The night drawing near, I saw the dark blue sky dotted with trillions of stars, whichI had never seen before in my city. I put the little glass jar in front of myeyes and begin to pray, until darkness totally invaded the world.
Writerslove to claim that what the are saying is completely genuine. Well, my wtory isanything but a fictitious one.
Lastmonth, my grandpa passed away peacefully. He’s a tall black man immigrated fromTanzania to the US.As for me, his story was like a flash of light over my mind.Nobody knew how he managed to get the hang of commercial rules. What people couldnever get tired to talk about, however, was now he turned his immense legacyinto all kinds of ridiculous collections, like teeth of primitive humans, ortheir traditional clothes.
Among them one thing stood outmost, a drop of natural water from Kilimanjaro. I tried my best to remind himof the difference of a performance art activity and a real sale. However, youknow what, he did buy it!
I had got used to returning homelate tired and frustrated, meeting another myself buried in sofa, complainingthat life was so tough. Days ago, I woke up with a start.
A young lady dressed in a smart dressappeared in my office, just waiting. She handed me a tiny glass jar, and toldme that it was the drop of water my pitiful grandpa had ordered, which finallywent to me.
I read the instruction carefully:
Stare at it without winking forover 30 seconds, then you will be led to a magical world of Africa.
CAUTION:This drop of water is the only key to get back to your present life. In anycase of emergency, drink it.
Now, are you ready for a newworld? Just go for it!
That’s amazing! I couldn’t wait toplay the game, though sacred a little.
I began to do exactly as theintroduction wrote. In no time I felt that everything around me began to shake,slightly at first but soon strongly as tidal waves.
As the wind roaring by, it becameburning hot. I was in a rain forest where so many brand new things crashed intomy eyes.
I saw the huge red sun shiningbetween the bushes. The fruits on the tree had miraculously tempting colors.The atmosphere brought up my imagination. It was just like a feast in paradise,the gods drunk and the goddesses dancing randomly.
There was no one around. I walkedfor a long time with interest, drown to the world in the drop of water.
Several days passed, an old womanin a local wine-red robe walked up yo me. She asked me to give her the drop ofwater. Her eyes were dim, but full of faithfulness. She was too weak tostruggle. Death had climbed up her face, obviously.
“Why should I give you this water?I want to survive, too.” I said quietly in my heart, though I was silent for noreason.
As if she had heard my question,she said, “Only be having this drop of holy water can I be fearless of death.”
My hand stretched out into mypocket, though my mind kept calling it back. Eventually I gave her the drop.Definitely, her journey from life to death was more difficult than mine, morelonely as well.
Her robes were swept up by thedesert wind and almost covered my entire sky. Then I thought, if fate had ashape, it would be like a robe blown up by the wind.
I did not know where should I goat that time. But to stop means no chance of survival. So I followed the sunand stars, or rather my heart. I ran out of passion to see the magical worldaround me. Some squares, some triangles, and some endless rounds. Sometimes Ifelt the smell of greens, the apple green, the tea green, the forest green, theemerald green. Every piece of green is like wings on my body, driving me tokeep on going. But at most time, I see Dusty beige, dirty pastel grey, andmuddy ocher.
After I crossed a lost city ofancient, I arrived at a wharf. The streets rose and fell, just like silentwaves. I felt like wrapped in a half=remembered dream.
A black boy was waving at me. Helooks like my grandpa very much, he was tall, energetic, and a new passage oflife. Somehow, he looked like me, myself.
“Are you ready for a new world?”his eyes shining brightly than ever before.
