Adam. Seventh page of revelation.

photo by Fabrice Devron

This post is the sequel of Adam. Sixth page of revelation.

 

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Adam’s finest summer moment perished with Eric's departure. It was not Eric that actually bugged. It was the adventure they had sought together. There was that last strange night from which they eventually deducted that Adam was being delusional. The later day, they decided to go back to the forest to find no such flower field. Adam’s intuition, nonetheless, was still bemoaning for something more.

One fine morning, Adam opened his computer to receive an invitation through his e-mail. Hundreds invitation mails of spam had previously encroached past his address, but this one had a kind of title boding something attractive for him: Congratulations, Adam! You are now a member of The Murmuring Writer Guild. It’s the word Writer that touched his sense of self and the word Guild that added adjunctive allurement. What a ridiculous name, though, thought Adam.

Tickling his tongue with a glass of green tea shake, Adam’s mind was filled with a thousand doubts questioning his self quality—his usual introverted introversion habit. He was thinking whether being not able to stare back at other people made him a coward when suddenly a guy pulled the chair in front of him and looked directly into his eyes, “Have you read that each different person unconsciously has a different hidden unexplainable kind of random low-to high levelled paranoia? It, well, later depends on how your cowardice or shyness comes up in your role in the society and how far you can handle or hide it that counts. Which means.....being regarded as a pussy is a mere bad luck, being in a wrong place and time.”

What? Adam almost jumped his chair off.

Adam had nearly thought that his mind was being raped until the guy pointed at the book’s title in his hand, How Each of Every People Makes A Superhero. A terrible coincidence, Adam assured himself. “You are Adam, aren’t you?” he offered a handshake, “I’m Eremes, from the Guild.” Another guy appeared and smirked, “Do not mind his manner, Adam. Please trust me not all of us are that peculiar. Oh....yes, not all of us,”  the guy named Eremes was a skinny petit with cool glasses on and brace was as well on his teeth, “I am Nortrom,” and the latter was almost exactly as Adam’s built, having considered he was wearing a thick square jacket.

“So who are you guys, really? I mean, your names are definitely nicknames, no?” complained Adam about those other ridiculous names. “Oh, well do not be hasty, Mr. Adam.  This conference has even yet to begin. Anyway, what was it that you last wrote?” Nortrom spoke with his hand and index finger up and eventually giggled. Adam started to wonder whether this man was homosexual or plain unusual.

“Green tea shake,” Adam answered Nortrom’s question and both of his new acquaintances raised their eyebrows, “the waiter left her pen and her note on my table to answer some call.” They now looked rather disappointed, “Very funny, Adam. But what we expected was of course something more readable in the form of passages. Come on, we are a writing club. What else could we be talking about?”

Before they were able proceed, a woman skipped past Adam and pulled the last chair on the table. She handed over a note on a paper to Adam:

The key of happiness is to always find a home inside a deep dark forest. Don’t find me, I’ll find you. If you insist, love.