Sunday, May 31, 2015

Carte Blanche

“Why did it have to turn out this way, Kenta?”

Laylah’s eyes were red, her cheeks wet and black from her mascara. Her sandy hair seemed almost white in the  full moon. I still couldn’t believe this wasn’t the first time I saw her in that white dress, with that magnolia flower in her hair, standing near the beach, crying. Whatever bizarre case of déjà vu I was having, she had it too. I think I was taking it much better than she was.

“Laylah, I…” I saw you die, I wanted to say. Years ago, but not even a minute ago here. What the hell is going on?

“To think that all this ended even before it even had a chance to start,” she said through clenched teeth. “Why does is hurt so much, being around you? Why do I remember things that didn’t happen?! Tell me!”

I couldn’t tell her about the time leaps and that I saw her die time and time again. I couldn’t tell her it was her, or some version of her, that taught me how to do it. It didn’t seem relevant. She seemed to be remembering something I only had a hunch about. I was madly in love with her but when exactly did that begin? Did the leaps mess with my memories or was it someone else?

She was walking away again. Again? Did she do that before? That’s when I saw a shadow move somewhere in the bushes and I knew what was going on. I shouted her name and she turned around with eyes wide with hope, but I was too late. Just as soon as I saw her eyes meet with mine, the life faded away from them. Again I saw her die. Again I screwed up. Again I wanted to just tear through the fabric of time and space and just keep her alive. I need her alive.

I didn’t even care to look at who did it. Now that I think about, I should have maybe checked out the place I saw the shadow. But at that moment, all that mattered was that Laylah was gone in that timeline. And I had no business in that kind of place. I closed my mind and leapt back. Back to where I started, back to the beginning of the semester. I didn’t care if I had to build all my friendships from scratch and study for all my exams again. Nothing mattered as long as Laylah stayed dead.

Saturday, May 23, 2015

She's the Man

“So let me get this straight,” Liz said as she leaned over the coffee shop table. Her friends all turned to face her. “You guys are saying that a real man has a wallet on him? What kind of logic is that?”

“According to Eustace,” Hector said, defensively crossing his big, tattooed hands over his chest. The light reflected off his bald head as he adjusted his glasses. Then he went on, stroking his gingerbeard. “I think a watch is more important.”

“Still, what’s all that without a car, eh?” said Lou, looking tall and lanky as usual in the big cushioned chair, his messy black hair almost entirely covering his eyes.

“Can’t afford a car without any money,” Eustace interjected, his prematurely graying curls bouncing on his head as he pointed his finger at the ceiling, more out of habit than to actually point to anything meaningful.

“But how does all that make you a man? It’s just stuff.”

“How else do you impress girls, though,” Hector retorted, the other two nodding in agreement.

“Wait.” Everyone’s gaze turned to Liz again. She spotted a hint of panic in their eyes, which made her smirk a bit. “So what you’re saying is that a real man has a girlfriend.”

“I guess that’s what it all comes down to, yes,” Lou nodded slowly.

“Okay then,” Liz picked up Hector’s latte and finished it up in one gulp. She stood up, turned toward the entrance with a triumphant smile and said “I’ll be seeing you, ladies.”

Sunday, May 17, 2015

The Noxious Tower

Dame Isabelle was swinging her ivory blade in slow, composed movements,  although her hear was racing. She was finally nearing the peak of the Alabaster Tower.  She had gotten too far to give up now. And though the hordes of imps and demons, their bodies black as tar, the knight pressed on, determined to release her beloved prince Alistair from the curse.

The hallowed light of her blade blinded the creatures, and the sword sliced through them  as if they were made of water. After a while, the ebony mass was only a smudge on the tower’s cold, ivory walls. The stairwell was quiet at last, and Dame Isabelle could finally reach the chamber where her love lay. The only sounds were her echoing, metallic steps, and her shallow breath.

The top chamber was a black void. The windows were covered with jet drapes, and the marble floor, white and lustrous up until this point, was dark and reflected nothing.

And then she saw it.

The pale, beautiful face. Turning to face her from within the void, it resembled a pale mask suspended in midair, emitting an eerie glow. She dropped her blade and ran to greet her prince. As she neared it, the face rose, then, in a flash,  moved to find itself an inch away from Dame Isabelle’s face. It was a dead face. The half-open eyes were empty sockets, a trail of black liquid running down the lips. It was a mask, fashioned from her prince’s face. The knight froze, having glimpsed what lied beneath the mask.

It was too late for her. The blade could not protect her anymore. Now there was more than terror immobilizing her body. She was embraced so tight, her breaths became more and more sparse. The  face came nearer, and nearer, the black void of its eyes staring into hers. She felt its lips meet hers. For a moment she was thankful she could feel the touch of them again. But then she felt the chill of them, the suffocating darkness, and her breath escaped her.

The darkness of the Alabaster Tower took her.

Saturday, May 9, 2015

The Ritual

A group of youths dressed in black robes is gathered around a table. The room is dimly lit, only a couple of candles provide lighting. The youths are chanting in some unknown language, holding their hands in midair. One of them is holding a black book. Suddenly, a muffled tumbling noise comes from somewhere else and the lights go out. There is a commotion. A chicken’s clucking can be heard.

Go- I mean, dammit Geoff! Can’t you keep those candles lit?

Who the fuck put Geoff on candle duty anyway?

Sorry, guys. I’m on it.

A loud bump can be heard from the direction GEOFF’s voice was coming. He resumes in a pained manner.

Ouch! Oh Go- I mean, fucking hell, my toe! Sorry, I think I bumped into something. I’m really, really sorry. Oh boy, I think I lost my lighter.

Here it is, Geoff.

Thank you so, so much! Alright, now let’s light those candles.

Another muffled bump.

So sorry, guys! Is that you, Melv? No, never mind. I’ll just go and light the candles, yeah.

The lights come back up. The youths are now fewer in number, which is neither explained nor remarked upon by any of the others. Two robed figures hastily rise up from below the table, shaking some dust off their robes. The youth in the middle (IRA) puts the book down on the table opened.

Now then, my brothers and sisters, let the ritual commence. We shall soon greet our master. Has the sacrifice been prepared?

As instructed, o high priest.

The figure to IRA’s left (REGGIE) places an empty cage on the table. IRA slams his fists on the table.

Are you fucking kidding me, Reggie? Haven’t we had enough humiliation for one day? For Chri- I mean, for the devil’s sake, can’t you guys treat this seriously? I thought we were all in this together.

The figure to IRA’s right (NARENE) places her hand on his shoulder.

Be calm, your excellence. I am sure Reginald has an explanation.

I guess…? I mean, certainly, o high priest! For when I have come to visit your, um, abode, I am certain that a, uh, feathered one was still captive in… that… con…traption? Surely, something must have gone amiss when Geoffrey disturbed our ceremony? It is indisputable that it was on that occasion… Dammit. I just wanted to say it’s fucking Geoff’s fault that the chicken went and vanished.

REGGIE points to a tall, pot-bellied figure (GEOFF).

Why are you guys always blaming me? I didn’t do anything!

You didn’t fucking light the candles right!

It really isn’t my fault they went out! The wind must’ve blown in or something!

Don’t you fucking mess with me, Geoff!

Wait a minute, there is no proof. Geoff may be clumsy and slow, but he is still out brother. Why would he sabotage our ceremony?

Yeah! Where’s your proof?

As GEOFF finishes his sentence, a clucking noise comes from within his robes. He nervously clutches at his stomach, but that only makes the chicken visibly squirm. GEOFF makes a run for it, followed by the rest of the cultists.

Saturday, May 2, 2015


The water turns red. It’s just like that evening we spent on the beach. When the sun was almost gone and people looked like shadows. I remember the warmth of your hand. Maybe I’ll get to feel it again soon? Doubtful I’m going where you are, though.

They tell me what I did was right, but it didn’t feel right at all. They said justice would be served, that he’d rot in jail for the rest of his life. As long as I performed the surgery, he couldn’t get away. And so I did it. I saved his life. I saved the life of a man who said he was fighting for justice. Murdering innocents for “justice”. That’s what he was. A murderous fiend. I saw him do it on television. I saw him snuff the life out of you while you were holding your hands up in the air, shouting,  begging. “I’m unarmed,” you cried.

And I saved his life. Is that justice?

My breath slows down and I feel faint. The darkness comes as the red swirls closer and closer to me. I have failed to avenge you, my love. But I still hope you’ll have me there.