I had been admitted to the University of Topia. I could barely believe my luck, considering it was a highly-coveted holy temple for students who wished to pursue a career as a writer.
But the excitement quickly worn out and turned into disappointment when I saw the drab decrepit desolate campus. Moreover, it was located in a remote little town where the highest building was the radio tower, which only equaled the height of a thirteen-story apartment building in the city where I grew up. I had to admit though, after strolling around the campus, the scenery was truly breath-taking. A splendid lake rested at the west side of the campus and a forest on the other side that seemed to stretch on forever without limits. At nighttime, with the crescent moon hanging above, one can stand by the water’s edge and stare across the lake into the never-ending forest and completely immerse himself in the wildest reveries.
I was having trouble fitting in, though. I was never the outgoing type. I usually remain to myself. After some getting to know each other. I found that basically all the students come from schools that had specialized workshops that hone students’ creative writing skills. I was the only student who had never received systematic education on writing. Also, my works had never really caught anyone’s attention, they weren’t Hemingway and they aren’t terrible either, just mediocre. Gradually, I came to the painful realization the I was slowly being ostracized by our class. It wasn’t their fault exactly, it was mostly me having trouble communicating due to our entirely different backgrounds. The only companion I had was this song I played on repeat every day to and from school called “Light”, trying to convince myself that just like what the lyrics said, even though currently torn apart by the obstacles in life, one day light will appear in the distance.
One day, that light really appeared. As I was staring blankly across the lake into the forests, someone sneezed behind me. Caught off-guard, I shuddered at it.
“Was my sneezing that scary?” A voice so sweet and so endearing like that of an nightingale.
In a daze, I simply stared at her. God, her hazel eyes were so entrancing!
She waved her hand in front of me. Half jokingly, she said. “Hello? Are you okay? ”
“Yeah, it’s just that you gave me a scare back then.”
“Sorry, then. But why are you standing here all alone staring into the forest? Is there anything interesting?”
“No, not really.” I chuckled bitterly. “I was just…enjoying some time on my own.”
“Forest can make you feel a sense of belonging.” She said, musingly. That was kind of odd, I thought. Not noticing my bemused expression, she continued, "When I was alone, I sometimes wander in the forest listening to Beethoven’s Phthetique.”
“But that would be kind of dangerous, right?” I couldn’t help but be concerned about her safety.
She did not answer my question, instead she asked, “What is you major?”
“Creative writing.”I answered, with a little pride, seeing as it was the best major of this university. “What about you?”
Evading my question again, she said, “I’ll be glad to read some of your works someday.”
Excited, I said, “If you really into it. I can bring some of my works next day.”
“That would be perfect.” She replied with a smile. “Sylvia.”
“James.”
We met the next day, and I shared with her some of my poems. I told her that her voice sounded like that of a nightingale, taking me away to the “forest dim”. She just smiled at that. Her smile was really beautiful, it made me forget all the worries I had about study, about friends, about life.
“You know that, people in this town believe that the forest has some sort of power.” She said abruptly. “If you stare at the forest long enough, you will start to see things.”
“What things?”
“Things that you want.”
“You buy into that silly legend?” I was rather shocked that she would believe that preposterous tale.
“Well, I keep an open mind.” Her voice was soft but firm.
It was the most joyous time I had ever spent inside that decrepit campus. After that it had soon become a routine for us. Every day after school, we would sit before the lake and discuss my works and my day at school. Strangely, she had never talked anything about herself and she would dodge all questions about her identity. Sometimes, we just sit, enjoying each other’s presence. Because I know I got her, and that would be enough.
One day in July, waking up from a dream with Sylvia, I quickly got up, eagerly trying to make it to school so that I can meet her again. But opening up my phone, I received the notice that due to the conflagration of the forest, the campus would be temporarily shut down to make sure no student would get injured. But I realized just then I didn’t have a way to contact her, we only met after school, that’s all. So I have to wait till the fire was distinguished.
Several days later, the campus opened again. The first thing I noticed when I entered the gate that day was that the forest has changed. Where there used to be a green sea with chirping of birds and humming of insects now lay charred and burned in dead silence after the great conflagration. I desperately wanted to see Sylvia again, but I had never seen her since.
To this day, I still have doubts as to whether Sylvia really existed. Did I fantasize her existence to appease my intense loneliness and helplessness? Or was she really a fairy of the forest? I guess I will never find out the real answer, but one thing is for certain, I will never forget her hazel eyes and her most pleasant melodic voice. Maybe someday in the future, I will again hear her bird-like voice again and share with her my poem about her.
