Echoes and Aspiration

In the quiet morning light, right next to an academic school, Dan was lying in his bed, surrounded by both real and imaginary shadows. The gentle morning sunlight touched the wrinkled bed sheets, quietly suggesting that today could be full of new chances.

The day began with great sunshine casting over his bed sheets. In his mind, a voice echoed over and over, promising himself to change today. Today, he would change. Today, he will be the person who he dreamed of. Today, he will be the best student. But, as time flew by and the sun traced its path across the sky, the promises started to fade away.

His room, surrounded by the stuff that he is supposed to do, mocked him, since nothing has been touched. The top of his bookshelf was stacked with unorganized textbooks, dragging to his desks and all the way to his bed where it contained a mess full of assignments from all his classes. He knew what he was supposed to do. Yet, he left it there. Perhaps, he was too stressed to start or too stressed to even think about it. He ended up, as usual, doing nothing. Finally got out of bed, sat in his desk chair. Suddenly, he felt something unexplainably hard in the middle of his chest. He placed his hand on his chest and felt it. In the hidden chambers of his chest, lied upon a beast, echoing back the fourth, reminding him what he should be doing every day. This creature, a specter of stress, wraps its tendrils around the core of one's being, squeezing with an intensity that turns breaths into shallow gasps and thoughts into frenzied whirls. Dan wanted to change on the inside, but on the outside, nothing changed.

Yet, within this cycle of regret, there was a glimmer of hope. With each day, the realization grew stronger. It was not about monumental changes but small, consistent steps. Perhaps tomorrow, the light of dawn would not just signal another day of regret but the start of something new, a day where Dan would bridge the gap between who he was and who he wanted to be.

Seasons turned, and the streets of Vancouver began their nocturnal dance. A gust of wind played with the day's refuse, tossing a newspaper to the feet of a passerby.

The pedestrian’s son gently picked it up.

"Look, Dad, it's my favorite author, Dan Brown!"

Indeed, through the relentless cycle of self-imposed purgatory, Dan had sculpted a new existence, his name now synonymous with the stories that resonated in the hearts of readers across the city.

At last, he had become the person he aspired to be—not just in the cloistered woods that bordered his scholastic enclave but in the wide, wide world beyond.

Published by Polar Expressions Publishing, 2024. Copyright ©