Fourth Meow - Reality For Fiction Use

THE CLASSROOM IS CHAOTIC. The buzzing sound of exhilarating students who hoped to excel or stay at the ranking gossips among each other, some are terrified, biting their nails, sweat dripping on their foreheads; silently praying to stay at their ranking or some just want to have a passing mark or else their fate will be served at their doorsteps: to take the heinous subject again and face the wrath of their parents.

Some of them even started to do the sign of the cross as the ever frowning face of Mrs. Fhart, their homeroom teacher, and major scanned on her laptop.

Any moment from now, the devil would call their names and they'll know their verdict.  The punishment of not studying is whipping them hard. Should they just studied and refrained from procrastinating, maybe their fates would be good.

Apart from the frantic students are the students who don't care much, unresponsive to the commotion, doing their businesses; browsing over their social media accounts, playing music, casually conversing with one another, and even sleeping.

Maybe they already accepted their fate, they just don't give a damn or they knew they did well.

A student seating on the back, near the curtained window, is one of those students. This particular man wore the standard school uniform: long-sleeved polo shirt, unbuttoned revealing his black tshirt and a black pants—a perfect outfit color for the gloomy atmosphere of the classroom as if someone will be dead any minute but in contrast to the mood, this man's face reigistered no panic or terror as his eyes painted with pure determination as he goes over his notes, notes unconnected to his course but for his writing hobby and passion.

Mumbling, his hands started to scribed his ideas on the pages for his fifteenth chapter. He joined his idea about a girl transforming plus the detective to create a new plot.

He seems unperturbed even if his teacher started calling them one by one.

"Rivera, Carlito Martin. . ." his teacher announced his nervous classmate's name but he just sat there, like someone who has his own world.

Smiling smugly, he remembered how he convinced—no, threatened his aunt to leave his home so that he could start writing again without a nuisance. It's hard to cook a plan to scare a person that looks menacing and scary than an actual ghost. But he succeeded anyways.

His aunt, who's deeply annoyed with cats , was chased away by a fake giant cat he made out of cardboard boxes, feathers, some spray paint, and latex gloves. He still remembers her sorry face as she frantically ran away, telling his house was haunted and even went overboard and called a priest to "exorcise" it.

Suppressing his laughter, he covered his mouth with his hands and lightly stomped the floor. His classmates shake their heads as they stare at him like he's some sort of a lunatic or he's one of those psychotic killers circulating in the town.

He knew that he shouldn't enjoy this, but revenge is indeed sweet but anyways. . .

He went over the next page and started to write the first draft of the fifteenth chapter.

"It's really hard to develop a character when you can't develop yourself. " Stopping from writing, he rubbed his chin and started to think how his character, Willow, would react and change as she found out that her teacher, Mr. Oxford is the one who nearly killed her and he's one of Dr. Posh's evil underlings.

How would someone react to a betrayal?

If he was Willow, he'll just cry and do nothing. But Mr. So once said, "What the fuck is this trash? Do not create weaklings just like you! They can cry but they must move whether to improve or be their worst but not cower! "

If there's anything positive Mr. So contributed to his life, it's this quote from him.

Sighing, he wrote, "Willow, hurt because of her teacher's betrayal, started to become a more merciless foe to her enemies and shows no remorse that she had already forgotten why she became a magical girl detective, to solve crimes and give justice, not for revenge. " Stopping again, he slumped on his chair and messed up his already messy raven hair.

"Should I consult Mr.So after this? " whispering to himself, he tapped his fingers continuously on his desk, contemplating whether he'll go to his agent or not.

He got a coin in his pocket and decided to toss it to decide; heads if go, tails if not. As he was about to toss, an ear screeching voice entered his ears.

"CARSON, ANTHONY ISSAIAH T! "

The voice of his teacher echoed in his ear, due to shock and panic he stood up and placed his right hand upward, signaling a present. "Yes ma'am! "

His classmates started to laugh at his antics.

He stood there, unresponsive despite him being a clown again. His teacher shook her head and smiled.

"You're busy again with your novel? You can do it later but for now, I want to congratulate you on staying at top 1 with straight 1.00 grades, keep it up!" Clapping her hands, Anthony's lips formed a smile.

If his classmates are the spawn of the devil, his teacher is the complete opposite.

He could sense the envious stares from his classmates and he knew they were already talking about him behind his back.

He smiled, even more, taunting them. "Thanks, ma'am. "

He felt his heart jump in pure bliss because of him being on top again. He's sure his sister would be very happy. With this, this is his redemption and path to his dreams.

He tossed the coin as he grinned. It stopped at heads. "Guess, I'll go too. " He sat on his chair and continued writing, unaffected by the stares of hate of everyone who thought he's a clown.

-

Awkward silence contaminated the air of two individuals seated on a mauve colored mahogany table, facing each other. Each has a cup of coffee on hand. One of them is a raven-haired lad, golden orbs shining as he stared at the other lad with a chestnut curly faded hair, square-shaped face with refined features; a pointed nose, slanted eyes with an expressive silver orb. The other lad wears a plain gray shirt with a graffiti font word, "Checkmate" printed on the shirt.

Anthony couldn't just believed he saw this guy in the flesh!

Who will not be awed? When one of the most famous and very skilled writers of best selling romance novels is staring at him, he even offers him coffee and advice for his novel! Just wow. Did luck finally pitied him and showed?

Anthony is in a complete starstruck and he couldn't even open his mouth to speak, not even a single word. He just stared like a fanboy he was. It's Saint Park for Pete's sake!

But he couldn't believe this awesome guy is his agent's illegitimate son. They don't share any similarities at all!

Saint's brow raised as he observed one of his father's hired writers, the man looked tense; hands shaking as he held his cup.

"Can I read your draft? My father's not here, I'll help you instead. " Breaking the silence, he pointed at the notebook placed on the table.

Anthony spilled his coffee and he felt his face turn hot. He placed his palm on his gaping mouth, suppressing a gasp. "I... It's an honor, sir!" His voice raised as he stood up and bowed three times.

Saint scratched his head. What's with this guy? If this isn't his father's writer, he'll think that this guy isn't right in the head.

But then again, there are creepier fans than this guy. Some fans will stalk you 24/7, breach your privacy, and even your relationships with peers and special someone. He'd broken up several relationships with his past girlfriends because his fans threatened his girl.

He sighed and pointed out the notebook. "Give it to me. "

In a flash, like an obedient soldier, Anthony placed the notebook on his hands.

Saint immediately went over the manuscript and nodded as he read.

Anthony's heart is pounding as he gulps. What will be his idol's reaction? Will he turn him down like his father or will he compliment him?

"Tell me, do you believe in fairytales? " Saint asked him out of nowhere, eyes still focused on reading.

"No, " Anthony's immediate reply.

He's a fiction writer but there's no way magic exists. It's just comfort for those who have a vivid imagination. Afterall fictions are just big 'WHAT IFS'.

Saint stopped reading and placed the note on the table, eyes directly staring at him.

"Fictions are like writing romance, to be able to make it seem real you need to believe in it, feeling as if you're your character. Do you understand?! " Saint's voice seems like someone who'll be fit as a passionate educator except that. . .he's shouting, any moment from now, his vein might pop.

Anthony just nodded, still unconvinced.

Why would he believe something that didn't save his father and didn't free him from the bullying?

He writes to free his imagination and escape to his reality but believing it is bizarre.

Saint seemed to read his expression while he sipped his coffee. Saint scratched his head again, he thought his father is a complete villain but seems like he just doesn't know to criticize someone constructively, making him wrong.

"You need to start believing in what you write and use your reality and feelings more on your craft. . ." Saint paused.

"And you should make it as your advantage the things happening around the city, you know? That news about the animals killing people? Some say they have abilities you can cite some ideas, " he added, making Anthony's facial expression turn to disbelief.

"You believe that? That's just some skilled hooligans not powered animals! " he scoffed.

Saint rolled his eyes. "It's true! Can a skilled criminal destroy someone's badly just by using a single gun, a single aim? " His tone started to be of someone that is a professional gossip person, making Anthony think that Saint is way different in the interviews than in person. From formal to someone who likes chitchats.

It's been weeks when that news regarding killer animals started to circulate like wildfire. A total of 50 people already perished and all of them believed that the killing wasn't done by humans. The cops couldn't arrest the suspects nor pinpoint what caused the people's death and the scientific community started to investigate the unknown debris found on the crime scenes. The government believes that a big terrorist group is behind this uproar but there are no presented pieces of evidence.

Since then, people started to panic and speculations started to roam around. Many believed but some don't. Anthony included.

"You don't believe me, don't you?" Saint's voice hinted disappointment.

Anthony nodded.

"C'mon! Fictions aren't real. You should know better, you're someone who writes romance! Something that happens in reality! " Anthony saw the fire in Saint's eyes as he said it. Like a lion ready to attack him any moment.

Thus a long ardent debate happened between the fanboy and his idol.

Is this a sign of a newly formed friendship?