Nuclear Winter

A short love story? I’m not sure. I did enjoy writing this piece. As always, this has not been edited so it’s filled with mistakes. You have been warned.


Waving crashing on the road leading to the nearest town, tiny stars glimmering in the darkness of the night sky; mother was right – this was truly the best time to mend a broken heart. The leaves on the apple tree, rustling as a gentle breeze caressed its silky texture; slightly undulating grass blades bowing before the breeze, glistering underneath the sandy shores of the aether. Sliding his hands out of his pocket, he struck the ground with his pocket knife; holding his breath, he let out a long sigh. A light haze sprang forth from his mouth; his mind wandered into the past as it materialized into a voice. “Hope, Hope, Hope” it whispered. A warmth touched his shoulder as he turned around. Nothing. It was a warmth long gone.

Sirens off shore, echoing in the distance; he tried to listen to its warning. It sang of an impending danger, it sang of an uncertain future but most of all… it sang of a long forgotten past. As a small firecracker set off, his instincts sprang forth. Turning around, grabbing a hold of his knife, he saw her: dressed in a striped, long, flowing dress, she grabbed a hold of her sun hat. He could barely distinguish her face amidst the darkness but it was that scent. It was the way she moved. It was the way she held her bag. It was her intoxicating spirit that called to him.

She stopped a few steps away from him, taking off her hat. A powerful wind threw her off balance as he sprang towards her, holding her side. She looked up at his face, gazing at his eyes; he smiled back as his flustered face tried not to waver.

“Do you always hold on so gently?” She asked, grabbing her long dark hair as it covered her face. Holding it with one hand, her lips formed a smile, “I remembered you were the clumsy one.”

Holding on to her, he grabbed her hands, helping her to her feet. “You didn’t stay long enough to find out, Hope.”

Hope turned away, looking at the road as it snaked its way along the sea. Waves crashing on the road, agitated, scared; something had intimidated Poseidon. She remembered almost as it was yesterday: she was standing in this same spot, holding her weight against its rough surface. It was cold, no, it was freezing. She couldn’t feel her finger tips or her legs. Her breath raising through the echoes of a feast. Firecrackers and booze; it all clouded her judgment. Hope couldn’t remember what words came out of her mouth but she knew what they meant.

“It was my fault… all of it,” she held the tips of her fingers, it wasn’t cold. “Francis, it was entirely my fault,” tears fell down her cheeks, “it’s funny how I’m still crying at he same old spot.”

Francis looked down at the road, the same road he traversed twelve years ago. He was young and fooling; madly in love with a young woman as foolish as he was. He walked that cold road, barefooted, as waves crashed and water splashed before him. Feet wet, pants soaked; he trembled from cold’s frigid embrace. A cigarette in his right hand, it’s fire had long since been dozed by the salty spray. He remembered being so disheartened, so ashamed of himself. How he begged and cried but not even God listened. Words that still echo in his head – don’t chase that which you can never obtain.

“You seemed pretty happy at that time.” He said. “I guess love’s never really been a solution to anything.”

“The next day, you left without saying goodbye.” Hope replied.

“I didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to.”

“You had me.”

“I had nobody.”

“I waited for you here, I asked you to stay.”

“I asked you to come with me, that’s why I never came.”

Francis remembered looking out his window and seeing her standing beneath the same tree, crying. He knew it was for the best. He knew Hope was a pillar that would soon collapse upon him. Smiling, Hope looked at the carving on the tree’s bark, caressing the shape and the initials inscribed within it. Francis knew he’d only have one last chance.

“Francis, isn’t th-” Hope’s lips made full contact with Francis’ cold lips. As cold became consumed by the warmth, she held him in her arms, slowly sliding the tips of her fingers along his back as he caressed her sides down to her buttocks. Her eyes reflected the stars in the darkness of oblivion as she became hypnotized by a bright light. Looking back, Francis gazed at the horizon as it light up in a spectacular golden hue. Several bright spheres of light slowly falling down the earth, farther away from the mainland.

“What do you think that is?” She whispered.

“Not a clue.” Francis replied.

The sirens sounded in the distance, as he finally understood why they rang. Bright red flares rose from the mainland as sirens soon invaded the silence of the night. The surrounding towns and cities contaminating the night with their desperate plea for help. Flare rose from even closer settlements. The siren from their hometown shattered the remaining silence as flares rose from the town hall.

“What’s going on?” Hope held on tightly to Francis’ arm, “Is something the matter?” She looked up at Francis’ face, he had grown pale as the bright red light illuminated his face.

Large explosions were heard on the distance as a bright flash engulfed the nearby city. A bright dust cloud came rushing over the water as the sea receded. Throwing Hope into the ground, he kissed her forehead one last time as the light consumed them both.


“And then what happened?” A small child’s voice whispered into her old ears, “Did they survive?”

“That is a story for another night, okay?” She replied.

“But, if the nukes fell sixty years ago, then… they must be old right now.”

A young woman walked into the room, holding a small pillow. “Honey, go to sleep. Your grandmother’s tired, she needs her medicine.”

“Okay…” The little girl muttered.

“I’ll continue tomorrow, okay?” Her grandmother reassured her. “After all, not even fire could keep this strong body down.”

The Smog

Okay, here you go. A new short piece. As always, it’s unedited… you’ve been warned.


There was a light in the distance, amidst the dense fog. Her footsteps echoed as she made her way across the street. Whispers, voices called her name; beckoning to get closer – she hurriedly made her way to the bus stop.  The air was still. Her skirt swayed to her movements of her long slender legs. High heels tapping on the surface of a pavemented street; checking her watch, it was still too early for the sun to come out.

The voices kept on calling her name. Vivian, Vivian, Vivian, they whispered as each time they grew louder and more violent. Faces formed in the mist, speaking words she could not understand. They coughed embers with each passing. Holding on to her coat, she sped up towards the light. As it came closer, the bus stop was beneath it. A small lamp post illuminated the tiny bus stop. Three brown moths encircled the light, tapping with their large wings, the plastic covering. Small faces on the moths’ abdomen grinned with a sadistic smile as their eyes glowed in a sinister crimson light.

A tap on the thin metallic sheet that covered her head, a tap on the ground; the scent of rain overwhelmed her. As rain showered the hidden street, she could see the flashes of lightning surrounding her, outlasting the now flickering light of the lamp post. More moths had gathered around the light, as the mist engulfed her.

Her phone rang; she took out it out of her small pink bag. It was the alarm, five thirty in the morning: she was going to be late. Out in the distance, two head lights dimly came into view. She walked to the door, still closed, foggy and nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the vehicle. Knocking on the cold glass, as tiny crystalline drops slid down the window, it opened. The driver greeted her as he took off his bright red hat. Long, unkempt beard, covered in grey hairs and white; sweaty face, sprinkled with sweat draining down his nose. Taking out her bus card, the machine beeped, as she walked down the empty isle to the back.

Wiping the fog from the window, she could barely see outside. The bus stop disappeared a few feet from the bus. As she gazed outside, staring at the dim lights that zipped past them, a face appeared before her. Sliding to the seat next to her, the image dissipated with the cold breeze, as five months held on to the window. Their faces glowing, nibbling at the window; she looked at the bus driver as he stared at her through the rear view mirror, “you must be new here,” he said.

Haven – 01

So, it’s been a while since I posted anything on this blog. I might be a little rusty, feel free to comment and/or reprimand me. Okay, as always, it’s unedited and I’m not sure how long I’ll stretch this story… so, enjoy while it runs.



Sunlight shone on my face, disturbing my sleep. I slowly opened my eyes as the window darkened. The constant hum of the vehicle was as seductive as the comfy bed I had left behind. Grabbing a hold of the seat, I pushed myself in an upright position. The radio was low, humming a few tunes I could barely recognize. Janet looked back and smiled, holding a small plastic cup in her hands.

“Take this, it’s pretty strong,” she leaned to a side and took out another cup.

As the warmth of the small black cup seeped into my skin, I took a small sip. “How long was I out?”

“For about an hour or so, I wasn’t expecting for traffic to be this troublesome.”

The coffee lacked sugar but it was good. We had stalled at the very entrance, right after the Belize Bridge; traffic was terrible. Monday mornings were the worst time for anybody to be stuck in traffic. The street drowned in grey smog with echoes of car horns and paperboys going from window to window, in an attempt to make a sale.

I looked at my cellphone; it was ten in the morning.  “Aren’t we running a little late?”

“You start at twelve, Richard and I need to be there by eleven,” Janet didn’t seem the least bit worried. “But, we’ve got a pretty good excuse and Richard is in-charge of the project.”

“So, you’ve got more liberties than what you should really have.” I lay back on the seat. It was soft, smooth, with slight warmth still lingering on its surface. “By the way, is it the same smart polymer you’ve been working on?”

Janet glanced at Richard. Richard smiled, “don’t worry honey; the information had already been leaked. At this very moment, there is nothing more we can do, besides, he’s going to be a part of the research staff.”

I stretched my arms and sat upright, “I swear I didn’t leak any information.”

“We know you didn’t,” Janet smiled back at me. “We are being cautious about who we trust. Oh, I almost forgot to ask you, how’s Carol?”

“Carol’s fine. I didn’t want to leave her but I needed the money to finish my studies.” Gazing at the walls on the horizon, the highway was surprisingly empty. “I can’t have her worrying about me.”

“So, what are you studying?” Richard looked over from the real-view mirror.

“I’m trying to get a degree in Pharmacogenomics.”

“That’s great; I have a degree in genetics and evolutionary genetics, among other degrees I’ve picked up along the way.” Richard had this strong assertive voice, as if he was in command and would always be in command. It bugged me a little.

Taking a left turn, we parted ways with the highway and entered an enclosed region. The narrow road was wide enough for trucks to go through, with both sides surrounded by tall light-grey walls with the company logo. Ahead in the distance, a large gate came into view. Q3corp, the three was inverted, all in red, with three hexagonal structures in the background.  The doors were a few inches thick, possibly concrete and steel; it’s a pretty well secured research lab.

The slow creaking of the bolts rotating and locking in place, the sound of the air being pushed out of the structure and the wall being shut tight behind us; it was scary, I had a really bad feeling about this.

“This place is really uptight about their security, aren’t they? What exactly do you guys do?” I looked back at the guards standing in front of the gate – they were not unlike soldiers or a riot squad.

“Here we research anything of importance to the human race – from polymers to tissue, from medications to biodegradable glass, we have it all,” Janet took out her identification card from the small black purse, “we are not bound by limits since we have so much to offer the outside world.”

“Let me put it this way, Mike: we do the stuff that makes the world go round – we are pioneers on the brink of new discoveries.” Taking a sip from this coffee, Richard continued, “those phagocytes that we announced, that’s a medical discovery. To use a virus that eats bacteria to eliminate infections? That’s a masterpiece in itself. That is who we are.”

“But we aren’t expecting the other companies to come rushing in with battle tanks and mortars, are we? These security measures seem a little excessive don’t you—“I was promptly interrupted by Janet.

“We’re here! Grab your identification card and come with me… we need to disinfect you, thoroughly.”

Disinfection? What was she talking about? We were still in what appeared to be the outer courtyard. I opened the door and as I stepped outside of the vehicle, the ground crackled beneath my shoe. The gravel, like a harsh coarse pillow, scrapped and rocked with each step. The sun was high on the blue sky, an ocean above our heads with not a cloud in sight – a gentle breeze flooded the ground as Richard parted ways and into the first building. The structured were all plane white, with big black numbers and letters to identify them. The T-8 building stood before us, as the car reversed and drove past us. Janet led me to a small parking lot where small vehicles, similar to golf-carts, were parked.

“Where are we headed? I see these buildings are all marked but why is the T-8 building the first one beyond the gate?” I leaned forward, as Janet slowly drove the cart. “Is there an order to these labs or are they even labs?”

“The first letter defines what exactly goes on inside: T for Testing, R for Research, E for Experiments and P for production. You’re headed over to the P-3 building.” Janet made a few turns and moved into through two other gates. “The whole facility is divided by four different walls, with the first wall being the outside wall and the other three dividing the inside… like a mitochondria.”

“Or a eukaryotic cell…” Correcting her made me feel as if I wasn’t so useless after all. She was a research scientist; I was here just to help with production.

We stopped on the first gate: G-2. We parked next to a few other carts, similar in shape but differently colored. Taking a step inside, the door locked behind us, a red light shone on us as the room became flooded with a gas. “This is for disinfection, it might not be much since we’re stepping outside again but we want to ensure that the only pathogens that you have are ours.”

“That sounds pretty ominous.” I whispered.

“Did you say something?” She replied, swiping her card. The door opened.

“No, nothing, just admiring how strict the security is around here.”

“A few things can come in but nothing comes out without our approval,” her eyes twinkled as she said that.


                The P-3 building was a five story building, white and non-characteristic on the outside, but on the inside it was brimming with activity. Everyone covered from head to toe: masks, goggles, gloves, and what appeared to be light blue surgical bonnets that covered everything except their face. As I stepped inside a room lit with ultraviolet light, a soft muffled voice asked me to step over to a small metallic plate.

“Please look up at the sensor, it’s that small red light directly in front of you,” his voice was so soft; I could swear he was whispering.

A laser beam scanned my body. “I’m not going to turn into the hulk or am I?” I snickered; he didn’t.

“Brace yourself, gas treatment in 3, 2, 1-“his voice was interrupted by the outburst of gas jets battering my body. “Disinfection complete, step outside.”

A door opened to my left.

“Please follow me; we’ll get you everything you need.” A young lady, much younger than me, guided my through the maze. She was just as tall as I was, feeling a bit intimidated myself, and her eyes were perfect blue, like the deepest part of the ocean; strong and piercing, she grabbed a coat and a few other items. “Put these on, you’ll be briefed in a while. Please ensure that everything fits and is secure.”

Everything fit, everything was secure but what’s with the extreme measures? What exactly are we dealing with? The lady came back, portfolio in hand; she grabbed a test tube and hung it next to the light.

“Phagocytes, Mr. Guerra, these are tiny bacteria-eaters that will revolutionize the world. In this lab we denature them and keep them in a “dormant” state, if you want to call it that,” she fixed her glasses, pushing them closer to her eyes, “these are active… once spill could put your life in grave danger.”

“Intestinal flora, right?” I examined the test tube.

“That’s just the start…”


                The day had been pretty rough, transferring phages from vacuum sealed tubes and “inactivating” them. It wasn’t as stressful as I thought it would be but the risk and danger of it all kept me on my toes. After the final checkup, I walked out of the G-2 and into the night. It was around eight thirty pm. The shadows of the buildings cast upon the small paved sidewalks, dispelled by tiny led lights, hung solemnly over the ground. It wasn’t uncommon to see a guard patrolling but it seemed that security grew tighter in the late hours of the day.

I became lost amidst the maze. Everywhere I went, not a sign of the G-1. To my dismay, there were no guards here. Everything was so empty, abandoned… it was creepy and a perfect setting for one of those serial killer movies. The gravel cracked beneath my shoe, I had abandoned the sidewalk, crossing over to the wall. Maybe if I follow the wall, it’ll lead me to the gate? It was worth a shot. Small shrubbery neatly planted in a row, one after the other, cut in tiny cubes; they were my only companions. Finally, after half an hour of walking, a gate game into view – G-5. G-5? I don’t remember hearing about a G-5. The front gate was G-1, with the inside being divided into three sectors, G-2 through 4, where does that leave 5? I took out my phone; it was nearly out of battery. Searching through the virtual map, it was directly connected to the network yet there were no signs of a G-5. That was pretty strange. Had I been following the wrong map?

Upon reaching the gate, the door was lit. I pressed the button and the door slid open. The inside was active but nobody was there at the control panel. A red light engulfed the room, that wasn’t normal. Was it malfunctioning? As I was about to step inside, a guard spotted me and walked towards me; he didn’t look to happy.

“Sir, did you know that’s a restricted zone?” He was well on his fifties, a shaggy beard and bags under his eyes. “You’re not authorized to enter this place.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know there was a G-5, I was looking for G-1. I’m lost,” as I quickly took a step back, the door slid shut. “It’s my first day of work.”

He inspected my ID and my phone. After confirming what I had said, he escorted me to G-1. Along the way he told me stories about how that place had been abandoned after an accident.

“There was a spill or something, people died!” His voice grew darker. “They say that every night, you can hear the cries of the people who died in there… their souls never parted from that place.”

“You can’t believe that… I’m not much of a believer myself but I don’t believe in ghosts.” I looked away, staring at the bioluminescent plants.

“No son, I have a few friends who patron on the other side of the gate. They say that sometimes the screaming becomes so unbearable and just as quickly as it started, it ends,” he whispered. “They lose three guards by the end of the month… three out of the five that usually patrol.”

“Three out of five? That means that two of them are veterans.”

“Old man Patrick and a youngster by the name of Jeffry. They’ve outlasted everyone.”

Leaving the place seemed like the best idea. Ghosts? Not really… Or was it? That night, I could barely sleep, their voices echoing in my head. Were there really ghosts on the other side of G-5?

The Village Standing on God’s Feet – 00


This is a new project! 😀 Finally, in a very long time! As alwasy, I don’t edit this stuff so Grammar Nazis beware.


A single ray of light seeping through the ill-arranged pieces of wood that barely held together a roof; the wind was blowing with a peculiar ferocity, as it had done for many days now. Birds chirping away at the sight of a barren landscape sparsely dotted with trees – now overwhelmed with weeds faithfully growing on the cracked, dusty ground. He got up from the hammock that slowly swung to and fro, as a loud creak shook the very foundation of the room.  It was pretty early in the morning, rain had yet to fall. Large nets, hung overnight for any surprise midnight showers, were slowly unwound and dragged inside rickety old homes. The village survived another day, but for how long? They probably won’t be able to see another day – it was looking bleak for the village standing at the feet of god.

With mechanical precision, he fixed the torn rope and dropped the small wooden containers inside the well. A loud thumb signaled a hardened, empty bottom. Water had become an expensive resource. The only thing that had kept him alive for so long was extracting liquid from the large, prickly vegetation that grew in abundance in the surrounding areas. Grabbing a hold of a large net and a small machete, he placed his old sandals on his feet and slowly walked towards the east, were the sun had come out. Life had been easier in the past, life had been simple: survival was within everyone’s grasp. Three years after his mother’s death, everything went downhill.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he looked up at the clear sky: not a single cloud in sight. Beyond that ominous blue color was the mountain of God. The shadow of the mountain protected them from many disasters, unlike most of their neighbors. God had favored them, so, it was only reasonable that He’d never let them die. Looking past its rocky base stood a dome of light – the realm of the Creator, or so the old people used to say. His hand covered in blisters, a slender needle protruding from his thumb and scars of olden injuries. Hard and coarse, his hands lay testament to a difficult past. Wiping, once again, the buildup of sweat on his face, he swung his machete at the base of the plant, flinging needles in every direction, seeing it fall on its side. A viscous, clear fluid oozed from its base – that was his elixir of life.

A Cut That Will Not Bleed


It’s been a while since I wrote a stand-alone story. It’s made from something that happened to me recently, yes, I’m a dick but I’ve learned my lesson and so should the reader. Things aren’t always what they seem. There is no good and bad, just appropriate and inappropriate. It’s unedited, so beware the typos.


Dirt and mud particles floating around, rushing past his face, dragging along enough debris to strike him; he wondered if he would die. He couldn’t breathe anymore, what’s wrong with him? Knee-deep in mud, head covered in water; someone was standing on his shoulder. He tried to look, at the human who’d do such a thing to him. A tin veil of murky water still covered his vision, but he could see something: two slender creamy legs, a skirt and a face looking down on him, still smiling.


He woke up, dazed and scared. Checking his pulse, he wiped away the sweat on his forehead. It was all a dream. Choking up on his own saliva, he struggled to the kitchen. A glass of water, crystalline and pure, unlike that within his dream; his heart was beating faster and faster as agitation sank in. He didn’t know who she was but he had an idea. Sliding unto the checkered floor of his three-room apartment, he gazed at the darkened ceiling. Strange, he’d usually cry or beg for some supernatural power to guide him. No, he couldn’t… not after publicly bashing said ideas. He’d be a hypocrite.


Light’s turn on and off, the outside world was a dangerous place. Hearts are broken, spirits are damaged beyond repair… he knew what this was all about. Staring at his hands, he could picture them covered in blood; his blood. No, he looked around, such a stupid idea for such a stupid situation. Nobody was worth anybody’s life, except for his parents. He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, it was surprisingly long. He had promised himself to get his hair as long as he could possibly bear it. Staring at the front door, he hoped someone would ring the doorbell. A keg of beer, some rum, maybe tequila – that’s all he hoped for.  Should he even get drunk at a time like this? Didn’t seem possible or reasonable, making drunk phone calls didn’t seem like a bright idea to him.


Struggling to his feet, he shuffled to his room. Slamming, no, he didn’t have enough anger to exhort said emotions on a door. He jumped unto his bed, slamming with the bed sheets, pillows jumping around like tiny marbles on a stretchy fabric. Watching from the edge of his eyes, the door was slightly opened as darkness poured in. He was sleepy, very sleepy but his heart was beating faster. No, it wasn’t a demon or a spirit… it was his conscience. It was black, murky, and bottled up within his sad existence. How he longed for things to go back to the simplicity of everyday life. They couldn’t, it was too late, he was alone now and that was what hurt the most.


The alarm clock was beeping, or should he call it his cellphone? Nobody was calling, of course. He swiped the screen with his finger and clumsily walked to the bathroom. He stared long and hard at his face, it was a mess. Hair all-over the place, eyes sunken with sleep deprivation, a half-broken, half-assed smile; something wasn’t right. As he closed the front door, he sighed. Another day, another side of the ugly world he’d have to see. Running past pedestrians, he caught the bus. Right in the nick of time, he wondered how many had been left behind or arrived too late. What had happened if he had arrived too late? A bloody sickening day or that should have been the right answer.


He checked his phone: 6:00a.m and right on schedule. He wasn’t too fond of arriving late nor was he fond of being so crammed inside a vehicle. Looking around, staring at the faces of individuals who might or might not be having a better life. Oh, shit, there it goes again… depression was sinking in. The outside world was passing by but to him everything was rewinding to that one event. He messed up, real bad.


Leaning on one leg, he looked over to the other classroom. Just as he had expected, there she was, smiling away with everybody. Was he the only one who felt pathetic? She should show some hint of sorrow or something, after all, they were close. He sighed again, looking at her one more time. He swore that she did a double take on him, but he couldn’t be sure. Why would she? She’s got plenty of friends will to take her side, he, on the other hand, had a handful of friends who were a few kilometers away. No real support there. Students and professors walking by, some running down the stairs, other going up; it all seemed parallel to him. Shit.



She peeked from a window on the door of the classroom. His heart skipped a beat. Why would she be here? Did she come to apologize? Nah, he was the one at fault, not her. Still, the way he treated him, he was hoping for something along the lines of a hug or a ‘good morning’ to cheer him up. Nothing, she waved at the guy next to him, as he awkwardly lowered his hand. Why did he think she’d wave at him? He still remembers her hazel eyes as he said that their friendship should that… Was she happy or was she depressed? He couldn’t quite catch it though he really wanted to believe that she was depressed. Running half-way through the campus, he found her and thoroughly apologized. He promised it was all a misunderstanding and that his brain had essentially stopped working. Apology accepted, or so he thought.


The nightmares wouldn’t stop, the fears would sink in, and the nervous shaking and the dryness of his mouth keep him preoccupied for the last four days. He wanted to salvage their friendship, or did he want something else? He closed his eyes and wondered what had happened to him. Why had he grown so attached to her? It was faint, the feelings that drove him to her were not friendship… it was attraction. A girl like her: charismatic, friendly, intelligent, beautiful, and an untamed spirit of rebellion and chaos. She had it all, he had none. He wanted to be the first to kiss her soft lips, whenever she’d twist them to prove a point, or to hold her side with both arms, whenever he’d poke them to make her tickle. Gripping his right arm, the trembling became unbearable. He got up and walked over to the next classroom.


He wasn’t doing it for those selfless feeling that generate within your heart, he wanted to be the first and no one else should get that privilege. What a fool, he had been. Shaken by this newfound feeling, the guilt was slowly fading away, now all that was left was desire. A shallow, hollow desire that served no purpose; he shook his head, people must have thought he was crazy. No, he wasn’t crazy; he was sick of himself and wanted to change everything. He knew every well that things with her would never be the same, it was crystal clear, no, and it was a sad, painful reality. But, what is a friendship if no two parties are honest? He’d never admit that to her, and she’d never admit that he was his pillar while things were falling around her, that she used him just as he had used her though their aims were different, the selfishness was still there.


She had told her to find the answer himself. That we were all alone in the world and nobody was there to guide us. He had always thought of friends as being beacons of like and support. Was he wrong? Had he envisioned a world so painfully wrong that his whole spirit would have to be converted to this way of thought? The sun was shining brightly, scorching the back of his neck, yet, his shadow was sad and lonely. Cold and emotionless, he wished for revenged, hoping that she’d come crawling back to him and he’d be there to tell her the exact same thing. He couldn’t… he was unable to abandon someone when they needed him the most, even if it was someone who had taken advantage of him in the past or a friend who had left him when he needed her the most.


Mist covered blades of grass, slightly shaken by the coursing breeze. Glittering droplets, a starry memoir to the lights that illuminates the darkness; he still can’t find the answer to it all but he doesn’t have to. Taking his cellphone, he activated his wifi, called on some friends and acquaintances. He knew the time was ripe to strengthen old friendships and form new ones. People don’t change, not if you’re unable to change yourself. Realizing that the hole in his chest was a void for dark, sickening desires and imaginations; he gazed into the sun for new illumination. If he wanted to be happy, he needed to shake off these feelings. Maybe be it will still linger after a week or two, he had, after all, lost something akin to a competition or a hunt.


Swiping his finger on the phone, the screen lit up. He tapped away as a he made a call. “Hey, how are you? Are you still going there this Thursday? Yeah, yeah, change of plans, I’m tagging along!”

Heißen of Eternity – Chapter 1: Part 1

1184.Yoishi - otherside

This is a very old story which I recently edited and revamped from my Horrible-disasters folder. It was a mess, I couldn’t believe I was that bad, or has my criteria moved up a notch? This was a project I started with a friend but it soon was forgotten and it gathered dust and regret. Initially called: Through An Angel’s Eyes, this was later turned into something more sinister. Well, I’ll check that out for myself but meantime, you can indulge in a very strange story. Comments would be appreciated but if not, then, wait for the other piece.


“Hello? Hello? Where’s everyone?!” His voice echoed through the darkness. It was pitch black, nothing beyond this blind veil. He could feel a solid surface behind him, what was it? He felt around for something that could pop an image into his mind, anything that would help him or keep him at ease… nothing, there was nothing. Waving one hand then the other before him, believing his sight had finally vanished, he panicked.


“If memory serves me right, I was at a party—”small tremors shook the place. Holding on to nothing but a dust covered ground, he sat on the floor. “What’s going on in here? Am I lost? Is that it?” Footsteps echoed in the distance. “If I can hear it, then this place must be a big empty room, right? Was I kidnapped?” His hands trembled with fear.


He was at a birthday party though things quickly got out of hand ;Drinks pouring down into his system, a bit too much for him to handle, as he walked away from the place. His clothes reeked of alcohol, a pulsating headache that would not leave him and a beating heart that would not cease to race. He knew the level of drunkenness he was in; it was too early to even believe that he had lost consciousness and had been captured by someone. This has to be some sort of a bad prank.


“Guys! This isn’t funny!” A small light, ever so faint, flickered a distance away from where he was standing. “Hey! I mean it! What is the matter with you—“ He felt nauseous, all of a sudden. At a loss for words, he held on to his stomach. Churning, rumbling, he kneeled as everything emptied out from within his body; Bitter and smelly, that’s the payment for indulging in that which is harmful and sick.


As he wiped his mouth, with the sleeve of his t-shirt, the light became brighter and brighter till it completely engulfed him. Blinded, he struggled to his feet. They were wobbly; the effects of the alcohol were still going strong. The light soon faded, his surroundings became clear. A football field? What am I doing here? He knew the place; it was the old football field from his hometown. What was this doing here? There was nothing around him, the air was too thick to breathe without any difficulty and the grass was sharp, almost as if they were covered with needles.


“This has got to be some sort of a dream…” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, trying to wake up. “But, if I’m dreaming, why am I still drunk?” He saw the blood dripping from the tiny punctures in his palms. There was no pain, just tiny droplets of scarlet life-giving fluid. As they fell on the floor, the grass became soaked with it, turning red.

“This is no dream, young one.” A voice echoed inside his head. It was soft and pleasant but why did it make him shudder with fear?

“Who are you? Where are you?” He shouted, but no one responded. His voice echoed; something was definitely wrong. He could feel it. An open space couldn’t possibly produce an echo. After a while he heard her voice again. “Young one, come to me, follow my voi—“

“It’s easier said than done. I don’t know where you are!” He looked around, but to no avail.

“Follow my voice.” It was that voice again.

He was skeptical. “Right.”


He got off his back, and walked around for a few minutes till a figure appeared. Never had he imagined he would feel so disoriented and scared. It was clear this was the same lady that had been calling out to him though her silhouette was too far away to distinguish her. The closer he got, the more he could see, though his vision was still fuzzy. She wore a white semi-transparent dress, the front piece, from her legs to her feet was uncovered, it had no sleeves just strips of some unknown translucent material wrapped around her arms, and a big bulky metallic mask. Her long golden hair touched the ground. She opened her arms. Is she hoping for an embrace? Just who is she?


“Again, who are you? I hope this isn’t a prank!  I know I’m inside something… Just let me out, okay?” His voice made her giggle. It was at that moment that an idea hit him. That voice, so familiar it made him burn red with frustration. Sabrina’s always been a trickster.

“The tiny itsy bitsy prank fooled you, huh! Come here and give me a big hug.” Sabrina? She sounded just like her. Damn you! I almost fell for it.


As he walked towards her, she hugged him. Her body was soft and warm, like the embrace of a plush toy… and just like a plush toy, she had no heartbeat. All of a sudden, massive chains bound her arms and legs, dragged her and restrained her; each chain had emerged from the ground entwined around her slender arms. A crimson cross fell from the heavens. Nails surged from the ground, piercing her extremities, securing her to the cross. He fell on the ground, as the tiny, sharp edges of the grass pierced his skin.


The chains were old and rusty, filled with barbs; the cross oozed a blood-like substance and the nails were blazed brightly as they burned through her flesh. The smell of burned skin filled the air; each chain was seeping blood from the gashes they had opened throughout her body. She struggled, screamed and cried but couldn’t manage to free herself. The chains ripped each gash further apart.


He was in a state of shock, unable to move, frightened that he would be met with the same fate; his hands and legs were shaking uncontrollably. Cold sweat slid down his body. Is she really Sabrina? Can’t be, can it? There is no way that she is slowly dying before me…! No way! I can’t believe it, I won’t believe it. Damn it! Damn it! I need to do something, but what? Move, damn it, move! He was reluctant to suffer the same fate and still, he struggled to move on and save her.


The cross turned upside down, inverting her body. Blood fell down the mask that covered her face, staining her hair. He slowly walked up to her, afraid, powerless to save her. He grabbed her mask in his hands and kissed it.


“Please, oh please, don’t go, I need you. I need you more than you’ll ever know.” As he finished saying this, the mask shattered. The tiny fragments became white roses as soon as they touched the ground.


He screamed out in horror. Trying to crawl away, slipping and falling flat on his chest as the grass ripped through is skin. What was that thing? Is it even human? A monster! The nails popped out, falling on the ground, burning the grass; the chains broke and the cross turned to blood. She appeared. He checked his clothes; they were stained with his own blood. The grass was sharp yet he still felt no pain.


Her face was bloody; her lower jaw had been ripped out by some unknown force and a deep laceration across her face oozed a tar-like fluid. Blood spewed forth from her mouth and seven eyes that gazed at him, all organized in two columns of three and four. A single snow-white wing grew from her left shoulder. In a single flap, the white roses had turned red all burning in a crimson flame. With every petal that touched his skin, it instantly became liquid and burned his flesh. Running away, he grabbed on to something long and hard, covered in dirt and dust… a bone. Soon, he was standing before a field covered in the bones of beings with wings protruding from their backs. Impaled and butchered, it looked like the scene from a massacre.


“Young one, why do you fear me?” She asked. How could such a sweet, soft voice emanate from such a monstrosity!

“What do you want? Who or what are y- y- y- you!” His voice was shaky. Is she going to eat me? Or maybe she’ll steal my soul? Is she even a she?


She looked towards the sky; a majestic moon appeared above them, turning the ground into a great crystalline lake. A drop fell from the moon’s surface. She descended; touching the lake with the tip of her ornamented boot, creating a ripple that glowed in several colors, like a prism. With that he awakened.

Ciudades Do Destino – 3 – Girl with the Prism Wings


So, here it is… Part 3/5 is finally out. I’m excited and as I get closer to the end, I jump for joy. As before, this is unedited so hold your horses, Grammar Nazis. I’m being anarchistic today, enjoy the freedom and read on.


“Do you know where this road leads to… emmm… Pricilla?” Cassandra shook her head, slowly trying to make sense of everything. A tall tree, a dystopian-looking city and a strange night sky held together by a living canopy. “Have we been abducted?”

“Abducted?” Pricilla looked away, retracing her steps to where she came from. “As in, taken by some unknown organization?”

“I mean aliens.”

“Nahhhhhh… This feels more like a dream.”

“Come to think of it, it does. I can see colors; that’s something far-fetched.”

“I can walk…”


Both girls looked on ahead, at the majestic tree. They knew there was only one place they could go, and that was the tree. Slowly, walking on opposite ends of the road, they quietly mumbled to each other. The closer they got to the tree, the more vibrant its details became. Beautiful fluorescent vine-like markings decorated the trunk of the tree, dotted with runes and leave patterns that became as bright as the stars in the sky.  The trunk must have been atleast four blocks wide, probably twenty-eight to thirty two houses in length, and as tall as any skyscraper they’ve ever seen.

The base of the trunk was surrounded by a crystalline lake, dotted with tiny flying fireflies zooming to and fro, from the surface of the water. The tree’s roots pierced its crystalline veil, popping out of nowhere, and plunging back in. On the edge of the lake, there was a soft sandy beach, probably around ten yards in length, or a hell of a lot of footsteps from the coarse soil. Large rectangular stone structures rose from the white, sandy surface. Pricilla touched the surface of the structures with the tip of her fingers, much to Cassandra’s dismay.

From time to time, tiny rays of golden light would fall on the surface of the water, reflecting upwards to the sky. As it hit the leaves on the overlaying branches, a tiny glow would emanate from the inflicted leaf – like the birth of a new star. Cassandra walked over to the edge of the sand, there were no waves. She placed one of her feet on the water; it was warm. Warm like a soothing, soul-resting bath on a cold, Christmas Eve; this was something she’d do every year with her ex-lover.

Pricilla wandered off to see the other statues, examining them well. She knew they’d make perfect portraits on a fine canvas. There were runes etched on its smooth, marble-like surface. There was a drawing that repeated over and over along the inscriptions: an oval surrounded by twelve bird wings and a halo over its head. She was scared, it felt ominous.


“Pricilla! I’ve found a boat!” Cassandra shouted.

Pricilla ran over to her. The boat was not tied to anything. “Was it here when we came?” Pricilla commented. The lack of waves couldn’t have possibly made the boat drift over to the shore.

“Do you suppose someone wants us to get on the boat?” Cassandra tied her hair in a bun. “Like an invitation?”

“Yeah, I get the feeling we are not alone.”


The got on the boat, as Cassandra clumsily pushed it off the shore. It slowly drifted, as if controlled by an external force. Pricilla lay on the edge of the boat, touching the water’s crystalline surface. It created ripples that extended exponentially and soon vanished. She commented on the strange image she had seen. Cassandra would stare into the sky and wonder what was going on. Someone must have dragged them into the place, but that someone might not be what they expected it to be.


“Do you believe in God, Cassandra?” Pricilla asked.

“No, I do not. I’m an atheist, and a good one at that.” Cassandra replied.

“I believe in God, but, sometimes I wish I did not. If he really was looking after me, then shit wouldn’t happen to me. Life looks so unfair from its surface but that’s only a reflection of how cruel it all sums up to be.”

“I don’t think that someone else can control every aspect of your life. You make decisions and if they go bad, then it’s your fault, ain’t it? You have to take responsibility.” Pricilla turned around, facing the sky, her long hair fell on the water. “The sky is awake.”

“More like, the sky is alive.” Cassandra gazed that the tiny golden stars, twinkling, and changing colors – like miniature prisms held by invisible strings of golden light.


The boat hit a land mass, as the two girls awakened from their deep trance. Pricilla fell off the boat, falling face-first into the water. Gasping for air, she kneeled on the shore. Cassandra quickly got up, gazing at her soaked companion. Offering Pricilla a hand, she took off her jacket and gave it to her. Removing her wet clothes, she put on the jacket. Walking side by side, they finally made it to the center-most island: the base of the tree.


“What do you think we should do?” Pricilla asked, they hoped something magical might happen. “It feels so ominous.”

“I was hoping for a massive magical head or something.” Cassandra commented. “You know, something Wizard of Oz-ish.”

“Well, I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore…” They both giggled.


The runes began to shine as a voice whispered, “Come…” The girls stopped in their tracks. Cassandra held Pricilla closer to her. Pricilla, not wanting to be the girl who dies first in every horror movie, grabbed a hold of Cassandra’s hand.


“You know, in most horror movies… There is a girl who dies first.” Pricilla whispered. “It’s usually the half-naked one.”

“It might be God. What if he’s calling us?” Cassandra commented.

“Then, I’m in no way dressed properly to meet the creator of everything.”

“You do have a jacket on.”

Pricilla glared at Cassandra, “That doesn’t make me feel safe. I’m jail-bait.”


Words appeared on the trunk of the tree.

He who dwells upon fleshy soil,

Baptized in thine heavenly oil,

Bow and toil;

Frail, show thine reverence.


“Mother told me to never talk to strangers.” Pricilla whispered.

“Could you stop whispering? It’s kind of annoying…” Cassandra sighed. “It’s a riddle, I guess.”

“It’s not a riddle. It’s telling us to bow before it.”

“How do you know?”

“I study these sorts of things. Art and literature… I’m a fan of Mark Twain and Shakespeare.”

“So, you’re a nut-job…”

“An educated nut-job, thank you very much.”


As they both bowed, their faces staring at their sand covered feet, a voice called to them.


“My little children, I have heard your cries.”


Echoes of voices surged through the trunk’s tiny cracks. The water rippled. It was their voices, and the people around them. They could hear their comments, their thoughts and above all – they could hear each other’s thoughts. Their lives were far from perfect.


“I hold a chalice, where I pour my blood to give to thee. Bring me that which you would give to obtain that which you desire.”


A small wooden chalice appeared before them. A strong, scented liquid filled the cup as it began to shine. Cassandra looked at Pricilla. Pricilla was baffled. What could they give to obtain what they wanted? Money for talent? Blood for happiness?


“I want to be free… and to be free, I need to walk.” Pricilla commented, looking at Cassandra.

“I want to be normal. To see colors.” Cassandra replied.

“It’s asking to give up something to gain something… I’d give anything…”

“Me too.”

“Then, let’s try this: I’ll cut a strand of my hair and place it in the liquid and you can give something similar and place it in the chalice.”

“I’ll pour some blood and with that, we’ve given up something, right?”


As Pricilla cut a strand of her hair, she placed it in the red liquid. It dissolved on contact. Cassandra pricked her finger and poured three drops of blood. They both grabbed the chalice and gave it a sip. The taste was unique. It smelled like rotting flesh but tasted as a high class wine, bittersweet with a slight grape-like tinge to it.


“I am nothing but a womb of desires and hopes. Now, go my children. Be happy, dance in the protection of the On-High.”


Cassandra woke-up in a cold sweat. Covered from head to toe, she looked around. Everything was the same except for one thing: she couldn’t move her legs.