Black Pouring Despair

bleach_hollow_ichigo_mask_desktop_1024x768_hd-wallpaper-476851

Here is a small piece… It’s actually a follow up to Red Seeping Hope. This takes place during the same time but at a different location… Rather than a France under Nazi control, it’s a British Honduras under British control.

—————————————————————————-

Cement mix encrusted boots, heavy and cold, wet by the water flowing forth from an old green hose. The sun was at its highest, baking an earth echoing with the moans and groans of men and women. Sweat filled rivers running high, tension and blood running low. This is the home of the men who have yet to see the cruelties of the infested lands conquered by men with red bands and black crosses. Shivers and fear, the scent known to all men; a universal equalizer: the feeling of being emptied out at the sound of a loaded gun. Boots trotting amidst the dust covered roads, their faces pale, their eyes dull; the men of the north have come to find us.

 

A great wailing covers the land, like a mid-summer storm, it breeds both tranquility and fear. Adventurers looking for newer horizons, fighters seeking blood and lovers begging for a new beginning; these men brought home the answer. Faces hardened by night terrors, the men who had been at the edge of the world. Grandfather’s taken from their grandsons, husbands ruined and young men dragged away into a forced freedom fight. They make the coalition of the brave, yet no one longs for this life. Their sweat becomes one with the rain and cries, who is greater than God to save them this time?

 

Beyond a sapphire land, lies a home stained in a ruby-red glow, sharpened by forward-pushing emerald covered automatons wielding wooden clubs whose arrows pierce the early morning veil. A diamond covered night; a golden summer light, yet why does the cold still linger here? Cool, unyielding; the breath of the many who have been trampled by time and lead. Mother calls them demons, father calls them warriors, grandpa calls them his own and I know them as prisoners. Lest we remember their brave sacrifice, I fear time will only repeat itself. I know this to be true and hold this truth deep within my heart. I saw the men who wear scarlet arm bands, elephant faces and wooden bows of lead arrows; these men sought freedom and glory, my people sought food and money and our captors saw only liberty and justice.

 

There is a land to the north where the skies run dark, the night grows bright, stars fall from the sky and unto the land whose scorched dirt breaths only death and despair.  I know not of the red covered black cross or its idealistic superiority; neither do I see the red, white and blue stricken eagles fighting for our land… I see a jungle, with predators everywhere, and you, my love, a bunny running with regret. We see a calamity, yet, home is now but an ocean away.

Mayflowers and Summer Rain

water_ballet_by_langewong-d46vw11

A short for those who are aching to see something new.

————————————————–

The sunset is beautiful as the waves crash into the sea wall, spraying a light salty mist unto star-crossed lovers. She held on to his arm, as if destiny were trying to rip them apart, he smiled. Memories of yesterday still linger, ripping the insides of his cranium, rotting away his mind. In the end, she is the most precious thing to him, and losing her would mean the end of his world.

—<@

They met at an old farm, deep within the rural district. It was snowing yellow, as Mayflower petals fell from the trees. The soft breeze played with her short skirt while her hair gathered yellow. She kept plucking each flower blossom, hoping to gather enough to bring back home.

 

Standing on a small stool, trying to grab a hold of a low lying branch, she slipped. Echoes of silence, screams drowned by a mute reaction to the oblivious, she fell into his arms. Not tall, average, brown eyes, chocolate hair, soft hands yet colder than ice, his body supported her weight; gravity brought souls closer than destiny ever did.

 

A small shower, silvery-crystal clear drops falling upon yellow flakes, summer loves romance. They hid beneath the grand tree; its branches extending over them, protecting them under a false green roof. He embraced her, she huddled close to him. They said nothing, but time spoke on their behalf. For 157 days, they’ve smiled, laughed and talked, now their communication had transcended the need for words.

—<@

Now she stands close to him, the ocean spray gently filling her skin with tiny drops of salt and despair. Her tears were very much like the sea, yet very soon, she would forget this suffering. He gazed into her eyes, a distance that soon became nonexistent, lips caught up in the passion of the moment. Tears filled his eyes.

“I promised you freedom, and I will keep it.” He said, wiping away her tears.

“A fate crueler than death, I can’t call that freedom.” Passing her fingers through his hair, she smiled. “It’s torture. The cruelest form of torture.”

“I’m sorry, it’s time to wake up.”

She pulled away, but his grip was too strong. Crying she asked him to stop. He muttered something she was unable to make out… Everything turned dark. A deep mist that ravaged her past.

—<@

“Hello, are you here to admire the sea too?” A girl inquired, her small hazel eyes looked in astonishment at his tears. “Were you crying?”

“I’m sorry. I was going to meet someone here, she loved this spot.”

“I take it things didn’t work out?”

“No, they actually worked out the way I had planned.”

“How sad.”

“She said that the ocean painted a portrait of an endless sky, till the sun set.”

“Till the sun set?”

“Yes, because you then realize the ocean is just the reflection of the sky, a false disguise.”

“She reminds me of me. I hope she reconsiders.”

“I’ll miss her. Bye bye, Linda.”

 

The girl looked at him in amazement, as he walked away. How did he know her name was Linda?

Nanowrimo: Day 27!

1441541_10152130644014059_1875132085_n

Uffff, almost done… It’s going to be one hell of a ride…

———————————————————–

Her clothes were inside the drier. Joshua waited outside, hoping that what he had to wear would fit the slender figure of a girl. Julia walked out of the bathroom; it was strange seeing a girl with a shirt that said: “This is my rifle, this is my gun…” but then again, she didn’t get the pun.

 

Julia had made some hot chocolate while Joshua looked for something good to eat. A fruit salad was currently running atop his ‘what-should-we-eat’ ideas list. It was snowing outside. Julia called home, making some lame excuse as to why she would sleep with some friend. Her parents didn’t mind, Joshua’s… well that would be quite a conflict.

 

“Okay, so, let’s start…” He wrapped a blanket around his body. “What do you know about me?”

“Wait, you don’t know yet?” She replied.

“Urd told me a few things and others I was able to decipher on my own but beyond that… well… poof.”

“This story starts in the year 1918, I do not recall the town or the city, not even the county but the country was Spain. A young girl looked on at the sky, little starts shining overhead, glittering with hope and beauty. It was such a beautiful sight. Her mother was a school teacher, her father was an engineer and she was on her way to starting highschool… that is, till darkness swallowed the land. They called it the Spanish Flu.” She sipped some chocolate, whipping her lips, she continued. “In the blink of an eye, the young couple had been torn apart by this deadly affliction till only the girl remained. She was taken to a hospital, a place where the night was eternal. Seeing the outside light was a sin, just like the ailment she had. There, after being alone, still ravaged by the pain of losing her family, she met a boy.”

“That’s where my story comes in, right?”

“It’s actually where it ends… The girl spent most of her time with him. A thirteen year old girl had come to the realization that she would not live to see the stars, the fourteen year old boy pushed her onwards.”

“What happened to him?”

“It’s really blurry… He died. Fluids filled his lungs; his body bled profusely, his immune system failed. You could say it ‘crashed’ though the doctors had a bigger term for it. He died in her arms… She lost consciousness.”

“She died?”

“No, she just fell out of reality for a moment, the next thing she knew, her surroundings had changed. It was hell, but to the people outside, it was an incinerator.”

“She was burned?”

“Yeah… She struggled to find the boy that had made her happy. Digging through corpses… Do you know what that is like? Fingers touching the cold tissue of the dead, stained in blood, puss and fluids. Most of their bodies slowly filling up with gas, a horrible sight, not to mention the stench; but she ignored everything to find him.”

“Did she find him?”

“Yes and no… She found what was left of him: a body whose soul had left behind. She cried and cried, dragging him out of the incinerators, but the chamber was turned on before she could climb up.”

His heart skipped a beat. Someone deep inside him was crying. He didn’t know that part of the story and maybe it was for the best. Ignorance is bliss, after all. “The girl was burned alive…”

“Every last piece of her engulfed in an abysmal temperature. Seeing her beloved lighting up in flames, just as she closed her eyes; she breathed her last. It was a sad end.”

“So, where does our story begin?”

“Someone in heaven took pity of us and gave us an opportunity in another life. A limited amount of opportunities to keep an old promise.”

“What was the promise?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happens if we never find it?”

“We’ll be reborn again…”

Nanowrimo: Day 25!

1466226_499822276798939_1103599548_n

Okay, I am officially lagging behind… But I won’t lose! I’ve got three days to go! You can do it! 😀

————————————————-

She was kneeling on the floor; her body battered and bruised with scratches and gashes on her back. Joan tried getting on her feet, but her body had given out. Her clothes stained with red, soaked with sweat and tears. Her brother would never know what happened to her when the police find her. She thought she could take on a demon… she was wrong.

 

The three devils circled her, bound by scarlet strings, the demon was the puppeteer. Laughing at his pray he walked towards her, laughing loudly. Her blade lay on the floor, there wasn’t enough blood to create another one and her bones had become frail after a prolonged forceful regeneration of her weapon. If she even tried to make another sword, her bones might fail her, and a sudden anemic attack might be the end of her. The demon circled her; his pace became a short sprint. His extremities were covered in a black tar-like goo, and his face was dotted with screws; a horrifying sight.

 

She tried creating a blade, but all she could manage was a short knife before her left tibia broke. Falling to the floor, she was kicked by the demon. Joan tumbled a few feet from the spot, having broken three ribs. Holding on to her side, she could barely breathe. The devil dogs nibbled at her hands and feet, injuring her as she tried to free herself from their bites. The demon grabbed her by the hair, picking her up with no difficult. He sniffed it for a while, and sliced it with his long fingernails. Falling to the floors, she injured her wrist. Joan looked up at the sky and saw an image… it was a guy, he fell on top of his body; a man with a metallic bar stood behind him, panting and screaming, he had knocked him dead. Ioseph escaped her lips. Just as she was about to give up, a rain of arrows pierced the dogs.

 

“For the umpteenth time, my name is Francis.” He walked out of the shadows, bow raised at the sky. “This was a pretty stupid move on your part, but I can never be angry with you. You’re my sis and that means a lot to me.”

She forced a smile. Her face was bruised and scratched. “Ioseph? No… Kayleb?” She closed her eyes, trying to remember his name. “Alessandro?” A tear escaped her eye. “Francis… my brother.”

“Now, motherfucker… it’s just you and me. And I will make you regret ever setting foot in my town!” Francis pointed his arrow at the now frowning demon. A hint of madness? It was a demon; evil was his madness.

 

Prancing about, he ripped out the throat of one of the demons and clothed himself with its fur. Jumping atop another dog, he rode him for a while. The other dog lay on the ground, motionless, pierced by the vast majority of arrows he had fired at them. Demon? More like madman.

 

“Are you going to evade me or is this all you’ve got?” Francis fired a few arrows at him.

“A human telling me what to do? Pathetic, utterly and joyfully pathetic.” He replied. A full set of sharp teeth drawn from that trap he called a mouth. “I find pleasure in making you suffer… I don’t kill.”

“Joyfully pathetic? I see your stupidity knows no bounds.”

“Son of Adam… As naïve as ever.”

Francis fired a few warning shots. “Leave before I kill you.”

“Kill me.”

“I will.”

“Then shoot me.”

An arrow pierced the head of the dog beneath him; toppling with the creature. “That was only a warning.”

 

A large pool of tar slowly enveloped the ground beneath Francis. It was solid, unlike its natural counterpart, yet it felt as if it was alive. Hands started popping out, desperately trying to grab a hold of Francis’ body. He didn’t flinch; his eyes were set on the demon.

 

Aiming his bow, he fired. The arrow pierced the demon’s skull.

 

“That wasn’t enough to kill you but it will be enough to stop you.” He smiled as the tar seeping into the ground, once again. “It wasn’t made with my blood, that special little baby was made from holy water and a cloned saint’s blood. Eat that, you asshole.”

 

The demon opened its mouth and spewed hot lava with a large wave of flames. The flames took the shape of a buffalo stampede. Lowering his bow, Francis closed his eyes; ready to face his demise. As everything got hotter around him, a rain of snow plundered the battlefield. Large bone-like spears pierced every part of the demon’s body.

 

Francis’ mother walked up to him as his father carried Joan in his arms.

Zero Hour

Commie-Guilty-Crown-00-Lost-Christmas-D533E298.mkv_snapshot_07.37_2012.08.02_12.39.06

A short story… Might use it in a future work of fiction.

——————————————————————–

 

<— Experiment 009 —>

 

The pain was unbearably, as he sat close to a freezer inside an old abandoned Wal-Mart store. The smell of ‘clean’ fresh cool air was something he had been missing for the past three days. His head was heavy, his muscles ached, his body was pretty banged up; things had gone from bad to worse, it appears.

 

He traced along the reddened-inflamed edges of his ‘wound’. Staples and sutures, it was all bound with mechanical precision. It hurt; a deep burning sensation within the flesh as his insides wriggled, churned and irradiated pain. Traces of blood stained his white shirt, something he had scavenged a few minutes ago. Something was not right.

 

Last thing he remembers was going to a party. Things got blurry after that. The streets are empty, where is everyone? For how long had he been out? The hospital he had come out of was empty too, save for a few loud banging here and there. Bloody stains filled the walls and pools of coagulated fluids filled the floor. Wal-Mart was no exception to the bloodbath that had transpired.

 

He picked up a Lipton Ice Tea bottle and slowly pressed the large cut that ran down from his neck to his lower intestines. It provided some relief, but what he needed now was to take a few painkillers and something to eat, before that. Images of a zombie invasion or aliens with tendrils ripping people apart came to mind; too many late-night movies and not enough to do in the apartment.

 

He sniffed, it was an intoxicating fragrance. The sort of fragrance that would make you drive for miles till you had some, or the sort of smell that gets you aroused if the girl next to you tries to wink at you.What is this feeling? Is it hunger? Do I need to eat or is it desire; do I need to have it?

 

A girl walked in, she seemed pretty lost, searching each isle for something. He dragged my weakened body and hit behind the counter, sneaking a peak. Her hair was short, very short, the type he’d never date, jet-black, like someone rubbed charcoal on it, tight jeans pants, what appears to be a leather jacket around her body and… a shotgun?I’ve played those games before, she’s gonna try and use my body for food or something.

 

Too scared to eat or to flee, he stooped low. As she came nearer to my position, he could admire her body. The girl was tall, probably taller than him, not bad for a heartless cannibal.I love tall girls. Trying to move around, he stepped on some aluminum foil. She immediately turned around and shot, he ran for it. The pain had disappeared, in-fact, he felt so full of energy and strength.

 

Admiring this new found physical state, he hadn’t realized that she had prepared an ambush. His last moments were pretty darn impressive, jumping in-front of her as the shot gun fired at point blank range straight into his chest. He was flung a few feet from her location. His heart stopped beating.

 

<— Alexia —>

 

Holding the shotgun tightly in her hands, she couldn’t stop from trembling; another close call from those monstrosities. It’s been a month since they appeared: creatures from nightmares that consume the human population. She marveled at this one, though. He was around her age, his skin was not yet decomposed, his teeth were normal, not like a sharks at all, and the huge gash running down his body seemed pretty old. The clamps were encrusted with old blood stains.

 

“I’m so sorry but I pray you will be in God’s mercy today.” She genuflected. “Please forgive me; I only did it to protect myself.”

 

His body started shaking.Isn’t he dead?They need to lose enough blood to die, yet his wounds were healing. His veins became prominent on the surface of his skin, the large gash healed in an instant, burning through the clamps and sutures. He suddenly opened his eyes; they were golden, unlike the green hue she had grown accustomed to. She didn’t know if shooting was a right option.Point blank didn’t kill him, then what will?

 

“Stand back, I can smell them.” His words distorted by the loud growling of other creatures. “Hide behind the counter and cling well to that gun.”

She ran, jumping over the counter. “Who or what are you?”

“I don’t remember, but I feel my body knows.”

 

His legs became inverted, like legs of a chicken; his skin became silvery like steel, reflecting the artificial light from the roof fixtures. His toes fused into a single appendage. Two large blades sprouted from the heel of his feet and an even large blade sprouted from where his toes should have been. He ran straight for them. She peeked from the counter.

 

She saw something beyond what she had come to terms with: he moved at blinding speeds, creating the sound of a horse’s gallop, swinging his feet in mid-air, chopping their limps and finalizing with a high jump kick, slicing their heads clean off their shoulders. He had reflexes of a cat but those blades were as sharp as a scalpel.

 

As soon as he had finished the monsters off, bullets rained from outside the windows. Soldiers? Yes, five of them! The boy gazed at them as the bullets found their home within his body. After the barrage had ended, his body spit out each bullet. His healing rate was ridiculously high! Letting out a piercing scream, his left arm was ripped apart by five silvery tendrils that sprouted from deep within his shoulder. Jumping at the soldiers, his ‘organic’ knives pierced all five soldiers at once. She hid once again deep within the counter.

 

“I hope he doesn’t do that to me.” She whispered to herself. “What is he? He kills Menos and people.” Peeking again, he had disappeared.

 

A loud scream pierced the silence once more.

 

“Oh God, who is he after now?” Peaking again, she let out a loud scream. She gazed into the eyes of the being. “Don’t kill me. I have three little sisters, two cats and a dog I need to take care of.” She whimpered.

 

He neared her, smelling her hair, sniffing around her neck and cleavage.

 

“Please, you can do whatever you want, just let me live. I need to get back to them. They need me, and I can’t live without them.” Tears fell from her eyes. He grabbed his head, shaking violently for a few second and fell on the floor. His body reverted to its normal state. “Thank you.”

 

He didn’t respond.

 

She slowly tapped him on the shoulder and still he wouldn’t react. “Wait, am I going to have to drag your ass all the way to my house?” Gazing at the clock, it was seven minutes past six, the sun was about to set soon. “Bloody great, you know, you should have stayed like that… Mr. I’m-scary-but-then-I-fall-and-became-a-big-wimp! Damn it…”

Nanowrimo: Day 23.9!

1381440_10151924392244594_1619002073_n

Okay, here’s another piece. Like before, there are tons of grammar mistakes but as a Nanowrimoer, there is no looking back and just write on till the time is up. Remember, this is for my novel: The Everlasting Rondo.

————————————————————————————-

Turning around and round, he swung her with a might force, tossing her up into the air. She spun around till she grabbed on to the roof. Steading her pace, she walked up to the tiny creature. A small blob, or that’s what she wanted to call him, with three large gems for eyes and a mouth filled with diamond-like teeth. Staring at the creature, it hissed. She smiled and hissed back. The creature giggled its eyes, shifting it along its gooey purple body, and hissing back. She did the same, hissing at it, all the while lifting her arms.

 

She tried not to get distracted; little devils were difficult to deal with. She opened her mouth wide, lifting her arms even higher, all the while hissing at it. The creature swelled up to a size twice her own and opened its mouth filled with sharp teeth. Gobbling her whole, the creature turned around and smiled.

 

“Joan! Joan! Stop teasing and slay it!” Francis shouted from over the sidewalk. “That creature uses sleeping gas to keep its prey from escaping its body!”

 

A large white blade pierced through the top of the creature, slicing it right through the middle. A large cloud of purple gas escaped, turning the creature into a pile of ooze. She slid down the roof and into Francis’ arms, both falling on the concrete. Sticky and smelly, her body was covered in goo.

 

“There are devils that can’t be played with…” piggybacked her all the way home. Then night was dark, the moon had been hidden way from their sight by darkened clouds. “It’s going to rain soon.”

“Brother… I feel so sleepy and numb… Talk to me, I’ll just take a little nap…” Joan replied. Her eyes slowly closing, her arms became lighter. “You’re… quiet.” She yawned.

“You play around too much. That thing is small but it’s very capable of swallowing us whole.”

She neared her face to him. It was warm, too warm; she had always been warm even when she was scared to the core. There was no other reason for her to use her ‘gift’. “But… I have you.”

“Perfect excuse, no?” He sighed, but still, she was his sister. He couldn’t stay angry with her for long.

 

Francis tiptoed to their rooms and placed her on the top bunk. A bunk bed, how quaint, he thought to himself. He kissed her forehead as she turned around and got a hold of her stuffed penguin.  He climbed down and lay on his bed, unable to sleep. Twenty devils in a week, things were getting pretty hectic. He even considered the thought of going out hunting without his sister. God know what would happen to him if she received any sort of injury from hunting devils. Their parent’s would bury him alive. He wasn’t crazy enough to deal with them, especially their mother.

 

Saying his final prayers, he turned around and hugged his pillow. What would happen if she injured herself in some hunting expedition? A big brother’s job was to keep their younger siblings safe, even if he was older only for a few seconds.

Nanowrimo: Day 23!

0_4af90_b2984a6d_orig

I’ve been somewhat late on my posts… but don’t worry. I’m back! 😀 Here is another fragment of the Nanowrimo story… no edits, just a bunch of mistakes on every level.

—————————————————————————

Geraldine’s body lay on the floor; her head tumbled to a side as someone kicked it against the wall. He was tall, his body covered in bulletproof wear, his face hidden behind an iron mask and a large hammer held with both hands. He neared them, grabbing Patricia and tossing her to a side. His boot pinned Alessandro’s neck to the ground, as he readied his hammer to smash his victim’s head into pieces. “Isn’t… Isn’t a hammer… too loud?”

“I’m a sucker for the dramatics, now squeal like a pig.”

“Knock, knock…” Alessandro replied. “Knock, knock, haven’t you ever played this game? Indulge me for once, Victor.”

He grinned. “I guess the hunter can provide his prey with such privileges.” Readying his hammer, he replied, “Who’s there?”

“Soul…”

He flinched. This was stupid. “Soul? Who the fuck is soul?”

“The guy… that left you with a great big hole.” Pointing at him, with his fingers folded like a gun, he added. “Bang, bang, you’re dead.”

“You stupid little…” A loud bang blasted his head right off his very own shoulders. On the other side of the barrel was Patricia, back against the wall, holding the spear with both hands.

“Well done, Pat.”

“How did you know that he’d play knock, knock?”

“He was my best friend… I knew he’d play knock, knock.”

She helped him up, noticing his back was pierced with many glass shards. Alessandro dropped both guns and his jacket. “If we get out of here alive, you must go out with me on a date.”

“Let’s get out of here alive and then I’ll think about it.” Patricia kissed his cheek. “But, I’m keeping the mask.”

“If you could have children, how would you name them?”

She smiled and without giving it a second thought she replied, “Alexander and Anastasia.”

“I’ll make it happen…”

>—–<

                Snow had fallen the night before; Patricia held her pillows close to her cold body. She hated the cold; somehow it made her feel lonely and so vulnerable. Her husband had gone off to work. Staring at the ceiling, she remembered what had transpired thirty years ago. It felt as if it was just yesterday that she was running for her life. She still holds a piece of glass as a memento of that event.

The phone started ringing. She leaned over to the phone and answered. “Hello, Pastore residence, how can I help you?”

“Honey! We found it!” An overwhelming feeling of joy empowered her.

“What do you mean, we found it?”

“You’re going to become a mother!”

A tear ran down her cheek. After so many years of planning and preparing, it was coming to past. Now, all they could do was to wait and see what the future would bring for them. On a side, next to the telephone, there lay a map with a small Central American colony highlighted in red: British Honduras.