People come and people go
Now you see me, now you don't.
Shadows appear when there is light
When darkness influxed they vanished from sight.
People come and people go
Now you see me, now you don't.
She was beside you when you sleep
Hers was the soft red lips that you kissed
The words she said were the source of your peace
But when she's gone, do you even know who she really is?
People come and people go
Now you see me, now you don't.
Ludicrous imaginations permeated my yesterdays
I was flesh and blood, jaunty and gay
Time flies and people changed their ways
I'm now the shadow on the wall, which no attention will you pay.
People come and people go
Now you see me, now you don't.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Because I Know
Light lost. Dark conquered.
"All hail the Dark Lord!" the vividness of the voices confirmed the situation.
Blinking my eyes, I pulled myself from the heavy stupor I was in. I winced as my arms ached and soon noticed that, Death Eaters were dragging my arms.
The light was blinding, wherever I was. Death Eaters who were exulting turned their attention towards me. An iota of revulsion crawled onto their lips and one of them spat, "Hurry and throw that prisoner into the dungeons, will you?"
"Yes, sir," the one grabbing my left arm responded.
Suddenly we were bathed in darkness. The air was putrid, smelt like rotten corpses. But it was empty, as if it were reserved for me. In one particular cell, I was dangling on my feeble feet, my wrists chained to the wall.
It was absurdly cold there and my clothes didn't help. In fact, I don't suppose they were considered clothes anymore.
Rags. Hogwarts' white blouse without sleeves, and the rotten black skirt. The badge was tore off by one of the Death Eaters who dragged me in, "You won't need that anymore since Hogwarts is in ashes."
Back in school, they called it the Gryffindor's impetuous courage. I stared at the Death Eaters guarding the dungeons, mustering as much reviles and hatred as I could in my eyes.
One of them got irritated, he came to my cell and all I felt was a voluminous fiery sensation. "Filthy bitch. That'll teach you how to behave politely!" he spat on my face.
"Really, Crabbe. Must you be so rude to a fellow schoolmate?" a masculine voice resonated in the empty dungeons. As he stepped into the scant light from the little window, "And not just any schoolmate, a Gryffindor."
I hissed at the sight of the silver blond hair, "Malfoy."
"Granger."
A mocking sneer galvanized in my hoarse voice, "What's with the holier-than-thou attitude among your own kind? Is violence too foul for a Malfoy?"
"Tssk tssk... your sarcasm still survived, Granger. I'm pleased to hear that."
"Get real, Malfoy. What is it that you want?"
"Nothing much, really. Something that only the know-it-all Granger can give me."
"If you still have questions on the uses of unicorn's horn essay, you can check the textbooks."
He laughed darkly. It wasn't the usual laugh he always gave after a prank or when he defeated Gryffindor in the previous Quidditch match. It was more... matured.
"Seriously, Granger. Aren't you aware of it?"
"My cognizance was insensated after one of your kind behaved rudely towards me, if you must know," I tilted my head to look at Crabbe. I didn't even recognice it was Crabbe, I don't recall that he was so thin and well-built.
Malfoy sighed and raised his wand, with a dark smirk on the corner of his lips. I saw his lips moved but couldn't hear what he was saying until a puissant green light flashed towards Crabbe and the latter fell dead on the floor.
"Now, Granger. What was that spell?" he leaned closer and held my chin firmly, forcing me to look into his eyes. He was like a school teacher asking a student an easy question.
I shook off his hand on my chin, "The Killer Curse, what do you think I am? A First Year student?" He ignored my question, tracing my face with his pale finger. I felt the tingling sensation as it travelled from the side of my eye to my throat, then right down to the cleavage.
I gasped, "Stop it, Malfoy. Just do what you came here for," I turned my head to the side, escaping the steel stare of his eyes.
"You were enjoying, weren't you, Mudblood?" he smirked.
Silence.
"Alright, since you insist. Tomorrow morning I'll have you as my wife."
"Tomorrow?" I turned to his direction, now leaning on the door of my cell, three feet away from me.
"Or you would rather I take you tonight?"
"Why?"
"Like I said, if you're anxious--"
"No. Why do you want me as your wife?"
He exhaled and came nearer, "Really, Granger. Don't tell me you don't know."
"Know what?"
"Know that I was watching you."
My eyes widened, "Watching me?"
"Why else would I be in your room during wee hours when the whole school is suppose to be sleeping? Do you recall, Granger?"
I searched my mind.
Yes. There was one morning when I woke up and felt someone's arms around me. Then a familiar scent tickled my neck, something like mint and firewhiskey. Carefully, I tried to turn around but the grip was firm and I can't possibly move without waking the one holding me. But the Dark Mark on the arm gave him away.
"Yes, I remember now."
"Happy?"
"Why should I be?"
"I thought that was what you always wanted."
"Shut up and go fuck Parkinson for all I care."
In an instant, his arm folded around my waist and pulled me to him. I felt his warm chest against mine as he whispered into my ear, "Because I know you've been doing the same thing."
I blushed.
"Because I know you're the one who watch me leave our shared common room. Because I know you're the one who watched me in the Great Hall. Because I know you were reluctant to get up when I was holding you that night."
"That doesn't mean anything, it's just an infatuation. Besides, you were playing on me, Malfoy."
"What gave you that idea?"
"Because I know you shag with half the population of girls in school."
"So... you were watching me."
"You said so yourself."
"Anyway, you will be mine forever."
"How would you know?"
"Because I know... that you still love me."
"All hail the Dark Lord!" the vividness of the voices confirmed the situation.
Blinking my eyes, I pulled myself from the heavy stupor I was in. I winced as my arms ached and soon noticed that, Death Eaters were dragging my arms.
The light was blinding, wherever I was. Death Eaters who were exulting turned their attention towards me. An iota of revulsion crawled onto their lips and one of them spat, "Hurry and throw that prisoner into the dungeons, will you?"
"Yes, sir," the one grabbing my left arm responded.
Suddenly we were bathed in darkness. The air was putrid, smelt like rotten corpses. But it was empty, as if it were reserved for me. In one particular cell, I was dangling on my feeble feet, my wrists chained to the wall.
It was absurdly cold there and my clothes didn't help. In fact, I don't suppose they were considered clothes anymore.
Rags. Hogwarts' white blouse without sleeves, and the rotten black skirt. The badge was tore off by one of the Death Eaters who dragged me in, "You won't need that anymore since Hogwarts is in ashes."
Back in school, they called it the Gryffindor's impetuous courage. I stared at the Death Eaters guarding the dungeons, mustering as much reviles and hatred as I could in my eyes.
One of them got irritated, he came to my cell and all I felt was a voluminous fiery sensation. "Filthy bitch. That'll teach you how to behave politely!" he spat on my face.
"Really, Crabbe. Must you be so rude to a fellow schoolmate?" a masculine voice resonated in the empty dungeons. As he stepped into the scant light from the little window, "And not just any schoolmate, a Gryffindor."
I hissed at the sight of the silver blond hair, "Malfoy."
"Granger."
A mocking sneer galvanized in my hoarse voice, "What's with the holier-than-thou attitude among your own kind? Is violence too foul for a Malfoy?"
"Tssk tssk... your sarcasm still survived, Granger. I'm pleased to hear that."
"Get real, Malfoy. What is it that you want?"
"Nothing much, really. Something that only the know-it-all Granger can give me."
"If you still have questions on the uses of unicorn's horn essay, you can check the textbooks."
He laughed darkly. It wasn't the usual laugh he always gave after a prank or when he defeated Gryffindor in the previous Quidditch match. It was more... matured.
"Seriously, Granger. Aren't you aware of it?"
"My cognizance was insensated after one of your kind behaved rudely towards me, if you must know," I tilted my head to look at Crabbe. I didn't even recognice it was Crabbe, I don't recall that he was so thin and well-built.
Malfoy sighed and raised his wand, with a dark smirk on the corner of his lips. I saw his lips moved but couldn't hear what he was saying until a puissant green light flashed towards Crabbe and the latter fell dead on the floor.
"Now, Granger. What was that spell?" he leaned closer and held my chin firmly, forcing me to look into his eyes. He was like a school teacher asking a student an easy question.
I shook off his hand on my chin, "The Killer Curse, what do you think I am? A First Year student?" He ignored my question, tracing my face with his pale finger. I felt the tingling sensation as it travelled from the side of my eye to my throat, then right down to the cleavage.
I gasped, "Stop it, Malfoy. Just do what you came here for," I turned my head to the side, escaping the steel stare of his eyes.
"You were enjoying, weren't you, Mudblood?" he smirked.
Silence.
"Alright, since you insist. Tomorrow morning I'll have you as my wife."
"Tomorrow?" I turned to his direction, now leaning on the door of my cell, three feet away from me.
"Or you would rather I take you tonight?"
"Why?"
"Like I said, if you're anxious--"
"No. Why do you want me as your wife?"
He exhaled and came nearer, "Really, Granger. Don't tell me you don't know."
"Know what?"
"Know that I was watching you."
My eyes widened, "Watching me?"
"Why else would I be in your room during wee hours when the whole school is suppose to be sleeping? Do you recall, Granger?"
I searched my mind.
Yes. There was one morning when I woke up and felt someone's arms around me. Then a familiar scent tickled my neck, something like mint and firewhiskey. Carefully, I tried to turn around but the grip was firm and I can't possibly move without waking the one holding me. But the Dark Mark on the arm gave him away.
"Yes, I remember now."
"Happy?"
"Why should I be?"
"I thought that was what you always wanted."
"Shut up and go fuck Parkinson for all I care."
In an instant, his arm folded around my waist and pulled me to him. I felt his warm chest against mine as he whispered into my ear, "Because I know you've been doing the same thing."
I blushed.
"Because I know you're the one who watch me leave our shared common room. Because I know you're the one who watched me in the Great Hall. Because I know you were reluctant to get up when I was holding you that night."
"That doesn't mean anything, it's just an infatuation. Besides, you were playing on me, Malfoy."
"What gave you that idea?"
"Because I know you shag with half the population of girls in school."
"So... you were watching me."
"You said so yourself."
"Anyway, you will be mine forever."
"How would you know?"
"Because I know... that you still love me."
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Apotheosis #2
Through the coronas of fire torches on both sides of the hallway, I saw the attacker.
At first, it was only the contour that was visible. As the attacker slowly approached me, light began to shower on its body.
"Father," I exhaled in relief. "Why... the guards."
Father wore a solemn mask on his face. He approached crisply and pulled my hand as we ran down the hallway. Kiya followed behind.
I struggled to keep up with him. I never knew Father could move that fast.
"Father, where are we going?" I asked.
He turned around, pressing a finger to his lips, "Hush, Meka. I will tell you later."
I could only obey him.
We reached the Main Entrance of the palace. General Anuk was waiting, behind him were two great horses. I recognised Lilu, the horse that grew up with me.
General Anuk knelt down.
"Anuk, I place the Great Princess' safety in your hands. Go to the resting place of my Fathers. Never return, do you understand?" Father whispered in a pulsating tone.
"Yes, Pharoah."
"Father, what is happening, tell me!" I shook Father's hand, there is something serious happening and he is keeping it from me.
For the first time of my life, he looked at me with gentle eyes, ambivalence and sorrow fraught his eyes. "Meka, follow General Anuk. From now on he is your Father."
I shook my head, tears burst from my eyes, "No, Father. Your blood is in my body, not his. Father, tell me what is happening!"
"Child, time is seeping away! You must reach the west of the Nile before sunrise. Now go with General Anuk." He hands tightened on my shoulders, I felt a scant of pain.
General Anuk grabbed my hand and helped me to mount Lilu. Reluctantly, I sat still, my eyes still fixed on Father, tearing.
"Mekataten, you are no longer a daughter of mine. These gates will no longer open for you!" Father pointed at the pillars, shouting stridently. "Anuk son of Dekamun, I banish your family from the holy lands of Egypt forever!"
We rode off into the night. The last glance I stole of Father, he was leaning on a pillar helplessly. My heart was torn like shards of glass as the vista of my home was blurred by the sands.
At first, it was only the contour that was visible. As the attacker slowly approached me, light began to shower on its body.
"Father," I exhaled in relief. "Why... the guards."
Father wore a solemn mask on his face. He approached crisply and pulled my hand as we ran down the hallway. Kiya followed behind.
I struggled to keep up with him. I never knew Father could move that fast.
"Father, where are we going?" I asked.
He turned around, pressing a finger to his lips, "Hush, Meka. I will tell you later."
I could only obey him.
We reached the Main Entrance of the palace. General Anuk was waiting, behind him were two great horses. I recognised Lilu, the horse that grew up with me.
General Anuk knelt down.
"Anuk, I place the Great Princess' safety in your hands. Go to the resting place of my Fathers. Never return, do you understand?" Father whispered in a pulsating tone.
"Yes, Pharoah."
"Father, what is happening, tell me!" I shook Father's hand, there is something serious happening and he is keeping it from me.
For the first time of my life, he looked at me with gentle eyes, ambivalence and sorrow fraught his eyes. "Meka, follow General Anuk. From now on he is your Father."
I shook my head, tears burst from my eyes, "No, Father. Your blood is in my body, not his. Father, tell me what is happening!"
"Child, time is seeping away! You must reach the west of the Nile before sunrise. Now go with General Anuk." He hands tightened on my shoulders, I felt a scant of pain.
General Anuk grabbed my hand and helped me to mount Lilu. Reluctantly, I sat still, my eyes still fixed on Father, tearing.
"Mekataten, you are no longer a daughter of mine. These gates will no longer open for you!" Father pointed at the pillars, shouting stridently. "Anuk son of Dekamun, I banish your family from the holy lands of Egypt forever!"
We rode off into the night. The last glance I stole of Father, he was leaning on a pillar helplessly. My heart was torn like shards of glass as the vista of my home was blurred by the sands.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Eden is Burning #2
"Ugh... nevermind, I'll borrow Harry's," she gave up.
Before she left the corridor, she heard his voice, "Thought you wouldn't give up so easily, mudblood."
It was faint, very far away. She couldn't clearly hear what he was saying, but the word 'mudblood' was crystal clear in her ears.
"Fine," she told herself, "there are certain things I need not waste time on," and went straight to Potions.
Fortunately, she was just in time. Neville's face turned bright red when she sat down beside him, offering him her help throughout the lesson.
"Gee... thanks, Hermione. You know... you don't need to..." Neville stammered, still blushing.
She smiled politely, "Hey, what are friends for?"
Yes, a friend stop their friend from reducing the house's marks further, she thought to herself.
Silence shrouded the class abruptly as the Potions Master walked in. His glanced at all his students crisply and turned to the blackboard, writing down notes. He didn't notice the empty seat beside Crabbe and Goyle. Even if he did, he wouldn't question about it.
"Let's concentrate on the colour changing potions today. For your OWLS......"
She stole a glance at the Slytherins and noticed his absence. Did he lost his way? Questions after questions about him.
"Ms. Granger, will you tell us about the four uses of dragon's blood in this field?"
Oh Merlin, he'd better not be playing with Buckbeak.
"Ms. Granger?"
If he get's himself hurt, he'll surely blame it on me.
"Ms. Granger, can you answer--"
"That bastard!" she groaned.
The Slytherins snickered when they heard her strident protest. Some of the Gryffindors suppressed a soft chuckle.
But the Potions Master's face was stern.
"Yes, Ms. Granger. Can you answer that bastard?"
Red-faced, she stammered, "Oh err... colour changing potions... ingredients included... fluxweed and dragon's blood... and the spell... the combination--"
"100 points from Gryffindor!" his voice shook the classroom, "let that be a lesson for those who dislike that bastard."
She buried her face in her hands, feeling the blood gushing upwards to her cheeks and her head. Her cheeks were burning from embarassment as the Slytherins continued to make fun of 'that bastard' after class.
Usually, she was the first one to leave the class for the library. But today, she stayed until the last laughing Slytherin left. "I should perform the Killing Curse on myself," she whispered.
"I thought I should have the honour of doing that," a voice she hated called from behind her.
"Get lost, Malfoy."
"Why? Because I'm a bastard?" he asked, amusingly.
She took her books and headed for the door and gave him a rancorous glare when he stood in her way.
"Sod off, Malfoy."
"I will after my business here is done."
"What do you want?"
"Dumbledore wants both of us in his office, now."
"And why should I buy this story of yours?"
"Because of this," he presented her with a letter. She snatched it from his hand and read it.
He leaned against the door, arms folded, looking down the corridor.
Her jaw dropped, "I'm... promoted as... Head Girl?!" He shrugged, "Which means truce."
"Excuse me?"
"Truce, me and you."
"I beg your pardon, we never had a war. Well, animosity, if you have to put it this way. Besides, you're the one who's been bugging me ever since our First Year."
He nodded.
"Anyway, why did you proposed that?"
He showed her another letter, a one similar to hers. She gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands.
"Surprise, isn't it? We'll be sharing the same bloody room."
"What in Merlin's name... it's not like I'm going to hex you when you're sleeping. Wait, will you hex me when I'm sleeping?"
He rolled his eyes, "I don't need to. Considering the fact that you think I'm the most evil person to walk on earth, I could kill you here and now."
She flinched.
"Alright, back to business," he waved his hand and the door locked, the windows shut tight.
Staring at him, she paced a few feet backwards, "What are you doing, Malfoy?"
"Business," he walked towards her like a predator towards its prey.
Her back touched the cold stone wall and realised that she was cornered. He placed both his hands against the wall, touching her shoulders. Her heartbeat rate increased when she felt his chest.
Before she left the corridor, she heard his voice, "Thought you wouldn't give up so easily, mudblood."
It was faint, very far away. She couldn't clearly hear what he was saying, but the word 'mudblood' was crystal clear in her ears.
"Fine," she told herself, "there are certain things I need not waste time on," and went straight to Potions.
Fortunately, she was just in time. Neville's face turned bright red when she sat down beside him, offering him her help throughout the lesson.
"Gee... thanks, Hermione. You know... you don't need to..." Neville stammered, still blushing.
She smiled politely, "Hey, what are friends for?"
Yes, a friend stop their friend from reducing the house's marks further, she thought to herself.
Silence shrouded the class abruptly as the Potions Master walked in. His glanced at all his students crisply and turned to the blackboard, writing down notes. He didn't notice the empty seat beside Crabbe and Goyle. Even if he did, he wouldn't question about it.
"Let's concentrate on the colour changing potions today. For your OWLS......"
She stole a glance at the Slytherins and noticed his absence. Did he lost his way? Questions after questions about him.
"Ms. Granger, will you tell us about the four uses of dragon's blood in this field?"
Oh Merlin, he'd better not be playing with Buckbeak.
"Ms. Granger?"
If he get's himself hurt, he'll surely blame it on me.
"Ms. Granger, can you answer--"
"That bastard!" she groaned.
The Slytherins snickered when they heard her strident protest. Some of the Gryffindors suppressed a soft chuckle.
But the Potions Master's face was stern.
"Yes, Ms. Granger. Can you answer that bastard?"
Red-faced, she stammered, "Oh err... colour changing potions... ingredients included... fluxweed and dragon's blood... and the spell... the combination--"
"100 points from Gryffindor!" his voice shook the classroom, "let that be a lesson for those who dislike that bastard."
She buried her face in her hands, feeling the blood gushing upwards to her cheeks and her head. Her cheeks were burning from embarassment as the Slytherins continued to make fun of 'that bastard' after class.
Usually, she was the first one to leave the class for the library. But today, she stayed until the last laughing Slytherin left. "I should perform the Killing Curse on myself," she whispered.
"I thought I should have the honour of doing that," a voice she hated called from behind her.
"Get lost, Malfoy."
"Why? Because I'm a bastard?" he asked, amusingly.
She took her books and headed for the door and gave him a rancorous glare when he stood in her way.
"Sod off, Malfoy."
"I will after my business here is done."
"What do you want?"
"Dumbledore wants both of us in his office, now."
"And why should I buy this story of yours?"
"Because of this," he presented her with a letter. She snatched it from his hand and read it.
He leaned against the door, arms folded, looking down the corridor.
Her jaw dropped, "I'm... promoted as... Head Girl?!" He shrugged, "Which means truce."
"Excuse me?"
"Truce, me and you."
"I beg your pardon, we never had a war. Well, animosity, if you have to put it this way. Besides, you're the one who's been bugging me ever since our First Year."
He nodded.
"Anyway, why did you proposed that?"
He showed her another letter, a one similar to hers. She gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands.
"Surprise, isn't it? We'll be sharing the same bloody room."
"What in Merlin's name... it's not like I'm going to hex you when you're sleeping. Wait, will you hex me when I'm sleeping?"
He rolled his eyes, "I don't need to. Considering the fact that you think I'm the most evil person to walk on earth, I could kill you here and now."
She flinched.
"Alright, back to business," he waved his hand and the door locked, the windows shut tight.
Staring at him, she paced a few feet backwards, "What are you doing, Malfoy?"
"Business," he walked towards her like a predator towards its prey.
Her back touched the cold stone wall and realised that she was cornered. He placed both his hands against the wall, touching her shoulders. Her heartbeat rate increased when she felt his chest.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
A Love to Die For
He fished out a packet of Marlboro cigarettes along with a cheque book.
Whilst he scribbled in a scrawl manner, the bathroom door swung open. She stepped into the room, only with a white towel to shroud her nakedness.
"Here," he handed her the cheque, "I'll call you if I need you."
"Sure," she examined the digits on the cheque, playing with her wet silken hair.
Before leaving, he offered her a cigarette. She shook her head.
"Oh, I forgot. You prefer Dunhill," he opened the room door.
As he was about to leave the room, she said, "Yes, Dunhill cigars."
He stopped at the entrance, turned around to face her and spitted out venomously with a sneer, "Cigars for a prostitute... an odd match." And the door slammed shut.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
People, usually men, eye her oddly. She can't help but notice a scant of lust in all of their eyes. Shrugs, puts out a nonchalant posture, she continued walking home.
She lived alone in an apartment, right in the middle of the City Square.
From her bedroom window, she could see the inhabitants of the Big Apple rushing to work.
From her bedroom window, she could see the vista of the setting sun.
From her bedroom window, she could see callow teenagers blowing kisses to her.
From her bedroom window, she could see gory car accidents.
From her bedroom window, she could see him, who stayed in the room directly opposite hers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Neighbours stood outside her apartment door, trying hard to peer into the messy house.
Police were searching her house, from the ceiling to the floor.
After an hour of investigation, the police left. But the yellow banners still remained.
A little boy pulled sleeve of an old woman beside him and asked, "What does the yellow banner say?"
"It says 'Crime scene, do not cross', dear," the old woman replied.
"What's a crime scene, granny?"
"A crime scene is the place where bad things happen, dear. Come on, let's go home."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Gory case, detective. Very gory," an officer shook his head in disgust as he looked at the pictures taken of the victim in the crime scene.
The detective nodded solemnly, "Yes, Bruce. Never seen something like that before, might gimme nightmares."
Suddenly the door of the detective's office swung open and another officer stood there, gasping for breath, "Good news, sir. We found the killer."
The detective jumped from his seat, "That was fast. Rick, continue on the lab report. Bruce and I will do the questioning."
"Yes, sir."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The suspect was a handsome looking man, in his mid twenties.
When the detective and Bruce sat down opposite him, the suspect said, "I know I'm the only suspect you've got."
"Gerald Randall, right?" Bruce ignored his statement.
"I know who did it," Gerald said calmly.
The detective and Bruce raised their eyebrows, "Who?"
Gerald chuckled, still calm, "Why, me... and you, detective."
"Better watch your mouth or I'll--" the detective raised his fist but Bruce stopped him.
Gerald continued, "You see, Carrie stayed directly opposite my block. I watched her rising from her bed, combing her hair and sometimes... fooled around with many men.
"Of course, she watched me too, every evening. She thought I didn't notice but... haha, I do. I always knew. Even on the day before the murder took place, she was watching me."
"Your motive was to stop her from stalking you?" Bruce inquired, the detective remained silent.
"Haha... not that, sir. I actually liked it. My motive was to cease her sufferings. She was suffering, so much. Blood was pouring out like a crimson waterfall from both her elbows, someone chopped her hands off.
"She was still breathing, although she was almost decapitated. She was crying too. Tears mixed with blood, it diluted the scarlet of her blood. I went in and found her looking at me, with the same longing way she used to watch me."
Gerald sighed, "But this time there was another message in her eyes, she asked me to kill her."
Bruce asked, "According to what you've just said, someone else attempted to kill her but failed. Do you know who that person is?"
As if he couldn't hear, he changed the topic, "Can you spare me a cigarette, detective?" he smiled at him amusingly.
Frustrated, he threw a packet of cigarettes on the table. Gerald took one out and lighted it. He closed his eyes and blew the smoke out, "Marlboro... you have taste, detective."
"Stop playing games. I'm not the one who killed her," the detective stood up abruptly, pulling Gerald's collar.
Gerald didn't speak, but looked at the detective with contempt.
"SHE KILLED HERSELF, SHE'S THE ONE TO BLAME!!" the detective shouted. Bruce held him and kicked the door open, "Guys, grab hold of the detective!"
The detective shouted inhuman screams as he planted his fingernails in his scalp. Gerald continued smoking, smiling.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He hit her head with a vase when she was smoking the cigar.
She fell on the floor and moaned, "Bastard..."
"You asked for it... I didn't want to do this... you forced me!" he shouted, pacing in hurried steps around the room. "You go around sleeping with other men, what am I?!"
"Why do you care..." she tried to get up and he stabbed her hand down to the floor with a kitchen knife.
"Trying to get up? You're a lowly prostitute, STAY DOWN!!"
Silently, she took the pain, bit by bit. But she still tried to stand up.
He laughed with ferocity, "We'll see if you can stand up without hands..." he proceeded to cut her hands from below the elbow.
Tears of pain burst out, but she refused to moan or scream. She was a proud woman.
He threw her bloody hands on her bed, "Tell me you love me," he said in a gentle tone.
She kept quiet.
"Since you don't wanna talk, why not I help you get rid of that voice box that you REFUSED TO USE?!"
"You're a son of a bitch, filthy police--"
"I don't want to hear anything else from you just tell me that you love me! Say YOU LOVE ME!! SAY IT!!"
"I hate you..." she added salt to his bleeding wound, he cursed her, with tears.
"If you refuse to say you love me... I refuse to let you tell anyone you love them!!" the knife sank into her neck. Rage was so puissant it gave him the strength to cut through her bones......
Gerald witnessed the whole scenario, but he did nothing to help. Instead, he waited till the killer left.
The door was left opened. The vase was missing and so was the knife.
Her eyes watched him as he toyed with her long bronze hair, taking in the scent of her hair. He didn't mind the putridness. Smoking her cigar, he took her life.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The day the detective was sentenced to death, Gerald's throat was slit in his own room.
No weapons were found. The only evidence the police found was a cheque, with the fingerprints of both the detective and Carrie.
Whilst he scribbled in a scrawl manner, the bathroom door swung open. She stepped into the room, only with a white towel to shroud her nakedness.
"Here," he handed her the cheque, "I'll call you if I need you."
"Sure," she examined the digits on the cheque, playing with her wet silken hair.
Before leaving, he offered her a cigarette. She shook her head.
"Oh, I forgot. You prefer Dunhill," he opened the room door.
As he was about to leave the room, she said, "Yes, Dunhill cigars."
He stopped at the entrance, turned around to face her and spitted out venomously with a sneer, "Cigars for a prostitute... an odd match." And the door slammed shut.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
People, usually men, eye her oddly. She can't help but notice a scant of lust in all of their eyes. Shrugs, puts out a nonchalant posture, she continued walking home.
She lived alone in an apartment, right in the middle of the City Square.
From her bedroom window, she could see the inhabitants of the Big Apple rushing to work.
From her bedroom window, she could see the vista of the setting sun.
From her bedroom window, she could see callow teenagers blowing kisses to her.
From her bedroom window, she could see gory car accidents.
From her bedroom window, she could see him, who stayed in the room directly opposite hers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Neighbours stood outside her apartment door, trying hard to peer into the messy house.
Police were searching her house, from the ceiling to the floor.
After an hour of investigation, the police left. But the yellow banners still remained.
A little boy pulled sleeve of an old woman beside him and asked, "What does the yellow banner say?"
"It says 'Crime scene, do not cross', dear," the old woman replied.
"What's a crime scene, granny?"
"A crime scene is the place where bad things happen, dear. Come on, let's go home."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Gory case, detective. Very gory," an officer shook his head in disgust as he looked at the pictures taken of the victim in the crime scene.
The detective nodded solemnly, "Yes, Bruce. Never seen something like that before, might gimme nightmares."
Suddenly the door of the detective's office swung open and another officer stood there, gasping for breath, "Good news, sir. We found the killer."
The detective jumped from his seat, "That was fast. Rick, continue on the lab report. Bruce and I will do the questioning."
"Yes, sir."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The suspect was a handsome looking man, in his mid twenties.
When the detective and Bruce sat down opposite him, the suspect said, "I know I'm the only suspect you've got."
"Gerald Randall, right?" Bruce ignored his statement.
"I know who did it," Gerald said calmly.
The detective and Bruce raised their eyebrows, "Who?"
Gerald chuckled, still calm, "Why, me... and you, detective."
"Better watch your mouth or I'll--" the detective raised his fist but Bruce stopped him.
Gerald continued, "You see, Carrie stayed directly opposite my block. I watched her rising from her bed, combing her hair and sometimes... fooled around with many men.
"Of course, she watched me too, every evening. She thought I didn't notice but... haha, I do. I always knew. Even on the day before the murder took place, she was watching me."
"Your motive was to stop her from stalking you?" Bruce inquired, the detective remained silent.
"Haha... not that, sir. I actually liked it. My motive was to cease her sufferings. She was suffering, so much. Blood was pouring out like a crimson waterfall from both her elbows, someone chopped her hands off.
"She was still breathing, although she was almost decapitated. She was crying too. Tears mixed with blood, it diluted the scarlet of her blood. I went in and found her looking at me, with the same longing way she used to watch me."
Gerald sighed, "But this time there was another message in her eyes, she asked me to kill her."
Bruce asked, "According to what you've just said, someone else attempted to kill her but failed. Do you know who that person is?"
As if he couldn't hear, he changed the topic, "Can you spare me a cigarette, detective?" he smiled at him amusingly.
Frustrated, he threw a packet of cigarettes on the table. Gerald took one out and lighted it. He closed his eyes and blew the smoke out, "Marlboro... you have taste, detective."
"Stop playing games. I'm not the one who killed her," the detective stood up abruptly, pulling Gerald's collar.
Gerald didn't speak, but looked at the detective with contempt.
"SHE KILLED HERSELF, SHE'S THE ONE TO BLAME!!" the detective shouted. Bruce held him and kicked the door open, "Guys, grab hold of the detective!"
The detective shouted inhuman screams as he planted his fingernails in his scalp. Gerald continued smoking, smiling.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He hit her head with a vase when she was smoking the cigar.
She fell on the floor and moaned, "Bastard..."
"You asked for it... I didn't want to do this... you forced me!" he shouted, pacing in hurried steps around the room. "You go around sleeping with other men, what am I?!"
"Why do you care..." she tried to get up and he stabbed her hand down to the floor with a kitchen knife.
"Trying to get up? You're a lowly prostitute, STAY DOWN!!"
Silently, she took the pain, bit by bit. But she still tried to stand up.
He laughed with ferocity, "We'll see if you can stand up without hands..." he proceeded to cut her hands from below the elbow.
Tears of pain burst out, but she refused to moan or scream. She was a proud woman.
He threw her bloody hands on her bed, "Tell me you love me," he said in a gentle tone.
She kept quiet.
"Since you don't wanna talk, why not I help you get rid of that voice box that you REFUSED TO USE?!"
"You're a son of a bitch, filthy police--"
"I don't want to hear anything else from you just tell me that you love me! Say YOU LOVE ME!! SAY IT!!"
"I hate you..." she added salt to his bleeding wound, he cursed her, with tears.
"If you refuse to say you love me... I refuse to let you tell anyone you love them!!" the knife sank into her neck. Rage was so puissant it gave him the strength to cut through her bones......
Gerald witnessed the whole scenario, but he did nothing to help. Instead, he waited till the killer left.
The door was left opened. The vase was missing and so was the knife.
Her eyes watched him as he toyed with her long bronze hair, taking in the scent of her hair. He didn't mind the putridness. Smoking her cigar, he took her life.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The day the detective was sentenced to death, Gerald's throat was slit in his own room.
No weapons were found. The only evidence the police found was a cheque, with the fingerprints of both the detective and Carrie.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Apotheosis #1
My vision was blurred by the miasma of smoke, languidly reaching to the heavens from the bonfire.
Father sat beside me silently as he watched Mother's body turned into ashes. I could hear Viatra suppressed clandestine cackles, although she was sitting on the other side of Father.
Part of me wanted to leave; the other part wanted to die.
But I told myself to stay put. Tears continued to slide down from my eyes, leaving a wet trail on my cheeks.
When they started to burn Mother's body, I could feel the sweltering heat searing my skin. They are burning my Mother, they are burning another part of me.
Viatra rose from her throne and walked to me, "Meka, you should retire to your chambers, you look pale." I pushed her hand away as it touched my cheeks.
"I will stay until Mother's ashes were brought forth."
"Kiya, bring the Princess back to her chambers, she is tired."
"NO!! I said I will stay!"
Father stood up abruptly and shoved Viatra away, "Let her do as she pleases. Remember she is the Great Princess."
Viatra's face turned purple, creases formed on her forehead and she argued, "She is my daughter--"
"Ankhesenamun is my Mother. Not you," I marched forth and spit that in her face. She trembled, frightened.
I smugged.
Then a fiery sensation conquered an expanse of my left cheek. I slowly turned my head to face Viatra with her right hand frozen in mid air.
Guards surrounded Viatra and her maids, forming a human wall between us. She did not protest when they hauled her into the palace. I continue standing watching Mother, lying so still in the flames.
"Meka, should rest. I will follow the Priest to the Nile," Father laid a hand on my shoulder, "I will make sure her ashes go in peace to Osiris."
I nodded. Kiya supported my frail body as we walked back to my chambers. Father sent two guards to guide us back.
The four of us were alone in the huge hallway when suddenly both the guards fell to the ground. Kiya shivered and held me tight. When the undulating of their chests were visible, both of us exhaled in relief.
"Meka."
A voice rang through the empty hallway from behind us.
Father sat beside me silently as he watched Mother's body turned into ashes. I could hear Viatra suppressed clandestine cackles, although she was sitting on the other side of Father.
Part of me wanted to leave; the other part wanted to die.
But I told myself to stay put. Tears continued to slide down from my eyes, leaving a wet trail on my cheeks.
When they started to burn Mother's body, I could feel the sweltering heat searing my skin. They are burning my Mother, they are burning another part of me.
Viatra rose from her throne and walked to me, "Meka, you should retire to your chambers, you look pale." I pushed her hand away as it touched my cheeks.
"I will stay until Mother's ashes were brought forth."
"Kiya, bring the Princess back to her chambers, she is tired."
"NO!! I said I will stay!"
Father stood up abruptly and shoved Viatra away, "Let her do as she pleases. Remember she is the Great Princess."
Viatra's face turned purple, creases formed on her forehead and she argued, "She is my daughter--"
"Ankhesenamun is my Mother. Not you," I marched forth and spit that in her face. She trembled, frightened.
I smugged.
Then a fiery sensation conquered an expanse of my left cheek. I slowly turned my head to face Viatra with her right hand frozen in mid air.
Guards surrounded Viatra and her maids, forming a human wall between us. She did not protest when they hauled her into the palace. I continue standing watching Mother, lying so still in the flames.
"Meka, should rest. I will follow the Priest to the Nile," Father laid a hand on my shoulder, "I will make sure her ashes go in peace to Osiris."
I nodded. Kiya supported my frail body as we walked back to my chambers. Father sent two guards to guide us back.
The four of us were alone in the huge hallway when suddenly both the guards fell to the ground. Kiya shivered and held me tight. When the undulating of their chests were visible, both of us exhaled in relief.
"Meka."
A voice rang through the empty hallway from behind us.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Eden is Burning #1
She blinked her eyes at the ray of sunlight.
Climbing out of bed, she reached to the nearby drawer for her robes. She flinched as the warm water touched her skin. "Now... where did Parvati put my shampoo..." her hands searched the row of body shampoos.
After dressing herself up, she picked up the timetable on her study table. "Damn... 4 periods of Potions today," she sighed.
Is there anything more dreadful than being stuck in Professor Snape's class, with those callow Slytherins? She started to groan, then she stopped.
"Snape will be using fluxweed today. Poor Neville, he's bound to melt his cauldron again. I guess I better pair up with him," she told herself whilst playing with her curls.
It only took her 3 minutes to reach the Great Hall. Dumbledore always gave her a warm smile every morning. This daily routine was not excluded today, except it was more of a grin than a smile.
She took out her parchment on Divination and started checking it. Engrossed in her own handwriting, she did not realise the pair of cold, grey eyes prying on her.
He was the early bird on the Slytherin table.
"Homework on the breakfast table... never underestimate a mudblood," he whispered to himself. "Never thought the mudblood could style her hair," he recalled how bushy and dry her hair was when they were both First Years.
He smirked, "Hmm... it seems Granger is more edible than Parkinson." He emptied his glass of pumpkin juice, "But she's still a mudblood, such a pity." He took his books and walked towards the exit.
"What's this... oh, Merlin! How could I make such a mistake?!" she erased the mistake and searched for her quill but found nothing. She searched the table and under it. A scant white object caught her eyes and she found her quill resting on the floor near the entrance.
Her hands reached out to grab it when suddenly a shiny black shoe stepped on it.
"Excuse me, could you..." she locked gaze with the owner of the shiny black shoe, "Malfoy?"
"Could I what, Granger?"
"Well... can you move your shiny black... I mean, move your leg? You stepped on my quill," her cheeks burned when she mentioned his shoe.
"And why should I do that?" amused by her flustered cheeks, he leaned down until their eyes were at the same level.
A slight tremor ran down her spine as she looked at his eyes. They were like sharp daggers that pierced through her, as if they were able to read her mind. She felt naked.
He raised an eyebrow when she did not reply, "Loss for words, Granger?"
Hauled back to reality, she shook her head, trying to denude the image of his eyes that were embedded in her head.
"You're not mesmerised, are you?" he smirked as he recalled how she stared at him.
"Of course not..." still blushing, her tongue gave no mercy, "I don't fancy ferrets, nor do I talk to ferrets."
She realised his brows furrowed and changed the subject crisply, "If you don't let me have my quill, we'll both be late for Potions. And you know what Snape does to late comers."
"Hmm... you've got a point here. Anyway, I have my reasons to be late," a smug appeared on his pale face.
"What reason?"
"I shall tell Snape that a mudblood was in my way."
She clenched her fists and scowled, "I'll hex you if I have the chance," she whispered under her breath.
"Hermione!! We've got to go now," someone called. As she turned around to the source of the voice, he grabbed the quill and walked out of the Great Hall on graceful steps.
"Hey!! My quill! Come back here, Malfoy!" she chased after him. His steps were swift even though he was walking nonchalantly.
"If you want it back, follow me," he called out and disappeared behind a corner.
She found herself at the verge of a long corridor. She walked towards where he disappeared to and saw a door.
Climbing out of bed, she reached to the nearby drawer for her robes. She flinched as the warm water touched her skin. "Now... where did Parvati put my shampoo..." her hands searched the row of body shampoos.
After dressing herself up, she picked up the timetable on her study table. "Damn... 4 periods of Potions today," she sighed.
Is there anything more dreadful than being stuck in Professor Snape's class, with those callow Slytherins? She started to groan, then she stopped.
"Snape will be using fluxweed today. Poor Neville, he's bound to melt his cauldron again. I guess I better pair up with him," she told herself whilst playing with her curls.
It only took her 3 minutes to reach the Great Hall. Dumbledore always gave her a warm smile every morning. This daily routine was not excluded today, except it was more of a grin than a smile.
She took out her parchment on Divination and started checking it. Engrossed in her own handwriting, she did not realise the pair of cold, grey eyes prying on her.
He was the early bird on the Slytherin table.
"Homework on the breakfast table... never underestimate a mudblood," he whispered to himself. "Never thought the mudblood could style her hair," he recalled how bushy and dry her hair was when they were both First Years.
He smirked, "Hmm... it seems Granger is more edible than Parkinson." He emptied his glass of pumpkin juice, "But she's still a mudblood, such a pity." He took his books and walked towards the exit.
"What's this... oh, Merlin! How could I make such a mistake?!" she erased the mistake and searched for her quill but found nothing. She searched the table and under it. A scant white object caught her eyes and she found her quill resting on the floor near the entrance.
Her hands reached out to grab it when suddenly a shiny black shoe stepped on it.
"Excuse me, could you..." she locked gaze with the owner of the shiny black shoe, "Malfoy?"
"Could I what, Granger?"
"Well... can you move your shiny black... I mean, move your leg? You stepped on my quill," her cheeks burned when she mentioned his shoe.
"And why should I do that?" amused by her flustered cheeks, he leaned down until their eyes were at the same level.
A slight tremor ran down her spine as she looked at his eyes. They were like sharp daggers that pierced through her, as if they were able to read her mind. She felt naked.
He raised an eyebrow when she did not reply, "Loss for words, Granger?"
Hauled back to reality, she shook her head, trying to denude the image of his eyes that were embedded in her head.
"You're not mesmerised, are you?" he smirked as he recalled how she stared at him.
"Of course not..." still blushing, her tongue gave no mercy, "I don't fancy ferrets, nor do I talk to ferrets."
She realised his brows furrowed and changed the subject crisply, "If you don't let me have my quill, we'll both be late for Potions. And you know what Snape does to late comers."
"Hmm... you've got a point here. Anyway, I have my reasons to be late," a smug appeared on his pale face.
"What reason?"
"I shall tell Snape that a mudblood was in my way."
She clenched her fists and scowled, "I'll hex you if I have the chance," she whispered under her breath.
"Hermione!! We've got to go now," someone called. As she turned around to the source of the voice, he grabbed the quill and walked out of the Great Hall on graceful steps.
"Hey!! My quill! Come back here, Malfoy!" she chased after him. His steps were swift even though he was walking nonchalantly.
"If you want it back, follow me," he called out and disappeared behind a corner.
She found herself at the verge of a long corridor. She walked towards where he disappeared to and saw a door.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Tainted Lace
The putrid ambience was worsen with the shower of rain. He was hauled out by an invisible hand. Suddenly, he was flung towards his right and he fell, landing on all fours.
Being the brazen fellow he had always been, he stood up crisply. He brushed off the dirt that were on his sleeves and turned around, facing the vista of the Dark Lake from the cliff.
She walked up to him, “Malfoy.”
He did not reply.
The both of them stood looking down at the Dark Lake. Under the moonlight, they could only feel the soft prod of raindrops on their skin. Raindrops intricated the surface of the Dark Lake, which made it seemed so ethereal like a dream yet vivid to the eyes.
“It would be bloody nice to sink in there. Imagine your soul travelling fathoms below from the surface of the world, far away from the noises and pollution,” he surpressed his usual smug. “Life is but a scant reverie if compared to death.”
“Stop being so morbid, Malfoy,” tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re being sentenced to DEATH!! The dementor’s kiss!! Bastard, can’t you be an ordinary person, just for once, before you die?!”
He turned his cold gaze towards her, “Malfoys are not ordinary people, Granger. Our emotions and feelings are unpredictable, especially to Mudbloods.”
Mudblood. She allowed that foul term to devour her, smother her, obliterate her. Since the beginning of time, that was her name, her identity to him. She swallowed back the tears that almost burst out from her eyes. She must not be feeble, not in front of him.
“You know, Harry and Ron died last year.”
“I knew. I saw their bodies.”
“They said they’ll come back.”
“Their souls, I assume.”
“No.”
Silence.
“Nothing returned. Nothing. If you’re gone too… I am left alone.”
Once more, silence filled in the gap between the two arch enemies. They still looked at the Dark Lake below, looking at the intricates that formed languidly. He held her hand. She flinched at the touch of his rough skin texture.
“Do you remember that time we were in the empty classroom?” he asked.
“When we were both Head Boy and Head Girl?” she inquired.
He nodded, “Our first time,” he smirked.
“Erm… yeah,” blushing, she replied.
At the sight of her flushed cheeks, he laughed. Not with sarcasm, not with malice. “I found it endearing whenever you blushed, including the time when we did it.”
She flustered when he turned to face her and carressed her cheeks. “You knew that I hate you.”
He planted a deep kiss on her lips. Savouring the texture and curls of her cinnamon hair with his hands. She put her arms around his neck as she took in the firewhisky sensation from his tongue. His hair was like soft silk in her hands and she was reluctant to let go.
Gingerly, he pushed her away and turned his back towards her. The dark shadows of the dementors surrounded him and soon, he was obliterated by the malicious shadows.
There were no shouts, no screams, no protests, not even a moan of distress. When the dementors floated away, he laid on the solid ground, cold and dead. A smile painted on his cold visage.
She did not cry. She knelt down beside his body and touched his eyes, his nose, his lips.
Dumbledore and the Minister shook their heads and left.
Before they took their fifth step, a puissant green light penetrated the surroundings. The Minister turned to check on Hermione but what met his eyes petrified him. Dumbledore continued his way back to the castle in the rain, “Tainted, tainted…”
Being the brazen fellow he had always been, he stood up crisply. He brushed off the dirt that were on his sleeves and turned around, facing the vista of the Dark Lake from the cliff.
She walked up to him, “Malfoy.”
He did not reply.
The both of them stood looking down at the Dark Lake. Under the moonlight, they could only feel the soft prod of raindrops on their skin. Raindrops intricated the surface of the Dark Lake, which made it seemed so ethereal like a dream yet vivid to the eyes.
“It would be bloody nice to sink in there. Imagine your soul travelling fathoms below from the surface of the world, far away from the noises and pollution,” he surpressed his usual smug. “Life is but a scant reverie if compared to death.”
“Stop being so morbid, Malfoy,” tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re being sentenced to DEATH!! The dementor’s kiss!! Bastard, can’t you be an ordinary person, just for once, before you die?!”
He turned his cold gaze towards her, “Malfoys are not ordinary people, Granger. Our emotions and feelings are unpredictable, especially to Mudbloods.”
Mudblood. She allowed that foul term to devour her, smother her, obliterate her. Since the beginning of time, that was her name, her identity to him. She swallowed back the tears that almost burst out from her eyes. She must not be feeble, not in front of him.
“You know, Harry and Ron died last year.”
“I knew. I saw their bodies.”
“They said they’ll come back.”
“Their souls, I assume.”
“No.”
Silence.
“Nothing returned. Nothing. If you’re gone too… I am left alone.”
Once more, silence filled in the gap between the two arch enemies. They still looked at the Dark Lake below, looking at the intricates that formed languidly. He held her hand. She flinched at the touch of his rough skin texture.
“Do you remember that time we were in the empty classroom?” he asked.
“When we were both Head Boy and Head Girl?” she inquired.
He nodded, “Our first time,” he smirked.
“Erm… yeah,” blushing, she replied.
At the sight of her flushed cheeks, he laughed. Not with sarcasm, not with malice. “I found it endearing whenever you blushed, including the time when we did it.”
She flustered when he turned to face her and carressed her cheeks. “You knew that I hate you.”
He planted a deep kiss on her lips. Savouring the texture and curls of her cinnamon hair with his hands. She put her arms around his neck as she took in the firewhisky sensation from his tongue. His hair was like soft silk in her hands and she was reluctant to let go.
Gingerly, he pushed her away and turned his back towards her. The dark shadows of the dementors surrounded him and soon, he was obliterated by the malicious shadows.
There were no shouts, no screams, no protests, not even a moan of distress. When the dementors floated away, he laid on the solid ground, cold and dead. A smile painted on his cold visage.
She did not cry. She knelt down beside his body and touched his eyes, his nose, his lips.
Dumbledore and the Minister shook their heads and left.
Before they took their fifth step, a puissant green light penetrated the surroundings. The Minister turned to check on Hermione but what met his eyes petrified him. Dumbledore continued his way back to the castle in the rain, “Tainted, tainted…”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
