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The Truest Fable

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The Truest Fable


In the sweet season of spring, when everything seemed to be flourishing and in bloom; when the sun sat comfortably in the sky, sending rays of gold to lighten the earth; when a light buzzing noise could be heard from all of the air conditioners in the area; when winter faded away into yesterday’s memories and the spring emerged yet again; this is when travel blossomed, much like the season, and young adults gathered to leave their homes. As winter had just left, the nights still nipped at those who would not wear extra layers of clothing. It was a particularly cold and early morning, (so early, in fact, that to many it still seemed to be night) upon which a peculiar company met. This odd group of strangers formed in a tightly knit circle, huddling close for warmth. The cluster of what appeared to be students, was surrounded by bags of luggage and a few weeping parents.

The students, still dreary and tired due to the hour, were all prepared for a long and extensive trip to Jakarta, Indonesia. They shuffled away from their huddled group, picked up their luggage, said good-bye to their parents, and then proceeded to slowly clamber on the school bus.

The bus driver quickly pulled out of his parking space and headed for O’Hare International Airport. The students sat in the bus with heavy lidded eyes, as some noted the sun just peaking over the horizon. The bus occasionally bumped and lurched violently leaving the students slightly disgruntled and upset, but their mood was much improved once the bus came to a final halt in front of O’Hare. Now that their initial morning weariness began to depart with them an excited chatter scattered across the new, more vibrant, group that huddled up by the security check in. Once security was satisfied, they bustled over to their terminal, were they sat down to check that everyone had made it there. When it was established that the whole group had made it to the terminal, the students scurried and scampered off to find some breakfast.

One student, however, remained behind to watch over the possessions of the others. He sat alone, waiting for them to return, wistfully thinking about the family and the friends he would be leaving behind and anxiously wishing that he would not be left, friendless, throughout the trip. He knew he was younger than the rest of the group. He also knew that he would not let that become a problem. He was determined to be friendly with everyone there and let them know that although he was young, he was quite ready to be mature. His name was Christopher. He was only a year younger than the rest of the group, but already stood a foot taller than most. He had stick straight brown hair that fell slightly over his vividly blue eyes. His nose had a slight bump in it and his face was soft, as he was not yet old enough to have a beard. He wore a baggy pair of jeans that sat somewhere bellow the line which most adults deemed appropriate, a DC T-shirt, a pair of worn down Nike sneakers, and a black sweatshirt with the hood up. Chris was still tired and was hardly able to fulfill his duty to watch over the possessions of the others because of his desire to sleep. His body ached slightly. He had worked out the night before in an attempt to impress the others. He knew it would not do much, he had always been skinny, but he tried anyway. He was strong minded, but could not help let others effect the way he acted. It was just then, when he had nearly closed his eyes to dose off, when one of his fellow travelers walked by and he suddenly stared, struck by what he thought must be love.

Rose, a short sixteen year old girl was the one who walked by. She was puffy-eyed and was not wearing any make up. She wore and pair of comfortable jeans, a large baggy sweater and also had a pair of Nike shoes. Hers were red. She strode back to her seat with a coffee in her hands and an unusual smile on her face, like she had just heard something funny. Her short brown hair kept falling in her face whenever she took a sip of her coffee, and she was hunched over, in a seemingly uncomfortable position, reading a rather large book. She was easily the most attractive girl in the whole airport. Even without make up on, one could see her fair white skin contrast heavily with her blood red lips. Her eyes were entrancingly beautiful. They were all the clichéd lines ever written about eyes, but summed up in one amazing way. She had a kind of sarcastic and crude sense of humor, but her laugh suited her well. As she sat there, stretched out in this awkward stance, she saw a friend of hers returning from the quick breakfast he had had.

He was tall and lanky, a big giraffe of a fellow. His walk was slow and irregular, due, in part, to his gigantic feet. Curly brown hair sat on top of his head. He had a large set of lips, small beady eyes, and slightly floppy ears. His gangly look completed his hilarious personality. He was the type to crack jokes here and there and get big laughs for them. He was loud, gregarious and boisterous. Rose called his name, which was Jim, and he quickly and awkwardly stumbled over to sit with her. He was unbelievably awake for the time and he whipped out a pair of glasses and began looking outside the terminal, at the plane that was going under preparation for the flight. Jim slipped in his I-Pod Classic, and began to hum noisily to a song no one could recognize.

A few more travelers returned in the next ten minutes, and along with them came a robust young woman named Sarah. She had gone to the bathroom to check her make up and had only just returned. She was beautiful, there was no question. She certainly possessed assets that many men desired; however, she was never quite as beautiful as Rose. Her smile was always wide and seductive and her brown eyes were constantly shifting and fluttering around the room. She was louder than most of the group, but she was definitely not at the moment. Her overly large sun glasses made it quite obvious that she was hung over from the night that had transpired the night before, especially since the sun was now perched behind a large patch of clouds. She was a party and social maniac. She loved the attention and the excitement that came with that lifestyle. This fact was strongly contradicted by her strong passion and ability to be cunning and knowledgeable. She was highly intelligent when she was sober, and would not be fooled by the sly words of men. She was strong opinioned and independent. If Rose was the flower, then she would most definitely be the thorn upon the stem.

They set out for Jakarta as they boarded the plane. It was a bit cramped, as it always is flying coach, but no one complained. They were ready for the journey, and ready for its taxing and exhausting after affects. As they flew over and away from Chicago, Illinois, their home town, they all looked down at the incredible city bellow, wishing it farewell and hoping to land at their destination as soon as possible.





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