CHAPTER ONE: The Diary

Aries was on his deathbed. He was on the borderline of life and death. Moans of pain were audible and clear. He was obviously suffering from an acute disease that was never specified in this story. He was all alone in the room in his expansive manor. Fronting his bed is a large window that gives 180 degrees angle of spectacular view. Moreover, at the claw of his life, Happiness was seldom.

 

 

The sky outside was gloomy.  Hues of brown and orange dominated the free sky; it was half an hour before sunset.

 

 

After a short while, Aries seized his reading glasses with his numb and shaking hand. He was trying his best to pick up the thin supporter of the glasses in his 300/300 vision. As he started to fit his glasses into his eyes, vivid memories flashed back in his mind. Finally, everything in his perspective was clear, and opened the old, rugged diary in his hand.

 

 

He started reading the diary, slowly in his capacity. Word by word, he understands. And after each sentences, he reflects.

 

 

The aura of the room became gloomier as he flips the pages of the diary. Nostalgia filled the place like flashfloods. Aries was in deep yearning.

 

 

His eyes were still, as if he’s thinking of something eager to remember.

 

 

The diary was so compelling for Aries. He wasted no moment to decipher every letter. I see in his eyes, the joy and the pain, and most especially, the guilt.

 

 

Teardrops fell in his eyes. His emotions were apparent. He was too frank about his feelings. I can’t understand why he cries so hard reading that old, rugged red diary.

 

 

And the diary’s pages went wet as Aries tears kept on flowing.  The chronicles scribbled in that diary was definitely a masterpiece.

 

 

The sun was on the horizon, beaming its last rays. Aries was in concrete hallucination, panting his breath rhythmically.  Stillness surrounds his soul, and his mind drove him back completely in yesteryears’ scenario.

 

 

His reminiscence was incomparable. His eyes conveyed of his interest of the past. Which most likely and obviously, he wasted. He clamors for a chance, a chance of bringing back time and correct things out.  If he can turn back time. If he can.

 

 

In spite of his weakness, raged of anger were felt within the four walls of the room. Aries slammed the diary onto the floor. Guilt and disappointment outlast. He yelled in his anger, jerked and made maneuvers that crease his beddings. He kicked his legs alternately, which was a symptom of irritation. 

 

 

Not until his last heart beat throbbed. Behave and silent. He slowly closed his eyes and peek his last views of the world.  He was now on peace.

 

 

The old, rugged red diary was on the floor, opened upside down.

 

 

Minutes passed, his clumsy, unreliable caregiver entered the room, but was staggered seeing his boss’ cold body on the bed. She also saw the diary, picked it up, and called 911 quickly.