They had removed Aleck's blindfold and he said:
"Did I win?" only to find out that he did, but with such cost. He himself was shocked, and so did the parents. They were stunned of what happened, while some were sensitive enough to even be involved, especially the children. But there was one voice who was proud of Aleck, a voice no one could even hear, let alone wanted to hear. It was Jack's.
"You just won, Aleck. We just won blood and a chalice full of whatnots. You may seek rest now, for we have a lot more of SILLY things to do behind detention bars. See you, then."
Then the story of Micael had ended.
"It was, creepy. Where'd you get that story?" asked Amy, as she was distressed as Micael when he was telling the story. His face while he was telling the rest of the story was extraordinary, as if he was Aleck. It was something one would had looked like when telling his own story, or did he? It gave a different kind of fear to Amy's, but she'd know how safe was her at Micael's side. Micael wasn't able to provide an answer. He was just looking at the sky, pondering on quite the palaver he had just shared. Amy didn't utter any follow at all. She just looked at him, with quite the stare. She never did, for all she knew that Micael was really thinking of something. Something quite no one could remark.
Oh, Jack. Why did you even come back? I have thought you were gone. Real gone, and how, here you are, tryn'a mess with my head, and threatening me with a very good time. You're fortunate I still like you.
"Say that again, Amy? I'm sorry. I am just kind of looking at things," he replied. He looked at her, smiled, and then a reply finally flew. "Aha. Where'd you get that story?" she did a quick laugh before uttering the question. It was something that you would like to hear instead of the splashes, especially when it's like. No one had become known of the time at that very moment, for both of them forgot to wear watches, but everyone knew that it's late, and even the moon would concur, however far he might be.
He smiled a little, gassed some air, and replied: "Oh. It was something that me and my classmate had written way back seventh grade. It was for an entry at a Halloween fest, and the product was Aleck." The water splashed some more, some of the stars twinkled, and the moon continued to wax. The sails were making some whistle-like sound too, of course with the help of the wind. "Oh. The story was nice. It was as if happened to one of you in real life. Do you feel like—" she uttered and cut by Micael immediately, as he really was fond of messing with people and trying to predict what they were about to say. "Sleepy?" he asked. She laughed, and gracefully nodded.
"We shall be going, then."
"Wait!" Micael was about to stand up when Amy stopped her. It was so abrupt, and he was not really sure what's. "I just want to say, thank you." She said, and this time, she was looking unto Micael's very eyes and stared at them. Moved his head a little forward. A little more, as if it was something you would see on any romantic theaters. And it turned to be that way. Amy tapped Micael's lips with hers; slowly. The movement of Amy's head was turtle-like while her lips were pouting away from her body; wanted to escape the reality of Amy's thoughts. It was quite of a smack. Soft, genuine, something as if it went into a lot of practice and trials-and-errors.
Micael was surprised. The moon was much surprised, too, as it had moved from its place, as if grabbed by the great Zeus and put it somewhere else, of which everyone had used to believed. They smiled. They both did and no one really had the knickers to utter a thing. Micael stood while uttering: "Here, let me help you get up, and let us go home."
Micael stood up with his feet, and bended knees. He lifted his body with his right arm and made his body prone to the air and pushed hard enough to straighten his legs, and so did he. His joints cracked a little which had cut the silence lingering after the whistle of the wind and the waves' dancing; he stood up spontaneously.
He reached Amy's hand and pulled her, so that she could stand up easily. And then their soles were again atop of the deck, and they went on downstairs.
"What aren't you saying anything, Micael? Are you shocked?" Amy uttered then laughed on the latter.
"No!" Micael laughed, too. "You are just so fortunate that I like you, Amy. We will be together here for months, and I think you can make it." Amy smiled, looked at Micael once more before walking downstairs. Micael held Amy's hand so that he could assist her while walking, just like in a dear promenade and as if Amy was wearing very elegant dress, though his outfit was much more elegant for Micael. They walked down the hallway, and found the door of Amy and her parent's room, just a mere two-door distance away from his. "So, call it a day?" he said. "It was fun, Micael! And remarkable as well. Hoping to have fun with you again." "We will have more than just that. I assure you." He lifted her hand halfway, and let go. He opened the door gracefully and quietly for Amy, and inside went Amy. And then there was silence. He closed the door. Made sure it was locked. Locked tightly, and he traversed the remaining two doors with silence, as one would not want to wake up their neighbors, and he reached theirs. He opened the door silently, took off his shoes, placed it on the rack, closed and locked the door shut, and he went on to check on his parents. Voila. They were fast asleep. Micael's bed was near the window on the bedroom. He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and found himself a much more comfortable shirt to wear onto sleep. He lied on his bed, looked at the night sky, and said:
"Oh, Jack. You are really fortunate I like you," he said. He relaxed himself, as he was sleepy, too, looked at the waxing moon the last time, and whispered: "Goodnight, father. Goodnight, mother. Tomorrow shall be a greater day," and fast asleep he went. The night was calm, and the waves, too. Before being heavily asleep, Micael had thoughts on his minds, palavers, perhaps. It was mostly about the 'You're Fortunate I Like You' kind of thing but never would not forget about his dearest friend, Jack. But why? Wasn't he haunting him? He experienced something quite unimaginable, and it was a nightmare. But was it? Jack never really said it was one's nightmare, at all, as kept on repeating words. Eighteen, eighteen. What does it supposed to mean? It went Micael's thoughts awoke, but not his eyes. He was not really sleeping, after all. He was relaxed, yet so torn. He was lying peacefully, yet very disordered. He thought of it once more. For real, this time, but nothing was showing up as if Jack found himself dead, again.
He was trying to. He really was, and he got a reply, but only splashes from the water. Only the water and the keel were interested to utter any reply at all, and then he quitted. He just thought of something much more capable of replying, and that was Amy. He knew she was into him. He was confident, and so did she. He smiled, and his smile kind of twinkled inside his head, more like the stars would have done for them that night. He pondered and pondered and pondered until he could ponder no more. One's mind could get tiresome, too. He titled his head, as if really ready for sleeping. His body went relaxed this time, and he said to himself: "I am going to read this Fortunate thing, and I'll see how this sail of mine will go. Nothing too special? I think so not, Micael," remembered the song of his of which he used to sing. There was light upon the darkest night, and yet, here we are watching and waiting for the bloom of each other's fright. He thought of his palavers no more, and fast asleep he went.
...