Ne Pleure Pas: Shifting Sands – Part 3


Here it is! Finally! 😀 Another chapter… enjoy!


A man sat alone inside his white padded cell; his arms, legs and neck bound by thick chains holding him stationary to the middle of the room. From his back protruded eight large blackened cylindrical tube-like appendages. His hair, shaggy and unkempt, his eyes glaring at the bulletproof glass; he snarled, showing two rows of metallic teeth.

“What is that thing?” I asked, as the general ordered that the man be put to sleep.

“That is experiment O, son. He’s something we like to call a Noir.” The general brought a book with a compilation of photos from other specimens.

“Noir? Are they… ummmm, mutants or something?”

“It’s still unknown what they are. We do know that they are born from a virus that selectively infects its prey. Their body crystalizes into metal, and they become, in simpler terms, living weapons.”

“Like some X-men story?”

“Exactly, except they thirst for blood and death. Their brain is rewired.”

Was this some sort of anime shit? Called for some checkup, enlisted in some secret military unit and what next? I looked around, as scientists walked to and fro with top military officials and politicians. What would they ask me to do?

“So, what was this thing about my mind? What do you want to do with my brain?” After seeing how they treated that thing, I started fearing for my own well-being.

“No. Your brainwaves are the only things capable of synchronizing with an anti-Noir system we have implemented. We make our move before they make theirs.”

“How exactly does that work?”

“Son, let’s meet Experiment 002.”

Walking down a darkened corridor we reach a door. Z-26, the door opened after scanning the general’s fingerprints. Inside lay a young girl, sleeping peacefully on a small white bed, barren of any sheets or covers. Her skin was as white as snow; her hair was of pure white, and she wasn’t very tall, judging from her size on the bed. Like a living Barbie doll, she seemed so delicate.

The general called her out, “Neige… Wake up now. You have a visitor.”

She slowly opened her eyes, sat up and yawned; all the while stretching her body. Her small pink lips twisted as she grumbled. Her hair was a mess.

“Son, her name is Niege and she’s going to be your partner, if you choose to join the cause.”

“Is she one of them?” I asked.

“Yes and no. She was artificially made to have a perfect symbiosis with the virus.”

“So, how do I come in to the picture? Are you going to turn me into one of those things?”

The girl giggled. “You’re no good; too weak, too fragile.”

Her small body seemed so fragile; never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that a little girl like her would be able to break me in half whenever she wanted. Combing her hair, she jumped off her bed, grabbed her slippers and walked towards me. She gazed into my eyes and kissed my cheek.

“My name is X-002, but you can call me by my code name: Niege,” she said. “I don’t know what the outside world is. You’re my guide now.”

“Sir, I don’t understand…” I asked the general, he immediately presented me with an ID card.

“She’s staying with you for the time being. We require a complete synchronization before we explain anything further.”

“What happens if we don’t synchronize?”

“She’ll erase your mind.”

“Now, let’s go outside where she can show you what her ‘abilities’ are.”

Seeping Red Hope II



Okay, so this is the second part of Seeping Red Hope. Hope you enjoyed this two part story! 😀



Cold hard steel close to his flesh, the night was closing in. Shadows covered by the tears of those close to him, twisted in agony with the sunset’s orange hue. The sounds of diesel engines and boots, the constant upheaving of dust and gunpowder, the red band and the blue lifeless eyes; the Germans were close.


Trailing behind a set of tracks, his division followed an eerie convoy. Silently, no diesel engines, just the echo of mud trotting boots and chattering. A scream or two, from time to time, and enemy laughter; they had grown too cocky.


“Sommes-nous encore là?” A solider tapped him on the shoulder.

“Ta geule!” Alphonse looked back at him.


No one dared speak back or anger the captain. He was focused on blood. His home, the paradise he and his beloved had constructed, lay in ruins. What little dignity he was left with lies somewhere amidst the shattered buildings and damaged infrastructures. The Nazi had taken most of the people in this area as hostages.


“Mon Dieu, au secours.” Alphonse whispered to himself.


Up on the distance, a truck with several soldiers stood in wait, he motioned his squad to hide. He could hear their constant chattering. What were they doing? He needed to get closer; his beloved Raphaëlle could be amongst the captives.


“Was ist das?” A German solider sat on a piece of rubble playing around with a golden pendant.

“Hören!” Another soldier grabbed him from the neck of his shirt. “Schrieben!”

The smaller solider quickly handed over the pendant and continued on writing on a piece of paper.


On the distance, a solider dragged a lady from her arm. She kicked and screamed, as she was flung on the dirt floor, falling on her chest. Her dress was ripped and dirtied, but he could identify it anywhere! “Raphaëlle!”


“Am fünften vierundzwanzigsten, freitag.” The smaller solider wrote as fast as he could, stopping from time to time. ““Von dreizehn Uhr bis zwanzig Uhr, ich finden acht Französisch Personen.”


Raphaëlle lay on the ground, looking up at her captors. Alphonse loaded his gun, as his squad members readied the attack.


“Laissez-moi tranquille!” Raphaëlle shouted at her captors. They laughed and neared her, grabbing her arm and her long golden locks.

“Sie ist schön!” A German soldier commented.

“Je ne comprends pas.” She hid her face away, as the solder tugged her hair even harder.

“Sie ist mein!”

“Non, Non, Non!” She pushed and tried to pull away.


A shot pierced through the helmet of the solider, falling stiffly on the ground. Blood splattered over her face, as she crawled away. The German’s tried to find cover but the barrage of bullet fire overwhelmed them.


Raphaëlle looked in awe as soldiers marched towards their position. She could hear their chattering, though she couldn’t understand what they were saying.


“Bloody Nazi blokes!” A soldier walked up to her, extending his hand, “Are you okay, Miss?”

“Est-ce que vous pouvez m’aider?” She replied.

“I am so terribly sorry, but I think we are not on the same page.” Turning over to his comrades, he shouted, “Bring the damn translator!”

Alphonse ran to where she was, falling to his knees and holding her in a tight embrace. “Tout va bien. Je suis ici maintenant.”

“Je t’aime de tout mon cœur,” she replied.

The English soldier looked away, “No need for the translator! Go back, boy!”

“Vous êtes mon tout” His lips, broken and dry, touched hers, filled with dust and tears.


Holding her close, he flung his rifle over his shoulder and walked her over to his squad. The invasion had begun, but atleast the person he loved was safe. The red mantle of destruction and terror was slowly consuming their beloved homeland. Alphonse’s days of fighting had just started as Raphaëlle’s waiting had slowly prolonged. This blessed reunion was a sign that there were souls out there who longed for the same thing but were unable to attain it.


The rivers are still dyed in red, the soil is still saturated by the black stain of gunpowder and death, the skies still echo with artillery shells and uplifted dust, but atleast he still has her.

Seeping Red Hope I



A short love story based on the Nazi invasion of France. The limit was 1500 words, so this first part is approximately 747 words or so. I decided to do something different and make the dialogue native to those languages. If something is not well written, tell me about it. 🙂  Part 1 of 2.


The images still linger inside her mind, the smell of licorice and mint, swirling beneath the façade of roses and tea. A cookie crumb laden table adorned with porcelain cups and plates.  A single napkin stained with her favorite tea: apple and cinnamon. She looked around, gazing at the evenly cut grass and the artistically trimmed rose bushes brimming with red. The gentle sway of the peach tree above her, still without its generous offerings to her family yet covered in cute pink flowers.


The sheet rock beneath her small mahogany chair continues on to the back gate. The sun’s rays piece the tiny spaces uncovered by the tree, each flower glowing beneath the light. The echoes of yesterday dull the carefully orchestrated song produced by the erratic movement of the tree’s branches under the influence of the composing wind.


Tiny birds, covered in brown feathers with a warm yellow underbelly and small black and white stripes on their head, flutter to and fro, pecking at the crumbs. It was still midday, the butterflies flew to and fro between rose bushes, tiny black ants ran mindlessly on the surface of the stained napkin, and a hummingbird provided her with the needed afternoon entertainment.


A constant banging on the distance, resonating at the back of her mind; too low to be a nuisance, too high to be ignored, she gazed at the horizon. A horizon still covered in blue, crisscrossed with light white clouds that seldom traverse the sky, like a painting by her grandmother. She read a letter, sighing at the last sentence. Sorrow was nothing compared to loneliness.


They told her there was a world that people like her would never understand. A world beyond silk clothing, silverware, porcelain and mahogany; where chocolate never caresses lips and tea flows tasteless and cold. A world without molasses or sugar, no biscuits or sweets; where the sound of music is dulled by the constant tune of war and misery.


She knew very little of that world, that’s why someone close to her heart ventured off into that realm. He promised memories and a fine story to tell but above all, he promised peace for her. Now, he’s somewhere where the rivers run red, the ground is soaked in black and crimson, the skies are filled with grey despair and the sun rises above the souls of those who wander aimlessly into the night.


Holding her dress between her legs, as the wind blew stronger, she shuffled into her summer home. Looking at the calendar, she scratched off another day: May 24th. Falling lifelessly on her bed, she looked up at the wooden ceiling, now a red stain started spreading down to the walls, engulfing her in a sea of scarlet, white and black. She woke-up screaming, soaking in sweat, covered in Goosebumps, back to 1940.


The constant banging and thumping in the distance grew louder and louder. She closed her ears with the palm of her hands, looking outside her window. The soothing light-blue tone had slowly been overwritten by a grim orange stain. Smoke rising, staining the sky with grey, she held on to her rosary and prayed that the world she did not know of would not consume her.


Loud motors growing closer and closer, the house started shaking. The distant bangs become loud explosions, shattering windows, blasting away trees. Battle tanks broke through the fence, crushing the rose bushes she had carefully worked with for over a year, bathing the old peach tree in a shower of flames, and breaking away everything that was before them. Men in masks, a familiar red band on their arms, rifles ready, backpacks with weapons and sin; these were the men that Alphonse had warned her about.


“J’ai besoin de vous ici avec moi,” she whispered.


A loud crash shattered her peace of mind. Hiding inside her closet, she could see, from the crevices of the furniture, these men wandering around her home. They didn’t steal anything but rather burned and broke everything they could find; vandalizing her home.


Closing her eyes tight, she held on to the door of the closet. A strong force tried to pull the doors, but she grabbed on to them as hard as she could. Finally, a strong force pulled her. She let out a scream as someone grabbed her by the hair. She opened her eyes, staring into the gaze of two lifeless blue eyes. His clear skin covered in dust and soot, a few strands of golden hair peeking from underneath his helmet.




Sorry guys, I wasn’t able to upload a new chapter of the fanfic or of the mini-series that usually go up on Sunday. I’m going to try and make it happen sometime between today and tomorrow.

A Tiny Preview! Experimental, Though.


This is a fragment piece of a chapter I’m writing. I hope it works as well as I imagined it would. I promise it’s very important to the plot so don’t fret. 😀



She looked away, her face was still flustered. His body over hers, holding both her hands against the mattress; fingers laced together. She swallowed hard, her heart beating faster and faster; submerged in a sea of uncertainty, engulfed in a wind of ecstasy.


“Don’t look at me, please. It’s embarrassing.” She closed her eyes.

“You’re so beautiful; I envy the man who shall lie with you ‘til the end of days.” Viktor kissed her cheek. She turned her face to him. “I’m truly envious.” His voice was soft.


Her Golden Fleece slid off her rosy skin exposing her young face and delicate shoulders. With a gentle stroke, he uncovered her soft skin, as her locks fell upon the sheets, adorning the surface of the bed. Viktor kissed her soft lips, sliding his down her chin and neck till he felt the soft silk of her dress. Caressing her skin, he loosed his grip on her hands and started unbuttoning her dress. She reached out, touching his face with the lightest of contact. Her eyes stared into his mask. This masked man had seduced her beyond what anyone had previously tried to achieve.


“How do you do it?” She asked.

“Do what?” He uncovered her slender figure. Her body moving slowly to the rhythm of an erratic breathing; shallow breaths at the sight of his deep blue yes, deep breaths at the sight of his long jet-black hair.

She held her breath as a slight chill ran down her back. “How do you win a maiden’s heart?”


Running his finger down her chest, obstructed by the front hook of her bra, he lowered his face to hers, sliding his mask to a side, kissing her lips. She gave in to his demands. Exposed, she covered her chest with both arms, beckoning him to stop yet unwilling to maintain her own demands.


“I’m so scared,” she whispered.

“Of what?” He replied.

She laced her fingers together, thwarting his advances. “Of showing you something I had promised no man would ever see.”


He slowly kissed her fingers as she slowly loosened her grip. She gently ran her fingers through his hair. Lightly, he traced around her small breasts as she turned her face away. Her mind was racing, like a fast-forwarded home movie. Echoes of desires filled the recesses of her mind.


The scent of strawberries flooded the room. The slight glimmer of candlelight produced a myriad of shadows, each telling a different story; each protruding from their mind’s thirst for more. They sand a lullaby as she gazed at them. He softly kissed her breast, slowly nearing her nipple, gently caressing the other breast with the tip of his fingers.


She stretched her body, exhaling deeply. A moan escaped her, quickly closing her mouth, embarrassed by something so revealing of her vulnerability before a man she desired. He slid his lips, slowly, down her body, stroking her bellybutton with the tip of his tongue. She closed her mouth, promising to not repeat ‘that’ again.


She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t go any lower. Trying to control her heavy breathing, consumed with ecstasy, she grabbed on to the bed sheets. As his movements sank below her womb, she grabbed his hair.


“Please, don’t. Don’t go any lower.” Her eyes, widely awake, agitated. “Not yet. I cannot let you indulge on something that is so precious to me.”


She could not see his expressions, but somehow an image of a grin filled her imagination. There was something so familiar about the way he moved his head, his grip, and the way his lips played with her body. There was something that emanated from his pores, like an intoxicating scent she could not get enough of.


A small silver cross lay flat on her chest. The gloss on her lips still lingered and the sweet fragrance that once permeated from her clothes now overwhelmed his senses. Pulling her legs together in a tight grip, she gradually traced her finger along the scarlet cross depicted on his white mask. What lay behind this persona? He pulled away, denying her the rights to know. She turned around; he grabbed her arms, and kissed the nape of her neck. She squealed as she felt his hand on her buttocks, quickly relaxing her body to his whims. Is this what they call ‘giving in’? 

Another Sneak Peek!

Another tidbit of my latest chapter of the novel-in-progress: Adagio for Canon.



“Damn it, he’s late.” Sophia played with a straw, as she sat in the corner of the second level of the shopping mal. Pradera Chiquimula, that was the name of the shopping mall in Chiquimula, just thirty minutes from Esquipulas. Her time spent at the cathedral was cut short after it was invaded with soldiers.


It was dark, only the second level was illuminated, and even then only the dining hall was lit. She gazed at the starts as they were slowly covered up by a thick column of clouds. Lightning struck far away from where she was; a storm was approaching. As thunder roared, she saw him.

He was tall, wearing a tuxedo; a black tie, pinned with a golden pendant; a white mask adorned with a single red cross running across its left side; his left arm was covered with a thick leather-like material and a black glove on his hand. His shoes tapping against the floor echoed amidst the silence of the night. It was fairly late, though she still marveled at his ability to reserve this place for them.


“Looking sharp, perhaps even suspicious,” Sophia commented.

He looked down at his clothes. “Oh, am I? I am in the presence of the Governor of Petén.”

“Don’t mock my intelligence; you know that I’m here because of the letter you left in the hotel room.”

“Yes, and please excuse my arrogance, but aren’t you a bit too naïve?”


“You walked blindly into my hands…”

“Are you—?”

“No, Gobernadora, I have nothing under my sleeve but rather I have a proposition.”

“And you expect me to hear you out? First tell me your name then take off your mask.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do—”

“Then I cannot hear your proposition.”

“Gobernadora, I know that you need my help. So, I’ll be making the rules around here. I respect you, so try to hear me out. Do not force my hand, you are replaceable, remember that.”


Thunder roared as the trees bent at an angle – the wind was picking up. From the corner of her eye, she tried to distinguish a figure that sat in the darkness. Was this a trap or was it insurance?


“I know all about your issue, Gobernadora.” He pulled out a chair. Crossing his legs, he continued. “And I have an idea for a counter-measure.”

“An idea?” She stood amidst tables and chairs, peeking over and over again, rehearsing an escape route if the situation became grim.

“Gobernadora, why don’t you take a seat? Are you afraid? I can see it in your eyes.”


“Don’t be, I’m not here to blackmail you or ask anything in return. We both know who the real enemy is.”


“Amelia Chantal.”


She bit her lip. What was he getting at?


“I presume you had quite the visit back in Esquipulas.” He commented. “Or should I say, quite the troublesome visit?”


She remembered the Cathedral in the middle of a park, adorned with trees and neatly trimmed bushes. The air was cool, and the sun was high in the sky. People crawling in the ground, as a form of penance, others selling candles and ‘holy’ relics while some were taking pictures and enjoying their visit; too bad she couldn’t join them.


“Troublesome? Not in the least.” She replied.

“I do recall hearing something… House arrest? Or was it something else?” Viktor added. “Wait, yes… You are bound within the perimeter of the Chiquimula Municipality.”

“Where did you hear that?” She flicked her hair.

“—from the same people that forced you out of the cathedral.”


Guatemalan forces pushed and shoved through the pilgrims and faithful at the Cathedral, right to where she was praying. The eyes of the Black Christ stared lifelessly at her. She wanted a response, even when surrounded by soldiers wearing full body armor, riot shields and rifles.

“I see you’ve got your contacts within the government.” Sophia walked over to the window. The rain had yet to fall as the winds grew stronger and the lightening drew closer. “What is the so-called ‘Master Plan’ you keep talking about?”

“I’ll let my partner explain that to you.” He replied.


A girl appeared from the shadows. She was beautiful, her long ginger hair tied up in a pony-tail with a blue scrunchie. Her tight jeans pants and a pink top accentuated her figure.


“Wait, I know you!” Sophia’s back was against the cold surface of the window. “You were Alexander’s fiancée!”

“And you must be Sophia, I presume.” Michelle walked up to her. “I’m Michelle Langley, the benefactor of the rebellion.” She greeted Sophia.

“What rebellion?”

“We’re a hidden group whose sole task is the overthrow of the false leader of the nation of Balize, and in doing so; we will be reborn as the new Republic of Belize.” Viktor added.

“A republic… And who will be the master? Every dog needs a master.”

“It’s not about us, it’s about the people—” Michelle replied.

“It’s always about someone. There can’t be a society without someone pulling the strings. Sometimes they’re good, sometimes they’re wise, and sometimes they’re tyrants.” Sophia interrupted her.


It started raining, pelting the windows of the mall with great force. Sophia turned around, observing how the streets became engulfed in the down pour, becoming artificial rivers of pavement, dust and grime. She smiled, never in her wildest dreams had she pictured herself collaborating with her rival.


“Ok, I’m in. So, what’s the plan?” Sophia looked at the man with the mask, hoping to hear something along the lines of an insurrection.

“You need a sizable force to stop an invasion.” Viktor replied.

“And we’ve got your soldiers.” Michelle added.

“Petén lacks the force and not many people want to join the cause, Balize’s rebel forces are too small, unlike the glory days, and Guatemala nearly exterminated every paramilitary force after their civil war.”

“Ummmm, you’re missing something. There are people who are downtrodden and oppressed in Guatemalan society.” Sophia replied.

“They are the Mayan groups within the country.” Viktor continued. “There are the Q’eqchi’, the Ch’orti’, the K’iche’ and the Kaqchikel.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I go around these groups recruiting people who want to fight for an Ispanish colony?”

“No, what I’m saying is that you could go recruiting people who are willing to fight for a home where they won’t be oppressed.” Viktor walked over to Sophia, handing her a walkie-talkie. “You have a month before the Guatemalan government joins the Balizean war effort.”


Michelle and Viktor walked into the darkness and disappeared, leaving Sophia behind. She collapsed on the ground, staring at the walkie-talkie. They’ll be close enough to contact me, but far enough to keep out of Guatemalan reach. Clever.


She reached for her umbrella and walked out of the mall. Janet was waiting for her inside a car.


“Did you catch that last comment?” Sophia asked Janet, whose eyes gazed at the flooded road.

“Yes, and I think it’s pretty stupid.” Janet started the car. “So, where are we headed to?”

“We’re going to Jocotan; our first move will be to recruit the Ch’orti’.”

“You’re not serious—!”

“I’m desperate. We need this.” Sophia interrupted her. Her phone beeped, she received a message from an unknown number.


We have information pertaining to the Ch’orti’. It would be wise to join their ranks at their old meeting place. They hold small reunions with their leaders underneath the Radio Chortis station. It’s a Catholic radio station founded by Germanium and Gallia Belgica missionaries. It would be wise to speak directly to the man they call: b’oyom or gibnut. He’s someone familiar with our plight. Show him this image and he’ll understand who you are.



There was an image of a golden corncob. He had everything thought out. Impressive for a masked man, though the only reason Sophia trusted Viktor was because Michelle was lending her support. Michelle was no hypocrite.


“So, I guess your mind is made up.” Janet lit a cigarette.

Sophia smiled. “I’ve dragged you into another predicament.”

“There is a sizable Guatemalan force in Camotan. If we limit our influence to just Jocotan, we might be able to do what we need to do and get out of there.”

“That’s why I love you so much, Janet.” Sophia hugged her.

Janet’s cigarette fell on her lap, as she quickly grabbed it and tossed it out the window. “Damn it Sophia. Calm down, we’ll celebrate when this is done.”


Ne Pleure Pas: Shifting Sands – Part 2


Ok, this is the second chapter of Ne Pleure Pas. It’s a Sci-fi story, not a fanfic (just clearing that up). Ok, I hope you enjoy it and comment on it. 😀


The alarm clock started ringing. It was 4:45 in the morning, time to get ready for work. I sighed; the monotony of it all was something I had yet to grow accustomed to. It was only a year ago that I was running for dear life, living the rush of never knowing if tomorrow I would be alive. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, pain inhibiting my senses, everything covered in red and the cold surface of steel. God, I miss those days.

Nowadays, I work a full-time job at a Call Center and study in the afternoons. It’s nothing too difficult, compared to where I worked before. Why is she still working for Kraft? They should have disbanded by now. She would be living with her parents; a quiet life.

My cellphone started ringing. An unknown number; someone truly wanted to bother me today.

“Hello, this is Richard.” I held the phone close to my ear, hoping to hear her voice once more.

“ExTS-00789, long time no see.” The voice replied.

“General McCain, I didn’t expect you to call me personally. To what do I owe this honor?”

“You know why I called you.”

“Don’t you have other lackeys to shove ar—“

“There is no one, they are all either dead or have deserted.”

“Well then, I guess I’m a deserter too.”

“You’re the closest and the best option we have, son.”

“Oh, I see. Now, after a year of silence, you send Charlotte to fetch me.”

“If things weren’t dire, we would have never even tried to call you back.”

“Well, find someone else—“

“You have twenty-four hours son, meet me across the street from where you work.”

The phone clicked. Damn him! He pops out of nowhere and demands me to return. I miss it, but I’m nobody’s lap dog.

Checking my drawer for that ‘thing’ I used a few months ago, I placed it inside my pocket and walked out of the apartment. The sun was not out yet. The trees swayed to and fro, battered by a cold early morning breeze. The moon was still out, peeking from a distance, as clouds streaked by. I still can’t believe it’s been a year now…


“Son, you’ve been selected to form part of a top secret experiment.” The man was probably in his mid-fifties, his face was well shaved, his gray hair was neatly trimmed and his eyes were adorned by the after effects of a lack of sleep.

“Or so I was told. What is it anyway? Is it my blood? Do I have something? Am I sick?” I asked. What did a military officer want with me if I was not a threat to the general public? I was probably infected with something and this is his way of saying that I’d be quarantined.

“Son, it’s not something in your blood, it’s something here.” He pointed at his head. “You’ve got something interesting inside your brain and we need it.”

“Are you going to cut me up?” I was growing uneasy.

“No, we are going to use your brainwaves to our advantage. There is something sick moving along the shadows. Something grotesque and dark, you’ll understand better if you see it yourself.” He stood and walked to the door. “Come with me, let’s meet experiment 0.”