Ephemeris

13 : Sky Lanterns

It had been days since Daniel tasted the cruelty of the sun—the heart of the solar system that made life possible. But it happened to be heartless, a threat to survival.

Peeping through a gap in overlapping curtains in the living area, Daniel scowled at the breaking dawn that intruded on the peace of San Maler. He touched his cheek and felt his healing scar singed by the whiplash of sunlight. Nestled in his palm was a ball of yarn and a big needle—two materials he had prepared this morning to do some odd protective measures. He caught a tiny ray of light penetrating through a hole in the curtain and hurriedly sewed it. He stitched the curtains together to prevent any light from breaking in. "Now, I will do the same to others," he whispered.

He roamed around the house, looked for the embroidered polyester curtains he installed, and sewn the gaps together, obscuring the treacherous illumination outside. However, the boy seemed dissatisfied with his work.

A sudden jolt of his index finger pointing up sparked a thought inside his mind. The kid swiftly rushed to his bedroom, grabbed the roll of used adhesive tape in his drawer, and fastened the edges of the curtains. "That's it!" he interjected. He looked at his hand and realized the adhesive tape was insufficient to fasten all the curtains. Thus, he rushed to the kitchen and searched for some tapes while crossing his fingers. By chance, Daniel found rolls of different kinds of tapes hidden inside the cabinet under the sink. He grabbed the rolls of electrical, packing, and insulating tape rolls and carried on to complete his brilliant plan. "Done," he whispered as he left his mother staring at a fixed point somewhere at the ceiling. She had no desire to eat her breakfast taped on the nearby desk.

The lad dashed inside his room, then sat on his bed, lost in thoughts. He heaved a sigh.

"Daniel, you looked sad and tired," Lady Mondragon whispered in his ears, "What is bothering you?"

"Nothing," he answered.

"Rubbish!" she interjected, "Tell me. I am your friend. Let it out."

His corneas were hazed with hopelessness. "I am counting the days that go by, the yesterdays. In that direction—forward—the tomorrows are out of sight," he poetically delivered.

Lady Mondragon perched on his shoulder. "What are you trying to say? I am lost. But continue. I will listen," she smiled.

A teardrop from his eye drifted away. "How many days are left for us?" he asked.

"What do you mean by how many days?"

His hand chased the teardrop and flicked it with his finger. The teardrop evaporated like vapor. "When will we expire to breathe our last breath?"

She lowered her head. "I don't know. Nevertheless, I say to you to make each day count."

Another teardrop drifted away, running toward the hair barrette's spot. "How?" he bit his lip, "And even though I snapped means to gain it, it will be all for nothing."

Mr. Lens ascended from below. Daniel gripped the magnifier's handle and drew it closer. "We have no hope. Save one," the old lens said.

"I'll try," the boy breathily uttered.

Mr. Lens made an angle and reflected glare to the kid's cheerless face. "How about let us solve the Rubik's cube?" he asked, inviting the boy to play.

Lady Mondragon hopped to the great wonder of his idea. "That'll be fun. I guess?"

"We will help you," said the two.

Daniel pulled out the cube from his pocket and clambered onto his bed. "You know what?" he paused, "It's impractical to lie down in the bed because, just look around, everything and everyone is floating."