In the darkest hour...

Apartment 306

2010-05-15T20:58:00.000-07:00

"It's the place," she cringed deeper into her foul smelling sweater that had kept her warm and wet at the same time. "It's the apartment .. apartment 306..." She could not see anyone clearly with the drop of tears caught between her eyelashes. "It makes you crazy."
"What really happened that night Marguerite? Can you tell us exactly what happened?"
She tried to look the officer in the face but she could only make out his blurry features which terrified her even more.
"Don't you understand? We have to get out of here! Get out of this building because nothing good comes out of it." She pushed them from getting too close to her, from stealing the air she was breathing but they held her down as though she was just a ragged old doll.
"There's no need to be afraid," the man with the commanding voice said. "We're here to help you. Just tell us what happened in apartment 306 and we'll take care of it right here and now."
"I-I ..." she cried again. She felt the dried blood crackle when she scrunched up her face to relive that moment when everyone died except her. The terror that came out of the darkness and took them one at a time in a mater of moments. She could still hear the screams and smell the fears as death rode in to claim their lives the way it was meant to be. "D-don't make me go back there. Please don't make me..."
"Now, now Marguerite, it takes just a little courage to go a long way..."

I Remember You part 2

2010-04-21T18:24:00.000-07:00

He was a small student with a timid disposition. One of those I might forget in time because he did not stand out in the crowd. Neither his looks nor his presence yelled for attention and being a misanthropic I didn't care much for what he lacked to be the success for his future.

After all these years of pedagogy observations I found a likely pattern that fitted everyone into molds of sorts. The most prominent distinction between students was their confidence that gave them their self esteem and vice versa. Most of them grew up without having them and some must have lost them along the way. I knew because I grew up with none of those and I ended up being a teacher because there was nothing else I thought I could do. And only once in a while I saw this light, this brightly colored flicker in one of the student's eyes.

And among all the fresh faces I was looking at that day I saw him for the first time. I usually didn't bother to remember any of their names but this time when someone called him for the first time I remembered him for life. They called him Umezu.

I was heading for the staff room when he appeared before me and we exchanged a look that almost swept me off my feet. "Teacher," he said. "I want to be all that I can be."
"Good for you," I replied indifferently and was about to walk away when he caught my arm.
"Teacher," he said again. "I know, you know."
I was angry and offended with his touching me and talking as though we shared a secret in private. I had one too many incidences with students before that kept me suspicious and distant.
"Don't ever do that again!" I yanked my hand away from his grip but he seemed to have taken some of my pride with his hold. "And what the hell are you talking about?"
"You know, I know, teacher." He smiled with his slanted eyes and stepped away gradually without taking his stare away.
I wanted to slap him or scream at him for making a fool of me but I knew I shouldn't make a scene when I was not to my advantage.

I turned away hurriedly, scheming a plot to deal with students like him and stormed into a room full of teachers for help. Although I never liked any of my colleagues, and the feeling was mutual, we stuck together whenever students became out common enemies. I slammed my books and files on my table and complained everyone who was around.
"There's this fucking student who just harassed me!"
"Who is that?" Mrs. Raj, the queen of pain, asked as if she was going to beat the hell out of him.
"What did you do?" Miss Ping, the whiny spinster in the making, was the next to respond since she was sitting next to us.
"Do you want to make a report?" The notorious pederast, Lim, came around to join us.
I glanced at their wretched faces for being who they were and garnered all their sympathy as much as I could by twisting the tale. "This new student, Umezu, just made a pass at me."

It was the beginning of a fight I should have never indulged in if I knew what was in store for me.

I Remember You Part 1

2010-02-07T05:15:00.000-08:00

When I first met him I knew that he would amount to nothing much in the end except work on a deadend job, get married and recycle the trash of being human. He was all there was in his eyes, in the way he spoke, in the way he thought, in the way he walked and even in his name. His name was Ramachandran and that was all that he became.

I sat behind the teacher's table and had this worrisome thought of how cynical I have become. I could literally see the future of my students the moment I laid eyes on them. Whether it was Mohammed, Pei Kwan, Jester or Joseph the future had already been written in bold black words on their foreheads. 15 years of teaching either made me a negative, critical, old spinster or it gave me the insight I never had. I could tell which student came from a broken family and which were rich and which were scraping by. I could tell who had been raised by maids and who had been raised by guardians other than their own parents.

It didn't help me in any way because I was getting tired of being a teacher for so long and have nothing to make my lonely life any better 15 years ago than what it is now. Every new semester I would skim through the attendance sheet and roll my eyes at the thought of reintroducing myself again and start with the management's mandatory rules and regulations lecture.

Sometimes I got faces that were bright and zestful, other times I get them sour and apathetic. In every class there was always the leader, the groupies, the cliques, the nasty and the ostracized. After all the years of high shcool brainwashing I was devastated that the kids had learned nothing much about independence, tolerance, responsibility, communication and respect.

And then one day, I saw him. I saw a student who carried death in his eyes.

to be continued

Dark Visions

2009-12-01T20:07:00.000-08:00

It's coming back and I don't know what to do.

It starts with insomnia, sleeplessness and the anxiety of not being able to get a night's rest. When I close my eyes I can feel them dart from side to side, stirring, whirling in circles while light and darkness switching like a flickering from an old movie projection. But when I try to open my eyes they can't stay open for long. I get pulled back into the world where it's as real as it gets.

And then comes the nightmares. The images of nonsense. Like flash cards of death, dead things, awful things that run through my head, shaking me up with this memory game. I try to disconnect them from my mind's eye but I can't do it.

The third stage is when I finally manage to wake with the shivers still in me. My heart rolls like thunder and I wonder if all these are premonitions or the beginning of my insanity.

That Lonely Bastard

2009-04-24T12:44:00.000-07:00

That lonely bastard struck the match to get the spark to start the flame for his joint. It hissed and caught the tip of his rolled up fag and he sucked up the jubilation of the euphoria in a single continuous gulp. When his lungs were filled to the max he exhaled the smoke out to the world to protest his insignificant existence for a good measure.
"The world is not what it seems," he said like a latent infection.
"Why do you say that?" Joan asked.
"We all live in a matrix, like the movie The Matrix. It's all real. But not like this." He circled his eyes around the disorderly vicinity with clothes, papers, trash and every inconceivable items strewn everywhere. "All this is an illusion."
Joan scanned her eyes all around and saw nothing but irresponsibility and inconsiderateness written at every corner of the house.
"Just as I am a lonely bastard, I'm conditioned to be this way. Made to feel this way." He exposed his unkempt teeth through a labored smile. "I can't do anything about it even if I wanted to. It's all a part of the strategy of the Beings."
"Beings?"
"Yeah, they're all around us. They who rule us and make us think the way they want us to." He leaned closer to Joan and whispered. "You think they can't hear or see us now?" Joan spied the surrounding once more just to be sure.
"They've fucked us up so that we stay stupid. So that we stay idiots to our own belief system. From religion to politics, wealth to poverty, intelligence and to sheer dumbass fuckers, we're doomed either way. They have everything covered and that's how it has been for centuries."
"So what you're saying is that we're living in th-this unreal world governed by these Beings?"
"Of course. We just don't have the blue pill or the red pill to wake us up. It's all in here." He tapped on his bald head to emphasize on the brain that was sitting inside. "You wake up or you don't."
"So, you have woken up then?" She trembled when she asked him for confirmation.
"Of course," he paused. "But I can't get out of this doldrums. They've got me locked down. Everytime I try to break out of this incaceration," he dipped his cigarette into the mug and continued, "I get pulled back in."
"You mean the addiction."
"Yeah, part of it. But this is worst than just any kind of addiction. It's an obsession." He showed her his forearm. "I tried to open myself up to see what was inside once."
She saw the long scar strecthing from his wrist to his elbow.
"And you know what I saw inside?"
She shook her head nervously.
"Energy, that was what was inside. That's all. Pure energy." He lit another cigeratte while she tried to make sense of her own presence with this strange man. "I almost died. But they didn't want me to."

'untitled'

2009-04-09T07:36:00.000-07:00

It started when the crow accidentally dropped the hand it was carrying into Sara's lawn while she was weeding the edges of the stones that demarcated the different variety of shrubs and flowers. She jumped from the thud and at first glance she thought it was a glove or a plastic toy until she saw maggots sprinkle out of the decomposing appendage. She was disgusted for a moment and moved away from it. She didn't scream nor did she faint since she didn't believe all women were subjected to frailty like how generations of the female body were associated with it.

She stepped away from the spot and took a breath of fresh air looking at the morning sky where the sun was just reaching the peak of nine. It was almost time for her to go back inside to avoid the heat of the sun but she thought she would complete another batch of the stray grass despite the rising temperature. Had she decided to go back inside she would have never seen the hand and it might have disintegrated or taken away again by another scavenger but it was her fate that she did.

When she was calmer she looked back to the cruel sign of death someone might have had to make sure she wasn't going to make a fool of herself when she called the police. The hand, even at a distance, was what it was and there was no doubt about it. She didn't want to fiddle with it in case the police could extract more evidence from the already decaying bits but she couldn't leave it exposed just as well in case it disappeared again.

She retrieved some old newspapers from the stack she meant to give away and laid them down on what looked more like a carcass on its own and made sure the evidence stayed put with stones weighing them down in a circular formation. She thought of Inspector Dores but he had since retired from the last case she worked with him. There was only one other Inspector in town and he was obnoxious in every possible way but she kept telling herself to give him the benefit of the doubt although he has not changed from their first encounter. She sighed and took off the rubber gloves and left everything perfectly in their place as before and strolled away to get to the phone.

The Night Train

2009-03-03T20:32:00.000-08:00

The train took forever to come. We weren’t surprised, as usual, since the transportation system has been this way since the beginning of time. Even with modern technology and the fastest land transport ever to appear, it was still unreliable due to a human factor: inefficiency.
Every one of us had to wait for almost an hour with the incessant ‘Due to unforeseen circumstances the train is delayed and will arrive shortly yada yada…’ and like fools we cramped at the station yearning to go home to our beds and some even dinner.
I leaned over the rails to peek at the station before to see if there was any sight of the train but I only saw the darkening skies.
“This happens at least once a month,” a middle age woman said to me.
“Oh, I hardly take the train actually,” I replied.
“Terrible service, and to think we are heading for a technology oriented status.” A younger man joined in the conversation as we rant out of frustrations.
“Like they say 1st world progress 3rd world regress.” We laughed at the trite remark I made.
“This city, like all cities is going to the dogs.” The man who was a little older than I was said.
“Everything is going up. Crimes, prices and inefficiency.” The woman continued dissing the metropolis and we giggled as strangers often do in their first encounter.
From the corner of my eye I thought I saw smoke billowing from the station where the train was suppose to be approaching from. But it was past twilight and I wasn’t sure.
“Do you think the station’s on fire or something.” The two strangers gathered closer to me to view the direction my fingertip was pointing out.
“I don’t see any fire,” the woman said.
“It’s cloudy but it could be just the haze,” the man replied.
I squinted my eyes again to be sure but the distance and muzzy night did not allow me a clear vision. “I wonder if the train’s had its days.”
“Sometimes I wonder that too.” The middle age woman announced. “Sometimes I wonder if the accidents are inevitable with their incompetence.”
“It’ll only be a matter of time before we find out. It’s been years since the trains were upgraded and the management changed hands from the experts to the inadequate political cronies. They won’t improve the system because they need to sell cars.”
We looked at the man unearthing one conspiracy after another and we went silent for a moment. Each of us dulled into pensive temperaments as we brood over the thought. Such was the state of the country but underdogs like us had very little we could do. Elections were fixed, tops guns were puppets and our lives were dictated to the whims and fancies of the corrupt.
“I think I see the train coming.” I broke the humdrum to flush away the depression that was about to set in.
“Yeah I see it too.” The man said.
“One hour and twenty minutes.” The woman said as she checked her watch. “At least it didn’t beat the record of two and a half hours the last time I experienced it. We smiled amiably to one another and waited as the tracks squealed and trembled from the approaching train.
Everyone marched closer to the waiting line in a disorderly manner since there was no authority to queue us up. The sound of the light rail transit was prominent when it ran over the rusted tracks and it we would be lucky if we could even find a place to stand.
As it lunged forward from the darkness I could see a brilliant reflection glowing from the interior as though the people we dancing and having a time of their lives. When the train finally arrived I saw an illuminated flame engulfing its belly like a crematorium through the glass window. The people were screaming and thrashing themselves to put out the fire but I could not hear a single sound. I was petrified as I stood there watching the horrendous imagery of death. I couldn’t say a word and I didn’t know what to do.
Once the train came to a full stop the doors swished opened and the charred people continued to burn and struggle but not dashing out. The push at my shoulder woke me up as the crowd narrowed together to squeeze into the doors. The two strangers whom I exchanged dialogues with both gazed at me at the same time. We were flabbergasted to the brink of losing our sanity. No one saw what we saw. All three of us retreated to the back to allow the passengers board the coach. The fiery human sacrifices vanished when the commuters blended into their spaces. And before we knew it the train sprinted away into the dark.
The woman went back to the bench to sit, the man leaned against the pillar and I paced around them trying to grasp the idea in my head. Did all three of us see ghosts or did we hallucinate at the same time?
“I think I’ll take a cab home.” The man got up to leave, we didn’t respond to that and watched him trudge away to the stairs and then into the night.
“Did we just witness some paranormal incident? “ I asked.
“I’m too old to want to know any of these. I don’t think I can take the train either. I’ll catch someone to fetch me or I’ll take the bus.” She rose from the seat and staggered on.
“But, don’t you want to know if we could have prevented that? I mean if it was going to happen.”
“You do what you have to do I’m better off being ignorant.” She waved without looking back.
I sat at the station for a few more minutes and wondered what would be splashed on the headlines and if I could have made any difference being the insignificant being that I was in this country.

I Am Legend ... by default

2009-01-03T08:38:00.000-08:00

As a lover of horror stories, movies and things that go bump in the night I had the most exhilarating moment of my life when I became somewhat of a legend myself. When I write I have to try out different shoes to bring out the best in my characters and then have to daydream and imagine plots, sequences and denouements, looking like a dazed and confused person whenever I do that.

It was one of the most unlikeliest days when a bunch of friends and I wanted to check out an abandoned gold course that went bust due to greed, over ambitiousness and mismanagement. So, like soldiers of fortune we tracked up the unused tarmacadam all the way up to the club house which is perched on the highest point to overlook the golf course among the most beautiful fauna and flora. Up at the vacant building we scouted around for evidences of the used-to-be's and could-have-been's in the vicinty of the unclaimed property. Everyone of us walked into the edifice from the front doors which were unlocked. I had a quick tour on the wastage and nothingness and decided to go out for some fresh air instead of being cooped inside the moth-eaten and deteriorating ambience that looked like something out of a horror movie.

While I ambled about I heard approaching vehicles at the turn of the road and I strolled quickly back into the failed commercial enterprise so I won't have to answer questions in case they had any, whoever they were. As I moseyed to the front doors I only turned back to look around when I was inside the building. Before any of my friends noticed the visitors they left almost immediately the moment they arrived.

On the way down I told a friend of mine it would be nice if I could have frightened those people and gave them something to talk about if I had just stood in front of the forsaken building with my hair down and over my face. We didn't think much of it until the news went back to my friends.

According to him, the two cars of foreign travelers saw a woman in red holding a red umbrella walking into the building and that freaked them out. No one knew it was me so I told my friends about it, but to my surprise some of them didn't want to believe it could have been me. But when they recalled the red umbrella I carried and the orangy t-shirt I wore then everyone had a great laugh about it.

As for the holiday makers I was going to be a story they'll never forget and want to pass from one generatin to another. Funny when I think about it how people see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. I didn't do any stunts to fly or jump up the roof but by walking, presumably alone, into an abandoned building I have become somewhat of a legend and I am proud to be one.

Ear Window

2008-11-26T22:29:00.000-08:00

There's this guy who plays his electric guitar as though no one lives around him and that his room is sound proofed and padded to keep the trashy sounds he creates as if he's Slash or Jimmy Page. He goes on for hours on end playing just about the same song he's trying to perfect week after week. I could only picture a frustrated kid who looks like he sucks at everything else and has no life besides being inconsiderate and irresponsible and disillusioned.

A few windows down a middle-aged woman jabbers her heart out in the morning when she wakes to share her gossip of the day with the world. Not wanting to keep anything secret she carries on as though the person on the other side can't hear her in her overbearing tone of voice dissing a third party who must have rubbed her up the wrong way. Like the one-prick-band who crunches an awful tune she hangs on the phone for her dear life the entire morning relating someone else's life story.

And farther up the back lane, a family comes back home at one in the morning, chats at the top of their voices, cackles like banshees and plays loud music from their CDs until two or when they run out of things to say. They go about this ritual almost every night or every other night like that bastard kid and that loquacious crone oblivious to the fact that other people in the back rooms that face the lane together might be sleeping. Even in deep slumber they are able to shake me up and spare not a moment to irritate the hell out of me.

As I sit and wonder what I could do to make them pay for what their inconsiderateness I cracked my fingers to the bones and plot out a list of things I could do to make life miserable for them. Even death if necessary. I could write a nasty letter to each and every one of them as the first step to the execution. Then I would begin by damaging small insignificant things like their cars, roof tiles, windows, lawn or dump some deteriorating carcasses, putrid organic matters or despicable wastes to their homes. Or I could wait for them to leave the house and track them down to scare the shit out of them in the darkness.

Maybe I could play them all up and get them to kill each other instead. I could imitate their jarring sounds and amplify them in the night to drive them to the edge of insanity. That way I will have my hands clean from man handling any of these awful creatures myself. Out of disgust for one another they might just hack each other to death if the push comes to shove, and I will make sure of that. I can make sure of that!

Like Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window, this is my Ear Window so to speak. I don’t see them, I don’t know who they are but I know they are exasperating as hell. And to me, people like that should be taught a lesson or two so they’ll learn. As I sit here sharpening the machete I’m thinking of doing it the best way I know how, instant death.

The Glamorization Of Susannah Shayle 3

2008-10-20T21:51:00.001-07:00

Detective Durango sat across James with the candles flickering in between them.
“What is it dear?”
Detective Durango gazed at his lover’s eyes, reached out to hold his hand and thought about telling him the bizarre murder of Shayle but he refrained from doing it because it wasn’t the kind of conversation one has over dinner.
“It’s work.”
James smiled sweetly and suggestively. “I know what will perk you up,” he pursed his lips. “A nice firm back rub.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“And then some…” James continued and grinned.

Mrs. Shayle paced in circles, chanting a long litany of inaudible utterances whiles the two police officer looked on from outside the bedroom.
“What’s she doing?” Officer Mullek nudged his fellow officer.
“Some ritual I guess.”
“She’s not bringing him back from the dead is she?”
Officer Gocho looked at his colleague. “You think I was born yesterday?”
“Hey, I’m serious. I heard of a case once where a murdered victim just walked up and left the scene of the crime,” he rolled his eyes to the beguiling woman who was singing monotonously.
“So what happened to the body?” The story got Officer Gocho interested.
“I don’t know, the guy who told me the story never finished.”
“You’re so full of it,” he answered and pushed him aside. “Let’s check back a little later, I need coffee.”
The officers strolled lazily away while Mrs. Shayle brought her hands together and bowed before her dead husband at the foot of the bed. She then ambled to her dressing table to exhume a metal box from the drawer. She set it down on the table and lifted the cover up and produced a needle and thread from her other sewing materials. Once she got the needle strung she walked back to the fragments and sat beside them. One by one, beginning from the top, she weaved back the bits and pieces of what was Mr. Simon Shayle three days ago.

The Glamorization of Susannah Shayle 2

2008-09-29T19:53:00.000-07:00

The first day was uneventful as Detective Durango suspected. They just watched her perform her spousal duties of mourning a deceased husband. She donned on her black Victorian-like dress from neck down all the way to her feet and she hid her hands inside a sable pair of gloves while her face under a caliginous veil. She sat beside the dead body in the dismal room like a lady-in-waiting. It was as though her husband would rise from the bed anytime from his sleep.
Detective Durango glanced at her briefly when he passed. Officers Gocho and Mullek nodded with his approach.
“Anything to report?”
“No Detective, all’s well.”
The detective nodded and continued his gait own the stairs.
“I can’t believe they allow her to keep her husband with her after he’s been stabbed to death. No autopsy, no investigation, nothing. Uh uh.”
“Wow, she must really have some influence on the whole judiciary system,” Officer Mullek replied.
“She’s got a hold of everyone round her little finger.”
“So what’s this about her killing her husband?”
Officer Gocho licked his lower lip and tasted the delectable story which he was about to disclose.
“The maid saw her coming out of the bedroom with a cleaver that night when she murdered him. Her husband was chopped into god knows how many pieces as though he was meat for sale. The woman, Mrs. Shayle, tried to stop the maid but she ran out of the house and brought the police back. We all thought she was in a state of shock when we saw her holding the killing weapon beside her husband when we arrived. But I’ll tell you Frankie, she was as cold and ice and as calm as a bird of prey. She told us she didn’t kill me and insisted she had a way with this three day ceremony before she speaks up. Can you imagine that?” He nudges his colleague.
“She’s mourning for what’s left of that man.”
“That sounds freaky.”
“You think that’s freaky? You should talk t her. She makes you feel like you’re in hell talking to the demon. Mind you, don’t go near her unless you have to. I don’t like the looks of this woman.”
“Yeah, she does look odd.”
“Sick is what I’ll tell you. Sick. The medic put the pieces back together just for her.”
“Fuck, that’s a real fucked up shit alright,” he swallowed hard and caressed his neck with his hand.
They gaze at the composed woman who didn’t seem to have moved an inch since they started keeping an eye on her.

Detective Durango unlocked the door to his apartment and threw the keys onto the side table.
“James, you back?”
A handsome boyish-faced man popped his head out to the hallway to answer.
“Yeah, cookin’.”
“Great I’m starved.”
“How was you day?”
“Strange.”
“How was yours?”
“Stranger.”
James ran out to give his lover a peck on the cheek and ran back in.
“Good we’ll exchange tales at the dinner table.”
“Okay, I’ll go wash up now; I think I’ll have an early night tonight.”

I Didn't Kill That Man

2008-09-14T19:45:00.000-07:00

Great God almighty I didn't kill that man,
He may have raised his hand against me,
He may have done what a vile man does
but I didn't kill him.
But I did think about it.
I wanted to shoot him inthe balls,
I wanted to slit his throat when he's sleeping,
I wanted to smash his smug face in,
I wanted to drown him in the tub,
I wanted to hurt him with
the butcher knife, the iron, the kettle
but I didn't do it.
I swear I didn't kill him
when I actually ought to.
No one is allowed to treat another
human being the way he does.
He is an animal that should be caged,
whipped to his senses,
bound with wires and cords,
gagged with gas and seared with fire.
You think a small petite woman like me
has the strength to murder
that giant of a bastard?
Just because I have a motive,
just because I did imagine it
doesn't mean I did it.
Don't you see?
A man like him deserves to die ...
horribly.
But I didn't kill that man.
You think I drugged him with poison
in small dosages
and left him to die like a
diseased rat?
I took care of him when he was sick.
Would I do that if I wanted to kill him?
Sure, I saw him deteriorating away,
literally decaying like meat
left out in the sun and rain.
Sure I saw his skin and flesh
swell and puncture,
oozing with yellow substance,
and his eyes protruded out
like a red ping pong ball.
but it doesn't mean anything
when I didn't tell anyone about it,
I just didn't want to bother anyone.
So what if I saw him retch out
blood and all his food.
It's really nothing when you're sick,
that happens all the time.
Maybe he could have begged for help
but I thought he was being delirious.
You know how people are
when they are spaced out
with painkillers.
All I'm saying is
I didn't kill him,
if I did he would have died
a long time ago.
I cared for that man,
even though he hit me like a rag doll.
You can see the bruises and marks
he left on me,
my broken wrist which never got
any medical attention
because he didn't want me to go
to the doctors.
And here's another scar where he
knifed me,
and this patch of baldness
on my head where he struck me
with his belt buckle.
Hair won't grow there anymore.
There are other injuries
I would like to show you
but I can't, I'm a woman.
Do you still believe me
if I told you
I didn't kill that man?

The Glamorization of Susannah Shayle 1

2008-07-28T20:29:00.000-07:00

"I didn't kill him."
"Your hand prints are all over the murder weapon Mrs. Shayle."
She looked at Detective Durango and focused her cavernous eyes into his. "It doesn't mean I killed him."
"The house keeper saw you leaving the scene of the crime."
"She saw what she wanted to see," Mrs. Shayle stated calmly. "If you would let me recount the story in my own words, I would tell you everything," she dabbed the corner of her eyes with a laced handkerchief that used to be coral colored. "But you have to leave me to grief alone for the next three days."
"Why the next three days?" he scratched the invisible stubble under his chin.
"That has been my family tradition for many generations. We mourn for the dead for three days while we fast in our silence," she spoke with a dignified lilt in her voice.
"Mrs. Shayle—"
"Detective Durango, it will be of no use for you to coerce me because I will not say anything more for now. You cannot deny my right to exercise this ritual I brought with me from my country. You can try but I will take everyone of you from the police department to the Attorney General to court if I have to. You can keep me under house arrest until I send my husband to the nether world, but until then no one interferes with this ceremonial rites," she took a deep breath from her committed harangue and exhaled a closing declaration. "Do you understand?"
Detective Durango felt like a kid in school being instructed by a priggish teacher, which he never liked, but he composed himself and replied, "I will be back in a short while."

"That woman is impossible," Officer Gocho exclaimed, "didn't I tell you that?" He leaned closer to another officer and continued. "She thinks she's above the law since she has royal blood."
"Officer Gocho, put her under house arrest," Detective Durango called from within earshot. "There will four officers each day at all times for the next next three days."
"Yes sir," he attentioned himself and almost saluted until the detective walked away.
Officer Gocho watched the Detective go and turned to his fellow officer to continue his scandalous dialogue when the Detective swung his head back to make one final demand.
"Now," he said and Officer Gocho jumped at the order.
"Yessir."
Detective Durango stood at the gilded window framing the pristine garden which is well manicured and adorned. Murder is like coffee, he thought; it's dark, it's bitter, it's addictive and it smells so good.

TBC

The Magic Of Scala Midge 5 (356 words)

2008-07-23T19:40:00.000-07:00

"Use your magic Scala," Russell whispered in my ear.
"Where are you? I can't see you?"
"In your head," he chuckled. "I am in your head."
"What are you doing there?"
"Guiding you," he harrumphed. "Of course if you don't want me to I'll go. I'll leave you..."
"Don't. Stay with me," i groped in the darkness with my handicapped body. "I need you."
"Do you really?"
"Yes."
"After how you've treated me?"
"I didn't mean t-to," I stammered. "I just didn't think ... I'm sorry."
"Accepted. We'll take this one step at a time. Follow my lead."
"Thank you Russell," I wish I could embrace him then, kiss him even.
"Will I be able to get out of this curse?"
"I don't know."
"How long will it be before I find my way home?"
"An hour? A year? An eternity? Who knows?"
I respired like a little girl lost in the realm of the mystics. I didn't know if any of these were real anymore than I remember how I existed in this world. It could be a dream for all I know. Life could be a dream. Or was it death?
"I'll take you where you need to go Scala. It'll be fine as long as you remember the magic," I could feel his hand touching mine and leading me through the gap in the space in between.

The word is 'magic'," he whispered in my ear.
"Hey, who gave you the right to come close to me?" I screamed at the creep.
"Magic, love, magic."
Before I could do anything he whipped up my hand and kissed it and said, "Magic..." and left.
Marjorie came to me when she saw what happened. "Nance, who's that dickhead?"
"I don't know. He just came over and blurted out the word magic as though it was a password or something."
"You want to report him?"
"Naw, I don't want to get all fussed up over a small thing. But maybe I will if he comes back," I laughed.
Nancy and I strolled off to the park and we watched the mime open a door for us.

The End

The Magic Of Scala Midge 4 (580 words)

2008-07-04T18:37:00.000-07:00

...the world that was before me now was different. It was no more the darkness of the room that compels me into fear. I had no terror left in my bones and on my flesh. It was all gone.

"My dear, you're here," Russell stated and emerged from the blackness that devoured the encompassment.
"What's happening to me?"
"Don't you know?"
"Am I dead?"
"I shan't tell you and spoil the big surprise."
"What surprise? Did you bring me here to hurt me?"
"How insulting. I never hurt a fly," he sniggered. "That doesn't mean I won't hurt a human being," he continued laughing.
I tried to get out of bed but I was stuck in between the sheets. "What is this?"
"Try and remember."
"Am I going crazy?"
"Do you want to go crazy?"
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Like I said before," he whispered and then suddenly raised his voice. "I didn't do anything to you!" He went back to speaking softly. "I hope you heard me this time."
"Help me then. Get me out."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Out of this freaking bed! Help me."
"Don't give me the dramatics. Being stuck in bed is the least of your problems."
"What do you mean?"
"Well it's kind of like this," he pranced around the room jauntily. "You have to choose your future."
"What?"
"Door number one, you are the chosen one, You are on a perilous mission to save the world. You will go through a series of danger that will harm and hurt you, or even kill you if you don't succeed."
"But I'm not a savior."
"At some point of our lives, we have to be." He stopped right in front of her and gazed. "Door number two, you have dredged up all your past and they are now haunting you. You will have to find out what it is that you have to appease before the dark shadows come for you." He scratched his head. "And of course, door number three, this world will never be the same again. You are living in the flipside of the world you know, the bad side so to speak. All you have to do is just find the way home. Before those things come for you that is."
"Why me? Why do I have to choose one of your ridiculous games?"
"How should I know? I'm only the messenger. And oh, by the way to help you through one of the three journeys you will have a small amount of magic that will get you by. And don't ask me what it is ... I'm only the messenger."
"What if I don't choose?"
"Stay here then, in all eternity of darkness and be stuck in the bed."
"I'll take my chances and stay here then."
"Suit yourself, I've got to go."
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know. Bye." He vanished just as quickly as he appeared.

I sat back and waited, hoping I would wake from this mind abuse I was punishing myself with and then the ground shook. The three doors that were never there before slammed open and the light from the other side came spilling in. And then the walls gave way to the energetic outburst, merging all three of them into one. And I knew then by not making the choice they all came for me simultaneously and now I was faced with the doom of all three.

TBC

The Magic Of Scala Midge 3 (489 words)

2008-05-22T20:09:00.000-07:00

What will come for me? I curled up in bed wondering what he meant by that. I wasn't going to let him scare me like that but I couldn't keep my mind off it just the same. Tori, as usual wasn't home. Although we share a small room with two beds, a toilet and a small space to consider our own I still didn't like the idea that I was alone. I kept all the lights switched on while I gaze at our stuff, the ceiling and the wall. I hate the idea of not knowing what I want to do with my life. Some of the other girls were so sure of what they want. To be a fashion designer, to be a violinist, to be a business entrepreneur, and to be a wife and mother. I was one of those girls who doesn't know what there is to want so badly that I would die for it.

The word 'magic' spiralled in my mind. What a stupid thing to do to pick up a girl. Scaring me like that the way he did. But as I thought more about it my eyelids were heavy with slumber. I couldn't help myself but slowly blinked away the apprehension and released the surreal into this world.

There was a man with no hands and he wanted me to tell him a story. I shook my head in fear when I saw his arms severed horribly with the tendons dangling from the wound that has been left to fester. I wanted to run away from him but there was someone else behind me. Another man with no face. It was completely torn off but his eyes looked with pity at me. He opened his arms wide to embrace me but I avoided him like I did the other. I screamed when they both tried to touch me but I couldn't get them off. I kept falling. Falling. Falling into the body of the third man who has no head. He held me down by swaddling me up with his limbs and they came for me. All of them.

"Shit! Fuck!" I was drenched like a woman with an overflow. I grabbed my blanket and gathered it to my breasts, hoping what I had just come into contact with was nothing than a reckless hallucination of the dark. I took a quick look around to be sure, and save. The room was barren. Tori's bed was empty. But there were shadows everywhere that could have been phantoms and maniacs waiting to pounce on their prey. I pulled my legs together to keep away from them but it didn't matter, I was already terrified to death.

I wanted the lights to come on to drive them out of the room but the switches were too far from my reach. Then something moved. I darted my eyes back and forth to be certain but...

TBC

The Magic of Scala Midge 2 (461 words)

2008-05-16T21:30:00.000-07:00

"Mr. Perdue is the most disgusting professor I've ever met." Gary told everyone. "He wants to sleep with me."
We were stunned for that one moment and then we all burst out in hilarity. Catching our breaths and holding our stomachs.
"That's because you have a gay ass." We told Gary. much to his repulse.
"Oh please," Gary exclaimed. "What's a gay ass anyway?"
"Go look at the mirror. It's always calling out ... eat me ... eat me," Tori mimicked the infamous line from The Fly.
"Well, if he was a better looking dude I don't think I would mind."
"You guys have so much sex in your head," Tori said.
"I know .... both of them." Gary laughed before we could respond to his cheesiness.
When the laugher had died down Tori announced to Gary that I was in love with Russell. "She's head over heels with Russell the Elephant boy."
"Gross out."
"Fuck you," I tried to defend myself. "I never said that. I told you he was bugging the hell out of me and that was it!"
"Hey, hey calm down girl," Tori grabbed my arm as though it was going to fall apart. "I was just messing with you."
"Sorry, I got a little spooked when I thought about him."
"If he gives you anymore trouble, let me know. I'll gladly fuck him up the wrong way."
"Yeah girlfriend. And I'll fuck him up the right way!" Tori added.
We couldn't help ourselves but cackle like witches.

I was walking home from the library after Sam, Tori and I split up to go our way. Sam had a date with the cheerleader and Tori was supossedly acting in a home video shot by an art student. I was left alone and the library was the best place to camouflage myself since I had no dates, appointments or rendezvous. But as luck would have it Russell was waiting for me at the entrance of the girl's dorm when I arrived.
"Hello, wonderful."
"Why are you following me?"
"Technically I'm not. But I'm waiting for you."
"What do you want? Let me get it straight for you." I took a deep breath. "I don't like you, okay."
"It's fine with me. But I just want to pass it to you," he smiled broadly.
"Pass what?"
"Magic."
I moved away from him. "Piss off."
"You can't deny it," he continued. "Even if you don't want it, it'll come for you."
I clenched my teeth together and swirled around to unload my steam on him but he was not there anymore. He was gone. Vanished from thin air. Was he even there in the first place? I shuddered in the cold kiss of the wind and run up my room.

TBC

The Magic of Scala Midge 1 (508 words)

2008-04-20T21:26:00.000-07:00

The word is 'magic'," he whispered in my ear. I looked at him nonchalantly with a sigh. Who is this guy who is always trying to impress me, I asked in silence.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"Magic, love, magic."
In my gentle femininity, which I have been told and taught, I wanted to scream 'what the fuck do you want?', but I held my tongue back with my perfect teeth.
"Magic?" I sneered instead.
"Yes." In a blink of an eye he swiped my hand up and kissed it with the vigor of a young man controlled by his burning desire. He licked his lips when he finished and smile as charmingly as he could, saying one last time, "Magic..." and left.
I have never liked him, but this time I wasn't so sure.

I was back at my college room I shared with Tori. She was forever out with some guy and I was always trying to make the grades to impress the world. I was alone, and lonely thinking about the guy, whose name escaped me, while reading a few lines of the book in front of me. I can't even remember what I was reading.

I left everything at the table and plopped into the bed to take myself away from the madness of cramming my head with names and formulas. I hate studying for all the wrong reasons but I didn't know what to do with my life.

The door cracked opened and I jumped. Tori sauntered in lazily.
"Hi," she said.
"Hey."
She dragged herself in, yawned and fell into bed.
"I'm so fucking tired," she continued slurring.
"Where've you been?"
"Where else?" she looked at me. "Out with some guy. Doing stuff. If you know what I mean." She laughed.
"Hey, do you know this guy with straight black hair who wears a leather tie all the time?"
She gazed curiously at me for a long time and finally replied. "You're in love?"
"No way!" I cried immediately. "With that creep? Please ... I've got better taste than that! I'd rather date a baboon."
"Girl, chill. I was just askin'." She went back to sleep. "Yeah I know that guy. Name's Russell."
I thought about Russell Crowe, Russell Peters and Kurt Russell. But this Russell was no where near anyone of them. "So what do you want with him?"
"Nothing ... he was just creeping me out this afternoon."
"What did he do?"
"He whispered something in my ear."
"What? That he wants to sleep with you."
"Gross," I gagged. "Not on his life."
"Come on, what did he say? Tell me before I fall asleep." Tori turned around to look at me again.
"He said," I tilted my head feeling embarrassed it wasn't cheeky or dirty or even suggestive. "He said ... magic."
She gazed at me like I was some kind of a moron. When she finally opened her mouth it came out accusingly. "You're such a hard up virgin!" And she laughed so hard she choked herself to sleep.

TBC

Apartment Green - Unit 2298 part 5 (466 words)

2008-04-19T00:38:00.001-07:00

He sat there and waited. Waited for someone to barge in with disbelieve. Waited for another anomaly. Waited to wake up from the scream of his mother's voice. But none of those occurred. Even the fear he felt earlier left him. He learned that once you've waited long enough, the fear will eventually evaporate and some other emotions will take it's place. For him, it was frustration.

He walked back into the room to take a peek at his mother but she was frozen solid. He stepped up a little closer to touch her face. It was cold and it crumbled lie finely shaved ice when it came into contact with his finger. Her patted it again lighted and more bits and pieces fell.

He sat down beside her and started flicking off the frozen statue with idly and watched it lose it's original shape. He tapped on one eye socket and it went deeper and deeper into the crevice he made with his fingernail. He then chipped off what used to be his mother's double chin until it was completely flat. Restlessly he lay there and rapped when he felt an inclination to do so. At the same time calling, "Mom ... mo-om, wake up mom." But of course she stayed solidified.

By the time he was through with the iced mannequin an arm was already on the floor, holes were bored into parts of the face and one eye socket was completely empty. He sighed out of loneliness and cried himself to sleep. He wished things would get better and go back to being what it was before.

Deep in his slumber he dreamed that he was drowning in some kind of liquid or goo. It soaked into him like water or blood or goo. It was warm. And getting warmer. Hot. Burning. The sensation forced him to open his eyes to acknowledge the madness and what he saw was steam rising from the frosted surface. Everything was thawing. Heat was returning to the room and he woke up in excitement. It was going back to being normal like he wished.

He glanced around the room to see the transformation and he remembered his mother. Her skin color was showing again and he panicked. What would his she be like when the freeze melted away. O god, what will she be like?

***

Dwayne came back home from school as usual. He let himself in, threw his bag on the couch and called to his mother. She crawled out of the room with one hand, a distorted face and half a body to meet her son.
"Hhhow ... wasss sschool today," she gasped.
"As always mom. As always." He kissed her on the head and walked to his computer to start up his game.

End

Sometimes you don't need a reason, just the drive

2008-04-18T22:49:00.000-07:00

Do you need a reason to kill someone? Do you even need a motive to act on impulse? Sure I may have killed him but like I said, I just did. Nothing more, nothing less. Why did I kill him? Well, wouldn't you like to know.

I could say I hate him and that would be a strong motive but then you would ask me why I hate him and I would have to go on lying further and give you all the reasons just to please you wouldn't I?

I could also say a voice told me to do it and you would probe into me to see if I was insane and what level of insanity I was heading for. You would look at me at the corner of your eye and wonder how far gone I am. If you do find out, it would please you wouldn't it?

What if I told you I killed him because I was envious of his success? Would that make me anymore evil than if I had ripped out his heart and ate it? Would it really matter?

But now, since I told you I killed him without any intention what would you say? Would you arrest me now and interrogate me as far as you can possibly go or would you have my head examined first? You don't know what to do, do you?

Let me help you. The least I could do is to tell you how I killed James Marshall. I Forest Cavanaugh killed in cold blood.

It was the night on December 14th that we had dinner together at my home. No, I am not gay. Two grown and matured men can still be friends in close proximity don't you think? Although I wouldn't want to be mistaken as one I wouldn't mind acquiring their fine taste in food, fashion and fun. Of course I'm not speaking out of experience, it more like ignorance on my part.

Anyway James was going through a difficult time with his relationship with his wife. He was always bickering with her and suspicious of her activities outside the home. He suspects that she is sleeping with other men, but personally I don't see anything wrong in that, not that I'm married or committed in any way. But a affair's and affair. Why bother to try and own someone when you don't even in the first place. So I invited him over to have dinner with me so we could have a man to man chat. At any rate I didn't like the way he was hogging the cell in the middle of the night sometimes crying, sometimes drunk.

He started to rattle on about his failed marriage even before we could get to the main course. I listened intently to his rant but carried on eating as usual. At some point I couldn't hear a word he said because he spoke too fast for me to fathom what he was trying to get out of his chest. I tried interrupting him to slow down but he wouldn't let me.

He just kept hurling accusations and cussing his wife about fidelity and loyalty and all the conjugal bullshit. To me they were baseless and superficial. And he wouldn't give me a chance to tell him what utter nonsense he was blabbering about.

An hour later, after I have finished eating the carbonara I so lovingly desire I stood up, regretting every minute of his company, and told him to leave. I stopped him from talking and told him to go back and think about what he had said. Maybe even try to work things out between the both of them if he was so adamant to believe in a marriage made in heaven. It angered him to be told to leave.

I was shocked when he transmutated from a being an irresponsible adult with low self esteem to a juvenile with no mind of his own. He accused me of betraying his friendship, although I wouldn't call it that since I've known him only for about three years as his colleague.

When he was on the roll he kept on exhuming the past to exasperate me but I didn't care. I was rather calm and collected in his outburst. But when I saw him shooting his mouth off the way he did I could see that he was losing control of himself. If I hadn't killed him he would have spontaneously combusted like some people do.

If you're ever noticed a person losing it before you would understand what I am saying. For a moment there he wasn't human any longer. Trust me, observe this the next time you get the opportunity. I thought I could bring him back by giving him a slap in the face. But as you can already guess, it didn't. He stood there in terror and astonishment with a stupid look on his face. So I slapped him again, harder.

He fell back into the chair and held his hot burning face with both his hands. We didn't speak when we gazed at one another at that moment. Well, they say third time's the charm, and it was.

This time I stabbed him continuously. He just kept looking at the knife going in and out of his body as if it was some kind of a joke. When he saw the blood gushing out of puncture wounds I made, he gawked at it and realized it was real.

So what did I do? I did a nonstop workout was what I did. You know how it is when you get started with something that you can't stop. Like popping bubble wraps, or making footprints on the shore, or scratching an inch ... you know what I mean.

Eventually I got tired and I stopped. James sat there, looking petrified, and pieces of him splattered on the floor and he too collapsed. And that was it. The end of James Marshall.

That's the whole story and that's the truth. It's so odd. He was jabbering away one moment and the next he was dead. Life can be so fragile.

So there it is. No reasons. No motives. No hidden agendas. No premeditated murder, just the spur of the moment reaction. Haven't you felt that way before? Doing something out of the blues? Like pushing someone who over the edge because he was standing to close to it? Like ramming a car at someone because he is in your way? Like pulling the trigger of the gun to see how deep it would penetrate someone's head? That was how I felt.

The compulsion to stop him was just there. The knife was just there and I was just there. Everything was happening at the right time. Yeah I know it may sound horrific to you or even morbid but I thought I did good. It felt good. If you could ask a butcher what he feels when he is cutting up a life animal I bet he will tell you he feels nothing. Maybe you could try it yourself. Whatever you decide, remember, sometimes you don't need a reason, just the drive.

End

The despicable boy who grew into a wasted man part 3

2008-04-07T19:32:00.000-07:00

It was late one night when I saw him again. He called me closer to whisper something in my ear at his death bed. When I thought I heard what he said I cringed but I thought he must have meant something else or I had heard wrongly. His bedroom was gut wrenchingly revolting. We almost died of suffocation from the stench of his cancer ridden body and we didn't feel a single ounce of emotion, be it good or bad. We were the last few people on earth who would even take our time to see him die. His family gave up on him, his friends ostracized him and even the social workers who came by regretted ever having met him.

It was just us, the three of us, who neither were his friends nor his acquaintances. We hung out when we did and we didn't when we didn't.

He looked like a monster from hell spread out on the bed. Just a mass of blob with no distinctive features or shape. The others were curious what he murmured to me in my ear but they didn't want to ask me in his presence. We watched him as he groaned and whimper like a sick walrus.

I didn't want to stay and see him waste away but that was what he wanted us to do. We couldn't eat or drink anything because it was horrible as it is to make us queasy but we were hungry, tired and petrified. We didn't know how long it would take for Ruma to kick in but I prayed that he would go soon and leave us to ourselves. When I looked at the other two guys who were lazing about in the sofa I wished I have never known them just as I wished I have never known Ruma I don't like the idea of being summoned to the deathbed of someone to gawk at him until his last breath vanished.

Hours later, which seemed like days to us, Ruma called it quits. He stopped whizzing and his skin did not wobble with his intake of air anymore. It was a good sign that we should leave and maybe call someone to cart off the body. I sympathize with the medics who were going to do that dirty job.

As we left the room Peter asked me, "So what'd he say to you?"
"Yeah ... what?" Bernard joined in to ask.
I sighed reluctantly and said instead, "Just leave the body alone."
"Why?" Both of them sang simultaneously.
"He told me his body is eating itself away. By tomorrow there would be nothing left, not even bones."
"He must be delirious." Peter quipped.
"You think," I asked.
"Of course."
"He also said if we waste our lives like him our bodies would know and start eating us from inside out. It's the law of nature."
"Huh..."
We walked out of the dismal room and went our separate ways.

End

The despicable boy who grew into a wasted man part 2

2008-03-13T22:57:00.000-07:00

If you knew him you would have hated him too. He's the kind of guy who lies through his teeth to get away with murder. And there was one murder we knew about but never told anyone. The boy who died was known as Bertrand by his mother, but we call him Naeii, which means dog. Ruma was always on his back when we were kids. When he wants to he could be very nasty, and all of us were used to his unpleasant disposition. Although I didn't like that mommy's boy as well I didn't really care much about him. It was Ruma who kept agitating us about him that made us partake in his taunts and ridicules. We beat him up a few times but that was it for me, I always avoided confrontation whenever I could. But one day, Bertrand went missing and the first thing that came to mind was Ruma. He was capable of anything and I wouldn't be surprised if he had anything to do with the boy's disappearance.

Three days later when they found Bertrand's mutilated body my suspicions were confirmed. I knew it was Ruma and so did the rest of the school but no one had any evidence and no one wanted to be associated with him since boils started to pop out of his skin. I don't think anyone saw what I saw. It was as though Ruma's body was self destructing and it was quite obvious he wanted it that way.

Bertrand was slashed opened like a soft tofu and his face mangled face was more than anyone could describe. Everyone was in a state of shock that such a crime could be committed in a peaceful quiet town like ours. The police went around to look for an adult murderer and no one, even for one instant, presumed it was done by a kid of the same age. None of us spoke about the death of a pansy and none of us wanted to think about the horror he must have endured but I watched myself more from that day onwards.

When it was time for us to leave the confines of the school everyone left for the big city except for the few of us. Ruma stayed back because no college would sign him up and I stayed back because I was traumatized by the fact that I was and accessory to murder and not owning up.

Ruma didn't work for even one day of his life. His mother fed him and clothed him till the day he died, which was not very long after.

We bumped into each other almost everyday or every other day since it was only large enough to have a row of shops between two major streets. I was working as an apprentice news reporter and Ruma hangs around the town center whenever he could.

That was when I saw him growing larger and larger until the bench that he used to sit on could no longer contain him anymore. By then the whole town could smell a creepy and nauseating stench coming from him wherever he goes.

The despicable boy who grew into a wasted man part 1

2008-02-19T22:51:00.000-08:00

He was fat and he was useless, though he lost a lot of weight before he died. His hair stunk and he was dirty. He spat everywhere he wanted, peed all over the toilet seat and lies through his teeth all the time. That was how I remembered him. I'm not sorry that he died a horrible death. None of us feel remorse or sympathy for him when we heard about his dying. I know I sound pretty heartless and judgmental but I'm not. At least I don't think I am, at least I don't want to be. But sometimes you meet someone truly obnoxious in your life. You may want to help him or give him a chance but these are the people that don't want it. They don't listen to anyone but themselves. They don't care about anyone but themselves. They are disgusting, contemptible and pestilential in their entire being. I used to think people change and that given sufficient time they get better and become nicer ... but not him. Not this boy, or man in his later years, who perished in his own hands. His miserable life was brief and it began the day he was spoilt. And his name was Ruma.

His teeth were the first to show the signs of his squandered life. When his baby teeth fell out his monstrous adult molars and incisors protruded out of his misshapened mouth in every ugly direction they were meant to go. I knew then, just as he did, his future was wrecked. He was smoking a pack a day and doing pot as often as he could. He told everyone his family was the shits and he fucked them all off his list of likable people. His friends were exactly like him, so they influenced each other and got worse day after day.

He lost so much weight his face began to wrinkle and dark rings circled his eyes. His gums started to swell and bleed all the time because his teeth were puncturing and grazing them. It was horrible and no one knew about it. Everyday he would hide in the toilet and break open the tumefied rot in his mouth to drain out pus and gunk. No one liked him anymore than he did himself but he ignored it as much as he could. So that was how it was for him to get by.

It was months later that he discovered his unhealthy habits taking a toll on him. Now he gets gastric ulcers which had already torn apart his stomach linings and is causing him the burning sensation. He occasionally thought about the experience as burning in hell but he never took it any further than to smoke even more to keep his mind away from the agony.

TBC

Apartment Green - Unit 2298 part 4 (717w)

2008-02-05T06:42:00.000-08:00

"Get off my case mom!" Dwayne yelled.
"What do you mean get off your case?" she screamed back. "When did you get the nerve to talk back to me that way? How dare you do that to me?" she continued. "What did I ever do to deserve a son like you? You're a useless good for nothing bastard, just like you father. I was glad the day he walked out the door."
"You are the one who drove him away!" Dwayne challenged.
"Shut up! Stop blaming me for your father's incompetence. If you are not happy here, get out!" She slammed the door and left Dwayne in a daze.

Dwayne stayed in the room until dark. He didn't know what to do when his mother gets that way. It was not the first time he experienced her wrath and it will not be the last. He was always afraid of his mother when she loses herself to insanity.

He fell in and out of sleep on and off while he waited for the night to pass. Although his restlessness was exhausting him he didn't want to leave the room to spy on his mother's fury. Sometimes she took hours, sometimes she took days. As he toyed with the idea of sleep again someone knocked on the door and swung it opened with a gust of wind.
"Aren't you coming for dinner?" his mother asked in a tender voice.
"No mom, I'm not hungry," he tried to keep his eyes of her face but he was drawn to gaze at her anyway.
"Are you feeling okay?" she stepped in.
"I'm fine. I'm just not hungry." He suddenly felt like brooding.
She marched in to place her hand on his forehead. "You don't have a temperature. You better eat something before you go to bed. Arghh!!" she screamed.
"What is it?" he sat upright.
"My shoes, they're stuck in the floor boards."
Dwayne panicked and shouted. "Mom, get away from there."
"What?"
"Mom, takes off your shoes and get away from there."
She was puzzled and she looked at her feet. "They've fallen through. There's a hole in the ground."
"Mom! Get out of there!" he pulled her hand.
"What are you doing Dwayne?" she pulled back. "It's only a hole."
"No mom, it's more than that."
"What do you mean?"
"Just pull your feet out!!!"
"I can't," she struggled. "They're stuck and it's icy cold."
Dwayne jumped off the bed and stood beside her mother from a save distance. "Reach out, I'll pull you."
His mother stretched both her hands and cupped her son's.
"What's happening?"
"I don't know what it is but it's like a hole to another dimension."
"Dwayne help me. Pull harder."
"I am mom, I am."
"I'm sinking, my legs!"
"Try mom, try."
"Oh god, I'm going down. I'm going down!"
"Moommm!!!"
"Get help son, get help."
"But..."
"Go, go before it's too late."
Dwayne ran out the room and glanced back to see his mother one last time before leaving, she was now knee deep in the rupture in time. He didn't want to leave her alone but there was no other choice, he wasn't strong enough to yank her out.

He headed for the phone and thought for a moment who to call. He dialled the crisis line and waited.
"Emergency, how may I help you?"
"My mom. She's stuck in a hole!"
"Where are you calling from?"
"My home. Apartment Green Unit 2298!"
"What kind of a hole is your mother stuck in?"
"I don't know. It's a hole to the other side of the universe I guess."
There was a moment's silence.
"Could you repeat that again?"
"She's stuck in some goddamn alien hole!"
"We can trace prank callers..."
"I'm not a prank caller. My name's Dwayne. I told you my address. Please send someone to help my mom quick. She's sinking in fast." He hung up the phone and ran back the room.
"Mom, are you okay?"
His mother has passed out and waist deep now.
"Mom!" he yelled but she didn't respond.
He walked closer to her but the frigidness of the floor has spreaded out from the spot. His mother was turning blue and his room was now streaked with icicles and frost.
"Oh no," he whispered.

TBC

Apartment Green - Unit 2298 part 3 (755)

2008-01-07T20:04:00.000-08:00

Dwayne thought he was going to die. Something was going to come out of the ground to grab his frozen legs. But as he stepped onto the gelid mark he felt himself sinking into another world of ice and frost but his toes felt the tingling sensation of being bitten, as though something is tearing his skin apart. He jumped out of the invisible rupture with a fright and on to his bed under the security of his blanket. Whatever the surreal experience was, he didn't want to find out what goes beyond the floorboards and concrete. For the rest of the night he slept like a cat on forty winks.

Morning couldn't have arrived any faster. He was dying to see the sunlight stream through the window to illuminate the dark and shady corners, especially on the perplexing spot. Yet in the morning sun everything seemed ordinary. He dropped one leg over the bed to test the coldness on the ground, stretching his big toe as far as it could go to come into contact with the surface. Preparing himself for a gravitational suction he clamped his hands on the sides of the bed. But when his foot brushed the warm solid floor he was a little disappointed. It wasn't there anymore. He jumped on it with both feet to see if he miss calculated the position but there was no such phenomenon. He sat on the bed and wondered if he had dreamed it all. Just as he was filtering out his thoughts of what was real and surreal he heard his mother screaming at the top of her voice. He sighed and knew that nothing could be more actual than his mother's voice.

School was utterly domesticating to the body, soul and mind. Dwayne loathed every minute of it but his mother wouldn't hear about his complaints much less his fears about anything.

Lister saw his friend crouched in his corner with a somber cloud overhanging his head. Although he was friends with Dwayne he didn't know much about his personal life because their friendship stops when the school bell rings for the day. He didn't mind going up to Dwayne to nudge him out of his melancholy but he always kept his distance when it came to greater troubles that he could handle.
"What's up Dwayne?" he asked amiably.
"Nothing."
"Why are you frowning?" Lister asked again.
"I'm not," Dwayne shook off most of the darkness Lister saw a moment ago.
"I thought-"
"Can you keep a secret?" he was asked a million times and he usually said yes, but he knew that everyone knew he could never keep a secret.
"Yes."
"Last night I woke up in the middle of the night and found this hole in my floor."
"Hole? he wanted to add the words 'big deal' but he waited for the bomb or the punchline or the surprise that usually came with stories like these.
"You can't see it but when you put your feet over it ... it kinda suck you in. And it's cold. Freezing. Like ice."
"A cold hole?" Lister repeated.
"You don't believe me?" Dwayne challenged. "If you want you could spend a night in my room and I will show you."
This was the first time Dwayne offered their friendship a chance to germinate but he hesitated. It wasn't a great reason to spend the night in a friend's house but it was still an offer.
"I'll have to ask my mom."
"Sure, I'll ask mine."
"So what about this hole?"
"I don't know," he pulled Lister closer to him. "I was thinking it may be a doorway to hell. But isn't it supposed to be hot down there?"
"I think so."
"Since it's cold as a the dead I thought may be it could be another dimension instead. You know like the one in Stargate. It's just that this one is on the ground, right there beside my bed ... and it scares the hell out of me. What if it dragged me in while I was asleep?"
"Did you tell anyone else?"
"No, they'd think I'm crazy."
Lister too thought he was but he didn't say it. The school bell broke the silence and shook them both out of their timorous state of mind.
"I'll check it out tonight and let you know what else I find tomorrow."
"If you come back that is." Lister remarked neither sarcastically nor humorously because he didn't know how he felt about this bizarre tale.

Apartment Green - Unit 2298 part 2 (556)

2007-11-29T22:38:00.000-08:00

He nursed his youthful face with a wet cloth and thought very hard about retribution against his mother. Flicking on the switch to his other world he surfed the net aimlessly for answer but there was none.

Dwayne tried to sleep off the sounds of his mother's squawking but he woke up traumatized in the middle of the night. His body was coated with droplets of fear and guilt, and his heart skipped out of rhythm from the incredulity of the nightmare which seemed too tangible. What he saw was the fish eye view of his mother's mouth swallowing him up with her non stop verbal abuse. He sighed with relief when he saw the darkness fashioned by the moonlight from the window. He knew if this goes on the way it does he will not have another peaceful night until the day he moves out of the apartment.

Swinging his bare feet over the bed he felt the icy floor stinging the soles of his feet. He hopped from one foot to the other to get to the kitchen for a drink of water. After leaping over the third step the ground felt ordinarily warm again like it always does. He backtracked to the beginning to feel the unnatural coldness that emitted from the floor. The spot just under his bed was bone chillingly cold. For the seven years he had lived in that room he had never felt it even once. He checked the time and it was slightly after three. He thought about it for a second and concluded that he has never woken up anytime between his sleep and wake before. He has always been a heavy sleeper and once his head hits the pillow he will only open his eyes again when the sun shines in. But this time, for the first time, he discovered the iciness that was radiating under his bed. It gave him the chills and he jumped back on bed.

As a kid of fifteen he has had his share of horror stories and strange phenomenas to know that this is an aberration of the supernatural kind, or at least that's what they all say. He didn't know if he should look under the bed to see if he could find the source of the coldness which was misting the darkness. He sat with his legs folded and tucked under his arms. Maybe this was a dream he hasn't got out of yet, he thought. He counted the hours before the sun would come and it was going to be a while yet. Now, without that drink of water, he felt he had to go and ease himself instead but he didn't dare.

He could imagine a beastly thing with a gigantic mouth waiting to devour him the minute any part of his body is exposed within its reach. Gradually he slipped underneath the blanket although it was very warm in bed. Shivering with consternation and humiliation he felt worse as the clock ticked tauntingly at him. "I'm not scared," he braved himself to say it over and over again. Uncovering himself from the shroud of indignity he stretched his legs down to dip his toes onto the freezing tiles. A chill ran down his spine as the shivers ran up his legs. It felt like death.

Apartment Green - Unit 2298 part 1 (299)

2007-11-27T21:11:00.000-08:00

She was screaming at her son for not listening to her. Not just for today but for all the times he eluded her scathing remarks and quick back hands that usually come swiftly. He knew, and he has always known, if he got by one day without being physically taught a lesson in life from his aggressive mother he would find it waiting for him when he got back home from school sooner or later. For the first time in his fifteen years of life he managed to get one week of incommunicado with his mother for some very strange reasons. He either came back when she wasn't around or she had been in a good mood when he met her in the kitchen or hallway or TV room. But today, seven days later, she accumulated everything that she let pass for all those times. Now she was ready to fire up again and Evan was about to get the largest dose of her volcanic anger.

"What have I told you time and again?" she squealed with veins popping out of her neck. "Didn't I tell you not to leave your things all over the house? What do you take me for? A maid? You stupid boy. You're as idiotic as your good for nothing father. And don't look away when I talk to you," she slapped him indiscriminately.

He held back his tears from the hot stinging rage his mother smeared across his face. Whenever she got mad her countenance would curdled up like rancid milk and her eyes burnt with animosity. He used to get so frighten by it he would have nightmares recalling his mother's visage in the dead of night. But the fear has developed into sadness and the sadness into the thought of vengeance.

Dead Thing In The Box 2 (580)

2007-11-19T18:56:00.000-08:00

In the wee hours of the morning Road 18 was heavy with the reek of death. Everyone stirred in their sleep and some woke up with delusional nightmares. Whatever was in the box, it was not going to let anyone rest until something was done.
At first a small streak of vapor rose out of the corner of the box, visible like a a string of mist. As it elongated out it blended in with the night and dispersed gradually. Within moments the smoke like tentacles ruptured out of the box silently but intensely as though it was a slow motion of fireworks. They came in all sizes and thickness as they slithered out to every door that was in Road 18. One by one the crept under the grooves and slits that gave them access to the interior of each and every home. The residents who were either awake or asleep or in between the two breathed in the intoxicating fumes and started coughing. Some sneezed so loud the night trembled with their sudden bellows.
Most of them didn't bother to make anything of the peculiar contagion and those who did didn't connect the strange phenomenon with the existence of the box at the corner of the road.
But the cats, dogs, birds and all other animals were all unaffected. They carried on with their nocturnal activity without much ado about what the human beings were experiencing, no matter how noisy the people were with their tickled noses and throats.
And so the night was metamorphosized into the secret that the enclosed package kept. None would be the wiser even if they knew. For the rest of the darkness, everyone slept well and soundly. That foul smell died away and the wave of gases subsided with them fading from sight. Everything was back to how it was on Road 18 like the day before and the days before that.

Early next morning the first person to wake was little Kirby. He jumped onto his parent's bed to play with them since they sun has already risen.
"Mommy, daddy ... wake up," he said.
"Kirby go to sleep for another ten minutes okay," Mrs. Tanner said with her eyes closed. "Mommy real tired today."
"Mommy what is that on your face?"
"Kirby listen to what your mother says. You're too old to be coming in here and jumping on the bed anyway." Mr. Tannner continued withour even flinching and inch.
"Daddy, what's that on your face?" Kirby tried to touch it but withdrew his hand when the thing on his father's face moved.
"Gaaakk!" He shouted.
"Kirby!" Hi mother yelled, and then she screamed. "Kirby, your face!" She pushed her husband and then screamed again. "John, your face?"
Mr. Tanner bolted up and looked at his wife and son. "Oh my God, both your faces!"
By this time the entire row of houses exploded with shrieks and squeals when they saw how their faces and bodies contorted and twisted with unimaginable growth of lumps, protrusions, boils and squirming appendages.
Some came running out of their houses while others tried to hide themselves in the bathrooms. But the air was sweet and the birds were chirping. The sun was warm and the sky was marvelous. There couldn't have been a better day than today.
The box, which was of no concern to anyone, was flattened to the ground and whatever was in it before must have simply just vanished into oblivion.

End

Dead Thing In The Box 1 (1138)

2007-10-17T18:52:00.000-07:00

It appeared out of nowhere. Plonked behind a car in a carton box with newspapers covering the open top. It stunk to high heavens but the people on Road 18 refused to acknowledge it. The first resident to notice it was a couple.
"Something smells awful," Lorraine said.
"I smell it too," Oscar replied.
"It's coming from that box, oh my god, something's dead inside there."
"Lets walk on the other side of the street dear."
"Don't you want to check it out?" she asked curiously.
"No, do you?" he inquired.
"I just want to know what is it."
"Could be a cat or a dog."
"What if, what if it was a baby?"
"I don't want to know."
"But Oscar, shouldn't it be out civic duty to inform the authorities or something?"
"And tell them what?" he sighed. "What if it was a false alarm, someone's idea of a practical joke to leave rotting fish in the box? What if the police came and found out it was only somebody's trash?"
"Well, we could call them and tell them that we don't know what it is but we suspect foul play."
"That'll make this area a crime scene."
"I just want to take a peek." She stopped a few feet away from the box.
"Don't Lorraine. I'm not going to stand by you when you flip over the newspapers. I've read enough horror stories of murder to know that I don't want to know."
"Jesus Oscar, it could be nothing." She tugged his sleeve.
"They still haven't solved the case of the five year old who was tortured and murdered and left in the bag." He gazed at her apprehensively.
"But what if it was a kid inside? We can't leave it there at the side of the road."
"You are sure you want to get involved?" He watched her response. "Why don't we take our walk and see if it's still here when we come back."
"Okay."
They stepped aside and away from the thing that was dead in the cardboard box.

A little later Mary Ann brought her dogs out for a walk and passed the same location where the mysterious container was. She held the leash back and said, "Drumble do you smell anything?"
The Boston terrier gazed at her and whined.
"It's in that box."
She walked closer to it and glanced at its contents but saw only a bunch of papers shielding the top.
"Phew, what a pong!" She took a step back. "I wonder what's in there." She craned her neck over the top to see if she could make out the shape or form of the thing inside but the newspapers hid it from being identified.
She looked around to see if there were any guys she could ask to help her satisfy her peevish impatience but it was too early for anyone to come out of the house on a Sunday morning. She circled the box a few times to be sure she couldn't see it without lifting up the papers.
"Drumble, go fetch," she said. "Go on, pull of the papers and let mommy see what's underneath."
The dog whimpered and backed away from the strange fetor of decay radiating from the rectangular repository.
"You silly dog, it's just a dead thing inside there. Don't be afraid." She nudged the dog gently with her hand but it wouldn't move. "This is really troubling," she said. "I hope whatever's in it is nothing more than garbage. "Come on Drumble we'll let someone else solve this conundrum.
They jogged away without another word or glimpse.

By late morning the stench rose with the sun. Every household within the radius of thirty feet began to get a whiff of the putrefying flesh but no one came out to look or bothered to check what was inside the box.

Peter Lamp parked his car at the usual corner beside his house. The other three cars already took up too much space in his driveway and the garage. But as soon as he drove to the bend he noticed the box taking up part of his space where his car normally went. He got down to remove the obstacle but was hit by the pungent smell of death.
"Jesus, did something die here?"
He peeked into the newspaper bundled thing but couldn't make out what it was that emanated the foul smell. Using his leg to nudge the edge of the box, he stood some distance away to safeguard himself in case something jumped out of it.
"Good Lord," he pinched his nose together and said. "What a pong."
He didn't know if he should remove the box to another location or leave his car with the end jutting out at the road.
"Who the hell left this here?" He walked up and down to steal glances at the abandoned receptacle. There were no signs of flesh or anything resembling a living thing but the stink was undeniably evident. Trying to match his curiosity to the mystery he found a fallen branch and approached the dead thing with caution. Flipping the papers a little higher he hoped to see something foul or disgusting so he could share it with his family. The layers and layers of periodicals and tabloids were too many for him to lift with the flimsy stick.
"Damn..." he cursed.
"Hello Mr. Lamp!" A voice came out of nowhere to shake him up.
"What the-" He turned around and saw his neighbor riding by. "Oh err, hello."
His heart stepped out of beat and he shuddered for a moment. He was too nervous now to unearth the curio and he left it as it was.

Evening came and everyone on Road 18 went past the thing inside the box. No one wanted to know anymore than they wanted to discard it at the dumpsite. The residents closest to the strange litter began to complain about the predicament. Who was in charge and whose job is it to clear a mess like this?
Mrs. Mildew said to her husband. "We should call the police."
"And tell them what? That we suspect something died in the box but we are afraid to find out?" He grunted. "What if it's only a rat or cat? You think the police will appreciate you bringing them out here to find nothing but a dead pet?"
"Then why don't you move the box away then?" She asked while serving him dinner.
"Uh uh. Whatever's died in there is not my problem. I'd soon avoid it then to pick up after someone's mistake."
"But we have to live with the smell."
"Better than coming into contact with it."
She sat down beside him and they started eating the mash potatoes, lentils and the obscenely lavish meat pie.

TBC

The Boy Who Knew Nothing But Bad 4 (711)

2007-10-03T21:55:00.000-07:00

"Why me? Why me?" He cried in the darkness. "What have I done?"

He woke up with a start. His head hurt and his heart was out of place. He pressured his temples down with his fingers and hoped it'll go away. All of it. It was another day and it was another morning that he excused himself from the world and did what he wanted.

He went to the toilet to pee and splashed all over the seat. He hauled himself to the sink and turn on the tap to feel the fresh water running out. It was good and he cupped the water to pour over his face. As soon as he was aroused from his sleepiness he remembered the mirror that was facing him. He dropped the rest of the water and looked at the girl staring back at him.

Her hair covered most of her face as before but he could see part of her as she said. "In the darkest hour, I will come..."
"What the fuck do you want from me?" He screamed and punched the mirror that cracked like a spiderweb.
She gazed at him with her red eyes and plucked away the shards with her long talons.
He jumped back in fright.
She continued taking away the fragments and stuck her head out.
"Oh my God!" He shouted and ran.

"Mercury, mom, dad!" He ran out of the room and summoned for help but no one came. "Where's everyone?" He jumped down the steps two and three at a time. "Hellppp!!!"

He unlocked the door and ran to Mrs. Krudy's. He pounded on the door and shook it until it opened.
"What is wrong with you?" Mrs. Krudy opened the door with the hook on and took offense to Koll being the jackass he's always been.
"Help me Mrs. Krudy. Help me."
"Are you high on drugs? What kind of trouble are you in right now?"
"Let me in, I'll explain."
"No. I can smell alcohol and smoke on you. Stay here and I'll call your parents."
"I can't she's coming for me."
"Who's coming for you?"
"The girl in the mirror."
"What mirror?" Mrs. Krudy glanced behind him to see if there was someone following him and he did the same.
She was standing behind him now.
"Arrgghh..." He screamed.
"Hush Koll, why are you screaming?"
"Don't you see her?"
"See who?" She looked again but there was no one.

He ran off again down the stairs to get out of the apartment. Everytime he turned back she was there, running down with him. He leapt over three and then five steps at the same time to speed up his escape. Seconds later he was out at the main entrance, out on the street. He stole a quick look and she said again, "In the darkest hour ..."

He sprinted off and came into contact with a speeding car and he flew like a doll up in the air. He saw the sky and the clouds and the people on the sidewalk. It was a sight to behold until he saw her floating beside him, whispering, "I will come..."

He laid there motionless when he heard the doctor saying to his mom that he will never walk again. She cried and fell into her dad's shoulders for support and his sister grabbed them like a little girl. He tried to speak but his jaw was sealed tight to facilitate his recovery.

She was sitting beside him, stroking his hair. "I am here now. You don't deserve to die because death is much too good for you. Every moment when you open your eyes the first thing you see is me. And everytime you close your eyes I will be there too." She turned green and swelled up like a balloon. Her eyes popped and her flesh tore, revealing the red underneath the skin. "I will show you all the sights of death, but you will not have it. I know you're asking why you, and I'll remind you that you asked for it." She opened her bloody mouth to try and kiss him.

He struggled to say something but he couldn't. The pain may heal but the horror was just the beginning.

End

The Boy Who Knew Nothing But Bad 3 (966w)

2007-10-01T00:13:00.000-07:00

"Son what are you doing with the mirror?"
"I don't want it anymore."
They stared at him from the TV room as he lugged the lengthy mirror down from step by step, scratching the surface of the floor as he did.
"What do you think you're doing Koll? You're damaging the flooring."
"I hate this mirror."
"What's wrong Koll? See something you don't like," his sister taunted.
"Shut up."
"Mercury stop teasing your brother. You should go and help him instead."
"Mom, that mirror weighs a ton."
"Donald why don't you go and help your son."
"Where do you want to take it Koll?" Donald got up from the sofa and walked up the stairs to meet his son.
"Wherever as long as I don't have to see it," he grumbled.
"I don't understand it, you wanted this mirror so badly. Why now?" He shrugged his shoulders hoping to get an answer from his son.
"Dad, if you are not going to help me just get out of my way."
"Fine, fine." He carried the bottom up and eased his footing down as they maneuvered the stairs.
"All the way dad. All the way to the basement."
"Good God."

"Son are you going to school today?"
"No, I'm not feeling well."
"Can you open the door and let me check on you?" His mother pleaded.
"It's okay mom, I just need to rest."
"You do that then. Call me if you need anything."
"Okay."

Donald drew his wife away from the door and whispered. "Marianne we can't always let Koll skip school."
"He's not feeling well okay, besides schools are terrible these days. I don't even know what kind of useless teachers they hire." She walked away before he could respond.

Koll heard them with his ear pressed against the door. It was a common occurrence for his parents to argue about him and he didn't give a fuck. He went back to sit on the bed and wondered how boring his life was. He dialed a number and got a ringing almost instantly.
"Hey Shai wanna skip school today?"
"What? Why?"
"Let's go hangout somewhere."
"I'm all dressed up and-"
"Come on, my treat. We could get some stash. I know someone."
"But Koll, I've never skipped class even once."
"There's always the first time."
"But you don't even like me."
"Says who?"
"Says you. You punched me once for having a face like mine and you told me to stay out of your sight."
"I was only kidding man, come over to my house we'll go from here."
"But-"
"If you don't I may punch you again."
"I-I, well, okay, just this once."

Shai was a small bespectacled boy with the world on his shoulders. He was too short to play any game in school so he compensated his handicap with a studious habit. Although he wasn't one of Koll's friends, he always wanted to be in his league.
"What have you got?" Koll asked the senior.
"Only weed."
"How much."
"50."
"For that little bit?"
"Take it or leave!"
"Koll can we go already?" Shai muttered nervously.
"Hush squeak." He called him that as a reference to a mouse.
"Well?" The senior asked.
"Give me that." He took it and handed him the money.
"Let's go squeak."
"Don't call me that."
"Why not? Come on." He swung his arm over the smaller boy and led him away from the park.
"Where are we going?"
"To smoke this."
"But I, I've never smoked before."
"Consider this your lucky day."

***

The abandoned bungalow was just the right spot for anyone to want privacy from the world and yet space to move about. It was left on its own when the owner went bankrupt and committed suicide. His family didn't know what to do with it and no one wanted to buy it, so it was left as place for his ghost to haunt.

Addicts, vagabonds, lovers and runaways frequented the place occasionally. But that day Koll and Shai were the only ones there to enjoy their seclusion and joint.

"Nothing could be better than this." Koll sat on the floor in the hallway and Shai imitated.
"I'm scared," he said.
"Of what?"
"This place and also the chances of being caught."
"Big deal. Everyone smokes a joint every now and then. Even the adults do that. So why do they want to make us feel guilty for?" He torched up and took a puff. "Here, go easy."
"I-I..."
"Just do it damn it." He shoved the fag in his face.
Shai took a drag and coughed hysterically just before he finished. "What - the fuck!"
"Heh, you chicken shit, I told you to slow down." He took another whiff. "Let it chase and then you'll feel good."

Moments later when they finished, they sat against the wall in a daze. "Shit, the world is flying," Shai blurted.
"Damn sweet it is." His head spun a little and he realized there was a mirror in front of him, and the girl with the black long hair over her face leaned from the other side clawing the surface of the glass. "Sheeeet ... she's here."
"Who's here?" Shai asked.
"She, that girl."
"What girl."
"I got to get out of here." He could hear the scratching sound increasing in crescendo. "That noise, that noise..."
"What noise?" Shai laughed. "You're so funny."
Koll couldn't stand so he crawled his way out of the house.
"Leave me alone!" He screamed. "Stop coming after me." He grabbed anything he could with his hands and lugged himself across the floor towards the exit.

The girl continued scraping the mirror with her nails as though she was trying to get out. "In the darkest hour ... I will come," she said.

The Boy Who Knew Nothing But Bad 2 (1167w)

2007-09-28T00:15:00.000-07:00

He blasted the techno and rave music as loud as he could, trying to shuffle to it the way his friends could do it easily. The whole apartment thundered under his heavy feet and he kept on jumping and thumping the floor as hard as he could to make his presence known.

His sister, Mercury, couldn't stand it anymore and came out of her room to stop him. "Stop your nonsense Koll!" She screamed, not for the first time. He didn't respond, not the first time either. She ran down the stairs to the hall and confronted him, "What do you think you're trying to do idiot? Can't you keep it down?"
"Why should I?" He didn't stop dancing.
"Stop it! You're a real bastard do you know that?"
"Just to please you?"
"Don't you remember the last time when the neighbors complained about it?"
"Fuck them."
"You're gonna pay for this Koll, one day you're gonna pay for your inconsideration."
"Oh yeah? Says who?"
The door bell rang.
"You answer it this time and see if I'm right."
"No."
The bell continued ringing, now with a light knocking.
Mercury flailed her arms and went. She couldn't stand all the noise that was coming from her brother and the door.

She opened the door and saw Mrs. Krudy.
"Hi Mrs. Krudy."
"What's all that noise coming from your apartment Mercury?"
"I'm sorry it's my brother again."
"Can you ask him to pipe down?"
"I tried but he wouldn't listen. I'm sorry." She apologized.
"Maybe I could have a word with him," Mrs. Krudy approached the door.
"I don't know if he'll listen." She opened the door wider.
"And why wouldn't he?"
"Be my guest."

Mrs. Krudy walked to the direction of the booming sound without
being shown where. When she saw the hi fi screeching away to its optimal output she waved her hand to get Koll's attention.
"You there, Koll, why are you making such a racket again?"
"What?" he teased the old lady.
"How many times must you be told before you listen?" She raised her hand to show him her displeasure.
He ignored her and continued whooping and whamming.
She headed for the audio system and shut it down with a click and total silence diffused the jarring discord.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" He shouted.
"You better watch what you are saying young man. Have you got no respect for anyone?"
"You walk in here, switch off my sounds and you ask if I have no respect you old bitch?"
"Koll I'm going to talk to your parents about this. And by God if I can I will get you and your family evicted in no time."
"Ha ha, very funny. You don't own the building. Now get out!" He pushed her aside.
"How dare you ... you ill-mannered barbarian!"
Mercury quickly came to hold her arm in case she fell and lead her out. "Come on Mrs. Krudy, you can't talk to that spoilt brat."
"I've never seen anyone so disrespectful in all my life."
"God help us," she said and they trudged out the door and the music blew out of the speaker instantaneously.

Mr. and Mrs. Yarr got the official complaint from Mrs. Krudy before they reached the door and was at odds with the situation.
"I have told you several times that your son is a menace to all of us living in this building but you are not doing anything about it. He has no respect for the elderly and his language is atrocious."
"We've tried Mrs. Krudy, but he is at a very rebellious age. I'm sure you've gone through your terrible thirteen before yourself haven't you?"
"No I haven't. We were very well behaved mind you. And that's no excuse for whatever they turn out to be. They are your responsibility." She wielded her hand angrily.
"We'll talk to him again Mrs. Krudy," Mr. Yarr assured.
"Make sure you do. I don't want to have to bring it up to the management and make you leave unless it's necessary." She turned around and shook her head side ways when she left.

"What an obnoxious little woman," Mrs. Yarr whispered.
"Come on Marianne, we've got to settle this once and for all."
"You can't believe everything she says dear, I think she's a little senile."
"You know your son."
"What do you mean my son?" She barked. "He's your son too you know."
"Let's just get inside and talk." They went in.

Mrs. Yarr knocked lightly, "Son can we come in?"
Mr. Yarr carried his chin in frustration from work and now this.
"What?"
"We want to talk to you."
He unlocked the door to exhibit the trash he has been accumulating among his dirty laundry, used mugs, sharp objects he loved to collect and stench emanating from his body.
"What a mess!" Mr. Yarr exclaimed.
"Darling, we're not here to talk about this. We'll leave that for another time," Mrs. Yarr halted her husband from going on too far.
"What is it already? I want to sleep."
"Son, Mrs. Krudy told us what happened earlier, is it true?"
"Of course not. The music wasn't even that loud. That old hag already has one foot in the grave and she's still making it hard for everyone else." He yawned.
"See I told you," she turned to her husband. "Mrs. Krudy was exaggerating."
"Marianne don't jump to conclusions."
"Now you don't jump to conclusions. You'd rather believe an old senile woman or our son?"
"Marianne, we can't deny the facts."
"What facts?'
"I'm going to bed. The two of you can continue arguing." He closed the door.

He flopped himself on the bed and muttered. "Fuckers."
The scratch was almost inaudible at first but it remained consistent. He didn't notice it until he changed his position in bed. The light whetted sound of cutting glass became clearer. His eyes rolled up like shutters.

He propped himself up to scrounge around for the origin but the darkness remained still. He thought it was a stray dream which have fallen out of sync and went back to sleep when the rasp came back.

"Shit, what was that?" He switched on the side light. Nothing. Everything was the way it was. A second later the grating sound was enhanced in the quietude. He examine closely and realized it was coming from his full length mirror. Something was clawing the glass that could make one's hair stand.

He slided out of bed and treaded over his junk on the floor to expose the intruder. There were a lot of reflections on the mirror but he could not see any cricket or rat or critter that was making the noise. But when he went closer to the looking glass he saw the same girl with the long draping hair scratching from inside the surface of the glass with her long nails. He screamed and ran helter-skelter out of him room.

Paranoia or Premonition? (1879w)

2007-09-27T20:18:00.000-07:00

I don’t know what to tell you or how to begin.

Just the other night, while I was having a drink before going to bed, a cup of hot cocoa, this consolidation of my thoughts or call it premonition if you want, came to mind. It was like jigsaw pieces locking themselves together in my head and then suddenly it all made sense. And the thing is, I don’t know how far real it can get or if it bears any meaning at all. But I have to tell someone. I mean, what if it’s real, what if I was shown this so that I could warn people about it? Could this be like a mission for me, am I supposed to help save the world? I don’t know. Some people might think I’ve lost it, but I’m prepared to take my chances. I am writing this confession to you and some others whom I can trust, I know it sounds rather arrogant of me to be judgmental, because I’m not so sure of things anymore. When you get this letter there is only one of two things you can do, ignore it completely or be cautious. This part of the revelation is vague to me. I don’t know how or where or when it’s going to happen. What came to me was just a warning. I don’t like the idea of telling you this because I believe you are trustworthy but I leave it up to you how you want to react after reading my unauthorized proclamation. I am not looking for excuses or pity, I just need you to hear me out and ask yourself where this should go from here?

It was about 3 weeks ago when I picked up this book to read, not because it was recommended or highly praised, though it was, but I don’t believe in reviews anyway. I got this book about 2 months ago at a second hand bookshop, and I got it because of the authors. I liked their other books, so I thought this must be a good one to. Although it was well paced and has an intriguing plot, I thought it was overdone with unnecessary details and scientific jargons. And this the authors failed to elaborate to lay people like us, especially me, who have so very little knowledge and understanding about anything else other than my familiar surroundings. Anyway, the title of the book and the authors’ names are by no means important here. It was the sign that I got out of it that is questionable. The entire book is developed around human greed and the finale is of a meteoric radiation. Like I said before I have very little comprehension about anything except my daily routine. I didn’t know radioactive contamination could cause a variety of diseases and illnesses but I didn’t care much about the information because I have never come close to these forms of threat. Towards the end of the book I fell sick. Flu and fever ravaged me alternately, and I hated everything that came in between. My falling ill was the worse by far for many many years. I’ve never been so dispirited. This went on for about two weeks. I didn’t go to the doctors because they are always giving me unnecessary medication that I can do without. Moreover, they are charging too much for a three-minute consultation and a bag of drugs. I could do better at the pharmacy for one third of the price. At this point I was feeling rather down and very pessimistic. I got into a frenzy of giving up on people in general. It’s like I woke up from a stupor about mankind and realized their want to exterminate themselves from existence with everything that they are doing to destroy earth. Something was telling me people would not change their ways no matter how clear the message is. There was just hopelessness for the human race to continue striving, everything about them should come to an end so that there will be no more trashing nature and developing gadgets to dehumanize people. My body was heating up terribly when the thoughts came. I was sneezing and cursing the entire world because the only thing I saw was doom. So what if people die in droves like animals to the slaughter? Maybe they do deserve it after all. No one wants to know the truth anymore, no one wants to stop global destruction, and I could see the narcissistic hunger in everyone’s eyes. Maybe, like I said, people are better of dead.

The next thing I knew, while getting better from the sickness, the Internet kept breaking down. It was always unstable and getting disconnected. It took awhile for the broadband people got it back up and running again, and no one knew what happened. I didn’t think anything of it because it was, as all electronics go, unexplainable when it comes to malfunctioning. With that incident it brought back the idea of radiation causing interference in machines, and all I did was write it down in my journals like any other entries.

What came next was something I never expected would occur. It began as a small infection around the base of my nose and inside my nostrils. It looked like pimples and yet they were not pimples. They were small globules filled with liquid and it was painful to the touch. It also started to itch quite badly and was beginning to burn, as if I’ve been torched. The few bumps grew larger and spreaded more around the ala and naris. I got the terms from a visual dictionary so that I can pinpoint the area of infection for you to understand what I had gone through. Anyway the infection had gotten worse by the day. I didn’t think it would. Since I hadn’t the intention of seeing a doctor, I continued staying away from the doctors because by now if I had gone to them I was sure they’d come out with the same conclusion and not know what it was that corrupted my nose. I could hardly look at myself in the mirror and not wonder how it feels to be really ugly. All I could do was to clean them everyday and rub it with a disinfectant. But it just grew larger and larger and was now filled with pus. The hardest part was knowing that I could not go anywhere without being gazed upon as though I was a freak of some kind, so I stayed home most of the time, and wrapped my nose with gauze and band aid whenever I had to go to public places. I dodged into the crowded scene and vanish just as quickly again so that no one will notice this oddity. With an occasional runny nose, fever and the infection I kept getting a whiff of burnt smell. It has this heavy asphyxiating attribute, and it reminded me again about radiation that could cause skin disease.

The infection made a monster of me outwardly and inwardly. I canceled all my appointments for fear of embarrassment. My idealistic concept of doing good to make this world a better place died instantly and all I wanted was for everyone and everything to die with it.

Trying to get by this excruciating time I watched at least a movie a day to keep my mind occupied or distracted. And by sheer coincidence I picked up a movie that has a techno-thriller theme in it about EMP, electromagnetic pulse. The weapon was designed to disrupt electronic devices, mainly cutting off communication. This would then cripple and disable the enemy and buy time for the attackers. As I researched further EMP could jam electronic systems to frying up electronic and electrical equipments. With all these happening concurrently the last thing that marked this as no coincidence was the Internet being down again. The whole three weeks that went past me were signs and jigsaw pieces that I have yet to lock together, but I was indifferent to it until one night. My nose was healing, but it looked burnt now, the Internet was back up and running and my fever and flu vanished without a trace. Without giving another thought to this recovery I continued picking up my life from where I left it, becoming more and more optimistic as I went along.

And then, one night, like I told you, while I was having a cup of hot chocolate, while I was staring into the empty space, all the incidences that assaulted me came together in my mind to form a big picture. All I could see was devastation, a radioactive contamination of some kind hitting a country or a place somewhere in the world, or perhaps the entire world. All the people will be infected with radioactive poisoning just like Bhopal and Chernobyl. All technology and communications will be down and everyone will be on their own to carry on surviving, if they do escape the infectious diseases. There will be a total loss, of a catastrophic proportion, and the whole world will be filled with the smell of burnt wood, plastic, rubber, man made objects and flesh.

In a blink of an eye, that’s how it happened. I didn’t even get very far in sipping my hot chocolate when all these pictures unfolded right before my mind’s eye. It frightened me. My hair stood on ends. I tried to make sense of what has just exploded in my head but the vision around me was night and the kitchen. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think of it. The only thing I thought about doing was to record all of it down. To put it on paper, just in case. Just in case someone might understand what I am saying. Someone who knows something and perhaps can make sense of it. Can you?

Like I said before, and I am saying it again to you, I don’t know much about anything. I’m only an ordinary person who gets to work on time, punch out on the dot and I watch a lot of television. Occasionally thinking about making this world a better place, but not really doing anything about it, like everybody else. Yes, I wish I had more money, a better house to live in, and more time to do things that I want to do, but I don’t have them. I’ve never had an insanity streak or the history of it in my family, and I don’t think much about life or God or the end of the world. Yet, I was shown the signs. I practically lived it. So what do I do? What would you do? Just before I concluded that some meteor is going to hit earth and kill hundreds and thousands of people, I so happen to watch another movie, which suggested an alien invasion. I cringed all alone in the cinema when I saw how every one of us would be annihilated. But could it be? I don’t know. You tell me, am I being cursed with paranoia or am I being blessed with a premonition? You tell me.

The Boy Who Knew Nothing But Bad 1 (845w)

2007-09-26T21:40:00.000-07:00

"Son, are you all right son?" his mother asked sympathetically.
"No, I just don't want to go to school today."
"Stay home and rest then. Missing one day of school won't matter." She walked out of his room and went off to work.
Koll turned his face back to the pillow and slept.

About two o clock in the afternoon Koll woke up with a headache. He fumbled out of bed, peed all over the toilet seat and went off to bed again. He was restless so he switched on his Playstation 2, wishing he had the latest model but his dad won't get it for him. Or at least not just yet.

The whir of the CD started up and the image of Kratos appeared. He continued from where he last left off and began his quest for absolution. In the death defying combat he clicked the dual shock controller so that Kratos would able to optimize his blades of chaos.

Two hours later he was bored and hungry. He completed a level, saved and then dropped the game to look for food. He trudged all the way to the kitchen downstairs and rummaged the fridge and pantry. He grabbed whatever he saw as edible and stuffed them in his mouth and leaving crumbs all over the place.

After the heavy snack he fished out his cigarette pack he hid deep in his shorts pocket and started puffing one stick after another to satisfy his contumacious arrogance. "Fuck you..." he said to his mom once. "...bitch! You don't know anything about me so don't assume you do. If you can smoke then I can smoke." That statement ended a long duel between his parents and him and they made a deal with him instead. "Son if you stop smoking than we'll raise your allowance." He agreed but now he smokes in secret.

He didn't know what else to do and he scrolled through his cell to check and see what everyone else was doing.
"Hey Antsy, what are you doing?"
"Koll why didn't you come to school today?"
"Ahh fuck the school man."
"When you get your third warning you'll be suspended."
"So what? I hate school anyway," he snorted. "So what are you doing now?"
"I have to help my mom with stuff."
"Wanna go somewhere?"
"No I have chores to do and errands to run."
"Just say no to your mom once in a while dude!"
"No, I can't."
"You shit fucker coward."
"No I'm not and no I don't want to say no to my mom. Bye." He slammed the phone down.
"Shithead."
Koll dialled another number and waited for the ringing to stop.
"Hey Shifty what're you doing?"
"Koll, I'm not suppose to talk to you anymore."
"What the fuck?"
"Remember that day we skipped school to hang out at the abandoned house? That was my last straw."
"Last straw for what man? Why can't the adults let go of that? We didn't do anything wrong."
"Smoking ganja was bad enough I guess. Okay I gotta go." he phone clicked off.
"Shits man."
He tried another number.
"Hello."
"Ruff, you wanna go out of something?"
"Koll? I thought you said you didn't want to be friends with me anymore?"
"Yeah that was last week."
"No it was yesterday, and you called me a brainless moron with no balls."
"So I did. Big deal. You wanna jam?"
"Jam yourself fucker! You told everyone I cheated in the test. You such a liar!" The line went dead.

He sighed and ran out of names to call when he heard the door slamming.
"Is that you sis?"
"Yeah, what do you want?"
"Lend me some money?"
"I don't have any, besides you still owe me fifty bucks from last time."
"No I don't."
"You're such an asshole Koll!" She fumed. "It was only last week that you said you would pay me back this week. So where is it?"
"If you don't want to lend it to me just fuck off. Don't come and make my life miserable."
"You're a fake do you know that? You lie to mom and dad, you pretend to be sick when you're actually wasted. You're a real bastard!"
"So say you. Mom thinks I'm her greatest miracle."
"Mom is blind, that's all I can say." She walked off to her bedroom and locked herself in.
"Bitch," he whispered.

He slouched on the sofa and turned on the TV to surf from station to station. Nothing interest him. He raised the volume higher to see if his sister would come out of her room to scream at him but she didn't. He the realized she was sitting behind him, watching him.
"What do you want?" He said without turning his head. But she kept quiet. "What the fuck do you want?" He glanced at her and saw a girl with long straight hair flowing down from her head and covering her face partially.
"Jesus Christ!" He sat up and she was never there. "Shit. Bad mushrooms. Bad mushrooms."

A terrifying prologue (1530w)

2007-09-23T18:05:00.000-07:00

I didn’t believe it at first.

I thought it was an imagination like all my other illusions. But as the days went by with me getting lesser and lesser sleep and my mind too exhausted to perform the basic need of thinking about the things I do or don't, I began to look deeper into the shadows that I have such little regard for. Who in the world would have believed that the shadows were actually real? Alive. I didn’t. But I do now. They are there.

Just yesterday I saw it again, slithering quite slowly at first on the wall of my room while I was packing for work. I have been away from it for at least a week, I took unpaid leave to get my sanity back but I don’t think anyone would understand. For that week, I tried everything from yoga to religion, wild parties to isolated meditations and switching my sleeping hours from day to night and night to day. But nothing worked. I sleep with the lights on most of the time now, and it was good for a while. It helped but it didn't solve anything. Last night, while thinking I was ready to get back on my feet to reunite myself with my nine to five dead end job, it came back. The black things that sometimes streak out when you blink. It was the longest night I ever lived. There was one ... and then many ... Who goes there? What are you? I screamed. And the next thing I knew was I wanted to die. Maybe that’s how suicides occur. Pushed by those black shadowy beings to the brink of insanity or fear. Have you seen them?

I have been asking everyone around for opinions of these elements of the dark and I get mixed responses. Some say they have seen them too from the corner of their eyes and some say they are tricks playing on overactive and guilty minds. I want to believe that. Trust me. I want to believe that I am paranoid and I am making a fool of myself. But it won’t go away. It’s not like I’ve seen a mothman or a shadow with two red eyes, but I’ve seen shadows nevertheless. I know they are here. I am quite close to discovering their origin. They could be aliens, interdimensional beings, or time travelers. I don’t know yet.

So far I have come to these few theories which may lead to a greater revelation, but as I get closer to the truth I seem to be losing my mind. I have discounted imagination, ghosts and demons, and they are definitely not superstitions either. There is something more. Every day I feel like we're being watched. By whom I’m not sure. Are they aliens observing us as test subjects? Is abduction an everyday occurrence that we cannot remember? Look at the routine that we simulate all the time. From dusk till dawn we fumble and worry about everything that is insignificant. Our entire life, our entire existence, can be summed up in one abstraction call curiosity. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, when I look out the windows on the amber lighted streets I see shadows that come and go in a flash. Are they for real? I tried; heaven knows I tried to make sense of them. I always look twice, sometimes more, to make sure I am not crazy but the signs say otherwise. They tell me that something is not right, that someone is watching, all the time.

My nephew told me once, way back then, that he saw this black shadow that hops from roof to roof in the night. He said that it was a bad thing. And it comes round just to look into windows to see us sleeping. I asked him how he knew that the dark thing was bad. He told me he just felt it, like how you feel walking through a dark empty tunnel. Maybe he was making it all up. I didn't believe it then but now I do ... because I’ve seen this shadow too.

And then I thought maybe they were time travelers from another dimension. Like a mind caught between dream and reality, of the conscious and subconscious. Maybe they found doors that opened up to worlds beyond their world. And what I saw was just one of them looking in. And the interdimensional portal could be in my room where they come back and forth when I sleep or when I am least prepared for it. Watching me from the darkest corner. Observing. Waiting to get me when they are ready. Did you ever notice that kind of presence whenever you're alone in the dark? They may not be evil or mischievous by nature, but they are there. Easily felt but not seen. Probably they are as lost as we all are, but they have no way of getting back to where they belong. The way some human beings disappear in the same fashion. They just become untraceable and erased from existence. What do they want? Do they want help? Or are they just setting the trap to lure us into the pitch-black corners when our curiosity gets the better of us.

But what if these beings are our future. They are us except for the form that shape shifts. Have they have come to make us or break us? And in their evilness or good naturedness maybe they've come to take us to their higher plains. To be their test subjects or to be saved. Take a good look at the mirror and tell me what you see. In the long silence and beyond, do you see a dark hideous biped or do you see an affectionate face of an angel? Which is your future?

I sometimes see this creature in my reflection that I don't really know. It is not an evil looking demon but neither is it an angel. The person looking back at me has intense looking eyes, as though she wants to reach out and grab my soul. Last night I heard someone in the house. I thought I'd check the halls and rooms and walkways like I wasn't scared but as it turned out they were empty. Only there were shadows and there was the presence I told you about. It was getting stronger. It was as though someone or something was so close to me I could hear them breathe, like they were brushing by me. I didn't slept at all last night.

I am trying to finish this journal as fast as I can because I know I will not last too long. I know I am not supposed to say anything about my findings. They are between you and the shadows. But I feel I must put this down in words if I want to help the next person who sees what I see, maybe to atone for our sins and not be tortured in the next life. I don’t believe in all that gibberish but I don’t want to take any chances. Better safe than sorry I say. Maybe by writing this to you I will be spared from a horrific end that is about to come. I know my time is approaching. There is light but I don’t feel it’s warmth, and I know they are looking over my shoulders. I only hope I can last long enough to pass this to you whoever you are. You’ve got to believe me. I am not telling stories about the things that come from the corner of my eye. I swear it’s true. I promise it’s real. I wish someone could help me and I am not crazy. I am scared. It’s so cold. My hands are frozen. I can hardly write another word. I know they will come for me when I blink my eyes one too many times but I can’t keep them open always. I am losing it.

If you think I'm mad, we'll see when the time comes. But in the meantime check the doors and windows, check the handles to see if they turn or rattle. Look in between the gaps and crevices did you see anything? Like an eye or a shadow? Something smells rotten in here. Did you smell that god awful stench wafting into the room? You better hold you breath. And if you hear something, maybe you shouldn’t check it out, maybe it’s better to stay put and let it pass until daybreak. Hide under the covers, I don’t know. Every time I swing my head, I see figures camouflaging themselves behind every conceivable hiding places. In the dark corners of the room. I can feel them around me like a chill running down my back. But I want to make sure they are real when I confide in you again. That is, if I live through this wee hours of the morning, if I am still sane and unshattered by fear. I ask you again; don’t you see what I see, don't you feel it? They're there right beside you.