“It would be nice to know how you did it to me, but I assume you can’t!!!”, frustrate over my dumb demon son’s occult practice, “Now, I have to pick up pieces of myself scatter all over this floor.” My left hand start to crawl itself towards my head laying at the far end in the reading room to find my remains. “You are going nowhere when I fix myself up!!!”, my eyes fume of red burning flame, stake him then and there. I float before him in a single body after the misfortune incident, reminding him “Even the devil himself hide from me.”, I grin at him, “You’re lucky to be my only offspring, else I would banish you here and now from this dark existence. The only dreadful life you ever known.” My middle finger with long and sharp nail slid his cheek for blood to taste, “Fear be my pleasure.” My back fingers run over his pale cold face to hold his chin between the thumb and index finger, “You know I love you.” Tears flow from his eye’s corner onto the ice cold stone floor where we stand close together. “Yes, father of darkness.”, he plead.
01. I See Them
Captain Sora-san is interrupt by his assistance voice, “Madam, witness confirm the description of her entering this forest.”, in her own worry tone to herself, “What was she thinking? She is too young to meet death on her own.”, and give the final order for her men and their dog to come out of the forest before dark. “Yes, madam.”, confirm his assistance. Captain Sora-san close her eyes, puzzle and imagine her last few steps in this world is on a bridge she cross over to the dark forest on a beautiful backdrop of golden sunset. Elders believe voices lurks in this forest’s darkness. Here is where insanity live in a universe beyond any sane man’s imagination. They speak to you of your past to feed your grieve in the present. Death is no stranger and pass no judgement to the ones who was and is here today, or tomorrow for their home. Most soul roam in peace but some fill with rage. They are elusive to the naked eyes, but the promise one can hear them stomp and weep their pain in the night to a full moon above them. She question herself, “Is she here to meet him?”, and quickly return to the park four-wheel military vehicle with his assistance inside waiting for her. Her assistance gave a long, weary sigh and ask, “Madam, would we come back for her?”. Captain Sora-san tone is unquestionable, “No one must know.”. They turn the vehicle around and head back to the camp. Leaving the dark forest behind them as the past. It is pain to leave her walk a destiny alone for us, but she believe the future belong for the bold to change. That child might be their last hope to save humanity as foretold by the great I-Ching oracle.
I jump out of bed and is late for work. It’s not unusual of me to be late; late nights and late mornings. Almost everything in my life comes late. I put on my favorite nose ring. Took a glance at myself in the mirror to see if my makeup is still fresh from last night. “Looks fine from here.”, is my usual pep talk to myself every morning. Grab my black color jeans from the bedside. Jumping around the room on one leg at a time, with another fighting to get into my tight jeans. Pull it up to my waist, button up and with a deep sigh of relieve. “Finally!”, I praise myself. My feet slip into a pair of sneaker, while snatching a black tee shirt to wear. It’s from the pile of dirty laundry scatter all over the floor. I fling my bag and skateboard out the bedroom window, till I hear them hitting the garden’s grass below. Squeeze myself out the bedroom’s window onto the dirty tiled roof, and made a leap across onto a large tree branch. It’s easy from there to reach the ground using the plank stairs I nailed to the tree trunk. They are for a tree house I haven’t complete since childhood days. I can hear my pet dog frantically barking. He is a stubborn and vocal Jack Russell Terrier, having a personality like me. His name is James. My mother is holding him in her arms, with her face frowning at me from the kitchen’s window. Her silence always kill me. I try to comfort them aloud,“Good morning. Love you guys.” Pick up my things and make a dash down the street on my skateboard into the blinding sunlight. “That went well. As usual.”, talking to myself every morning.
My mind fizzle with letters into words; forming sentences after sentences throughout the stormy night. Stomping aimlessly in my mind with words forming vivid imagery scene. The mind is a wonderful playhouse. God’s greatest gift for his most beloved creation here on earth. I do believe life is suppose to be written on pages. Thoughts staying alive. A voyeur experience to some who love reading the pain and pleasure of others in the shadow. Encouraging them with standing ovation, applauding aloud to encourage indecent exposure. We are convince there is reality in fiction. Why not? Are we not here to play a role in life to be somebody; the world is a stage. The show begin when the curtain rise. As far as the eye can see are empty seats waiting to be fill. A blank script in my hand awaiting to have a dialogue with me. Mask my role.
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages. – William Shakespeare
I have a horror of not rising above mediocrity. – Robert Baldwin
Squatting on top at the edge of a double deck bed, staring down upon myself laying still on the rustic wood flooring. I can’t feel anything; like a lifeless dead corpse. There’s a funny deep hollow sound ringing in my ear. As if the wind is circling inside a long and narrow tunnel. I am numb with silence. In a state of total confusion. The small hand of a round white wall clock is pointing at four. I think it’s too early in the morning. In front of me stand a wooden cupboard with one mirror door. A faint shadow of someone is reflecting back at me; with a pair of silky black wings unfolding gracefully from the figure’s back. They flap itself to loosen their stiffness. The room’s door bust wide open without notice. A stout old lady in old english dress came rushing in, skipping across my still body lying on the floor.
She head towards the window to swiftly open a dusty thick curtain with both hands. My eyes squint to shield itself from the strong glaring lights shining into a room fill with thick smog of dust. She turn around to face me. In a sudden float like motion; her disgusting and scary amateurish painted clown like face appear just inches from mine. I fell backward and float on thin air. Everything around me disappear. Both her claw like hands pin me down to the darkness surrounding me, while her long and wet tongue lick its way to my right ear. Leaving behind a trail of thick, slimy and sticky substance on my cheek. She speak to me in a husky hissing tone, “It’s not your time yet. My dearest. The day is not dead.”; follow with a melodious laugh.
Dammit; not again. It’s MONDAY …