Base story of my Metafiction

When I entered the room, there was brutal wooden tower, Jenga, waiting for me. I started to produce liquid on my skin. To explain this sweat on my back, I think I need to tell you my short anecdote: my childhood when I was five. When I was five, I met a boy named Woo Hyung. We played Jenga. My hands were meticulous. They tried hard to make the Jenga stay perfect. Woo Hyung’s hands were different. His hands, while holding a piece of Jenga, trembled like a wind-shaking leaves. When he tried to take a piece from well-built tower of Jenga, he always had a wrong choice. I would say that was almost like a special ability of him. Since his hands were shaking, he could not overcome his wrong choice and finally destroyed Jenga towers. I didn’t like him. Re-building tons of pieces of Jenga was annoyed enough to make me hate him.



While I and my friends including Woo Hyung was playing Jenga, origin of my nightmare has happened: friends asked me to play Jenga as a team and my team partner was Woo Hyung. I could hear the Hapless abyss surrounded with consecutive waves sounded like a grief of wolves. Needless to say, Woo Hyung’s calamitous hands brought a disaster to the spoiled the mood of the game. Bravo! Thanks to him, him as well as I was branded as a ‘Jenga breaker’. From that moment, my friends, who used to play Jenga with me, evaded me when they were playing Jenga. Due to this one borty event, one of my favorite games Jenga leaved me.