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Hi, my name is Mario, 27 years old and a writer. Recently i'm making novels that really didn't go out well. So i thought i should travel for a while. People didn't like the books that i made, that really makes me sad because i put my heart into it. And it's been a while since i had visit my parents, so i thought i should drop by. What got me into books is my parents, they really love reading books, so i guess it runs in our family.
While i was driving to my parents, i stumble upon this dog that looks homeless. So i brought him to my car, it's okay because i don't have any other companion and my parents loves animal pets. What should i name to my new dog? i'm not really good in naming. "How about Doggnam? pretty catchy.". After i said that name, the dog looks at me silently, not even panting."How about Gregorior?", The dog looks straight to the road. "How about Michael?", "Ok.". And i stepped on the brake and looked to the dog. "You can talk?!?!" i shouted. The dog just looks at me like nothing happened. "Maybe that's just my imagination. So, should i call you Michael?". And then the dog barked.
After hours of travelling, i finally in front of my parent's house. The environment here was quiet and beautiful because they live in the countryside. I look to my parent's house and recollect the moments i spent here. I walk towards the door and before i knocked, someone opens it.
"Oh?" a young lady stared at me. "Uh, sorry must have been the wrong address." i reply, "Mario?" a faint feminine voice called my name in the house, "Mother?" i looked at the woman inside sitting next to a man. "I should go." the young lady said and began to leave. I go inside the house and hug them both. "It's been a while, son" father said, "Yeah, 7 years.". My mother prepared lunch for us and seems to be happy. So, when will you leave?" Father said while petting Michael, "Really , dad?" i asked, "haha, i'm joking.". Said Father.
Mom: What brings you here anyway?
Me: I just want to cool off, my life's currently in shambles.
Dad: You look like you're ok, what's wrong?
Me: My books are not selling we'll, even though i put my time and effort to it.
Mom: It's all right sweetie, it will sell, i promise.
Dad: And it's not like you're the only one who dealt with that problem.
Me: Thanks Dad, appreciate it.
We all laugh like there's no tomorrow, we really miss each other.
A week has passed and i got to enjoy the countryside and the company given by my parents. While i'm here, i try to write a story but i can't, i feel like every time i try, they judge me what i'm making. And one day i went to an open field with a tree in the middle of it. That's the place where i hang out with my friends back in the days, i just don't feel like i need to talk to them now.
Me: Hmm, what should i write about? got any ideas Michael?
Michael: How about a story about a man who makes a stories that doesn't sell well then he goes to his parents to chill and find this lady who made his life better and fell in love to her unknowingly and then the lady inspired the man to make more stories and suddenly the man made a super awesome story ever thanks to the girl and he plans to tell her that he loves her but the girl has a fiancee and thus breaking his heart so it will look like he may have won the crowd but not her love?
