Friday, March 26, 2010

... And They Painted Together.

... And they painted together.

He was standing in front of his previous school, uneasy about going inside. It’s been a year. A lot could change in a year. He decided to go that place instead. At least no one would be there, he guessed. He went there and stood in front of the huge wall.

“So it’s still here, huh?” he whispered.

Then he heard a sudden splash. He turned around and saw that someone was covering the mural with white paint.

“Eh?!” The guy, holding a can of paint, looked at Jerry closely.
“Ray?” Jerry asked.
“Jerry?! Is that you?” Ray let go of the can and went to his friend.
“Wow! You.. You came back. Are you here for vacation? But it’s still January.” Ray hugged Jerry. Jerry’s shirt was messed with white paint.
“Uh.. Sorry about that.” Ray apologized.
“It’s normal for artists to be messed up with colors. Don’t worry,” he looked at the mural and asked Ray what he was doing.
“Uh.. Actually, someone’s fixing it.” He swayed back and forth.
“I.. I need to go. Really, uhmm. Nice seeing you again, Jerry. This is too unexpected. Well, gotta go.”

Jerry was about to follow when he heard another splash. He looked around and saw her.
She stopped, too.

“A-Al..” Jerry caught his breath.
“You.. You’re..” Allie couldn’t bring the words together, too.

For a while, they just stood there, staring at each other’s presence.
Jerry broke the silence.

“You did not change. You.. You still splash white paint to.. whatever I paint. You know-” before he could finish what he was going to say. He was covered with white paint already.

“Wa-why are.. Why.. You’re here..” Allie was blushing already.
“Seriously, how many times do you have to..” Jerry stopped when Allie started crying.
“Eh!! Why are you crying? Hey, I was just.. Really, it’s nothing.” He took a can of paint and bathe himself with it.
“Stupid.” She whispered.
He moved closer to her and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
She looked at him, puzzled.

“I could never stop myself from.. loving you.” He bowed and turned away, ashamed of what he just said.

He could sense that Allie was laughing.

“Thank you for.. not stopping.”

He smiled and turned back to her. Then to the wall.

“Why are you covering the wall with white paint?” he asked.
“Fixing it..” she replied.
“” He remembered the times Allie would splash white paint everytime he tried to fix her painting.
“You’re fixing it.. into what this time?” Jerry said, as if he was unsure of whatever Allie is doing.
“Fixing it into what it should be,” she started splashing white paint to the wall. She looked at him and said, “What are you doing? I need help fixing this.” Then smiled.

When everything was finally white, Allie turned to Jerry.

“I was always scared to love because.. I’m not sure if people really love me. And if they do love me, I was hurting them. All my life, I was full of fear. To be hurt and to hurt. But.. Love is like a painting. People think they know what it is all about. But unless you yourself try to paint it, you will never know what it means. You need a lot of paint, a lot of effort.”

She handed him a brush.

“Will you.. paint it.. with me?” she turned red while asking him.
“Well,” he looked at the wall, “love is a lot bigger than this wall.” He looked at Allie.
“It would take us a lifetime, though.”

Allie smiled. They took their brushes.

... And they painted together.


LitTLe . mAkE-BeLieVeR . sTorYtELLeR

iF tHerE's sOmeThinG sToriEs TeLL, wHaT cOuLd iT bE?

... She painted. (The Last Chapters)

... She painted.

It has been a year since he left. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe I was never meant to fall for anyone. Because they try so hard for me. To the point that they hurt themselves for me.


“Allie! The principal wants to talk to you.”
That time, when I was keeping myself from other people, I met him.
“The school needs some artists to paint a mural for our school. It is for Valentine’s. I hope you will cooperate for this project,”
I looked at him and observed his actions. He was trying his best to escape from the project. Is he trying to avoid me?
“I.. I think I’m not good enough to paint a mural, ma’am. I.. I.. I can draw but not that good,” he said.
Jerry Gomez.. I once heard his name before. He won some of the contests about painting. To actually say that he is not good. Is he trying to be humble or more arrogant by being humble? Tch.
I can’t believe I have to do this project.. with a guy! I could have done this alone. But I have to be stuck with this.. person.
“Let’s.. Let’s do our best, eh!” he said.
Yeah, right. I don’t know why but I just hate boys. They remind me.. of him. And I hate it when they try so hard to please me. Don’t they know that I don’t want them proving something just because they thought it would please me?
The first day was kind of irritating. I was painting something already when this Jerry person tried to re-do it. I splashed it with white paint. He kept telling me about love and stuff and what I was doing was wrong. That was the first time a guy tried to correct me. He could talk to me like I was just like him, a student, an artist.. Not someone popular. Not someone special. Just me.
It was weird how I like his company. I even tried hassling the project by contradicting his ideas. I kept splashing white paint whenever he tried painting. One day, I failed to keep my serious facade and laughed. For the longest time, I finally laughed. And it was with a guy. With him.
Just as things were becoming better for me, I saw him. He was the first person I liked so much. He told me he liked me,too. But he changed. He told me that I was like any other girls. He thought I was not the type of person who would fall for him so he got bored and stuff. I was.. stunned. And I tried to change myself. I was being stupid and actually waited for him when he transferred school. But I became bitter. I kept remembering his words and I told myself that when guys confess to me, I’d never believe them. I would not accept them. I started hating them. And there he was..
I went to him and asked how was his life in his new school. He was with another girl that time. I was not shocked anymore. The blindfold had finally been taken and I could see that he never loved me like I did. He said it was fine. He then asked me if I was with Jerry. He told me that Jerry was stalking me from before and he could always see him peeping in the club’s room.
“The guy was familiar and when I saw you with him, I was surprised. You’re still that same girl from before, Allie. You just can’t help but believe people who s-”
Before he could finished his sentence, I slapped him. It was enough to hear those words once. I ran away from him. Maybe he was right. Maybe I could not help but believe when people tell me that they love me. Because, maybe I wanted them to. But now, I’m unsure if they do. I couldn’t tell if they love me or not. Then I stopped in the park. I cried and cried. Then I felt someone was coming. It was Jerry. Was he really stalking me? Did he like me from before? He then started saying things about how an idiot the guy I liked from before. I told him to shut up. I knew he didn’t know him. He didn’t know him so he couldn’t just judge him. I ran. I was starting to feel dizzy and the next thing I knew, I was already in my house.


I touched the wall where the only memory I had with him was painted. I started crying knowing that he did this to prove that.. he loves me. But I didn’t want to believe him. I was still scared that maybe one day, just like before, he would say that it was just a lie. That he didn’t really love me. Maybe he did but he changed.
And I wondered, because I was falling. When he said he loved me, I couldn’t deny the fact that I was happy. But I told him to stop. Because I hurt him.


It was the second time I felt really.. loved. My dad loved me so much that.. he risked his life because I told him I wanted art materials for my birthday. It was raining that day. He was driving to our house. He was hugging the gift he was supposed to give me. But he met an accident and was not able to give it to me personally.
I didn’t want the paint and brushes and crayons. I didn’t want them anymore. But he bought those for my sake. I.. I don’t like people doing something for me when they are risking themselves. It would only hurt me to see them hurt.
Jerry loved me. And the truth, I did too. He was the only person to talk to me as.. me. Not as Allie the famous artist. The campus crush. He even liked me before I could have met him. But, I don’t want to lose him like how I lost my dad. So I told him to stop.


“Why are you painting?”
A freshman approached me as I was painting in the arts club’s room. She was slender and had curly hair. It was like staring at a doll, a talking one.
“Bored, probably.” I added a little green to the yellow paint and brushed it to the canvas.
“No, I mean. Why do you paint?”
I faced her, quite surprised of her questioning. Is she a new member here, I thought.
“Well, I..” I thought deep. Why do I paint?
The girl sat beside me and took a brush. She took some papers and brushed it with colors.
“Some artists make their works hard to understand. That’s because they want people to figure it out not with just one look. They want people to keep on looking at the painting until they understand the story why it was painted. But only few look harder.”
I don’t know why she kept babbling about painting but I just listened to her. She then stared at me.
“I heard that the mural in that huge wall was painted for you. Have you finally understood its story?”
She was referring to the mural painted by him. I never really thought of knowing the story about the mural. But now that she mentioned it..
“I kept staring at it for months now. I couldn’t understand it at first because it was just colors and random images. But a guy who happens to be a friend of the artist told me the story,” she said
I got curious and asked her what the story was.
“He said that it was about a girl who lost interest to her world. She was just silent and never felt happy. She started taking the colors out of her life and threw it everywhere. She was unaware that someone was picking those colors and tried to reassemble it. But that person couldn’t figure it out. Only the girl know how to fix it. So that person kept all the colors together and showed it to the girl. It belonged to her after all. It’s up to her now if she would fix it. But that is not the end of the story,” she smiled and threw the papers she painted with different colors to the air.
“The person who was collecting the colors saw a different world. A colorful one and the colors he kept made his world colorful as well. So he thanked the girl for making his world nicer and more wonderful as it was.”
She looked at me and held my hand.
“The person who told me the story said that the girl in the story was you. And the person who was collecting the colors was the guy who painted the mural. Are you going to fix it?”
I was speechless. I just stared at her as tears started to fill my eyes.
She then asked again.
“Are you going to fix it?”

LitTLe . mAkE-BeLieVeR . sTorYtELLeR

iF tHerE's sOmeThinG sToriEs TeLL, wHaT cOuLd iT bE?

... He painted (The Last Chapters)

... He painted.

I was taking all my stuff when my professor told me to go to his office. It’s been a year since I studied in this university. It was hard to communicate at first but the people here were welcoming and friendly. It’s been a year, too, since I last saw her. Before I went to this place, I decided to just let it go. I realized that it would never work out. She never liked me. She never did and never will. But..


“I like you to meet my wife,” I was standing in front of a beautiful, young lady. I looked at my professor again who was almost bald and in his forties. He laughed and the lady smiled.

“I was just kidding, Jerry. She’s my daughter. I figured that since you are one of the best artists here, I want you to meet her. She’s also good in arts. She will be your personal teacher,” the lady bowed and I bowed as well as a sign of courtesy.

We started our session together the day after. She was always smiling and very lively. She was good in sculptures. She was also a very good teacher and gave me a lot of tips. She was three years older than me and a graduate in the same university.

“Can you paint me?” she asked me, all of a sudden.

I was stunned, of course. She was beautiful and my classmates confessed they were a bit envious of me. “Uh..uh..I..”

She laughed and said, “You don’t really have to if you don’t want..” I took my sketchpad and took a pencil. She smiled and positioned herself. I looked at her and remembered the times I tried skecthing a girl too. I just stared at her when she asked me what was wrong. I snapped myself out of my thoughts and smiled. I made a rough sketch.. Eyes.. Nose.. Lips.. I stopped. I took and crumpled it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Then I went back to sketching again. That was weird. But it happened again. I drew her. That girl. Not the girl in front of me but her. I crumpled it again.

“I think you’re having a hard time. Maybe next time?” she smiled and took the the paper. “I wonder who she is. She’s pretty.” Then she took her things and said her good-byes.

What was that all about?


The next time we had a session, she asked me who the girl I drew the last time. I told her, she was just someone I know, nothing really special.

She start waving her hands in the air.

“You know? I’m making these hands move and I could stop them, at my will.” Then she put her hands on her chest. “But I can’t make my heart stop unless I kill myself.”

She looked at me and smiled. “I sometimes wonder, why I can’t stop it.. Well, maybe because.. We are not supposed to dictate it. If we love someone but tries to stop because, we thought it is right, it’s like making a heart stop without killing yourself. You try so hard but it won’t.. stop. And it becomes tiring. It’s like trying to run away when you’re already caught. It’s like pretending when you are already figured out. It’s like splashing white paint, thinking it’s gone when you were just covering it up.” Her words that time made me realize things.I remembered the first time I actually became closer to a certain girl. I looked at her and didn’t notice I was crying already.

“Thank you.”

She pulled out something from her pocket. She actually kept the sketch I drew before.

“Are you still going to try stopping it?”


I said my good-byes to all my friends and professor. I learned a lot from this university. I gained a lot of friends. But if I were to keep one memory with me, I’d always remember the time when my professor’s daughter taught me those things. I went back. I will not run away. I will not pretend anymore. I will not cover my feelings with white paint just so I could ignore it. I..

LitTLe . mAkE-BeLieVeR . sTorYtELLeR

iF tHerE's sOmeThinG sToriEs TeLL, wHaT cOuLd iT bE?

... And They Painted Together. (UPDATE)

Wow .. It would finally end. >.<
I finished writing the story ... And They Painted Together. I'm sorry for keeping you wait. (If someone did wait.. LOL!)

Behind the Words..
-> The story is not supposed to end 'the way it ended' ..
-> The last two chapters contained most of my thoughts for the past weeks. It's not just about loving someone but loving your family, friends, God, etc.
-> I was so happy I finished this story at last. It took me a year to finish it.. YAY!
-> This is dedicated to all the artists out there ..


Weee ..

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Downloaded PDF

I finished the 'Memory Before the Graduation 2' .. (Silent Yehey !!) But I saved it in PDF file ..
But I'm proud of myself because I did a good job .. Making a PDF file ! Yehey ..

But hey .. It's fun actually finishing a story after a year of struggles ..

So .. Ye hafta dowload it to read it .. LOL !

LitTLe . mAkE-BeLieVeR . sTorYtELLeR

iF tHerE's sOmeThinG sToriEs TeLL, wHaT cOuLd iT bE?