through the lens

But something got my heart pounding fast like the bass of a drum.I think this aint a void. There might be another bipedal primate mammal here. It quite got a jump out of me when the wooden floors eerily squeak as slow-paced footsteps stealthily trod the house (well, not really quite; it was actually the opposite). Of course, Id be dead curious and perhaps goose bumps-getting afraid. I went into the house making sure that no one lives in it.Now, I wish I hadnt stepped my feet into the house. I know; the neurons had already been sending signals to my sudoriferous and adrenal glands so theyd cooperate that I could feel chills right now and I am getting ready to flee.I guess I missed the point that on the balcony, there were these pink flowers growing, falling onto the floor like luxurious vinesthey didnt have torns but they are more than sharp to stab your eyes so they could get your very attention. They are so out of place; they were like a lady wearing shorts in a formal dinner party. Whod say that this kind of something-that-required-care-looking plant would grow in this it-has-been-a-long-time-someone-has-lived-here-looking-kind of place? Why didnt I figure that out before I let myself into potential trouble?But, of course. Who wouldnt be captivated by the singularity of this mark of civilization in the midst of a savage wilderness? There is an irony which lies in its existence, and my eyes could not be satieted with a view from afar. Because her very soul thats what chooses the photographers subject. I had so many questions that I believe could only be answered if I explore the insides of the house.With these questions, my mind willed my feet to move. I froze as I stepped into the door, though. I felt a kind of breeze that gave me chills. But, my determination seems stronger than this breeze, so nevertheless, I entered.I started clicking my camera at every part which spoke to my soul, until Ive reached what I guess would be the door to the balcony.It was all wor-- [tap, tap, tap, tap]. I hadnt even completed my sentence when another eerie sound strike me in alert-mode. Maybe because it is not (worth-it), just WORse. Footsteps. Of what? Of who? I didnt know I have a possible phobia for hearing footsteps. But what I am sure of right now my feet are ready to take flight.God! The thud seems nearer now! Will I just jump off the balcony? If the rocks would catch me Ill end up a bloody, deformed corpse. I laugh hard at the funny image of me, lying dead. (Though its even funnier that I get to laugh at my imagined death scene in the middle of a life-and-death situation.)Click. The sound snapped me out of my reverie.I am already waiting for a beast. You know, I love horror stories. At least I die immensed in what I love. At least, a silver lining. By now, I accept my death.ANTI-CLIMACTIC. I love this kind of plot, but the damn feels if you are the character inside this storyline? Errrrr, no!I was waiting for a monster to eat me. That was so childish to think of meso childish. Im glad I did not resort to the Plan A of my escape.It was a monster holding a camera. The monster has short tousled hair I cant decide if brown or copper. Eyes, not that of a cat, just hazel brown. Nose, sharply protruded. Lips, supple, accurately sculpted by Pygmalion. Its jawlines prominent making the shape of its face precise square with a beautiful cleft in its fine chin, unexpectedly clean without fur. It has quite a long neck, but not too stretched for a giraffe. Its got no bulge in its chest, so I guess its safe to use he. Well, he was a civilized beast wearing a gray shirt with the word MONSTER creepily printed on it.And its a surprise the monster I mean he is also shocked. Do I look like a beast to him? But after a while, his lips began creasing into a smile. I smirked in reply.Well, now that I know that HE is a civilized beast, my palpitating heart started to slow down. But still I am with a complete stranger. I wouldnt know, he might not be a monster but he could probably be a murderer I shook the thought, though Ive had a lump in my throat.Hi. He said. Oh, the monster is speaking OUR language. I swallowed the big lump in my throat and tried to reply but I just let out a deep breath that I comprehended to be a sigh. Afterwards, I burst into an enormous laugh.He was not shocked but the look in his face would say that he did not expect this to be some normal persons reaction to his hi.Im sorry. I said. But I was still laughing. Maybe he is thinking Im crazy. Well I am. I was. The thrillers got me going crazy. Then he joined me in laughing. I guess hes crazier.I stopped. He stopped. The ambiance sets a serious mode. He cleared his throat and began speaking his soft and delicate low voice. Why were you laughing? Sincerely, at least.Honestly? He nodded though I hesitate.I thought you were a monster. Now, it was he who let out a big burst of amusement.Why? Is it so unlikely of me to think of a beast roaming in this kind of place? In a matter-of-fact tone.Suppressing his laugh, he walks a little toward me. He sincerely meant his sorry. But I was already off to the door decided to leave the place. I got what I wanted, now its time to go. I was about to step my right foot past the door.Wait, youre leaving?What do you think am I doing?I sometimes feel guilty of this sarcastically smart mouth. Though I love it when I could stop people. But this stopping made me feel a little different. I dont know. But I moved on. So I fish the keys in my pocket, and as I reach my car, I tell myself not to look up at the balcony. I got curious if the monster is watching me, so I muffle a glance at the balcony. To my surprise (and dismay), the monster is not looking at me. How can he look at me when hes not there? No. The monster disappeared. Then he reappeared in front of me. Okay. Hes quite a runner, you see. But I was not surprised. Of course! Hes a monster.You left your phone, trying to calm his rapid breathing.Thanks. My reply seemed a reflex. Though the next word was strangely harder to speak but I swallowed the lump in my throat.Bye. I started my engine and drove away from the house. And as my car pan further and further, I stifle a look into the rear mirror and see him, zooming out from my vision until he became a dot.But I noted The monster just smiled. He did not wave his hand. He did not say a word. He just smiled a half-smile. Monsters do smile.

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