Heroism and a hundred pair of feet

It must be past midnight.

As humid and hot as only a Caribbean island can sing about. A heat so loud that it wakes me up even though my eyes are in denial... Ugh. But those footsteps. Why is my mother up so late. Such loud footsteps. I would've never expected walking to be so loud; even at night. Crickets are screaming, coquis are piercing, and the amateur scientists are out there trying to break the speed of sound on the highway close by, but, aside from that, this is such a silent night.

Tak, tak, tak, tak...

Why won't she stop walking? She's being so loud. This is not normal. A burglar. A BURGLAR! Fuck! An indecisive one for sure. Shit! Stop! Choose something and get out!! Am I shaking? I am shaking. So loud. He must've opened the door to my room and left it open. Why won't he stop walking? I can see tomorrow's headline: "Fifteen year old is assaulted while trying to defend his house from half human half centipede robber.”

Tak tak tak tak tak.

Crap crap crap crap crap.

Ok. That's it. I gotta open my eyes and face this a-hole because I can't take this anymore. That's it. I'm opening my eyes. Well, damn. The fan is panning left to right to left and it's blowing a page from an open notebook. And, every time the fan pans left, the edge of the page gets blown and hits the wall. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Crap!


What we see is never as powerful as what we think we see but isn't really there. But the chase is captivating. The desire to feel infallible is fed by our love for stories. A craving for our adventures in mental escapism to become reality.


I see an epic battle. Godzilla vs. Sideshow Bob.

I don't know how heroic this fantasy is but it makes me feel like a movie star in this ridiculous reality that's augmented by our organic software.