warm smile left her presence.

 

“Why don’t you smile?” she asked me. I blushed when she grabbed my hands.

 

“I am smiling.” It was a sudden question

 

“You are faking it.” What is she? I thought. Is she a psychic detective or something?

 

 “You can tell me?”

 

We have been meeting for a week now. We don’t know each other’s name. Nor do we ever felt the need to know. All we had is our stories to talk about. I never opened my mouth after that conversation. I was angry at myself. For the first time, she lost the spark in her eyes.She left early and asked me to go cycling with her tomorrow on the mountains starting at 7:00 am sharp.

 

 I am used to wake up early in morning but today I was even hesitating to pull myself from my bed. I was staring at the clock: TICK TOCK. Shucks, Wake up! I yelled at myself.

I wore my track suit and rushed down the corridors but stopped my hand from touching door knob.

 

That dream: my father entering the doors of heavens, leaving me forever. I did not realize when I started to scream. Finally I cried.

 

She kissed me on the cheeks. My face turned crimson red. She asked me the reason for the tears in my eyes. I said I was feeling sleepy. She was not convinced. Her crystal blue eyes were not shining and I was blaming myself for this.

 

It was a beautiful sight: Light escaping the tree leaves, noise of cycle tires crushing the dry leaves and mighty mountain blocking the superior sun. I didn't know when, but our rides turned into races. And I won, obviously! And for the first time I felt like I was laughing.I was laughing.

 

“I wish after this you can tell me everything.” She prayed.

 

“Why do you want to share my tragedy? I don’t want to hurt that smile with my scars.”

 

“That is where you are wrong! My smile will be more beautiful with you smiling with me.” She really thinks of me as her good friend. I realized now. Everyone was trying to help me. My stepfather tried to relate with me today. I just wiped my face and left. My siblings who I was ignoring were trying to be friends with me. It was me who was ignorant. We went deep into the forest. She was too fast on her feet yet I caught up with her despite losing my breath for a while.

 

What I saw was a scene from the Heavens. I saw animals, and not just any animals. I saw animals with white fur, whiter than the clouds, brighter than the sun and more vibrant than the white silk.

 

She called them “the DayWalkers”. I wondered why they were never discovered by anyone except her. She told me “… they show themselves to the young hearts who are lost in darkness, who lost their light.” She showed me a locket with her sister's photo in it. She told me that “…a white nightingale beautiful like an angel represented her before me because she, my sister was singer who used to sing for me.”

 

 I was not shocked, in my mind I always wished that my father will talk to me, even if it is just for an instant. A bright white light like living white flames ran right in front of us. It was coming from the opposite direction. It stopped. The storm of light vanished and showed a White Lion with black eyes darker than the night sky. He looked at me, briefly for a very long time. I saw myself in his eyes but after a while I saw something else.

 

I waited for the next day to tell her about what I saw. In our favorite spot of the huge library, she was curious and I told her. “I looked in the lion's eyes: a black mirror. White clouds of light enveloped me. I felt a hurting heat on my skin. I was experiencing my father's final call of duty where he sacrificed himself for that kid. The blood; he is wounded. Is he staring at me? How? Was it the parental instinct? My father was a brave man, who saved a kid’s life for no medal and for no fame. He saved him because he wants me to be proud. That Lion was bravest of all DayWalkers, represented my father and showed me that I have an essence of bravery like my father had.”

 

I could not stop smiling. She hugged me and I started to cry. Sorry father, for blaming you for all my mistakes. She was happy that I finally showed my true smile. She said that my smile was as beautiful as hers.

 

“I also saw the kid. He always visits my father’s grave and thank him for offering him a long life." I finally smiled but she complained about tears. She never wants to see those on my face again.

 

I invited her to dinner. My mother was happy to see he girl who changed me into a better person. I forgot to tell my mother that she is not my girlfriend but sometimes even I suspect my feelings.

 

 It was still hard for me to accept John as my new father but I accepted the fact that my mother loves him and I am ready to co-operate. He said that he wants to be my ‘father’ despite those feelings. I thanked him for his effort to calm me during that magical day when I broke down into pieces and cried like hell. He quietly exits.

 

It was time to connect with my new brother and sister. I asked for her permission to take them there but first I asked her about their existence.

 

 “DayWalkers are lights of hope. Let some beautiful things keep their mystery.”

 

Two white blurs of lights were hopping in the forest and all four of us tried to  give a chase and catch them. I was enjoying it. It was a romantic story. I can finally love myself.

 

Two streaks of light hops onto the siblings labs. They were rabbit. I asked how their DayWalkers can be same. “They are twins and they never stop running.” She laughed at me “I can’t believe you did not know that.”

 

“So yours is Nightingale, am I right?” I asked “Will you sing a song for me?”

 

“Let me guess. Definitely I will but when you will discover your DayWalker.”

 

How could I guess my DayWalker? She was definitely mocking me. I have no darkness left in my heart. But if, my father's was a lion then mine… I saw a light hidden behind the bush. It escaped my sight. I think I heard a roar. “I think I know my DayWalker.”

Author's Note

I will be grateful if anyone helps me to improve my speech and narration in the story.

Reviews

[Bushra Naqshbandi]

The story was heart touching. Just write this story on a sheet of paper and punch whosoever told you you're not creative in the face with it next time. ;) The plot was intriguing as well as beautiful.
You mentioned in your note that you'd be glad of constructive criticism so I'll say just this that sometimes you don't take care of the tense of the verbs you use e.g. After I shift to my stepfather's town. I had nothing to do their. Shift is present tense while had is past so if you write 'after I shift to my stepfather's town' then it becomes necessary to write 'I have nothing to do there' so that the tense is the same as grammar requires. Also, you've put a fullstop between the two sentences when there should have been a comma since 'After I shift to my stepfather's town' is not a complete sentence. That might easily have been a typing error so forgive me if that is the case. Apart from these two things, you've spelt the word there as ''their'' which might also be a typing error of course in which case please look over my comment on it. Similarly a grammatical error is present in the sentence 'I wondered they were never been discovered by anyone except her'. In this sentence ''they were never been'' is grammartically incorrect and the correct version is ''they had never been''. Sometimes you don't put fullstops at the end of a sentence like ''I was not shocked in my mind I always wished that my father will talk to me, even if it is just for an instant.'' When you don't separate ''I was not shocked in my mind'' the meaning becomes a little confusing.
Apart from these slight errors I do believe you've done a remarkable job. An amazing writeup. Best wishes. :)

[Miyank]

Thank you very much Bushra. I know there ought to be some grammatical error because when i write, I forget about them. I will make sure to correct them ASAP.

[Bushra Naqshbandi]

You're most welcome and your forgetting about mistakes just shows how engrossed you are in your piece which is a remarkable quality in itself.
P.S.: The story was really emotional as well as enjoyable :)

[BooKrazy]

What a beautiful piece of work! I just LOVE it. It's so intriguing and not - put - downable. And who told you that you do not have creativity. That is so totally untrue. And if you said that you didn't have talent yourself, you totally got to develop some self - confidence 'cause I think you could make better pieces (not that this is short of anything) if you had more confidence.
Just my opinion and of course, no offense.

[Taylor]

Thank you for sharing this beautiful story. Essentially, I don't believe it needs to be changed but occasionally there is a word or punctuation that would improve it. Just a few of them: 2nd sentence might be improved by starting it with "this" instead of "it"; "the" right way to start a story instead of "a right way"; instead of "shift" to my stepfather's town, "moved to my stepfather's town"; at the end of that sentence, "there" not "their"; tenses are mixed throughout, so they need to be consistent, such as "the mansion we live in -- should be "lived". I did not really understand what you meant by turning the library into a trade center and thereby making it into the largest library in the world. ""Floor between fantasy and non fiction section" needs to be changed, perhaps to "between fantasy and non-fiction that was wierd. It was both warm and cool...." So you get the gist. Keep writing. You have a lot to offer.

[Miyank]

Sorry, I meant that this Library would have been the largest library in the world if it was not turned into a Trade Center when town was facing money crisis. I will detail it further later.

[Prashant Pandey]

good connection between incidents. I started nd was unable to stop till d end. liked it.