Where the hungry comes to feed.

“Welcome back Sir,” the strange woman said.

“You must be mistaken, I haven’t been here before,” I say in a confused tone.

“Sir, I never make mistakes,” she says sure of herself. “Come, please. Have a seat, and I’ll get you a cup of tea. No sugar and a lot of milk, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am. But how do you know?” I asked, again with a confused tone, borderline scared.

“Sir, I told you, I never make mistakes,” she says as she left me in what I assume the receiving room of the mansion.

“Your tea, Sir,” she says as she offered me a cup of tea brimming with milk. “I reckon you still don’t quite remember nor do you know what this place is?”

“It would be nice if you can tell me what this place actually is, Ma’am. Assuming you never do make any mistakes,” I say as cheeky as possible.

“Sir, this is where the hungry comes to feed, the angry comes to cool down, the defeated comes to practice, the helpless comes to train, the worried comes to be safe,” she says all the while looking directly into my eyes as she took a seat from me. “Now the question is, why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” I say, feeling unnerved by her intent gaze but not scared.

“Don’t be quick to say you don’t know. You always know. Everyone always know about something, they are sometime too lazy, too scared, too ignorant, or too angry to let themselves know about the things they thought they don’t know,” she says sure of herself, again. “So, let me ask you once again, why are you here?”

“I’m angry, but I feel helpless about the things that made me angry. I don’t feel defeated but I know if I fight for the things that made me angry, I will lose. It worries me,” I say it with as much conviction I can muster under her strong gaze as if she was judging me for something. “Did I give you the right answer?”

“There are no such thing as the right answers. Answers are just responses to questions. Come to the next room, you need to see something,” she took my cup as she motion me to follow her.

“And what exactly am I suppose to do here?” I asked, baffled that the room had one of those long sofa where a patient would lay down as they open up their innermost thoughts to their shrink, as the said shrink sat in an uncomfortable looking chair next to the patient. But what baffles me even more was the fact that there was a huge screen across from the long sofa and  a weird looking helmet-like device on the sofa. I sincerely hope that thing will not go on my head.

“If you’re wondering about the helmet, don’t worry, it’s there for decoration and to spook people off when they first entered this room,” she says as she motioned me to sit on the long sofa.

“I guess I’m now supposed to tell you about my problems?” I asked her, as I tried to make myself comfortable.

“Only of you want to. Remember Sir, this is where the hungry comes to feed, the angry comes to cool down, the defeated comes to practice, the helpless comes to train, the worried comes to be safe. Whatever you decides to do solely relies on your choice,” she sat on the sofa next to me, cross her legs, and clasped both her hand on top of her knee, as if waiting until I come to my senses.

But my senses never came. I kept to myself as I wait for the time to pass. I welcome the silence that envelopes us. It was comfortable. I haven’t quite felt like this in awhile.

“I still don’t quite understand why I am here, or what this place actually is, or what I am supposed to do or say to you, or to no one in particular. But, I like it here. I feel safe. It has been a long time since I feel safe. For quite some time, I felt like a part of me has gone missing and I’m always on the lookout for it. Do you mind if I come here again? Because lately I feel like I’ve been fearing for my life, like I am on a constant battle before someone seizes what is left of my true nature,” I sounded hopeful when I made the request.

“You are always welcome here, have a good rest now, Sir. The sun is up and surely you are not planning to go up in ashes now do you, Sir?”




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.