When The Author Fell in Love

"You need to feel where the shot will go."

The children in front of me here in the wide field are alert and staring. I just let their eyes follow where I was going and stop while discussing. Ten children are now lined up in the shooting line under the shady sky. The wind was just right, I was still looking for time before they did what I was teaching.

"Move the left foot forward and the right is behind. You should have formed your body like a T and be comfortable with your place," I reminded.

They did that quickly, releasing the left foot into the line while the right was left the line. I was just on the sidelines while telling them what to do, I noticed an increase in the number of students surrounding us so I confronted them.

"We have a training here. Don't you have a class? " I asked the grade four kids based on the color of their p.e uniform.

They shook me while the others continued to watch. I looked at where their other classmates were coming from who seemed to be approaching us as well.

"If you want to watch them, be quiet and stay outside the lane, or else I will call your parents. It that clear? "

"Yes teacher!" they answer simultaneously.

I no longer bothered to waste time with them because the children I was teaching had another class.

I face them again. "Listen! I will discuss the other matter so you can follow me. If you want to try every procedure that I will discuss then do. First! Let's look at stance, gently grip the bow. I just want to remind you to keep your hand relaxed. Okay next, knock the narrow by clipping it onto the string. "

I am an Archery Teacher, although I want to teach children various lessons but I have other things to worry about, in this job I am having a hard time because children want to learn but the brain is slow to process so it is necessary of long patience. That's why I always rejected their offer to be an adviser in one section and handle five section as a subject teacher. Less work, less pressure.

I wearing black fitted long sleeve and black leggings. Because I feel that my sweat is crawling down my neck, I decided to change because I will be home soon. After my class, I go straight to my office because each club has its own office. I handled the Archery Club for almost three years in this school, I was also quickly accepted because they needed a teacher like me, which I also don't know why I took a course about teaching when I don't like children.

I hate school. I want a weapon. I hate topics, but I love history ... About criminal and other crime. I'm not a killer tho, I'm just quickly attracted to such things.

I still have two hours left. So that I can write. I sat in the chair and faced the laptop where I often did something I was busy with. To write. I don't know if the term I usually used is correct or what. I always saying I write but I used my laptop. Stuck between I write or I type. Funny. It is difficult to explain especially to the narrow-minded.

"Miss Ficarro!" a familiar shouted from the door and the closing of the door.

I looked at it for a moment holding the postcards and other books as well as the chalk container. "What?" I asked as I opened the laptop.

He sat down and then fanned himself. I could see out of the corner of my eye what he was doing opening the cell phone and there was something hurriedly reading. When I opened that laptop I immediately pressed the notes where I would continue to the next chapter.

"Why did you kill your hero?" his opening causes me to stop typing. I didn't want to look at him.

"I have to," was my short reply, and his expression was obvious.

I went back to typing again but I knew the ritual would begin again — his frequent questioning of what I was writing.

"Why is it needed? Annika! He deserves to live, and then there is no reason for the hero to die," he complained with his nose almost sticking to the laptop.

"Patricio, it is not fantasy to make alive again those already dead. Can you just read? " I asked then leaned back in the chair.

"It's not that easy, of course! I love your character after that? Goodness! " It covers the forehead.

"Why? When you die will the characters in the story cry for you? No. They're not true. "

I ignored him, but he gave me a doubtful look. He used to be like that, saying that I'm single. I see nothing wrong with being single. In fact, those people who are single is the happiest one, if they are contented.

I'm not that desperate to find a man. Nah. Never.

I was able to write for about thirty minutes and Patricio was silent as he made the lesson plan. I could finish a chapter quickly depending on my mood. I sipped my coffee and then retold the story that Patricio was referring to that the hero had died.

I dedicated this one to my uncle. The star I m referring to is my dad. I wrote their history and journey every mission that they did. I'm so proud to myself because I write a story that was only exist in my mind and in my past, but now, they're read it not only in the Philippines, but in the other countries. I can't imagine myself doing this passion.

"Annika! I'll go ahead, I still have classes. Just kiss me daddy Zenos, my oh so hot sugar daddy, "he said with a bite while holding the doorknob. He was referring at my uncle.

"Fvck you my friend, teach well," I smiled and raised my middle finger.

He just parted his hair which he thought was long and closed the door. I'm alone now, I don't know where I'm going home now. I wanted to go in my house but I missed them. I also want to taste their cooking. I don't know how to cook anything but fried foods. I can't cook. I don't know how.

"Are you leaving Ma'am Ficarro?" question of a janitress who often cleans the office.

"Yes. I'll just leave it to you. I'll go ahead," I simply said then I turned around when I handed over the key.

Instead of going straight to the parking lot I walked to the terminal to commute. I took the bus and I didn't have a hard time because I took the aircon. Less crowded and cold. I just stood at the very front and right next to the window, I immediately felt drowsy and was prevented from falling asleep because I didn t trust the people here especially the driver who was staring straight at me.

"Miss? Can I sit here? " asked a man who looked just my age.

I reluctantly looked at it pointing to the vacant seat next to me. "Does that chair look like mine?"

It swallowed and averted his gaze. Didn't he see me as a passenger too? Stupid.

I just felt its presence. I just focused myself on looking outside and maybe I could even get an idea about what I was writing. It's hard to write, others think it's a joke especially if they don't know anything about literature. Plus, I don't do an outline. I don't follow. But outline is really important, but nah! I just pictured my plot in my mind and grabbed the pen or typed it. Then go with the flow. I'm almost done with my novel that I'm working on, Patricio reads.

When I got down I walked a few more kilometers, I just comforted myself by looking at the tall trees and the wind blowing because it works my brain. At the far end and there is a big gate there where the mansion is.

I just sighed because I'm going to walk again, why shouldn't anyone even pick me up?

From not far away I noticed the familiar vehicle, I rarely see it here in the mansion and he is the one who rarely visits here. I watched Lucas laugh out loud while holding a brown envelope. But that stopped when it saw me.

It even slightly waved at me that I just nodded. "Why did you get a visit?" his opening that looked like something was going on because of what he was wearing.

"I'll eat," I replied simply as he walked in with me.

"Do you want me to cook?" he asked again.

I no longer felt him until I entered the kitchen. I was really hungry, I was not able to change my clothes first because I was hit of my sight the freshly cooked food. I quickly took mine and ate right away, I don t know what to call them as if cooked in restaurants. I didn't offer anymore because they had already eaten. There were three dishes, there was almost only one left because I was so hungry and I felt like I could still eat it.

I was about to spoon food again when suddenly someone entered the kitchen. He's wearing a white long sleeve polo and black pants. It stopped when it saw me and almost stared at me and went down to the food, I could barely move because there seemed to be something wrong.

Some time later Lucas suddenly came and stared at me. "Did you eat? Zeke! " he shouted as he called Ezekiel.

When Ezekiel came, Lucas suddenly slapped the shoulder of the person next to him.

"Why? Something wrong? " I asked weakly then let go of the chicken thigh.

"We'll take her—"

"No. It's okay, eat it all," Zeke interrupted Lucas.

I almost swallowed. This is what they will bring to their company for an eve— shit!

I was pushed back from my seat and then stood up. "S-Sorry, I don't know that—"

"It's okay, we were just surprised. Haven't you had breakfast at your house before? You look very hungry," asked Lucas who was already sitting in the far seat.

I simply looked at Zeke who was now turning his back on us and fetching water from the refrigerator.

"I'll just change it," I said and pinched my finger lightly.

I don t know how to cook them, nor soup dishes I don t remember how.

"It's okay. A lot of people will bring food there. Just eat that if you're still hungry," Maru said weakly, still turning his back on me.

"So that. Do you want him to cook for you? " Lucas added that I quickly shook.

"No longer. I'm fine. Thank you, "I said then turned away from them.

I preoccupied myself with washing the ones I used and praying that they would go away. I can feel their presence until now! I know they're looking at me.

"Let's go Zeke, We're late! You ve already used up that water," Lucas said laughing as I heard the chair being adjusted.

"We'll go ahead Niks!" Lucas said so I nodded. I waited for another voice but I heard nothing.

I carefully placed the glass on the right to look at the reflection behind me, I saw nothing. They left.

But why am I feel like this? It was as if I were crying without tears. I felt like I'm an idiot. Why would I expected him to say goodbye? It's like I swallowed what I said before. I can't accept it, but that's the truth.