Second semester of second year

  It was no more than a month ago after I had finished the first semester of my second year as a literature student. Other than attending general meetings that were made mandatory if only to ensure the participation of a disinterested student body, I had not been a member or contributor of any club or organization whatsoever. I am a slinking shadow after classes, eager to catch the rush-hour bus for my distant home from home (Green Coconut Apartments), an infestation in the health of the so-called order of things, an anomaly in the humanly-perfected system, a nonentity.

  And now I embark on to the second semester of my second year. It is the opening day and I reimagine myself wistfully as an estranged son to the vast land within these walls of higher learning, away for how long, and now returning, in my mind and soul the withheld affection of many weary years. Outside the golden gates which shine like portals into a brightly-lit hallway of honor, I take my stand, a refined adventure-seeker waiting for word from the sovereign, or one expecting the gaze of the most glorious princess, she who would give the returning soul her benediction and her blessing and in her gentle way will say, We have been waiting for you, our brave sword and shield, our treasure that makes the country rich, my love...

  There is a soft daylight coming up in the chilly, blue September sky. On the inside, I feel myself brimming with confidence. I humbly start to recognize myself as a worthy equal among the sparkling and promising race of young men and women conveniently called students. Indeed, we are students all, sharing as if in a commons our various struggles and differences. Looking around, I spy some who are likely notorious class absentees. There are also others who have been here for as long as the earth have been established. And the rest are just as clueless on what to cook for dinner tomorrow and on the next day.

  As for me, I am here today certain that things shall not go on as they had been during the previous semester. I am determined for change in the ways of this my feckless, youthful being!

  “Senior! Senior!”

  All of a sudden, my mind is taken away from its noble meditations. I recognize an angelic beckoning that I have just been beginning to know and admire in earnest and I promptly turn my attention to it.

  “Meri!” I discern my year equal on the other side of the humming human current. Meri, from the faculty of sciences, who calls me senior simply because she considers me more more extensively learned in scholarly knowledge on various humanistic subjects which also happens to interest her thirsty, truth-seeking spirit. Due to the sheer volume of the crowd I could only find her fair, moonish face and the light-blue cotton blouse she is wearing.

  “I am glad that you have decided to use your smarts and kept your life in the course of the vacation!”

  It was already the middle of September.

  “I could be more responsible than you might think!”

  Meri and I are literally shouting at each other over the waving and murmuring tide of students.

  “I hope you keep it that way!” she says with a mocking look. “See you around!”

  “See you around toooo!” I shout over my lungs as the human current took my year equal away, even myself.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The Club of Odd Occurrences

  Once scheduled meetings exceeded their alloted time, students were free to go without further instruction. By early afternoon therefore, when I knew I would be vacant for the few remaining hours before my usual rush-hour bus reared its smoky and yellow metal form on the road, I complied with the one thing I had in mind: pay a certain club a visit and accomplish the application process.

  With no direct relation to its purpose or original title, the Club of Odd Occurrences is more customarily known as an All Girls' Club by virtue of the fact that all its nine members are girls.

  As I come up the two flights of stairs in the old, gray structure that used to be the Research Building, I think of how to conduct myself once I am inside the club room. I remind myself to maintain a decent posture and to not make a fuss despite being drenched in sweat from the sweltering weather. I take note of useful polite expressions such as, “Do you mind if I take a seat?” And should the other person present, the club receptionist or something, not respond in a direct, affirmative way, or say, with a straight face, some such teasing comments as “I do.”, then I will acknowledge it is a cue that the other party is willing to engage in a comedic skit, that I should keep a smile on my face and not waver from showing my positive interest in the club despite having my wish to cool down after walking around the building and climbing whole flights of stairs turned down due to the other party's preoccupation with involving newcomers and strangers in a comic situation.

  I reach the hallway on the second floor and am surprised to see Meri in the distance, standing before the door of the club.

  “Senior!”

  I approach her as swiftly as a swooping falcon.

  “Meri! What are you doing here?”

  “I'm signing in as a new member,” she says matter of factly. “Studying odd occurrences seems to me quiet an interesting extracurricular. How about you?”

  The Club of Odd Occurrences conducts research into such socially-impractical curiosities like alien sightings in spaces traditionally-believed to be inhabited by fairies, correlating such odd occurrences with disparate areas of interest such as the student body's experience of and their contribution to the local culture, and, more broadly, to the youth's beliefs about the meaning, mystery and beauty of life.

  “In fact, I'm deciding on joining this club too,” I say, pounding my chest.

  “Heee. You've finally had a change of heart,” she says while casting a look of curiosity.

  During the vacation, I had ample time to engage in productive self-reflection, hectically studying alternatives — becoming a travel enthusiast, blogging about travel, writing one act plays, participating in theater production — and eliminating the superfluous. Now was the time to make the leap!

  “I get the feeling that ladies like a man of decision.”

  “Uh-huh?! I hope so... maybe? Hahaha! It really wasn't a very substantial moment. I just had to have that sincere, inward resolve to introduce some change of scenery into my daily schedule andandandand—”

  “Believe in yourself more," Meri says with a smile.

  The door opens, slowly with a continuous creak, and somebody's face appears to greet the two sole individuals in the hallway.

  “I wish to know why you two are standing there looking all lovey-dovey.”

  The smallish, spectacle-wearing girl from inside the club room says in a sharpish, almost mechanical, voice.

  “Good day, miss. I am the new applicant,” Meri answers immediately.

  “Oh... it's the new applicant,” the girl announces back to the room. I hear quick movements, the shuffling of things and several bodies.

  The girl looks at me inquisitively, like I was a cat that had strayed where I shouldn't have been.

  “And Mr. Normie? Your boyfriend?”

  “I-I'm here to apply too!”

  “...”

  “Great. We are now liable to become two people dumber.”

  We are still for a moment. The girl seemed to be appraising the both of us. The seriousness of our words, the strength of our resolve.

  “We have our own way of evaluating if the two of you are deserving of our company. Still planning to apply?

  “...”

  “Will the two of you go through it?”

  “...”

  The girl's face brightened into a smile.

  “I'm being funny. Hop in.”