[KontanKarite]

Several years ago, in what may have been over a decade, a boy had a dream.

In the dream, he saw a beautiful girl. She was quiet, shy, and possessed an earthy charm that hinted at a secret strength that would compel him to be only the greatest he could ever be. In her smile and in her embrace, the fibers of the uncertain and cold world would melt away and reveal the only truths worth knowing.

He awoke that next day finding it difficult to remember the dream in all of her entirety but was content with the feeling of warmth and security that it left him feeling for the day... or for the rest of his days since.

Over a decade ago, a girl with dreams and desire sought to create in words and in ink, the perfect man.

He was not overly tall, his hair was dark and shaved close to the sides in the shape of a fin and all of his attire was made in some way by his own hands. He was a fine man. One who feared nothing and when he did fear, he would find the courage to endure what must be done. She knew he would love her through the good and the bad, forever and ever. He was her protector and he was her liberator.

On one magical night, a boy met a girl in a speak easy bar. The boy thought little of her at first. Sure, she had a nice, down to earth kind of charm and was genuinely friendly and she thought he a silly boy in his flamboyant get ups, but she found him agreeable underneath his translucent glamor. He asked her for an audience for a night and she accepted.

On that night, the boy and the girl had a black date. Djarum Blacks and Jack Daniel's Black was shared amongst the two. As the night progressed, he went home with her. They both noticed something curious about that day and night. They were being followed by hawks and crows and whenever they had arrived anywhere in the city, the bells would toll, signaling their arrival.

Upon arrival into her room, the boy noticed HIS pocket watch laying on a nearby night stand.

"My pocket watch... How did you get that?", he inquired.

"It's not yours. I got that pocket watch a long time ago while living in England.", she replied.

"Strange... I have this exact watch. The very exact same one.", He pulled it out of his pocket and indeed, it was the exact same watch, mark for mark and shape for shape. In the distance, church bells rang and the wind started to pick up. They found solace and comfort in each others arms that night.

Days would go on and the boy started feeling a strange tug of deja vu. He knew her from somewhere before. He knew her longer than a trifle few days. Somehow, he was compelled to feel strongly for her despite all logic and reason. He knew of her. He knew she would only inspire the best in him and he did not falter in his honor. Autonomy and love was his only intentions.

In the following weeks, the boy grew to be the man he should be and in so, gained more than just his manhood, but his faith had returned to him. Once again, magic was in his life. The universe and the world was once again, constructed of whispers and silent truths, as the good book had said, "In the beginning, there was the word."

One day, the girl sought to show him something she had been meaning to for a while. She dug through her old books and fairy writings. In the pile, she produced a small excerpt of a book she was writing and within the words and the pictures, there was a perfect likeness to the boy. It was the writings of her perfect man. Every detail described him perfectly.

"I must admit something to you, sweetheart. I've known of you for over a decade. I have dreamed of you. You are the girl in my dreams who inspires me to do good, who compels me to be the best I can be. I love you."

There are other details in the story that I don't care to elaborate on right now and even finer details on what I have already said. In short, in the story, there is also a doll made by the girl that was charged with nothing but her love and benevolence and a desperate and selfish atheist sorcerer who bound the doll in black magic and banished all the good she had put into it, no doubt bringing a manifestation, the fall of his beloved friend from the graces of his beloved.

Some day, I may elaborate on this short and simple narrative. But as far as super natural goes, I can think of nothing more super natural than the last two months of my life.