My second short story on Wattpad ^_^ please enjoy ^^
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The spring was my favorite season of the year— when the flowers bloomed with vibrant colors and danced in the wind. I loved the scent they wafted in the air; sweet and tingly mixed with a tang of fresh grass. It makes you crinkle your nose and then smile for some reason.
Of course, in order for me to celebrate this tranquil ambience, I lived on a house of flowers nearby the grass-laden bank of a magnificent river.
Viewed from afar, you could say that my parent's house looked more like a big butterfly sanctuary. It used to be one. The house was circular with two floors. The walls on the ground floor were made of strong transparent fiber glass. There was a huge island on the center planted with several species of flowers aside from the Bermuda grass that covered it. The high ceiling was dome-shaped; also made with transparent fiberglass so that the sun could bless the flowers with its nourishing rays during the day.
The rooms, the bathrooms, and the kitchen were all jammed circularly on the second floor. A brass railing was placed at the center hole of the corridor to prevent someone from falling off straight into the first floor.
When I inherited this place after my parents died last year from a tragic car accident, I shooed out most of the butterflies— because I found them vexing with flying around and stuff. Few butterflies would do.
I am a freelance photographer, and I have a bad habit of laying my eyes only for harmony and beauty; or anything catchy.
Don't get a bad impression though because I'm not a perfectionist. It's just the matter of having a critical eye.
—Riiiinggg!—
Oh, I have an incoming call. "Hello?" I asked after pressing my N9 into my ear.
"Clive, let's meet!" it was my girlfriend Ashley.
I massaged my temple while pondering over her request.
"I'm not sure about that—-"
"You're not even doing anything right now! I know you—" she squealed over the line.
"Look Ash—" I tried to sound as exasperated as I could. "—I need to update my blog— and I still have few slots to fill my exhibit—-" toot.. toot.. Did I just heard her dropped the call in the middle of my speech?! WOW.
Girls could be so demanding at times when they sensed your excitement over them had gone on vacation.
I could compare girls to butterflies; they may differ in size and color, but they could all fly from one flower to another after extracting enough nectar.
If the guys were the flowers, they could live with lesser nectar or probably produce more, then wait for another butterfly to visit.
That's what I'll do. Ignore the Ashley butterfly.
The displayed time on my phone says it’s 5:30pm. That's nearly dawn, and I just woke up. My friends and I partied hard last night at the bar, and I swear I'm drunk to death.
I scrambled out of bed and slung my DSLR on my neck— just a force of a habit.
After a short trip to the bathroom, I went to the little kitchen and fixed myself an instant coffee.
My gaze flew out of the window for something I don't normally see outside during typical days.
I held onto my camera and magnified whatever it was that my eyes couldn't fathom.
The screen of my camera registered a moving image of a girl wearing a Victorian maid uniform with loads of frills and ruffles. She appears to be taking her own pictures on the riverside using some cheap digicam, I suppose.
Absent-mindedly, I adjusted the magnification even more until I could see her face. That moment, I was suddenly entranced by her beauty. You could say that the time had stopped a millisecond and my senses had been trapped inside there forever.
Tssssk!
The shutter's sound warped me back in time. My hand quickly hit the shot button before my brain could command it.
I just took a stolen shot!
Without wasting a second, I went downstairs and darted out of the house to meet the Victorian maid who just mesmerized me.
Unfortunately, the place where I saw her was completely deserted. Oh great!
I went back to my house and settled inside my room. My phone was off as of this time; no messages, no calls. I'm on my artistic spirit tonight.
The mysterious Victorian maid has captivated my interest as she sauntered along the riverbank. Honestly, she's really enticing. This is my one and only shot of her.
I posted Victorian maid's stolen shot at my blog. I wasn't surprised when my pageviews skyrocketed. What surprised me were my viewers' comments. All of them knew her.
@CliveForrester mysterious is not the word! Everybody knows BlackRose. She is an epic cosplayer. Anyway, nice pic you got there. Lots of people wanted to meet her in the flesh, but the chances are low.— Shana29
Here's another from the stack of comments:
@CliveForrester hey don't try to steal BlackRose from me! I'm her future hubby y'know!—Ichigokurosaki
So several days after the posting date of that stolen shot, some male otakus started attacking me in my own blog which was supposed to be for art appreciation and discussion. They even reached my Twitter and paralyzed my newsfeed! Gaad! Was that the downside of a hot photographer taking interest to a very popular net idol?
One night, I recieved a comment from BlackRose herself. It was more of an apology.
@CliveForrester good evening. I just dropped by to apologize in behalf of my fans who showed hostility to you and your blogsite. I'm really really sorry. Anyway, thank you so much for featuring me here on your blog.—BlackRose
I almost pounded on my laptop's keyboard as I typed my reply. My heartbeat was racing like hell.
@BlackRose can I be your photographer? I have my own studio and my photography equipments are updated. RSVP—CliveForrester
I waited for a reply.. One minute, sixteen minutes, one hour, three hours... Argggh! I can't wait forever!
I deliberately searched for BlackRose's official website on Google. Several sites popped up in the search engine. I clicked on the first site because it's more likely to be the one I'm looking for.
I made a right choice. A photo of BlackRose popped in the middle of the screen. She was cutely dressed as a black lolita. Her hair was magenta adorned with a tiny tophat. Under the photo, I clicked the enter button.
BlackRose's gallery was a feast for the eyes. In fact, I nearly forgot what I ought to do in her site. I'm really itching to put her on my studio and launch a professional photoshoot!
@BlackRose please don't ignore me. I'm a professional photographer after all.—CliveForrester
The message alert pinged after two minutes. Finally.
@CliveForrester send me your profile. I want to know you, if you will.—BlackRose
I immediately replied and gave her my Facebook. She can view my profile freely because I made it public.
Oh, what would she want to know about me? I opened a new tab and typed my FB address. My own profile materialized in the screen.
My profile pic was half-body, taken by a mate inside an exclusive bar; I'm wearing a gray designer coat over a black body fit shirt while holding a half-empty tankard of beer.
When it comes to my looks, I'm a hundred percent confident. In fact, I can be a net idol too if ever I wanted to.
I made a quick scan at my profile, making sure all the details fall to their right places.
Clive Raine Forrester Chua
Worked at Freelance Pro Photographer
Studied at DSLU
Basic Information:
Sex: Male
Birthday: June 19, 1989
Relationship: In a relationship with Ashley Ann Sanders
—My brows furrowed after reading Ashley's name. I quickly edited my relationship status to 'Single'.
All set. I closed my laptop with a smile across my face. I wasn't sure of what I'm feeling now—
Riiiinngggg! My cell phone rang.
"Hi Ash, what'up?" I greeted cheerfully.
"Don't what's up me you jerk! Why did you changed your relationship status to S—" toot.. toot.. toot..
This time, it was me who dropped the conversation. I casted a triumphant smile as I set aside my phone and stared onto the bare wall opposite my bed.
I have to put her on my wall.
As days went on, BlackRose kept on ignoring me, that I became more engrossed and persistent at the same time.
I started to decline my mates' invitations to party at clubs and just spend my time sitting at the foot of my bed and glued my eyes on the 4'x3' print of the Victorian maid at the wall.
If this sick obsession of mine carried on, I might have to see a shrink. Or was it much better for me to just admit that I'm simply falling in love with a girl I haven't even met face-to-face? Hell, no!
The question remained hanging for a couple more days until I finally gave up.
@BlackRose I'm in love with you. I'm dead serious. In fact I'm prepared to marry you!—CliveForrester
'What the hell Clive!' I could hear my own conscience swearing at me.
For sure, she already read that same lines from at least a hundred otakus. But the declaration of love coming from a Clive Forrester would be very hard to ignore.
I swear my world turned topsy-turvy after that. I shouldn't have used Twitter; my mates keep on asking trivial questions, Ashley had gone brutally insane, and my fangirls engaged an all-out spam war against BlackRose and her fanguys.
BlackRose, to my surprise, PMed me.
Clive Forrester, let's meet.
She gave me exact details of our eyeball.
When the day of our much awaited meeting came, I arrived with my crimson SUV ten minutes prior to the agreed time.
I'm in simple casual attire wearing a fitted blue shirt, a Jag, and a pair of Chuck Taylor for my feet. My designer shades partially obscured the excitement in my eyes.
I brought along with me a single stem of rose with a white silk ribbon tied around it.
'Eleven minutes.' I checked on my Techno Marine and looked around. It was not a good idea to meet in the middle of a crowded street; very uncomfortable.
I noticed someone stopped right in front of me just after I lifted my head. That someone was a —guy.
He's younger than me, yes— but not that much. I am obviously taller by few inches, but I commend his good fashion sense. He wore a white printed shirt, a branded pair of jeans and branded shoes.
The guy smiled grimly at me. He seemed to open his mouth to say something, yet no words came out.
My heart pounded against my chest after a thought came upon me. This can't be.
I quickly removed my shades to confirm my anxieties.
I believed I had memorized BlackRose's face by heart, and this guy standing right in front of me, was none other than BlackRose himself.
The rose with the white ribbon dropped on the dusty cobbles. A passerby had stepped on it accidentally.
"I guess you already understand why I'm avoiding you so much." he said glumly.
I nodded sheepishly at him as I wear back my shades. After that, I spun. My steps away from him were forced and heavy.
I can't be angry. BlackRose was never at fault. It was all my stupidity. He was the one who should be mad at me for forcing him out of his tightly kept secret.
The shocking revelation does not weigh anything against my attraction to BlackRose. That feeling was irrevocable in my heart. It's just that I'm not yet ready to grasp a romance that was unknown to me.
We needed time.
I glanced behind my shoulder and noticed BlackRose still hadn't move from where he stood. He was watching me. I saw the soggy red rose in his hand.
He smiled at me. I smiled back one last time before I got inside my car.
He respected my feelings. I respected him for what he was. From that simple thought, it may be a good start or the best ending.
End.