BONFIRE

I walk through the old cobbled streets where moss grows in abundance, reminiscing the days of my childhood. I stop by the dilapidated baker’s shop, wishing for the smells of the raspberry-filled buns and the coconut candies with swirls of chocolates inside. But when I sniff the air, I wrinkle my nose in distaste at the smell of mold and dead rats. I walk from house to house, mourning the sagging roofs and crumbling walls. Everyone is gone, as we had left years ago in search of better jobs to support our families. There is not a soul to keep me company. I walk down to the crystal-blue lake, only to realize it was not clear anymore. The lake had turned brown, a murky body of water, and who knows what lay under the surface. In the middle of the lake, an old frayed rope with a tire seat attached to it floated on the surface. And our tree! Our beautiful oak tree whose branches had stretched up to the heavens and gave us joy was no longer here. A sad, lonely stump stood in its place. And across the river, in the distance, the fields were overgrown with weeds. The little remaining plants were hunched over as they slowly decayed in silence. Behind them loomed enormous cities—the buildings reaching toward the clouds. The air was full of gray smoke curling into spirals. And instead of the soothing song of birds, there was a distant cacophony of beeping horns and rumbling traffic. Sometimes in the city, I see a childhood friend, but with their blank stares and worried looks, there is no recognition between us.

The past and present were two opposite worlds. And I was trapped in the past. The stark contrast between the old and the new hit me like a bullet train. And to survive, I had to move on. I walked towards the big city, with the polluted air and the crowded streets.