A Conversation with the Future

by : Nailal Armstrong

In the evening, there was a boy who had run hundreds of miles arrived in a canyon over the sea shore in the west side of the city. While trying to catch his breath, he looked at the orange horizon that blended with the blue ocean.
“Am I there yet?” the boy whispered doubtfully to his mind.
He put his arms on his knees. His sweat wetted all over his body and clothes. The smell of the sun evaporated from his hair.

Tiredness floated from every part of his body.
He tried to stand up using his last energy remained.

“Bravo! Bravo, son! What a great deal!” suddenly the wind blew. It blew the voice of an old man. It sounded like and old man that had been through a lot and filled with life experience.

“Who’s that?” the boy was confused and he looked around.

There was no one.

“Welcome, son! Your boat has arrived on the shore, on the gate of the ocean!” The old man voice continued.

The boy turned around and tried to find where the voice came from.

Nobody was there.

The voice was very soft and nearly soundless but so clear that it was impossible to deny.

“Show yourself!!” the boy shouted again.

“But it is just a gate, son!” He heard that soft voice again.

The wave hit the bottom of the canyon splashing the sea water.

“Who are you?!” the boy shouted frustrated. He knew that he would not be answered.

The cloud was slowly moved by the warm west wind.
“Your little boat was made of the paper anyway,” the soft voice continued. The boy had no choice but to listen “Doesn’t the river that guide you to the sea make you realize how weak your little boat is?”
The wave hit the bottom of the canyon. It threw the sea water to the mouth of the boy. Salty.

“So what?” the boy answered as he liked. He turned his face to the ocean where the voice seemed to come from. Was it a voice of the ocean? thought the boy.

“Do you know how big the waves that will hit you in the middle of the ocean are, huh, tough guy?! Do you know the waves will roll your little boat over and down into the deep ocean?” The voice rumbled and shrank the boy’s gut.

The boy became afraid and shivering. The warm west wind blew through the boy clothes that full of sweat. He looked at the blue ocean.

“I am a little boat that will never go trembling down by any brag or threat.” said that boy in rumbling but husky voice, “I was composed of divine people. I will evolve to gain esteem.

Silence.
The ocean seemed speechless.

The boy continued.
“It makes me an optimist eventhough I live among the conservatives.”

Melancholic wind from the east blew the husky voice to the open sea. Echoing an absurd husky voice.

The ocean swallowed the sun that turned to reddish.
The world turned dark.


Bekasi, 25 December 2007