Beautiful Is Time (FanFictionish)

Chapter 1: Return

A/N: As the reader, you may point out mistakes as stuff (it's very much appreciated and wanted). 

If paragraphs look chunky, it's cuz I typed this up on a computer and forgot how to space things out.

Mexico City. A bustling and lively city. With people, music, and shop stalls managing to fill every corner of the plaza and city, loud and ecstatic, with noise and color. Although it was chaotic, it managed to be soothing in its own familiar way. Nothing could match the feeling of wandering through the streets, from the small stands to the music playing everywhere—from traditional mariachi bands performing to fresh reggaeton blasting from speakers. The vibrant energy of the city is infectious. Making it impossible not to feel alive amidst the chaos. It was a sensory overload for some, but a peaceful paradise for us.

I walked up the solid concrete footpath, eyeing every building I passed. My eyes wandered through the open doors of the shops, checking out what was waiting inside. Eventually, I entered one of the many self-owned shops that lined the streets. I walked through the already-opened, barred screen door. Despite there being so many people passing through the streets outside, the shop was empty. Not even the shopkeeper was in sight. They're likely in the back, I thought to myself. It wasn't anything abnormal, so I didn't put much thought into it.

Shelves were filled with trinkets and whatnot. The one I was looking at was displaying many wooden objects. I picked up a mini wooden doll painted in vibrant reds and yellows. I turned the tiny doll in my hands for a bit, analyzing its carefully placed brush strokes. As I carefully observed the doll, I felt as if a pair of eyes were watching my every move, ones that hadn't been there just moments prior. In the corner of my eye, I notice the shop owner, an older man, sitting comfortably behind the register counter. His eyes lingered on me for longer than necessary.

I kept my back to him, hoping I was just overthinking it. It seemed I wasn't too far off with my assumption. He sat up with a grunt. "¡Oye!" He tried to obtain my attention, but the bottle in his left hand failed to make the situation better. "Señorita, venga aqui un momento"—"Miss, come here for a moment," he said in a low and raspy voice. There were evident hints of cockiness and smugness in his tone and mannerisms. The man gave me a wave of his hand, gesturing for me to come closer—I didn't. I stayed there, my back to him, looking at the wooden doll in my hand, hoping he'd get the hint or believe I hadn't heard him. I was hoping for either, just as long as he gave up.

I placed the wooden doll back on the crowded shelf. I made sure not to face the man or even make eye contact with him. I began to step closer to the exit, but he called back out to me, "Mijita ven, te doy un regalo para te"—"baby girl, come, I'll gift you something." His voice slurred with the obvious effect of alcohol; the ill intent was partially visible in his smirk and gaze. He shifted in his chair, using the counter to stand up. I quickly became more alert and uneasy. I didn't pay attention to his offer, knowing full well he didn't have a "gift." I made my way out of the small establishment, stepping back onto the concrete ground of the pathways.

***

The scorching sun was beaming down on the civilians and buildings. It was late afternoon, and the heat wasn't as bad as it had been a few hours ago; it was a few hours past noon. I thought to myself. I then felt as if I had forgotten something. The sudden growl from my stomach jolted my memory. "Oh," I murmured, mentally face-palming. Of course I forgot to eat, but it was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. I'll just eat a little something to keep me satiated until dinner.

I bought a fruit cup from a nearby street vendor. I had seen them many times before in this area. The man-and-son duo had become familiar faces when I wandered the city. I took bites of the cut fruit. My mind shifted to thoughts about what I should make for dinner.

My mind wandered to how tonight's dinner was going to be a gleeful one since I wasn't going to be alone. Valeria was supposed to return this evening from a business trip somewhere in northern Mexico. She wasn't specific. All I was told and knew was that it was a while away from home. She's normally only away for a few days or a week; if any longer, she'd notify me in advance with an estimated time of return.

Tonight was, hopefully, no different. Well, there had been a few... Several times, she wouldn't return for a while due to problems with the outer forces after she arrived at her destination. But alas, we'll not dwell on the past. I make my way back home to a well-kept, isolated house on an acre of land. This house was far from the city and other distant houses. It would have been faster to travel with a vehicle, but no, I decided to walk the long distance of the dirt trails.

The farther I walked from the dense city, the road turned from hard gray cement to dried dirt paths. I walked on the edge of the road, watching as little to no traffic zoomed past. I continued to be worried about unlawful trucks and motorcycles. It's like there wasn't any order; it's not like you should just speed through the road, but then again, it wasn't like anything would happen if you did; that's just how it was. The road was insignificant—just the road everyone used on this part to get to the closest city.

I finally made it back home without much of a hassle, other than being tired from walking. I hummed a soft tune to myself. My footsteps thumped on the stone footpath. Making their way into the small garden, I cultivated myself. The rose bushes were disheveled and half destroyed. Wait, that wasn't right! Why are the rose bushes so disheveled? That was not how I left them. My eyes wander to the parched, then to the front door. It was opened. It was not just a bit like if the wind had blown it open, but it was open completely and looked as if it had been opened with force. Had someone broken in? I thought, and it wasn't likely either; plus, who would bother to break into a house this far away from the closest civilization?

I put more thought into it. I grabbed a machete that was in the garden area, just in case, of course. I slowly approached my small home. I moved closer to the opened door, steering clear of making noise so as not to alert the unwanted guest if they were still here. I now stood in the doorway. I didn't hear anything from inside my house. I placed the machete on the outer wall of the house. I officially stepped into the darkened residence.

I took a deep breath and entered my place of residence. I looked around the kitchen to check if anything had been stolen or damaged. I inspected the kitchen carefully, and, well, nothing was missing. That wasn't much of a surprise. I kept nothing of value to others within the four fist walls of my home. I continued my thorough exemption from the scene. From just a glance, it was obvious that someone had searched the place. Many of the drawers were completely opened, and their contents were thrown about the room in a chaotic fashion.

Who would have done it? I wasn't like I was anyone, just another person in the crowd. I quickly made my way to check the other areas of the house. The downstairs, where I was, had very noticeable signs of a search, and it was clear whoever did it didn't care to cover their tracks. Dread grew a knot in the pit of my stomach. Why? It was becoming increasingly obvious that this wasn't a causal break-in. As mentioned, nothing of paper value was stolen.

Everything had been moved and thrown about, but nothing was missing except that more of everything was damaged. Wait, no, that can't be right. I crouched down next to my bed, picking up a picture frame. It was broken—not like it fell but was purposely fragmented. It had that photo on my vanity, not here. The frame was broken in half. I flipped the frame over, and shards of glass fell. One almost couldn't tell what was in the photo. It was ripped from the frame and covered in cracked and broken glass, even sporting a few bullet holes in the heads of both people, me and Valeria. It wasn't long till I found two used bullets in the small pile of glass shards and another that was seemingly used to enter the residence.

I sat on the ground and just stared at the photo. After a few long moments, I rose from my position. I should probably clean this up before Valeria returns. It took a few hours to return my place to the way it was. It was a bit before sunset. I wonder if she was ever coming home or if something came up. Just as I finished the thought, I heard a car approach the front of the house. I glanced up at the square window in the kitchen. It was her car.

Written: {Draft 1}February 19 - February 20 {Draft 2}February 21–April 16 {Final} May 23

 Published: March 21; Reposted: May 24

Words: 1594(1671)