Write a Definition

 

A writer does not write everyday, neither nor he writes every other day; a writer writes on a day beyond his control.

– Samantha C. De Guzman

(NO PLAGIARISM)

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A Road to Enchantment

I always want to go for a long walk, not bothered by my footwear if it will fit the road…or not even close to where I am heading.ย It’s just a matter of “ADVENTURE.”

When I was a little, maybe 7 or 8, I was the queen of prowess in the class. My friends and I walk our way home. Well, not directly. We use shortcuts – spooky and wild places we’ve never been to.

Every afternoon, or in some instances, it was 2PM. While we were heading home, a path unknowingly deluded us. Different stalks of banana and sharp edges of wild grasses we were passing through, then, did try to wound us, too.

Unsure, terrified and exhausted, we patiently looked for our way back. There was this enigma that finds me peering, mindful of every path that we were taking.

A small body of water suddenly caught my attention. Have you ever wondered where mermaids used to hide? Nonetheless, I know you do because yes, in any place they hide. And this was based upon folk stories I heard before…

A tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality. One of my friends pointed us a lighter horizon of the pathway that would lead us later to the highway. With a mixed fervid relief, I sighed. I was thinking of being stocked in the middle of nowhere. “What was the point of going back to reality?” I whispered to myself, quiet enough not to let anyone hear my plea.

My best-friend took my hand and we walked with a speed of fury to get back to our own houses. There was a pond, though, and we needed to jump across it…higher and longer – careful not to get ourselves wet.

After their turn, I took mine. One, two, three… I jumped to boot and so I was back to reality. In few kilometers, I can already see the roof of our house. It’s getting hazy, yes. Twilight welcomed us with a cold and sound wind, breathing in and out a lungful of relieved breaths.

As I reached our doorstep, my friends waved their “Goodbye” to me. And before I enter the house, I got the stone inside my pocket. It was the one I picked near the small pond we’ve gone to, lately.

Stone symbolizes strength, stability and compactness. I think, like the stone, my dignity and determination are strong, hard and simple. No doodles, not rainbow-colored, but
an art.
Why? Art is beauty. And not everyone may see the real artistry on it, I bet few can comprehend the true meaning behind it.

I am an adventurous person. Most of the time, I venture out in the four corners of my room but I picture every single detail of my own Neverland. A place you’ve never been to, and you’ll never been to. A trip is not always opt to be in costly, faraway places. Your mind says it all: “You can go wherever you want as long as you cooperate with the beats of your heart and your imagination.”

Take this, for instance. The photograph above was taken by me. Gainsay to shoal, I was walking with my mom and I accidentally pressed the Camera button on my mobile phone. Later that night, I viewed the original photo and beautified it more.

The caption’s a part of the song, “Rocketeer” by Far East Movement ft. Ryan Tedder.
I want to take you into a place in my mind…a place that I’ve treasured for years. And thank you for joining me, for reading this alone is just a round-trip to my story.

And if you’re asking for the stone I kept for years, let me say this to you. I still have it now, promise. The stone’s been locked to a fancy string, with a somewhat big white circle around it, and it’s what you’re using to read this…

“Your Beautiful EYES.”

by: Samantha C. De Guzman
(NO PLAGIARISM)