Thursday, November 27, 2003
TWISTED FATE
Excerpt: Chapter I, The Barren Earth
"Peter! Peter! Over here Peter!" a slender woman with long raven-black hair pointed to a shaking figure behind the bushes.
"He's there?" A boy half ran, half stumbled towards the woman, "Where mother, where?"
The woman knelt beside the boy just enough for her to whisper in his ear. A big grin appeared on the face of the red-faced youth, apparently gasping for air after running around. He slowly tiptoed towards the shaking bush and suddenly dived into it with a big "Aha!"
More rustles shook the bush as the laughter of the boy filled the morning air. There were also small whines and growls. The woman laughed along with the boy behind the bushes. She was sitting on the manicured lawn and holding her side.
"Okay Peter, come out now!" She said, between breaths. "Peter?"
The rustling suddenly stopped, so did the laughter of the boy and the growling and whining. The woman's laughter, too, slowly died down.
"Peter, come out of there." A look of fear shot across the face of the woman. "Peter, this isn't funny!" She crawled towards the bushes and reached out.
"Aaaieeee!" The woman was forced back by a brown and white, huge, hairy and slobbering — St. Bernard. He was over the woman, licking her face like there was no tomorrow.
"He got you mother! He got you real good!" Peter jumped after the St. Bernard.
"I'm starting to feel like Fred Flintstone with Dino licking him alive. Get off!" She gently pushed the St. Bernard aside, he wouldn't stop. The woman was laughing out loud.
"Stop it Gerome!" She was rolling around — still laughing — with the dog following her, still intent on licking her.
"Gerome, come here boy!" Peter clapped his hands twice. The dog's ears pointed up and he bounded towards Peter. The woman was still laughing even if the dog ignored her. She got up tipping a bit, her hair now disarrayed and disheveled from all her rolling around.
"So how do you like your birthday present?" She brushed away the leaves that stuck to her hair, and took out a large kerchief and wiped the slobber from her cheek. Her chest was heaving up and down as she tried to stabilize her laughing fits.
"He's the best, mother!" Peter grabbed Gerome around the neck and scratched the dog between its ears. "He's the best twelve year old present I ever had!"
"Well, you're only twelve years old once, I believe." The woman walked towards the two, pocketing the kerchief, and knelt down beside them. "And besides, you don't get a four year old St. Bernard this friendly anywhere." She stroked the shaggy dog's fur, "You promised to take care of him didn't you? That means bathing him, brushing his teeth, feeding him, walking…" She was raising a finger for each responsibility when Peter interrupted her.
"He hasn't been with us for even an hour and you're lecturing me already!" He smiled at her.
The woman sighed. With that smile, who would want to reprimand the kid? Besides, he has been a very good and obedient child; she wouldn't doubt that obedience now, "All right. But you know what your responsibilities are. Right?"
The boy put his right hand over his heart and swore "I know them by heart. It was a deal right?"
She sighed again, smart kid.
"So can I go show him off to the gang?" Peter was already strapping the leash and collar on Gerome.
She sighed even deeper. Smart, but he's still a kid. "Okay, just be back for lunch okay?" She kissed Peter on the forehead, turned him around and patted his butt, "Have fun! And don’t go too far!"
Peter was already running, rather, being pulled by the dog before she said those words. But he shouted back, "I will! Love you mother! And, thanks again!"
She shook her head and went inside the house. She glanced around the living room which was bedecked with party decorations and a big open box in the middle of it. Decorating the living room took her the good of the morning. Add the wild romp with their new dog, it all equaled to her slumping on the plush sofa, as she heaved another big sigh.
"Amanda," She said to her self, "you have been sighing ever since the sun came up."
She chuckled, "That means you should rest, but still… there's the cake, and the rest of what you're preparing for Peter's birthday."
The sun filtered through the curtains Amanda made herself. She considered them one of her biggest accomplishments; matching curtains for the entire two-storey house. The soft filtered light made her eyes grow heavy, so she closed them and rested herself; she deserved it after what she had done.
After what seemed like thirty minutes she woke up.
“Okay Amanda, you’ve had enough rest. Get your butt up and start cooking!” Amanda smiled at herself and got up from the sofa, stretching her lithe figure. Just then, the phone rang. Amanda strolled over to the phone and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” She said. There was a lot of shouting at the other line and it made Amanda stare into the receiver then she put it back on her ear.
“Hello? Who’s this?” Her voice was definitely raised.
“Amanda?” A man’s voice blasted through the receiver that Amanda winced.
“Paul?” She questioned.
“Amanda can you hear me?” The shouting at the other line turned into screams. “Go! Go now! What? No, Amanda, not you… well, yes, you too… wait… I said go!”
Amanda heard another voice, that which was very familiar, on the other line.
“Mother!”
“Paul, what’s going on? Was that Peter?” Amanda didn’t know why she was shouting but she was.
“What? Peter? Yes, he’s here… Betty, get Peter and go! Amanda, you go too… Don’t disturb me! Get the kid and the dog and go! Dammit…” Paul sounded drastic. Then, a female voice became audible in the background as something sounded like the receiver on the other side dropped. Amanda was panicking.
“Paul? Go where? What’s going on? What’s Peter doing there? Betty? Hello?” Amanda was now definitely shouting.
“Paul come on… Let’s go! It’s about to…” Betty’s faraway voice was replaced by a dead tone.
“Paul? Paul?” Amanda shouted into the receiver. She slammed it on the phone and turned around to face the door. She ran for it, grabbing the car keys from the coffee table as she went. She ran, muttering obscenity all the way to the car and, with shaking hands, tried to open the door. That’s when it happened.
The ground shook as Amanda heard a deafening roar. She automatically turned to the direction of the noise. Her eyes opened wide, seemingly rooted to the spot. She had no time to react. A cloud of dust was hurtling towards her carrying trees, lampposts, hydrants, dogs, whatever it swept in its wake. It, and the shock wave behind it, lifted her up from her feet and threw her, and her car, and thousands of flying debris, to oblivion. She only had time to feel her back breaking as she slammed into the roof of another car that had slammed into a cement wall. As the wave threatened to push her further into the car, Amanda forced her eyes open, only to see that there was a truck speeding — flying — towards her.
She opened her mouth to scream but it was too late.
"Peter! Peter! Over here Peter!" a slender woman with long raven-black hair pointed to a shaking figure behind the bushes.
"He's there?" A boy half ran, half stumbled towards the woman, "Where mother, where?"
The woman knelt beside the boy just enough for her to whisper in his ear. A big grin appeared on the face of the red-faced youth, apparently gasping for air after running around. He slowly tiptoed towards the shaking bush and suddenly dived into it with a big "Aha!"
More rustles shook the bush as the laughter of the boy filled the morning air. There were also small whines and growls. The woman laughed along with the boy behind the bushes. She was sitting on the manicured lawn and holding her side.
"Okay Peter, come out now!" She said, between breaths. "Peter?"
The rustling suddenly stopped, so did the laughter of the boy and the growling and whining. The woman's laughter, too, slowly died down.
"Peter, come out of there." A look of fear shot across the face of the woman. "Peter, this isn't funny!" She crawled towards the bushes and reached out.
"Aaaieeee!" The woman was forced back by a brown and white, huge, hairy and slobbering — St. Bernard. He was over the woman, licking her face like there was no tomorrow.
"He got you mother! He got you real good!" Peter jumped after the St. Bernard.
"I'm starting to feel like Fred Flintstone with Dino licking him alive. Get off!" She gently pushed the St. Bernard aside, he wouldn't stop. The woman was laughing out loud.
"Stop it Gerome!" She was rolling around — still laughing — with the dog following her, still intent on licking her.
"Gerome, come here boy!" Peter clapped his hands twice. The dog's ears pointed up and he bounded towards Peter. The woman was still laughing even if the dog ignored her. She got up tipping a bit, her hair now disarrayed and disheveled from all her rolling around.
"So how do you like your birthday present?" She brushed away the leaves that stuck to her hair, and took out a large kerchief and wiped the slobber from her cheek. Her chest was heaving up and down as she tried to stabilize her laughing fits.
"He's the best, mother!" Peter grabbed Gerome around the neck and scratched the dog between its ears. "He's the best twelve year old present I ever had!"
"Well, you're only twelve years old once, I believe." The woman walked towards the two, pocketing the kerchief, and knelt down beside them. "And besides, you don't get a four year old St. Bernard this friendly anywhere." She stroked the shaggy dog's fur, "You promised to take care of him didn't you? That means bathing him, brushing his teeth, feeding him, walking…" She was raising a finger for each responsibility when Peter interrupted her.
"He hasn't been with us for even an hour and you're lecturing me already!" He smiled at her.
The woman sighed. With that smile, who would want to reprimand the kid? Besides, he has been a very good and obedient child; she wouldn't doubt that obedience now, "All right. But you know what your responsibilities are. Right?"
The boy put his right hand over his heart and swore "I know them by heart. It was a deal right?"
She sighed again, smart kid.
"So can I go show him off to the gang?" Peter was already strapping the leash and collar on Gerome.
She sighed even deeper. Smart, but he's still a kid. "Okay, just be back for lunch okay?" She kissed Peter on the forehead, turned him around and patted his butt, "Have fun! And don’t go too far!"
Peter was already running, rather, being pulled by the dog before she said those words. But he shouted back, "I will! Love you mother! And, thanks again!"
She shook her head and went inside the house. She glanced around the living room which was bedecked with party decorations and a big open box in the middle of it. Decorating the living room took her the good of the morning. Add the wild romp with their new dog, it all equaled to her slumping on the plush sofa, as she heaved another big sigh.
"Amanda," She said to her self, "you have been sighing ever since the sun came up."
She chuckled, "That means you should rest, but still… there's the cake, and the rest of what you're preparing for Peter's birthday."
The sun filtered through the curtains Amanda made herself. She considered them one of her biggest accomplishments; matching curtains for the entire two-storey house. The soft filtered light made her eyes grow heavy, so she closed them and rested herself; she deserved it after what she had done.
After what seemed like thirty minutes she woke up.
“Okay Amanda, you’ve had enough rest. Get your butt up and start cooking!” Amanda smiled at herself and got up from the sofa, stretching her lithe figure. Just then, the phone rang. Amanda strolled over to the phone and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” She said. There was a lot of shouting at the other line and it made Amanda stare into the receiver then she put it back on her ear.
“Hello? Who’s this?” Her voice was definitely raised.
“Amanda?” A man’s voice blasted through the receiver that Amanda winced.
“Paul?” She questioned.
“Amanda can you hear me?” The shouting at the other line turned into screams. “Go! Go now! What? No, Amanda, not you… well, yes, you too… wait… I said go!”
Amanda heard another voice, that which was very familiar, on the other line.
“Mother!”
“Paul, what’s going on? Was that Peter?” Amanda didn’t know why she was shouting but she was.
“What? Peter? Yes, he’s here… Betty, get Peter and go! Amanda, you go too… Don’t disturb me! Get the kid and the dog and go! Dammit…” Paul sounded drastic. Then, a female voice became audible in the background as something sounded like the receiver on the other side dropped. Amanda was panicking.
“Paul? Go where? What’s going on? What’s Peter doing there? Betty? Hello?” Amanda was now definitely shouting.
“Paul come on… Let’s go! It’s about to…” Betty’s faraway voice was replaced by a dead tone.
“Paul? Paul?” Amanda shouted into the receiver. She slammed it on the phone and turned around to face the door. She ran for it, grabbing the car keys from the coffee table as she went. She ran, muttering obscenity all the way to the car and, with shaking hands, tried to open the door. That’s when it happened.
The ground shook as Amanda heard a deafening roar. She automatically turned to the direction of the noise. Her eyes opened wide, seemingly rooted to the spot. She had no time to react. A cloud of dust was hurtling towards her carrying trees, lampposts, hydrants, dogs, whatever it swept in its wake. It, and the shock wave behind it, lifted her up from her feet and threw her, and her car, and thousands of flying debris, to oblivion. She only had time to feel her back breaking as she slammed into the roof of another car that had slammed into a cement wall. As the wave threatened to push her further into the car, Amanda forced her eyes open, only to see that there was a truck speeding — flying — towards her.
She opened her mouth to scream but it was too late.
DREAMS
It wasn’t always like this. I hardly even remember remembering any of my dreams, much less share dreams with other people I barely even know. It was those kind of dreams that lay eternally embedded in your mind, in your sub-consciousness, even when the slumber is over. Those kind of dreams that wake you up with a jolt and then incredible pain sets in your head afterwards. You can’t eat, you can’t think straight, you can’t live the life you have been living… dying for.
Dying for. Yes, that’s the word. Every minute of our existence we are not living, but rather, for every breath, every step, every blink of our eyes, every twitch in the fibers, nerves, and organs of our bodies, we are slowly dying.
I may be delusional, or maybe I am passing through one of those stages in pre-adult life but I am certain of one thing and one thing alone.
It wasn’t always like this. I hardly even remember remembering any of my dreams…
Did I say dreams?
I meant nightmares. The kind that makes you feel like a colossal weight is resting upon your chest, straining upon bones that are in the brink of snapping like dry twigs, leaving you breathless and unable to wake up from the dreams that are chasing you around. You are bound to a restless slumber that makes you sweat profusely then when all hell had broken loose and when you are staring at the jaws of death, you wake up with a bang, remembering the dream very well, very vividly, it’s as if you weren’t dreaming at all. Remembering that somewhere out there, someone also woke up with a start, someone who will soon forget the dream or will have no recollection from the neural encounter.
I know that the dreams I have are not mine. I live another person’s dream, I feel that person, and I am that person. I see through his eyes, I hear his thoughts, I get drowned in the sorrow and remorse and every other emotions that manages to get to me. I feel what he feels but I don’t think that the feeling is mutual.
It’s like I have become a dream catcher. I get all the bad stuff and the lucky guy I’m dreaming with gets all the good stuff.
Did I say dream?
These nightmares have been plaguing me for the past three weeks and I just can’t take it anymore. I’m starting to see things that nobody else could. I’m jumpier than usual. My family notices it, my teachers notice it, my friends notice it, and I can’t explain a shit. They’ve given me advice and I’ve tried them all. I’ve been hypnotized, I’ve been on medication, and I’ve even got rid of my Todd McFarlane stuff just because my mom thinks they’re the cause of my nightmares. My friend even pushed pot on me once. Believe me, I’ve tried them all but the nightmares keep coming back, no matter what I do. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I take, they keep pestering me… plaguing me. I don’t understand why.
It wasn’t always like this. I hardy even remember remembering any of my dreams, although I do recall that I make up my dreams when asked about it.
No, wait a minute. I do recall one dream from my childhood, one that I have somehow forgotten and somehow managed to show itself now.
I’m with my friends, talking about anything under the moon when all of a sudden the lights go out. All the lights. I’m surrounded in a shroud of darkness that seems to eat through my body and lick my soul. I grope around the darkness and scream for someone but all I feel is air and all I can hear is the endless echo of my voice. Then, it’s not my echo any longer. It’s the echo of a thousand voices, all speaking of pain, anger, jealousy, betrayal, death, remorse… not one bit is happy. Not one voice is speaking with joy. All I hear is anguish. My chest feels heavy, I couldn’t breath, it’s as if the whole world’s emotions have reached me through my dreams, through my thoughts. The ground beneath my feet disappears and I start falling. Falling into a seemingly endless abyss with my insides rushing to meet my throat. I could feel the wind whipping against my face. I tumble over and over and over, waiting to meet the bottom. Then, a tiny speck of light appears from where the bottom end should be. It grows larger, brighter, that in no time at all I have to wince at the glaring white. I force my eyes to open and I see the ground rushing to meet me at an incredible speed. I try to scream, certain that doom would befall me, but no sound left my open mouth. Then, I wake up; beads of sweat dance upon my brow and sheets tossed all over, my lungs aching for breath, my mouth dry as cotton. I could feel the damp bed and the musk of sweat in the air, my spine tingling as if a thousand volts have run through it while I was asleep.
I remember remembering that when I woke up, I felt so unreal. The feelings I had from the dream seem to have opened my eyes. It seemed to me that the dream was the real world and I woke up to a dream. I shook the thoughts and the dream away and I never remembered a dream ever since… up until the last three weeks. Not a dream, not a nightmare.
I’m still young. I haven’t even graduated from senior high. If this goes on, I don’t know if I’d live a normal and healthy life. I need help. I need to know if my life is worth dying for or living for.
I need to know if I am dying or living....
Dying for. Yes, that’s the word. Every minute of our existence we are not living, but rather, for every breath, every step, every blink of our eyes, every twitch in the fibers, nerves, and organs of our bodies, we are slowly dying.
I may be delusional, or maybe I am passing through one of those stages in pre-adult life but I am certain of one thing and one thing alone.
It wasn’t always like this. I hardly even remember remembering any of my dreams…
Did I say dreams?
I meant nightmares. The kind that makes you feel like a colossal weight is resting upon your chest, straining upon bones that are in the brink of snapping like dry twigs, leaving you breathless and unable to wake up from the dreams that are chasing you around. You are bound to a restless slumber that makes you sweat profusely then when all hell had broken loose and when you are staring at the jaws of death, you wake up with a bang, remembering the dream very well, very vividly, it’s as if you weren’t dreaming at all. Remembering that somewhere out there, someone also woke up with a start, someone who will soon forget the dream or will have no recollection from the neural encounter.
I know that the dreams I have are not mine. I live another person’s dream, I feel that person, and I am that person. I see through his eyes, I hear his thoughts, I get drowned in the sorrow and remorse and every other emotions that manages to get to me. I feel what he feels but I don’t think that the feeling is mutual.
It’s like I have become a dream catcher. I get all the bad stuff and the lucky guy I’m dreaming with gets all the good stuff.
Did I say dream?
These nightmares have been plaguing me for the past three weeks and I just can’t take it anymore. I’m starting to see things that nobody else could. I’m jumpier than usual. My family notices it, my teachers notice it, my friends notice it, and I can’t explain a shit. They’ve given me advice and I’ve tried them all. I’ve been hypnotized, I’ve been on medication, and I’ve even got rid of my Todd McFarlane stuff just because my mom thinks they’re the cause of my nightmares. My friend even pushed pot on me once. Believe me, I’ve tried them all but the nightmares keep coming back, no matter what I do. No matter how hard I try, no matter what I take, they keep pestering me… plaguing me. I don’t understand why.
It wasn’t always like this. I hardy even remember remembering any of my dreams, although I do recall that I make up my dreams when asked about it.
No, wait a minute. I do recall one dream from my childhood, one that I have somehow forgotten and somehow managed to show itself now.
I’m with my friends, talking about anything under the moon when all of a sudden the lights go out. All the lights. I’m surrounded in a shroud of darkness that seems to eat through my body and lick my soul. I grope around the darkness and scream for someone but all I feel is air and all I can hear is the endless echo of my voice. Then, it’s not my echo any longer. It’s the echo of a thousand voices, all speaking of pain, anger, jealousy, betrayal, death, remorse… not one bit is happy. Not one voice is speaking with joy. All I hear is anguish. My chest feels heavy, I couldn’t breath, it’s as if the whole world’s emotions have reached me through my dreams, through my thoughts. The ground beneath my feet disappears and I start falling. Falling into a seemingly endless abyss with my insides rushing to meet my throat. I could feel the wind whipping against my face. I tumble over and over and over, waiting to meet the bottom. Then, a tiny speck of light appears from where the bottom end should be. It grows larger, brighter, that in no time at all I have to wince at the glaring white. I force my eyes to open and I see the ground rushing to meet me at an incredible speed. I try to scream, certain that doom would befall me, but no sound left my open mouth. Then, I wake up; beads of sweat dance upon my brow and sheets tossed all over, my lungs aching for breath, my mouth dry as cotton. I could feel the damp bed and the musk of sweat in the air, my spine tingling as if a thousand volts have run through it while I was asleep.
I remember remembering that when I woke up, I felt so unreal. The feelings I had from the dream seem to have opened my eyes. It seemed to me that the dream was the real world and I woke up to a dream. I shook the thoughts and the dream away and I never remembered a dream ever since… up until the last three weeks. Not a dream, not a nightmare.
I’m still young. I haven’t even graduated from senior high. If this goes on, I don’t know if I’d live a normal and healthy life. I need help. I need to know if my life is worth dying for or living for.
I need to know if I am dying or living....
THE MOTH
Each day brings me
Yet, closer to you
I’m drawn to you like
Moths under the streetlight
Images of you start filling
My empty nights
Vivid as reality itself, tormenting
Whatever existence is
Left in me
I have felt this before
And anything that happens next
Is malevolent, melancholy,
And torturing
I have grown used to your
Eyes and your smile
I feel that if we keep being
With each other
I just might fall…
… But it’s not right
You…
You belong to someone else
And I…
I’m just another fool in this world
Wanting what I
Can’t have…
I don’t know if you feel me…
I don’t know if you’re aware of my
Feelings towards you…
I suppress them too much…
I’m drawn towards you like moths
That dance around the candle
Drawing nearer and nearer
With each beat of its wing
Bedazzled by the fluttering flame
Enchanted by the heat
Drawn, with so much happiness…
… Until it’s too late…
The moth burns and flutters to the ground.
Yet, closer to you
I’m drawn to you like
Moths under the streetlight
Images of you start filling
My empty nights
Vivid as reality itself, tormenting
Whatever existence is
Left in me
I have felt this before
And anything that happens next
Is malevolent, melancholy,
And torturing
I have grown used to your
Eyes and your smile
I feel that if we keep being
With each other
I just might fall…
… But it’s not right
You…
You belong to someone else
And I…
I’m just another fool in this world
Wanting what I
Can’t have…
I don’t know if you feel me…
I don’t know if you’re aware of my
Feelings towards you…
I suppress them too much…
I’m drawn towards you like moths
That dance around the candle
Drawing nearer and nearer
With each beat of its wing
Bedazzled by the fluttering flame
Enchanted by the heat
Drawn, with so much happiness…
… Until it’s too late…
The moth burns and flutters to the ground.
