They said we are made of bricks, but they are wrong, we are made from mud. It takes mud to form a brick.

We are not designed to be kings, nor are we designed for any purpose, a man can dictate other actions, a man can decide his death, without the subject of fear, what is to be afraid?

We always have a choice, it’s just that, we are simply too selfish to accept it.

Some of us can't simply tolerate pain.

Or whatever this means to me anymore.

Page 998.

There a man gazing up at the sky, watching the sun, as the rays dimmed down as if it was a sign of his remaining life.

The Old man was Olen Fairer, who lived quite a tragic life ever since he was a child, and as such he was given a choice of life which he never intended to. Due to this, he spent most of his time staring in the skies, as the sun and moon revolved according to their cycle.

He lived his whole life laying on the bed, pondering if he could at least stand one day. Life was indeed cruel to him, but no matter how hard it is, he still yearned for life. Despite the sickness, Olen still wished for something, something that could at least let him see the sight, as far as the mystery that the universe holds.

Since Olen turned twelve on his birthday, he learned he had a neurological disorder known as neuroacanthocytosis syndrome, a disorder that affected movement in many parts of the body, leaving him with just two able hands to keep track of his journal. From that moment on, nothing else matters to him except for his family and his journal, and while occasionally writing stories to fill up his time.

At least, he couldn't track the time whenever his reading a book, and while writing stories as he daydream of a world where he could freely roam to the world without any burden or illness to stop him. The book was his only means to relive the happy moments he could think of. Also, the only way to keep his smile for his beloved granddaughter.

The old man's relatives were quite sweet, they care for the old and seem to be quite well versed when it comes to its needs, though they can call a maid to take care of, the old man still prefers the presence of the relatives he knew.

But as time goes on, his relatives grew distant, some of those who were too busy, or some who already passed away, leaving only a few of those who would come and visit him for quite some time. Particularly her granddaughter. He has been with her since she was a young kid when her parents were still alive, and while bringing her along with them when they have the time to visit him. His life, in a moment of time, felt serene seeing her close by listening to his stories.

Despite the diseases he had lived through since the time he was a child. The old man's life was filled with love from her granddaughter, and as such, he grew up as a good person, a little naive though.

As days go by, her granddaughter grew up into a fine lady, spending their time less as days goes on. However, she was sensible, though the time with her dwindled. She was considerate enough to at least think for a way to make him happy. Sometimes she would have brought some books with her at the expense of her money. Though he was adamant about the gift he received, but along the way she said, "cheer up old man, it's my hard work, think of it as a gift"

Looking at her grow up gives flutters to his heart, his body might decay as time passed by, but his heart was only growing stronger. He never thought there would be a day like a lonely person like him would openly speak to the people he met every day because of her. Indeed, she was too optimistic.

Who would have thought her granddaughter would be the first one to see the gift in him. Encouraging him to speak out to the surrounding people, telling them the stories of his life, especially her life. And for a brief moment of his life remaining, he gets to feel a bag of bones like him what work feels like.

Once in a while, her granddaughter would come to accompany him to an event where people like him, a storyteller would gather. Often, he spends his time talking to the children gathered around him. Telling the kids a story of a dragon roaring in the sky and a king who fell in love with a simple woman.

His heart never felt more ease and peaceful from the day he met her. He looked up at the sky and thought. "For an old man like me, my eyes sure do see far, well, at least I could still see,” he said with a melancholy and joy gleaming within his eyes.

Drifting his eyes around his surroundings, a fresh flower standing near the window greeted him. The flowers' appearance never fails to astound the old man. It has a delicate fragrance and a color that suited the walls in his room. Crimson.

Behind the windows from his room, one could see nature budding and flourishing just from a single glance at its beauty. Ever since the day passed by, his world had changed, as he look at the sky with an expression of hope that seems distant to him before.

"Like another world," he responded with a sigh as he lay back on his comfortable pillow.

knock, knock.

Arriving out from the door, a female dressed in a velvet outfit and a silver necklace hanging on her neck walked through the door with her red heels visibly stepping in and entering the room. It was his granddaughter Shilla.

"Shilla is that you, aren't you busy with your own work?" Olen replied as he slowly turns his head to the sound coming from the door.

“Is it not that it would matter, well besides that, should you be thankful instead?” she said with a smile slowly hanging on her face.

“Well, if you say so, you know you're the only person with whom I could share my stories. It pains me seeing you without my side”.

"Stop acting like a whiny baby, old man," she said, rubbing her forehead.

“Just like my mom,” he said with a sigh, looking back at Shilla.

"You know, you are already getting too old for you to take care of me anymore. Try to look for someone already," Olen said, as he laughed seeing her face blushed.

"Hey old man, still remember the day when a kid called you a storyteller," she said with a smile.

"Hmph, that kid keeps annoying me for quite some time lately. I shouldn't have told him the room number I lived in," Olen said annoyingly.

"Old man, at least you are not alone now, plus you and the kid are quite similar, also his illness isn't as simple as you think," she thought for a while, hesitant to say it.

"No need to say it, I'll take care of that kid, don't you worry," Olen said with a burden in his chest.

Shilla smiled and nodded. "and about that storyteller, I've never thought I would see a man like you would cry so heavily for someone who has gone through a lot in their life already," she said with a laugh.

"Hmm, those days indeed, such a shame," Olen said, while his cough worsens.

Beep, Beep, Beep!

Olen!, Ollen!

While staring up at the sky, where the windows are, a glowing crimson flower could be seen, swaying desperately as if it was calling to someone. And along with it, a gentle voice spoke.

“Shilla…”

'it seems my time has come already'