Category Archives: Short Story

I Need To Go

“Please explain it to me. I don’t understand.”
“I… I…. It’s rather hard to …. To….. I dunno…”
“C’mon! There’s gotta be something… an explanation…. A reason why you just woke up someday and decided to end this…”
“I told you I can’t tell, really – it just – just doesn’t…”
“Doesn’t what? Doesn’t feel right?”
“Ummm… not exactly…”
“Come on! What’s with the unsure act? You told me it’s something you do, but I’m starting to think you’re using it as a shield… to – to hide…. Look at me! Look me in the eye!” As he said this, she turned her head away to hide her tearing. “LOOK AT ME!” he yelled, jerking her head so she was facing him directly. “Tearing now, are we? Aren’t you a special one…” he mocked, in part to hide his surprise at her state.
“Nick… I – I need to go. Let go.”
“leaving already?”
“Please.”
“Like hell you’re leaving. You’ve still got a lot to answer, THEN you can leave.”
“Nick please…”
“Answer me Toni! Doesn’t what?!”
“Nick, it’s complicated. I already told you. Just… just…” Her voice faded as she felt a huge tear roll down her left cheek. “Please,” she whispered.
Nick let go of her and looked on in disbelief. She was looking at the ground, arms clasped together, biting her lower lip towards the left side. He’d been with her long enough to recognize that look, although recognition and acceptance were two different things altogether.
“Okay Toni, talk to me. Please. Help me understand why.”
Silence, another tear.
“What did I do wrong?”
Silence.
“Is there someone else?”
Nick was getting desperate. She knew this but… At this question, she actually semi-rolled her eyes through the tears. This was getting hopeless… She couldn’t speak, what could she say anyway? That she didn’t have a solid, speakable reason as to why she was leaving a perfect guy? He would deny that, say he is flawed, but he was perfect for her. Perfect. What would she say? That it was right, it felt – even looked right, but something in her gut told her to walk out? He was desperate, she was frustrated, so she raised her face and looked him in the eye. Directly. The gaze lasted long, then she raised her palm to his cheek oh-so-gently and held his face, using her fingertips to explore it one last time and to commit him to memory. Then she turned and ran, hailing the first taxi she met.
She had told him, in her own way she had.

So I found this when going through my old pieces… I really wish I had finished it. It should have made for an interesting read, but unfortunately, it is all we have for now.

Peace and love
XO

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For The Destruction of a Legend

He sat at the door as he always did
With his head in his hand as it always was
And a pain in his chest, in his head, everywhere

This time he knew nothing would change
There would be no sorries, no “ I understand”s….
Gone meant gone, and he believed he knew
She was gone and gone for good

Twenty days, and still no sign of her
Twenty days of regrets and remorse
A shrine of penitence, the new name of his seat
Waiting, anticipating, hoping against hope
He knew he wanted her back
He knew he preferred her freedom
He knew the end had come,
Yet he still wished her around.
He knew she was happier away,
He knew it was better for it to be like this,
Yet he hoped that she would drop by.
Look in on him.
Light up his day with her smile.

He mourned her absence
Craved for her presence, but
He knew all too well
He wouldn’t have her back
Couldn’t find it in his heart
To raise a finger
Take aim
Hit
Watch her cry
Watch her break.
His little china doll
Now with no big monster
Hitting her everyday.

Last time he had her in hospital
And God knows the remorse he felt
But there was nothing he could do
He made her favorite meal every day
Took it to her and watched her feed
Apologized profusely and begged her to go
Leave him alone,
Him and his infernal despicable disposition.
He wondered why it had to be him
To inherit the manic trait
She had understood him, she said
That is why she had hung around, he believed
But even that soon got to him
And he couldn’t take her pained cries
And he thought it was for the better.

But by God! Why did…
Why did she look so broken,
So pained, so hurt?
Why did she go into mourning
As if she had enjoyed all the torture?
Did she have to make it so hard,
So mightily impossible,
So hard and painful?
She had gone on her knees
Begging to stay as he asked her to go
Braving the inferno as he started boiling

What was it in her that…
What did she see in him
That made her want to stay?
He looked in the mirror every day
And hatred seethed from within
At this, this…
This ruthless creature he saw.
What was it she saw in him
When all he saw was blackness
Through and through,
A wade in murky waters…

He thought it would be alright then
Knowing she was fine, but
Why did it pain him more now,
More than it did when she was in pain
Pain inflicted by his possession.
He didn’t want to let go,
But he knew he had to…

Memories of an unreclaimable past…
Threats of a looming curse…
Was she all that important to him
That he would let it all go,
All the family history, 15 generations down?
He’d lied he didn’t know,
She had believed and held on.
He needed his sanity now,
But what would he have done?

Leaving the shrine of penitence
Took all his energy because
Any time about now
He’d see her fleeting by
Fleeting, yes, but with pained grace
As she ran this errand or the other
Avoiding his direction
As it should have been,
Yet he’d feel her pain
As acutely as she’d feel his,
But history needed to be buried.

So he went to the basement
And hurled the chest in the furnace
Ignoring his grandfather’s warning,
Burning the curse chronicles.
As the last of it burned to ashes
He noticed time had stopped
And felt himself change, transform.
Excitement, worry, joy, fear…
Then it rang in his head
In the 15 cursed voices
Whose diaries – volumes – had been in the chest,
Beginning with the grandfather to his
Grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather,
Right down to his father’s:
“For the destruction of a legend
Cursed though as it may be
Your joy shall reach a tragic end,
Worse than the millionth sting of a bee.”
With a lopsided smile he realized
His happiness had come to an end
Long before he’d done this deed.

With a spring in his step he left the basement,
Went up the stairs and demolished the shrine.
Caught his reflection in a mirror,
And smiled.
The haunted look was gone.

She must have sensed it,
Because she came.
And when she came,
He noticed it immediately
But waited,
Waited for it to come from her.
And when it did,
He prayed he’d heard wrong
But she gave him facts –
And times, and
He didn’t have to check his timepiece,
For he knew all too well
The sound of that moment
When time froze…
And the fifteen voices…
He had her back now
She believed she’d had a vision
That asked her to come back
For he had changed…

But,
For the love of a lover
She had lost
Something greater.
It ran in her family
And she couldn’t bear to lose it…
She drowned her sorrow
In glass after glass of laudanum…
Became passive,
Lost her vibrance.
And then he realized
It would have been better,
Far much better,
To suffer alone
For hitting her manically,
For missing her presence,
Than to have her back
A mere shadow
Of what once was…

For the destruction of a legend
His joy had met a tragic end…
She would never be, again
And he would never see,
Feel, hear, enjoy –
The presence
Of his true love.
For the destruction of a legend,
He had lost his soul.

Wed, Nov. 3, 2010

Red Letter Day 2

Heys! (is that even correct?)

As I promised, here’s the second part of Red Letter Day, hope you enjoyed part 1! 🙂 Feedback is always appreciated :).

Scarlet balled her fists in frustration. For years now, all she had been getting from Christopher were vague descriptions in his emails, and he no longer sent photos. He had this uncanny way of going around her questions when they talked on the phone, and had even stopped switching on the webcam when he called. She wondered why she had been holding on to a failing long-distance romance, and gave up on it finally, for good. That day, after a particularly nasty phone call, she decided that she’d had it. She went all out and crazy, getting a total makeover. The mouse went dark – she dyed her hair scarlet, like her name, had her ears pierced, and got a bull ring. And, of course, make up to complete the dark look.
***********************************************************************************
The Pablos had been at a friend’s house, having a blast. Little Pablo was now seven and looked more like his father each passing day. As he bade his friends goodbye, he got into their car and waited for his papa to finish talking with his friends. Pablo Sr. came to the car still smiling at the invitation by his friend Jotham to his nephews’ birthday party – the twenty first, coming-of-age kinda party. Little Pablo soon got caught up in the excitement too, and he watched this particular pot for the entire week until it finally bubbled over. Sunday night came and the two gentlemen, or man and boy, if you please, got out their party gear and hopped onto papa’s black Harley, zooming all the way to the party venue. They paused at the gate to admire the humongous Goliath of a mansion located in the suburbs, only moving when the vehicle behind them hooted impatiently.
The house was already packed, and Little Pablo was sent to the ‘underage’ section, where he found most of his friends already there, playing. The adults partied and danced to the music blaring from the speakers, but none could beat the twins, John and Mark. They danced the hardest, ate the fastest, drank the most and seemed to be having the greatest time. It was their party, after all. Scarlet, now known as just Scarla, sat in a corner, pumping dreary music on her Walkman and wallowing in misery from a broken heart.
Pablo Sr. went to where Jotham was and was soon introduced to JohnMark. Jokes were passed around and they were all having a great time when the pair simultaneously suggested that Pablo try and liven up their sister. Not one to pass up a challenge, Pablo went up and introduced himself to her. No response. Again, his darned personality wouldn’t let him give up, and he continued speaking really nothing in particular, until she muttered something. “What was that?” he asked, and then almost choked when she said it louder. She had just called him a blithering idiot. Blithering! He stood up to leave, when the twins came over and told their sister something in a language he didn’t quite get, but that turned her into a rather good sport. She introduced herself as Scarla, and he was rather amused. He answered her unvoiced question, explaining that his son’s name was Scar.
“Really?” she asked, “And you? I didn’t quite catch yours the first time around…”
“Oh, that’s alright, I’m Pablo. Pleased to meet you.”
They decided to move it outside where they could hear each other better, and got ran into by a riotous crowd of young ones playing some chasing game. Pablo pointed at his son and got her up to speed about the boy, while she just smiled. He understood, everyone always had that smile whenever they saw his boy – the resemblance was unbelievable. As soon as the children ran off to terrorize another section of the grounds, their conversation turned to other matters, and was again soon interrupted by a call. He had to take it, and she didn’t mind it in the least. Whoever was on the other end of the line seemed to be having a hard time believing that he had the right person, and she giggled a little at how he had to repeat severally that yes, it is he. He started making faces at her while he identified himself, and then she froze. He raised a brow in question, which she totally ignored, caught up in something he couldn’t make head or tail of. She then turned, and ran off into the house. Irritated by his caller, he quickly ended the call and went back into the house, looking for her.
The twins told him she had gone off with Jotham and pointed in the direction they had taken, and he went after them. He got to the doorway and heard them speaking in hushed tones. She was upset, and Jotham wasn’t doing a very good job at calming her. He couldn’t hear much of what was said, but he picked up a few words. Ex. It’s him. Calm down… the more he made out, the more he was confused. He leaned back against the wall while he tried to figure out how to enter the room, and then he noticed the family portraits hanging on the opposite wall. The Johannesens were a nice family, photogenic. He moved closer to the photos, focusing on Scarla. Her hair had changed, it seemed to change in the photos as he moved from recent to older ones. At first it became longer… then blonde. Then – holy shit – her eyes changed. She wore contacts? And then – he knew her! He freaking knew her… He knew her!
Scarla stormed away from her uncle – her very young uncle – in a flurry of tears and bumped into Pablo’s back, whose amazement at the photos had led him to stand right in front of the door. He turned and steadied her, and they made eye contact. Hers were full of tears, his were looking for answers. Jotham couldn’t understand what was going on, so he stood in his place and watched. He watched, too stunned, as his friend ordered his niece to take out her contacts, and as the very defiant Scarla obeyed a man she had only just met. And then, even more surprised, if that were possible, as Pablo shed a silent tear. Oblivious to Jotham’s presence, the two stood there still in that awkward steadying position, both transported back to the time when Scarlet had handed Pablo a little boy as she wept, sobs wracking her delicate frame.
“Christopher…” Only one person called Pablo by that name, and when Jotham finally put two and two together, he fainted.

Red Letter Day

Hey guys!

I hope the holidays have been kind to you and yours as they have been to me and mine… This post and the next couple will be throwbacks, I wrote them between 2010 and 2011… This particular one is part 1 of 2, penned in 2010 as a creative writing CAT… 🙂 Hope you enjoy, and feel free to comment!

Mark sat down on his bed, heart still pounding, and let out a sigh of relief. His twin, John, fastened the brass door lock and joined his brother, giggling like an excited schoolgirl. Truth is, they were both very excited. They had just sneaked into Scarlet’s bedroom and stolen her most precious belonging – her diary.
You see, Mark and John were alike as two peas in a pod, and they acted that way. They were forever together, locked up in their bedroom doing everything else except studying. Unruly brown hair topped their heads, falling into their laughing brown eyes full of mischief. So inseparable were they, in fact, that their parents had taken to calling them ‘JohnMark’ whenever they needed either or both of them. A rather interesting pair, they had a knack for finding all sorts of mischief and trouble wherever they went. Like now. Scarlet, on the other hand, was blonde and fair and could very easily have passed for an airhead if not for her horn-rimmed glasses. Quiet as a mouse, she stuck to her books and forever maintained an impeccable order in everything she did or handled.
At sixteen, the pair JohnMark had no business reading a twenty-one year old’s diary, but their classmates had always complained over their alarmingly low levels of maturity. Page after page they flipped, and grew increasingly disappointed that it was written in some kind of code they could not even understand. As they slammed it shut, it somehow managed to slip through their fingers and fell onto their carpet, and all they could do was watch in wide-mouthed horror as the neat binding broke and fell apart. Frantic and panicky, they picked it up and took it to their shared study table, looking for glue to patch it up. It was then that Mark chanced upon a well-worn paper on their messy carpet.
He picked it up and unfolded it oh so carefully, with trembling fingers and bated breath. Surprised by his brother’s silence, John turned around and then walked up to Mark, anxious. He too got enveloped in the air of mystery and sat down slowly next to Mark. They read the letter, word for word, then turned to look at each other, stupefied. Who could have known that the dear egghead they had for a sister would have this big a secret to keep? Pieces started falling into place – things about her general demeanor that had never made sense now seemed clearer. So that’s what had happened during her one and a half year overseas trip? “We have to return this,” John whispered.
Scarlet walked into her room and flopped onto her four poster bed, exhausted. She was too tired to notice that the lamp she always kept to the left of her table was on the right, or to even see the twins clinging to each other in one corner, petrified. She fell into a deep sleep almost immediately, giving them the opportunity to flee unnoticed.
***********************************************
In another seaside village thousands of miles away, little Pablo played with his Abuelo, oblivious to the fast approaching storm. When his papa called him in, he ran to his knee and demanded for a story that would engage his soon-to-be-three-year-old mind while the storm raged. His papa, a fine young man, was glad to oblige, and soon the two of them were lost fighting dragons and rescuing princesses. Abuelo watched silently and gave a wan smile in appreciation of his son’s and grandson’s resemblance. Little Pablo took after his papa in all senses, from the name to the thick, black hair, dark bouncing eyes, elegant nails better suited to nobility than their lowly fisherman status, and that million dollar, breathtaking smile.
After Papa Pablo had tucked his boy in, he came back to the porch and watched his father watch the rain as it fell over the ocean. He then spoke up and told his father of his plans to leave the village and go work elsewhere, taking his son with him to go see the world. He got into a detailed explanation designed to counter his father’s arguments even before he raised them, and was surprised when his father agreed with him, saying that that boy deserved far much more than their village ever could give him. So without further ado, plans were made for the two to leave their sleepy village.