Welcome to Gaia! ::

I.

Hey, uncle. See that guy at the end of the street? See? Right there. That guy in the hooded shirt, leaning against the red-brick wall of the 24th Boulevard Café.

Now, normally, I would suggest that you'd start taking two steps back and get the heck out of here. That guy screams punk, thief--or worse. Bloody murder.

Yes, yes, I know. Murder sounds a bit too exaggerated, what with a busy street and all, it's hard to pull off one of those, especially when you're living in the 21st century with all the wacky gizmos, hi-tech devices, and seemingly invisible street cameras that record your every movement, so no one gets away that easily.

No one.

So, it's all one-hundred-ten percent safe here in Oakwood City (well... according to that blasted city mayor, anyway.)

Now... I bet you're wondering, if he's not some murderer, that what is he doing there? Begging for food? Trying to win some poor, old woman's pity just so he could get some shelter for the night?

Well, he was thinking about it. Help out the elderly, get some thank you gifts (like a box of Pocky, or some can of beans, even water would be suffice), and be on his merry way.

But after careful deliberation, he decided that it simply would not "one-hundred-ten percent" work. The elders of this city, as far as he knows, would be frightened at the sight of some seventeen-year-old with a dirty hooded jacket, ripped jeans and a pair of black boots. They'd think the bag he carried around him housed a knife, and that he would slit their throats, grab the "goods" and go out and find another helpless old man to steal from.

Really? A knife inside a brown bag that's been worn out? In fact, it's so overused that you'd be able to cut the bag in pieces just by simply putting a pair of scissors there and jogging around the park three times.

Which is why the only thing that's inside that bag is a quarter-filled bottle of water, two apples, and five dollars and twenty five cents (I know. I counted.)

Oops. I think I accidentally told you one of my deepest, darkest secrets. Yes, yes, uncle. This is one of those stories where it opens in third person point of view, when, in reality, it was in first person. Not getting my drift? Well, here's an example:

That guy in the hooded jacket I've been taking about in the past few minutes... was me.

You can gasp all you want. I know this is a big shocker to you. You could faint, or you could raise an eyebrow and say, "Hmph. This is all some prank Mike has set up again." (That's the most probable thing you'd do, uncle.)

Well, sorry, Uncle Matt, but this time, it's not a prank anymore. It's real. I ran away from home, and in the next page of this letter, I'm going to explain why.

Ever since dad had been chosen as mayor, he started taking over my life. He knows that I really want to be a journalist, but he's either taking out some brochures for military school, or taking me to his office and introducing some of his lovely lawyer friends.

Now, at first, I don't mind. I thought dad's just being overexcited about the whole thing. I mean, come on, who wouldn't? You, the newly appointed mayor of one of the country's richest cities. Who wouldn't want that?

And, surely, along with this, he'd simply want the best for his son, right?

But it's been happening frequently, the visits to his office, the looking-over-some-fancy-colleges-that-specializes-in-military-training stuff. Politics is the topic of the week over dinner, and, mind you, it's not a good one.

Being the good son that I am, I just endured it. After all, talking about it was as harmless as a soft pillow. I managed to not let my emotions get the better of me, nod at the right times, comment in all the right places and remain silent when there's something I disagree.

Unfortunately, everything had to come to an end, so my patience snapped in two when, instead of going to Riverdale University to take the entrance test and (if I pass) enroll myself, I overheard him talking to his lovely lawyer friends in hopes of getting me in Southern Dean University, a special training ground for aspiring politicians.

I confronted him about it, and, boy, did it get ugly. There were shouts, mostly from me, and then it got silent. It was the type of silence that suddenly made you claustrophobic that you just had to get out and slam the door in front of his face so hard, you almost broke the hinges.

It didn't let up the next few days. He was determined in getting me into politics, as I was determined not to.

I've had enough of this nonsense. On the night when I was about to be sent to Southern Dean University to apply, I grabbed my old bag, got out twenty dollars from my savings, and ran away from home.

And that was the best decision of my life. A trip to the local market to buy some food stock, a few bus stops, and I'm already living the good life in the bad streets.

Yes, sure, I'm now poorer in comparison to my old life in the house, but at least I'm not cooped up in some corner learning about a thousand pages of something I abhor.

I know I'll someday become a famous writer, I know I'll someday get enough money for my dream university, and I know I'll someday get a place to stay while I'm trying to figure out how I'll do the other two. I'm a Halmark, after all. I'll survive.

And, if you still believe that this is all a prank, Uncle Matt, then come visit me near the 24th Boulevard Café. I'll be sticking around for a while, before catching a bus to another city and start a completely new life away from Oakwood.

A new beginning.

- Mike

I'm a sucker for stories that are about bad times but have a hopeful main character. Heh. You did a good job on this, and I really enjoyed reading it. I loved the style of it, the switch, and even the comment on the switch. Of perspectives, I mean. It was very interesting, and easy to read and follow. That just made it easier to get attached to him.

II.

Max,

Seriously, a politics career? No wonder your son disappeared three days ago.

Look, I know that being the new mayor can be stressful, and images are very important, but I don't think bringing the family in the picture would benefit both you and the people involved. Just look at what happened to us, to our family.

We were all broken up because mom was a superstar, and dad... was just dad. He was your average Joe. Mom got obsessed with her career that she started to change everything. From the house we live in, to the school we go to, to the friends we hang out with--she changed it all, all to preserve her status in the filming industry.

We grew sick of it, remember? Our own mom controlling our lives, and our every move. Even dad, who usually just dismissed it all, suddenly got pissed off about it one day. In the end, dad divorced mom, and since we were both already legal adults by the time that happened, we went to our separate ways.

It's sad, really, how a happy family of four crumbled like that. I hope you won't do the same with your own.

I also hope you realize what kind of effect it has on the kid. As they say, like father like son.

- Matt