Cara Mia Addio – 04 – Golden Stardust, It Falls on Thee


I’ve been absent for a while… Yeah, I know… but, here is something new! With exams looming over the horizon and homework still pouring in – the only way for me to have some quality time with my writing materials will be summer.



The wind, there was as no wind, there was no sound, no smell or taste or touch… It was bland, it was dark, it was silent; death was an uncomfortable peace. Miles, no, distance was a thing of the past, so was time. Human creations had no place in this inhuman realm. As soon as despair settled in, the darkness was shattered by a sudden burst of light. Matter zoomed in, like a hurricane force wind, as she was soon faced with a very familiar scenery. The tree, the sky, the rain and the lightening – they were all the same as before. Perplexed, she searched for a way out of her fear. Light bathed in crimson and violet, poured on her ‘body’. A warmth settled in, the scent was too much to take… it was blood. Not just any blood, her blood. Never in her wildest dreams had she smelled something so putrid and vile, coated in several layers of colors and lights – her blood was the only marker she could use to find him.


Somewhere in this town was someone who could help her, but how? Squinting, she saw what appeared to be a twinkling star. It was a small glimmer of hope, but that was all she had. Running past cars and rampant street cats, she saw it. That house, she knew whose it belong to. Stepping in through the front door, fazing in was more up her alley. Running up the stairs she saw that room – a tear fell from her eye. Her heart broke at the sight of him. Laying on the ground, crying, she could hear her name being called out; it was a whisper, no, more like a whimper, but she knew that feeling. The heart-wrenching desire to rest her forehead on his, like they did only a few weeks ago – or a few seconds, time had somehow faded from her mind.


The twinkle was as dim as it had been before, it was calling out to her. Looking inside the drawer, she saw it – a flip phone, her flip phone. Why was it shinning? She wasn’t carrying it with her when it all happened, nor had it been stained with any blood or anything of the such. Why would it twinkle when there was nothing of her body smeared or impregnated within that electronic device? She sat on the soft bed, though the impression of softness filled her body, the bed did not sink… she was weightless. As her fingers reached for the phone, the phone began to vibrate. Strange, it shouldn’t be on. The battery as missing, she made sure of it because that phone had been replaced with her new phone; unfortunately, the other phone had been left in the scene of the crime.


Thinking as to what she could do, where to go from here, she was hit with a great idea! Her other phone had been recording what was happening to her, she now remembered. She slid it underneath a crack in the floor. If it was still there, it would contain the voice recording and possibly video recording of everything that had happened that night. She needed to contact him, one way or the other. There was no way he’d play on a Ouija board, even if he did, the chances were pretty high of him contacting some old man from god-knows where rather than her. Could she call him on the phone?


Running to their family’s corded phone, she touched it. It rang. This mother picked up the phone, waiting for a replay. There was no reply on the phone, all that could be heard was static. So, it was a one way street… She could call them but they could not hear anything beyond static. She could not give up, she would not give up; this was all she had to rest in peace, or so she thought. All she knew was that somehow everything needed to be ship-shape before she could head on to the afterlife.




Later that night, she headed on to the cemetery, after finally giving up on making contact with a corded phone. Who knew being dead could be so inconvenient? Faced with an overwhelming curiosity, she set off to find her grave. On the edge of the cemetery, she saw a dark pillar of ash, fire and a dark mist pouring it’s acid clouds over the cemetery. Falling to the floor, the dark haze covered her. She could not believe it, on the tomb stone it read:

Here lays an innocent damsel, taken away by the claws of sin.

Farwell, rest in peace: Heidy Merriam Kerrigan.

Cara Mia Addio – 03 – Jade, Like Stagnant Water.


Okay, it’s been really quiet around here. The reason for the lack of activity is due to school (damn pre-calculus) but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about this place. Here we have part 3 of the short horror story.


“It’ll be okay.” The nurse grabbed a bottle and gave him a tiny pink pill. “Drink this; it’ll make you feel better.” Squinting to see what he held in his hand, she grabbed the cellphone. “You shouldn’t be carrying this inside the school compound.”

Pietro had heard those words so many times in the past year. Life had suddenly stopped; Earth’s rotation became as subtle as his very own life. “I promise I won’t do it again. Don’t take the cellphone.”

The nurse paused for a second, rolling her eyes she sighed. “All right, but don’t let me catch you with it again, kay’?”

He smiled, “Yes ma’am!”

Pietro had collapsed a few hours ago, in class. His face was tarnished with a stain of worry and fear. Who was she? Heidy is dead, that’s a fact as clear as the day. No sooner had the nurse left the room than the ‘ghost’ phone vibrated. It was a message:

…The heart that bleeds,

Nests amongst its branches.

Let night fall,

And awaken the sleeping beauty {Incomplete Message}.

Cold sweat fell down his cheeks; a message, no, a poem coming from a dead phone. Things did not only take a turn for the worse but he had no way out, no excuse to leave this issue behind. Looking outside through a small window, he wondered what would happen next. A poem huh? This is pretty easy, it’s actually my poem; that’s the scary part.

He knew the location all too well; it was a very special place. No sooner had he won his biggest gamble than he lost it all – such a cheesy way to fall. Could he tell Markus or Henri about it? No, he wouldn’t want to hear their skepticism or be the object of their pranks. Tonight would be the night, strange… It was partially cloudy today; maybe it’ll rain.


He sat beneath the old almond tree; Pietro knew what this was about. A few years ago, he had confessed his feelings to the person he had a crush on. It didn’t go well the first time around but after some careful planning, she fell for him. Now, as he gazed into its branches, he could see the bleeding hearts. They were a species of pigeons, and at the base of the trunk, vines wrapped around revealing their small golden-white nocturnal flowers. It was a truly majestic place, sadly enough; it was very lonely and cold.

The phone rang; he knew it was time.

“H-H-Hello?” He answered in a shaky tone of voice.

He could hear someone breathing on the other side of the call.

“Hello? I don’t know how you do it, or why you’re doing this, but I’m here… Wwwhat’s going on?”

“P… P… Pietro…” The signal was breaking up. “Hel… Help me…”

That voice, he knew who that person was. “Who are you? It can’t be you! I saw you… You’re not…”

“Please… Help… Me…” The static was subsiding, the voice was clearer.

“I want to admit it… I want to give in to your voice, but I don’t want it to be a cruel joke. Tell me something; prove to me that you’re who I think you are.”

“Abracadabra… Hocus-pocus…” The call was as clear as it could possibly be; they were the names of the roses he gave her on their first date.

“Heidy? Where are you? You’re dead!” Thunder roared as a lightening bolt zigzagged across the sky, lighting up the night. “I buried you.”

The first drops of rain pierced the thin veil of leaves.

“Please, help me go back to sleep…”

“How so? Are you still with us?”

“I am not at peace…” The night was enveloped in a loud downpour, mimicking the static in the call. “I want you to complete me, once more.”

The ensuing silence was hanging by a tread of doubt. “What do you want me to fetch?”

“Find my heart.”

“Find them? As macabre as the situation may be, that thing is inside someone…”

“Find it… My heart.”

Pietro bit his lower lip. “And how will I go about obtaining the heart?”

“We will know when we get there…”

“I’ll have to thin—”

“You’re the only one who can save me… Grab a red rose and bite one of its petals beneath this tree whenever you’re ready.” The call faded as the signal disappeared and the phone’s screen became darker than the night.

Biting a petal: an old and utterly childish afterimage of a promise; she has got to be kidding me if she thinks I can steal a heart. A leaf gave way as a cold shower fell upon him. Soaked in icy water, he shivered as his worries faded. Just how in the world could a person find a heart? That’s the idea that ran through is mind as he walked home in the middle of the night. He’d have to go to the scene of the crime and trace the killer’s steps to where the heart was… or he would find recent available heart donations online…

Cara Mia Addio – 02 – Sapphire, Like A Solemn Sky


Okay, part two of the horror story. It’s about to get weird.


She looked over her shoulder; there was nobody to be seen down the street. It was dark and gloomy, the sidewalk was very humid and moldy, and it had not stopped raining that whole week. Small puddles reflecting the light of the posts, her footsteps echoed in the silence of the night. High heels tapping against the hard concrete, she swore that someone was stalking her. Taking off her ring, bracelets and chains, she hid them inside her small black bag, as she rummaged for pepper spray.

Paranoia had settled in after she received text messages from someone pretending to her boyfriend, holding her hostage after a few pictures he took of her. Phone calls soon followed, with heavy breathing and a low snicker on the other end of the call. He was scared of the night and the only reason she was walking alone was because her friend was too drunk to drive her home and ‘the guys’ were getting crazy with the drinks. She hated getting in a ruckus, especially with those creeps.

She heard it again. Stopping in her tracks, she ran her fingers through her hair, tying it in a ponytail. How much would she take before it got to her; before she made a run for it? Crazy as it sounded, she couldn’t run. Panicking could make her stalker desperate and with that, aggressive. Turning around, all she could see were shadows; the shadows of trees, houses, lamp posts, and creatures that wander the night. Her heart was racing, she was scared. Images ran through her mind: rape, torture, assault and even death.

She had seen the news. There had been young ladies disappearing across town; the police were baffled. Her face was ravaged with terror, just what could a girl do? Desperation settled in: she was not about to lose her life in such a tasteless cul-de-sac. As she turned around, she felt it; someone was staring at her. Not wanting to turn around, she emerged from her own lie. There he was, probably a few centimeters taller than her, covered in black, face covered with a gas mask; she screamed. He grabbed her by the hair, as his arm wrapped around her waist.

A car pulled up. These men covered in radiation suits ran up to her as she kicked and struggled from her captors. Before she knew it, it all turned to black. What’s going on? Why can’t I move? My head, it hurts. She felt something warm trickling down her face. Slowly opening her eyes, she could barely see anything in this gloomy room. Four walls covered in moss and oxide, medical beds that lay in ruins and a floor whose carpet had turned into an ecosystem for fungus. The scent, a putrid scent, the scent of death, as she noticed a dead opossum on the corner of the room; her arms bound by a plastic-like material fastened around an old, rusty utility pipe.

Three barred windows to her left, shattered glass; a chilly breeze entered the room and with it, a slight drizzle. An old metal door to her left, no locks, no hinges, just a door – a common sight for any horror movie. The door opened, as a man in a medical scrub walked in. He was holding a large needle in one hand and what appeared to be a scalpel on the other. His lifeless blue eyes stared into her frightened greens; he had won this mental match. As the needle pierced her buttocks, a squeal escaped her; a weakened cry for help. The last thing she saw were his pearly whites revealing themselves with such delight.

Snapping out of her long sleep, she found herself cold. A bed beneath her body, cold straps on her arms and legs, bound and lost; this was it. The same man walked to a side of her bed. She noticed that a turquoise hospital gown had replaced her clothes. What did they do to me? Did they fondle me? Did they rape me? Are they about to torture me for fun?  He body was too drugged to shake in fear. She tried moving but her muscles would not respond.

“I see you are wide awake, my little sleeping beauty.” He grabbed a scalpel. “Do you know that this thing can cut through your muscles faster than you can say ‘minced meat’? It’s true, let me demonstrate.” He moved over to where her legs were. “This is what this baby can do.”

He sliced her ankles.

“Does it hurt? Of course it doesn’t, you’re pretty out of it.” Walking to a side, he uncovered her body, pressing the tip of the scalpel near her cleavage. “You’re a pretty lady, too bad we’ll sell you for parts. You could have made a nice whore but you have got some pricey items inside of you.”

He grabbed a bone saw.

“What’s beauty but a fading gift? I’ve seen what beauty looks like, well, real beauty. It’s red, sometimes pink or white, it’s covered in goo or mucus and it’s always so warm.” He smiled, as if he had won a medal for something. “I’m flattered that we could find a girl like you. So healthy, unlike women your age, nowadays – drinking, smoking, fucking… such a sad waste of a body but not you. You are so perfect. We’ll make big bucks with your ‘stuff’.”

Placing a breathing apparatus over her face, he injected her neck with something that she could only describe as unbearable pain. Her breathing became harder, he heart slowed down on its healthy pace and she fell into a deep sleep.


“I don’t believe you!” Henri was dying with laughter as Markus looked at him, menacingly. “Stop pulling my leg.”

“I swear to God, this thing was on! It had no battery, it had no power whatsoever and yet, it rang and I got a message.” Pietro continued. “It was scary! I didn’t sleep for shit… I’m telling you, something is trying to tell me something.”

“Pietro, it’s all too much for us to digest. Give us time to think about it and ease into the situation,” Markus replied.

There was nothing to ‘ease in’ in this situation, it was very simple: someone was calling him. It was pretty stupid to think he was being called from the other side, but there was no other explanation. Whosoever was calling him out, it better be good. Using Heidy’s cellphone was a pretty sucky move, even for a ghost. He missed her, she was his best friend. There was not a day that went by that he wished for a world where she was alive. The jokes they made, the fun times they had, the fights they endured; she was more than just a friend, she was a sister. He had even thought of her as a soul mate – a ridiculous concept, by the way.

Classes would not stop till after three, which was three hours away still. Looking outside the window, he saw the tree; a mango tree where he would play when he was little. Bellow it he saw a figure. Rubbing his eyes in disbelief, he saw her. Just as soon he spotted her; she turned around, disappearing in the blink of an eye. What’s going on inside my head?

Cara Mia Addio – 01 – Ruby, Like Tears of Blood


Okay guys, this is something that had been bothering me for the past weeks. This was going to be added on The Everlasting Rondo, novel that I wrote for Nanowrimo, but I scrapped it and turned it into a stand-alone project. What is it about? Well, it’s about someone trying to forget someone else but at a cost. You can never gain anything in life without sacrificing something else. Be warned, this is not a romance story… This is a terror/suspense story with a hint of romance but mostly tragedy.  Let’s see how far we go, okay?

By the way, just for the record, the name comes from a song I love. It’s from Portal 2, youtube it… It’s really good.


“He’s an asshole…” He wiggled his nose; the allergy season had started its daily torment on his poor soul. “I wish someone would kick his ass already!”

“Stop… Just don’t…” Markus dropped the backpack near his locker. Kneeling on the dust covered tile floor, he twisted the lock. “I keep forgetting my combination.”

Pietro looked around, sensing that the coast was clear, he opened his locker. Henri peeked into the dark, cold container that his buddy called a locker. His books fell from his hands, dropping on the hard, cold floor. Markus looked at both, suddenly stricken by a cold shiver that ran down his spine. He had never seen them so lifeless.

“What’s going on?” Markus peeked into the dark locker. “Is that what I think it is?” He covered his mouth.

“It can’t be…” Pietro grabbed it.

“Must be some sick joke from those bastards from class B.” Henri looked at all sides, no one was in sight. This was too big for someone to fit inside a locker without taking off the lock. A combination lock was far beyond what these meat heads could do. “On second thought, they are too dumb to even try to do something like this.”

“If it really is them, I’ll beat them to a pulp!” Markus growled, all the while, clenching his fists till his veins seemed as though they were about to pop out.

Holding it in his hands, trembling in fear and despair, Pietro placed it against his heart. Beating faster and faster, he was losing his sight of reality. This can’t be real. Someone must be playing a sick joke on me. I hate you all, I hate you all, I hate you all! Repeating over and over again, a voice echoed within the recesses of his mind. Someone gripped his shoulder, tightening as the pain made him jump.

“Calm down, you know it’s a trick. They are trying to get to you.” Henri was still looking for a sign of guilt in the faces of each passerby. “Go home man, sleep a while, drink a soda, and take it with you.”

“Yeah, think of it as closure.” Markus leaned over to grab his backpack, flinging it over his shoulder. “Better face the truth now than never.”

Grabbing the cracked glasses, he placed them inside his left pocket and walked alone to the front door. Dragging his feet on the ground, the blistering sun blinded his sight. The grass was looking dull, the trees were losing their healthy glow and the birds were gleefully bathing alongside a broken water pipe: summer was upon them. The heat emanating from the sidewalk coupled with the vapor rising from the asphalt; it wasn’t a pretty trip home. As he gazed at the small white house that was next to his, divided by a small wooden fence covered in dried-up roses, he felt his heart skip a beat. That sound, was he going mad? A familiar ringtone, a familiar buzz; someone was trying to make him lose his mind.

Grabbing his phone, he saw it. That familiar photo, that nostalgic sound, that unique name, and that familiar feeling that alienated his fear from the rest of his emotions… “Shit! Damn it!”

Slamming it on the ground, he smashed his shoe on the screen of the phone; shattering all hopes for his past to resurge from the ashes of his pain. Grabbing his head, he fell on his knees. Funny, he had tormenting his knees a lot these past weeks. Tears fell from his eyes. Strange, I don’t feel sad… I feel lost. He gazed up at the sun and shouted, “She is dead! Now, leave me alone!”


Crackling and shaking, something was rattling on top of the desk. A small desk near my bed covered in oxide and wood, it was pretty old and pretty unstable. Anything that would shake its equilibrium would crackle. As the peculiar sound awakened him, Pietro looked around, darkness enveloping his room. Still in a daze, he reached for his phone. The screen was cracked but above all, it was off, though the sound was not coming from his phone. Looking around, poking at the dusty table, he felt it. It was vibrating.

The idea hit him, there was no other phone, there was no other device; except for one. That device was permanently turned off. Reaching for it, he felt it.  Quickly removing his hand from it’ smooth surface, he tried again; it still continued vibrating. Taking a hold of it, he dropped it on his lap, covered by a soft, checkered blanket. Looking at it, it seemed like a normal pink, sticker-covered flip cellphone but to him, this was life.

He grabbed it, taking the back part off. It was as he had expected: there was no battery. He threw the phone over to a corner of the room. The silence of the room was shattered, once again, by the vibration. The phone continued vibrating, how was that even possible?

“Jesus Christ, I’m going insane,” he whispered in the darkness, “I’m really going bat-shit crazy.”

The phone stopped. The ensuing silence was quite odd. He sighed, sinking on his bed, covering his body in his bed sheet. Maybe, he was just dreaming and that was a bad dream; a nightmare that would haunt him some other time… but not tonight. He was adamant.

Closing his eyes, he heard it. The sound made chills run up his spine. That ringtone or better yet, the ringtone he had grown so accustomed to. Jumping off his bed, he ran to where the phone lay, flung it over to the bed and placed a pillow over the phone. Silence, sweet silence.

“What am I going to do with you? You’re not supposed to work… you have no battery, no power whatsoever.” Placing his left hand over his racing heart, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to run, with the mobile phone in hand, and send it flying over to the other side of the street. He couldn’t. “What do you want from me?”

The sound stopped. Reaching for the phone, underneath the pillow, he slowly pulled it out. Closing his eyes tightly, he flipped the phone open. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Gazing at a blue screen with a picture of two green eyes, his heart sunk; maybe even skipping a beat, he saw a missed call from the same phone. How could a phone place a call to its same number? That’s ridiculous. A message popped up, as the light electronic device escaped his weak grip.

A message, no title, no number, just a message; the peculiarities did not end there. The wallpaper faded into a black background, no color, no designs, just black. His trembling fingers pressed the button; the message popped out:


…F#r… A@ay…

Hel%… &e…


“What does this mean?” He tried scrolling down, but everything else was corrupted. It was a half-baked message that appeared in a phone with no battery and certainly no owner. He was lying, it did have an owner, but that’s where it all became difficult to believe. She had breathed her last, a few months ago, and this phone, along with the glasses, had been buried deep within his memories.