One Afternoon (short story)

It was late afternoon, and the sun was preparing to set. The sky was a mix of gold and scarlet red, lighted up by the bright sun. I hurriedly walked up the stairs to the bridge, smelling the fresh, salty atmosphere. Slightly panting, I looked at my black suit to see if any dirt got on it. Thankfully, it was still clean and shiny. As I looked around, Isabella wasn’t there. The scent of air instantly evaporated and was replaced with a strong, tobacco smell. I noticed a man standing on the edge of the bridge, solemnly gazing at the beautiful sky with a cigarette in his mouth. The cigarette smoke seemed to drift along the sky and then disappear into the midst of the golden-red pool. Even though I disliked smoke, today it did not matter to me; I had something to greatly anticipate and think about. Under the sky was the vast, dark-blue sea, making small ripples as if it was a ballerina’s skirt. Parts of the sea gleamed and shimmered with reflections of the burning sky. My mind seemed to ripple with excitement like the sea.

I walked along the familiar path of the narrow, light-brown bridge. Across the bridge I could see a mass of tall, thick mangrove trees growing at the edge of the sea. ‘Those mangrove trees are my best friends,’ I thought to myself, ‘they have been growing for more than ten years, silently watching me grow and mature.’ Behind the forest of mangrove trees was my village, where there were apartments and a couple of houses. My apartment was Oceanside 8. It was the 8^th apartment in the village that was directly siding with the ocean. As I turned my view back to the bridge, I saw a couple jogging together on the bridge, happily talking to each other. Yes, a couple it was. My admiration of nature had shortly been taking place in my mind, but my mind was back to today’s event. Today was the day I had been waiting for a long time, the day of inviting Isabella to an evening date. We were going to meet on the bridge and then walk to my house for a dinner. I never had the courage to ask her out, but amazingly, today I succeeded in it and she even accepted my invitation. I closed my eyes and fell into a lovely daydreaming of jogging with Isabella as a couple. I pictured my French red wine with the delicately roasted chicken, and Isabella’s adorable smile. Everything was going to be perfect.

With my eyes still closed I listened to the whispers of the sea, serene and unruffled. After a while, I gently opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. Inch by inch, the sun was going down the horizon peacefully, illuminating its surroundings with the blindingly vibrant colors. Streams of golden sunlight flowed along the red noon sky. As I looked down at the sea again, a boat speedily traveled across, leaving a trail of white froth behind. It was thirty minutes after Isabella and my appointment time, but I couldn’t get a glimpse of her figure on the bridge. Then I smelled smoke, but this time not from a cigarette but from somewhere across the bridge. Suddenly, I heard fire trucks. When I turned to follow the sudden smell and the siren that shattered the peaceful mood, I saw smoke and fire rising among the mangroves. ‘Oh, dear,’ I thought, ‘may be someone accidently lighted fire among the trees.’ I forgot about the smoke soon and turned back to my watch. For another twenty minutes or so, I wandered around the bridge, admiring the particularly beautiful sunset.

As time passed, however, Isabella didn’t show up on the bridge but more and more people crowded up to see something. First I did not care what it was, as I was nervous about Isabella’s arrival. Later on, I decided to sneak into the crowd and find out what they were looking at. Surprisingly, it was the fire among the trees. Actually, it wasn’t fire among the trees but fire in the village. There were more fire trucks ringing sirens and more people gathered around the scene. I thought about the traffic jam would be why Isabella was being so late. Some people were talking about what had happened. “That is pretty big fire,” a man shouted, “whoever put the fire on the apartment should be sorry to all.” Then I heard few women whispering to each other about the accident, and I stopped dead. Their words pierced my brain right through the middle. I stood in my spot for a moment, and then slowly drew myself out of the crowd. I looked at the burning sky. Shock, anger, desperation, and fear grasped me all at once. I felt my hands slowly creeping up my cheekbones. My eyes bulging with terror and despair, I screamed.

 “Didn’t you know that the person who caused the accident was cooking something and forgot about it? That’s why that person’s entire apartment is on fire now. The apartment is said to be the Oceanside 8, and nobody knows who did it but…”