Chapter 4 4

Klarrie's POV

As we walked down the serene path surrounded by lush green trees and the sound of birds chirping, I felt a sense of calm wash over me.

The soft breeze gently caressed my skin and I closed my eyes to take in the peaceful surroundings. Just then, someone blocked the sun that made me feel covered, this woman in front of me approached me with a serious face of hers, holding a notebook in her hands.

Where did she get that?

She introduced herself earlier as Unspokenwords, with her dominating voice and a stoic kind of face to bargain her smile with something else.

"Wanna know something about me being a tragic writer?" She calmly asked.

But I stood there, confused and at the same time, some emotions were chirping inside of me every time, I tried to have some contact with her words.

We struck up a conversation and soon found ourselves walking together, lost in our thoughts amid the serene ambiance. While holding the food and drink we got from the banquet earlier at the event.

As we walked, U short for Unspokenwords began talking about her passion for writing tragic stories.

Despite the bleak nature of her tales, I could sense a certain creative energy emanating from her. She narrated her stories in the first person point of view, transporting me into a world of heartbreak and sorrow, yet at the same time, I felt a strange sense of peace and understanding.

I feel perplexed by the paradox presented in her stories. As someone who writes stories of imagination and happy endings, I am surprised to feel the impact of her assertive words, which have unconsciously affected me.

Am I experiencing a sense of peace or comprehension? Despite this confusion, I do perceive her motivations and inspirations behind choosing this kind of genre.

With a sigh, I looked around us.

The nature around us seemed to add to the beauty of her stories, giving them a sense of depth and meaning.

I am a writer myself, and I've always been curious about the works of others, that's one of the reasons why I really wanted to attend this kind of event.

"Ah, the Momento de Royale," she murmured as we approached the monument. We had made our way to the back side of the Royale Hotel, with her leading the way.

Recalling the memory, I can still sense the lingering warmth of her delicate hand in mine.

What were those emotions I felt earlier?

As we sat down, I wanted to ask her why she chose to write such pure sad stories like what she'd introduced me earlier as we're walking our way all through here.

I don't know why, but I wanted to know more about her.

"U." I tried to approach her, but noticed a serious look from her. Perhaps she didn't understand why I used that name. In response, I made some cute hand gestures to apologize. "I'm sorry," I whispered and lowered my head, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"U." She smirked. "Why not use the full name?" She looked away, shook her head, and smiled slightly.

I gulped nervously and replied, "I thought Unspokenwords might be too long for me to say, so I shortened it to the U."

I didn't know what I was doing, but my heart was racing.

"Relax," she said, looking into my eyes seriously, "I'm not going to bite you."

And there you have it, my heart's racing too fast!

The wind blew through us, making our hair sway.

She fixed her hair with her hands, and I felt more at ease watching her.

With a calm mind and peace hands, I fixed myself too as I uttered the things I wanted to ask earlier, before my embarassment could take over.

What happened to your positive radiancy, Klarrie?! This is not you!

"I can't help but wonder why you choose to write such tragic stories. And not focus on the happiness and joy of every person in the world?" Gazing her while fixing myself, I saw how she moved her eyes directly to me- which I am now catching some unknown force within!

She then looked away and took a sip of her coffee and looked at our surroundings thoughtfully.

"That's a good question." She said as she lowered her head looking down at the coffee she was holding. "Tho, I thought I've already demonstrated and elevated the things I had earlier." She added while shaking her head.

"I believe that there is a certain beauty in sadness. Tragic stories are a reminder of the fragility of life, and they allow us to experience a range of emotions. When we read a sad story, we're not just feeling the sadness; we're also feeling empathy for the characters and their struggles. It's a way of connecting with others and understanding the human experience."

I nodded, understanding her perspective. "But what about happiness?" I asked. "Don't you think it's important to celebrate the good things in life?"

"Of course." U replied. "But happiness is fleeting. It's something that we all strive for, but it's not sustainable. Sadness, on the other hand, is universal. Everyone experiences it at some point in their lives. By writing tragic stories, I hope to capture that universality and create a connection with my readers."

After U answered all of my questions, I couldn't help but feel inspired by her passion for writing. While I may not write tragic stories myself, I could appreciate the beauty in her work and the message she was trying to convey.

"So, about this book, what is this all about?" She then asked to show me the book I gave her earlier, that made me to realize just now, that I've given her one of my books I wrote. "And why fantasy of all genres?" Continued by her, that made me avoid her gaze that was so intense and serious.

I leaned back at the chair, and with a thoughtful expression on my face, I answered her wholeheartedly. "Well, for me, writing is all about escapism. I want to take my readers on a journey to a magical world where anything is possible, and where they can forget about the sadness and pain of the real world for a little while."

I saw how she nodded her head, taking in my words. It made sense to me, but I couldn't help but wonder why she didn't want to write about this kind of story and that happy endings are also applicable with the people who go through in real life.

I myself was the living example.

"Of course, I understand that there is a lot of sadness and pain in the world." I continued, sensing her thoughts. "But I believe that there is also so much beauty and hope, and I want to celebrate that in my stories. I want to give my readers a reason to believe in the possibility of a happy ending, even when things seem impossible."

I looked at her, her gaze was now locked on the ground as if she was thinking deeply.

I hope, I didn't offend her. I just said what I need to say.

"Uh? U?" I called her with a very soft voice of mine I could never have.

"Amidst the Miseries." She murmured as she read the title of the book I wrote on which she's holding right now.

Nodding her head she looked at me with her straight face, and there again.

My heartbeat's abnormally- who wanted some attention. Not taking it anymore, I clutched my chest that made her face worriedly looking at me.

"Are you ok?" She softly asked- but before she could touch me again, I stand up and jump while smiling, showing I am more than okay!

As it should and must be!

"I'm okay!" I giggled that made me earn her most beautiful small smile ever.

Shaking her head. "Come on, let's head our way back to the hall."

As we continued on our walk, listening to each other's thoughts and stories, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of serenity and companionship.

Amidst the Miseries.