Hmmm…so my birthday is pushing through..here is the invitation and the cover of the envelope..i made it myself…:) I hope makapunta mga classmates ko…from both UP and DLa…kaya para sa mga hindi ko ma-reach ngaun personally eto na ang invites nyo…
cge kitakits na lang..
After going through 3 exams this week I guess I feel a lot better. I don’t know why but things seem to fall into place at last. But there are a lot of things I need to organize - like my life for instance…
What does it feel like to grow up? I don’t know if I really wanna know. Hey BTW, my birthday is pushing through… I’ll send invites when I finish them…probably never hehe…but again I hate celebrations..holidays..makes me sad..i don’t know why but everytime my birthday comes i revert into my prima donna mode… really not good. i guess i hate getting older every year. Who doesn’t?
Because of my recent post I will not post anything until february..goodbye for a while and i hope you would all read it.
Dear diary, ehem…did i say dear diary? I meant dear friends…the week has been unprogressive except I have realized that I have one new talent (made possible by the dire need to present one in my English class) and so in one day i learned to play the guitar in a different position (very akward actually) - its body supported by my right shoulder, its neck in head’s length and my back facing its back. Well i can’t explain…
Anyways, i don’t naturally do that.
I HAVE A FAVOR TO ASK OF YOU MY FRIENDS:
I have posted below 2 of my short stories and i really need to choose which is better than the other. Could you guys read it? Copyready it? or atleast comment in it if its lacking something or if you think its a good story? Pretty please? Come on I’m begging here… tell me if its interesting or if there are boring parts in the story so i can change it..and then choose which story is better. By the pedestal (now revised) is a subtle horror story while The sky was blank is sci-fi horror. Hope you’ld hear my plea and read it. Atleast save it in your computer and read it later. But please comment on it (possibly this week) and don’t redistribute! Its only meant for your (my friends) eyes and it is to stay in my blog.
THANK YOU!!! I promise to drop by in your blog too…:)
Ciao!
By the Pedestal she stood, such a pretty girl with soft locks of hair. She wore a white lacy dress and a flower on her bonnet. "Papa?" she said to me. I bent down and hugged her. It was as if she was my daughter. But she doesn’t need to know the truth. As long as she’s happy with us…
"What is it my little angel?" I asked her. "Can I sleep beside you and Mama tonight?" she pleaded. I felt so guilty. "I…well your Mama is still sick. She’s afraid you might catch her fever." I tried to console her but she looked so crestfallen. I really was sorry for her but…
"I know. Next weekend I’ll take you to the park okay? Now go upstairs and brush your teeth. Papa will come later to tell you a bedtime story," I told her. She nodded and smiled. Such an innocent smile. Then she ran up the stairs and into her room.
"Honey," my wife called me from the kitchen where I could see her wash dishes. "Your father’s lawyer came. He said he wanted to meet you and your mother to settle the distribution of the properties."
"Did he leave his number?" I asked.
"No. but he said he’ll be dropping by at your aunt’s house tomorrow." She glanced at me while she soaked the dishes in lukewarm water. "I think you should go there also," she added.
I nodded as I shifted the pages of the newspaper I was reading. I stood up, loosened my tie and started to head upstairs.
"Where are you going?" she asked me.
"Uhmm," I hesitated. "I’m going to check on Criselda."
She frowned but then she rinsed her pale white hands, went to the living room and hugged me. I let her head rest on my shoulders for a while. I heard her sigh, almost like a whimper. "I’m sorry," I told her, "It’s all my fault. I don’t want you to go through my ordeal."
"I understand. But you should not keep it all inside you. That’s too much of a burden. I know a doctor in Denver. He can help you…us. You should talk to him - " I stopped her before she could finish. She looked at me, my arms still around her waist.
"I can handle it on my own. I just need to work things out." I really didn’t know what to do. Maybe I should see a doctor. And how about Criselda? Is seeing a specialist the solution to our problem? Well, its not even a problem at the moment.
The phone rang. She went to answer it, while I made my way up the wooden stairs.
I stared at the oak posts. Everything was so familiar. This house has been with the family for generations and now it has been passed on to me. Who will I pass it on to? Martha and I have no children of our own. Criselda? I’d rather laugh than think about it.
I walked slowly and silently. Criselda might wake up. The planks creaked. Mental note: replace the floor timbers.
I reached the end of the hall that led to a stairs up the attic. That’s her room. We placed her in the attic because it had a great big window. "It’s healthy for a child to receive a little sunshine," my dad used to say when he was still alive. God bless him. Since he went away, the house had been so quiet that mother left us to live with her sister.
Thunder roared outside. That’s the bad thing about the attic. Every time there’s a storm, Criselda would go down to find me. "I’m scared," she would say, her silhouette wavering as lightning flickered outside. Then a teardrop would run down her large expressive eyes and soft cheeks. But now, those eyes are dull and icy.
Reaching her door, I opened it a little to take a peek. She was not there. In a corner was a doll mother gave her for her 4th birthday. Its paint already faded. It was almost white but Criselda loved it dearly and didn’t want to part with it. So I placed it inside a glass case instead. Inside the room were her stuffed animals and dolls. They all looked pale under the moonlight. A shiver went up my spine. I turned around to go back when…
"Boo!"
I fell back on the floor, my heart thumping harder and harder. She stared at me, laughing. A devious smile crept on her face. Like a madman, her voice echoed across the empty rooms, deafening, frightening. I shook my head. No. Stop it. You’re hallucinating. I stared back at her. She was smiling.
"Sweetie!" I said as I stood up. "Don’t do that again. I almost had a heart attack."
She just stood there and smiled.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I wondered what Criselda was doing. I wanted to check up on her. But I might wake my wife up. She’ll be worried again. I didn’t want that to happen.
I stretched my arms a little and stared at the ceiling. The cars passing by outside cast shadows across the room, dancing on the floor, the walls… So did the curtains. I stood up and pulled at their ribbons until no light entered our bedroom. I sat on the bed, feeling helpless. Instead of sleeping, I spent the night writing on my journal. Might as well do something productive. It was a tedious night; inkblots all over the desk…until the lantern faded and darkness took over.
"Papa…papa," her voice kept saying in my mind…my dreams. Was it all a dream? I woke up to a sumptuous breakfast on my desk. Maybe it was all a dream.
I took a bath, dressed up and went to my aunt’s house. When I entered, the lawyer was already talking to mother. I sat down with them as he discussed my father’s last will and testament.
"It’s written here that you have a sister?" the lawyer asked.
"I…yes." I lowered my head. "She died years ago."
"I’m sorry," was all that he said. "Does she have a family?"
"No. She was fairly young when she died," my mother answered.
"Oh. Well, I guess the property will be divided between you and your mother only." And he went on about other things. I didn’t listen it was as if he was speaking underwater…speech garbled. I wanted to sleep but refrained from doing so. I didn’t want to disrespect the lawyer.
After the he left, my aunt brought us coffee and some biscuits. "I noticed you were getting a little sleepy," she laughed. I smiled sheepishly. "Just a couple of sleepless nights."
"How is your wife?" mother asked.
"She’s alright," I smiled. "The coffee’s good, Aunt Matilda."
"Of course. That’s from our plantation in Virginia," she said, pleased. "Jorge, why don’t you take your mama home with you so she can see your wife and have a whiff of that country air."
"That’s a good idea." I said. "Perhaps I will."
I took mother for a spin around the countryside with my Bentley. Her eyes sparkled, reminiscing her youth. Like father, she spent all her years in these familiar plains. Our family used to own a ranch. But since father took over he sold the animals and put up a clinic near the town. Not a farm boy or a doctor myself I left the clinic to my father’s partner. Instead, I managed the county paper, did freelancing stints in broadsheets and sometimes published my own book in the city. I led a simple life. Martha didn’t mind and I actually enjoyed just strolling around the town where almost everyone knew me.
I looked at mother. Her eyebrows were already thin and the corners of her eyes and lips were wrinkly. But she had that amused look on her face that told people she was content with growing old, happily. She stared back at me. "You know, you bear a great resemblance with your father when he was young," she said.
"I know." I smiled, a somewhat bittersweet smile.
I parked the car in front of our doorstep when I heard a scream. My heart was beating faster. I knew something was amiss. I immediately ran to the door and opened it. And there I saw my wife sprawled on the floor, screaming. And by the pedestal, where my father’s ashes stood, was Criselda.
"You’re not my mother!" Criselda shouted, pointing accusingly at Martha.
"Get away from me!" Martha screamed, dragging her limp and scared body away. Criselda’s eyes were filled with anger. I went to embrace my weeping wife.
"Criselda stop it," I said. I can see the pain in her eyes but my wife looked as if she would almost die.
"Papa where is mama?" She was crying, undeniably hurt.
"Criselda. You should know that this is my wife, Martha. I’m not your - "
Mother came inside. "Criselda is that you?" she asked in shock. Tears were in her eyes as she went closer to Criselda and tried to hold her. But Criselda stepped back.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I’m your mother."
"No. You are not my mother," she screamed. "You’re all lying! She doesn’t look like you. She’s young and pretty and her hair is gold not gray!" She was now crying. "I don’t understand…"
Mother started gasping. She couldn’t breath. "Criselda!" she called all the while she was panting for air but Criselda looked away and left us. My wife and I immediately rushed mother to the hospital. But it was too late.
3 days later, I posted a "for sale" sign at our gate. Martha was staying temporarily at Aunt Matilda’s house. She was still in shock.
I was sitting by my desk near the window when a couple of women passed by and I heard them say, "Isn’t that the haunted house?" The others nodded. "The owner’s mother died after seeing her daughter’s ghost."
I felt so enraged. Suddenly it all came back to me. I was about 10 and we were playing near the river. We went closer. We kneeled down and felt the water flow through our hands. It felt so cool. She went farther and I followed her. We were stepping on slippery rocks when I taunted her. "Hey!" I surprised her as I prodded her a little. It was just to frighten her…but she lost balance…and she…she fell…I watched her scream. I ran after her trying to reach her hand but the current was too strong then she bumped her head on a sharp rock…I couldn’t bear watch her. Her head streaming with blood…She was about 6 years old at that time.
"It should have been the brother who died," one of the women said, staring at the house.
I lay my head on the desk and started crying. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.
"I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to…," I kept saying.
But by the pedestal, she stood. "Papa why are you crying? I don’t understand."
In the hour when everybody was in deep slumber, I woke up to the blank sky outside our window. The moon hid in fear and the only light outside was a flickering old lamppost.
I sat up stationary and listened to the scuffing sound that disturbed my sleep. I looked around the room and saw my parents and my brother lying still yet eyes on the same thing I was preoccupied with. We held our breath as we listened to the unbearable scraping noise inside the air filtering machine.
Finally, I stood up and turned the light on…
The sound started to grow loud and audible. We waited in horrified anticipation. All of us were already by the door, ready to run if the situation would call for it. And finally…it fell out. James started to cry and Mother was already screaming. Father and I stood mute. It was okay for us. We have seen those things but Mother and James have never been outside the house. Father went closer and picked up the white-callused finger on the bed. It was cut off from its hand. Its owner was probably stupid, thinking that she is able to fit into the machine. But there was no other way in. It was the only opening in our house. All the other passages were shut tight by steel doors and windows. Inside it was dark. Darkness…a price we had to pay to be safe. Like scurrying mice we have learned to live this way. Hiding.
We went to the living room and threw it into the raging fireplace. We watched in silence as the flames ate it up. Our eyes were soaked with the reflection of red hot tongues licking the white finger…slowly…hissing…it turned into ash and the flames brought up the smoke into the chimney. But that too was sealed with a hard metal grate. We covered our noses for a while as smoke lingered…trying to find its way out. When it vanished all was quiet except my sobbing brother.
"Don’t worry," Father said as he tried to calm my little brother. "They can try but they can’t get us." But he has been damaged. His young soul couldn’t bear the sick truth…that we were living in a world full of them…
2 years ago…the people woke up to witness the victims of a terrible massacre. Everywhere…the streets were full of corpses…their faces stained with blood…with their own cold flesh. Their bodies…exposed to the sun and butchered…their wounds deep and pale…their limbs torn apart. The streets were bathed with blood and the smell of death. And they wondered how it had happened. But I knew…my father did also.
The night it happened, I accompanied my father to the bank. He had to withdraw a large amount of money for his company that night because the banks would be closed the next day. The sky was starting to get dark when we arrived. Immediately we were ushered into the inner office - my father was one of their biggest clients and he deserved special attention. That was when we heard the alarm sound off. We thought it was a bank robbery. Steel bars and bullet proof glass started to come down from the ceiling, separating the inner offices and the vaults from the outer lobby. A huge mob of people made their way into the bank… I wished I haven’t seen it…them. We stood and watched, helpless, as the mob rioted. I didn’t understand but some of the people started biting the others. Then everything was in a red haze…blood spilled on the floor. Others were dead, being devoured by the people…cannibals I thought…we watched…we couldn’t do anything else. Finally my father covered my eyes and asked me to sing his favorite song. I did…I sung as I sobbed, trying to drown out the screams outside. But it was awful…my eyes were tainted with death that night. We stayed there till daybreak. We were all afraid that they would reach us. Afraid that they would touch us with their filthy bloody fingers. It took 3 hours before the police reached us. We were the only survivors in the place. Lucky that we were at the inner office at that time. As we made our way outside, father gripped my hand tightly and covered my face with his hanky. "You don’t need to see this," he said. But I knew the smell…I can never forget that smell.
A month ago, the government came up with this marvelous plan of genetically mutated house help. It was the peak of industrialization in the 23rd century and most of the citizens, if not rich, were well of. Everybody thought they were too good to do menial work. So who’s going to do it? That’s when a young eager scientist started making mutated humans who didn’t need to eat - didn’t need to think about other things except his/her job. Yes they were still human - they had all our body parts - but they seem to be dead in every sense. They don’t breathe, they don’t feel heat or pain, they don’t feel hunger (or so we thought).
It seemed like a good idea at the moment. The plebiscite resulted in a unanimous "Yes!" in favor of the GMH (genetically mutated humans). Everything turned out right…during the day. At night, their hunger for human flesh took over. It would be better off if they were zombies. But they’re not. They’re humans. In a way they are like us but in the most important sense they are nothing even near being human.
And what did the government do? They gave us safety precautions, took no notice of their wrong decision and turned their backs on us. The scientist died on the first day, in the hands of his assistant - his creation. It was time for the people to do something. But how? We were outnumbered. For every citizen there were 10 GMH. Why they completely make up most of our economy.
We can’t kill them in broad daylight, what more at night… Hopeless, we trapped ourselves in our houses with steel barred windows and doors. They can’t eat us if they can’t reach us. In the morning, it was as if everything was normal - well to us this is now our way of life… And I wonder if we could have done things differently, this wouldn’t happen. But eventually man will learn its lesson - if this didn’t happen now, it will happen later. All we could do was stare at the capitol building, its white pillars standing tall and proud, and wonder if the people there still exist or maybe the government was just a figment of our imagination. Peace seemed to have happened a long time ago - we don’t remember it anymore - we don’t know what it feels like. Our eyes and bodies are already weary of trouble and work.
11 years after that fateful night - nothing much has changed. People still carried that tired look in their eyes while the GM humans toiled on happily. We didn’t think it was possible but they reproduce just like normal humans. It felt like we’re the strangers in our own land.
11 years…I have bagged a job as an apprentice of Dr. Simmons. It was his dream to "cure" the GMH’s hunger (for humans). We locked ourselves in the lab, day in and day out - exposing ourselves to chemical fumes and microbiology apparatuses. Today was just like any other day. We were testing our new serum on one of the GMH we smuggled from a factory.
As I was injecting the 3-inch needle into her neck, I saw my brother staring from the glass walls. Again he had that blank look in his eyes. I guess he didn’t fully recover from that traumatic night. He was just a kid back then. Now he has grown into a young man with dark pale features. He does nothing else but stroll the capitol offices. What’s weird is that the officials actually entertain him. Probably because he’s my brother? Well it is possible… I’m not Dr. Simmons’ (the greatest known scientist) apprentice (meaning I’m his best student) for nothing. My parents…I sent them somewhere far. I had the state of the art security system installed in the house. No GMH can get near them. I myself go there to bring their necessities so only my brother and I know where they actually are.
The night Dr. Simmons’ and I finished the perfect serum (at last!), the doctor was called upon by the laboratory supervisors in the capitol building, probably to congratulate him in his efforts and his success.
It was then that I noticed some peculiarities with the serum. I went to the capitol building to find him. What I stumbled upon was his dead body sprawled on the floor, eyes wide open in shock. I dropped the vial in my hand and didn’t mind as its contents spilled unto the floor and mixed with the doctor’s blood. I stared at the 2 men in front of me. One was cleaning a gun, the other was sitting on the desk.
"How fortunate that you joined us Ms. Marquez," the one on the desk said. "Fortunate for us, that is, because we don’t need to find you anymore. Such a surprise that you dropped by." He smiled.
"What…" I tried to find my voice. "Why did you kill him?" My voice was loud yet my knees quivered.
"We are against what he was doing, sister. Its as simple as that," a deep voice said. I turned around and saw my brother. I almost felt a laugh making its way out of my throat.
"I know…this is all just a joke right? James you can’t fool me. We’re not children anymore. So what is this all about? My birthday is a month away. Dr. Simmons would you kindly stand up and stop pretending that you’re dead." I prodded his side with my foot.
"Sister this is not a joke," he slurred. "And I…we have already fooled you since then…since the start of your experiments. You see…I am the chairman of scientific affairs in this state. And we have let you and your crazy mentor go on with your games - just to keep you, my sister, happy. But everything has gone out of hand…we allowed you to experiment with a couple of useless workers but now you’re demanding to try your…YOUR USELESS POTION ON HALF OF THE POPULATION!!! AND THAT I CANNOT TOLERATE! YOU’RE MAD!"
I stared at him in disbelief. "I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. They’re GMH for crissakes! Are you just gonna let them go on with their human cravings? Don’t be in denial…"
"You’re the one who’s in denial. GMH?" he laughed in my face. "There is no such thing. You’ve been living in a fantasy world sister! Now you’ve locked up our parents in some faraway land. But they let you…because they love you so much. They played with your games! I love you too sister…but I won’t let you do this forever! This crackpot -" he said as he kicked Dr. Simmons’ body, "has brainwashed you…there is no such thing as GMH…no zombie like, human eating mutants… Wake up!" He shook me I looked at him. He was delusional…his eyes drunk with madness…or was it me? I screamed and pushed him away, kneeled on the floor and pulled my hair. "Nooooo!!!! You’re all lying! STOP IT!" I cried as I covered my ears.
"I guess we can’t do anything about you," he concluded. Then he stooped in front of me, kissed my forehead and whispered, "I’m sorry sister." He sighed. I almost believed his grief.
Then the 2 men behind us helped me stand up and dragged me. They brought me to the basement floor… endless…hundreds of corridors…thousands of doors…until they shoved me inside a cell where several women sat on their backs, eyes lifeless, hair tangled. And that smell…I couldn’t forget that putrid smell.
Once the 2 men left, the women stared at me. They growled like a bunch of mad dogs, their saliva dripping down their chins. Slowly they crawled closer, their nose up in the air. One of them howled. I knew it was all over. I closed my eyes and waited for the first bite…2 floors above the 2 men howled as they started to devour Dr. Simmons’ body. My brother sat on the desk, expressionless.
It has been 12 years since he first encountered their kind. In an alley they hid in darkness but when they saw him they immediately were tamed. They ran to him, brushed their heads against his legs. They whimpered in happiness. He was the one. He was the one to protect them, disillusioned from human lies. But now he grew tired of childish games with his pets. He wanted power…
To them we were the ones who weren’t normal. Little by little they tasted the poison that mixed with the doctor’s blood. Slowly they went blind then slumped unto the floor, dead. James stared at them in disgust.
Outside the sky was blank. It has been 12 years since…
How boring it is during holidays..I practically spent it at home..and our computer is now jammed so I guess I can’t work on my short story now….real bummer.
I don’t think I have anything interesting to write about….except ofcourse our family reunion…
You see, every year our extended family gathers at my cousins’ house in QC that’s every January first…good food, good games and good company. I guess in the past (when I was past being a little child but not yet a certified teen) I was very anti-social…I spent the night listening to my titas’ stories…but now I have emerged and became more bearable. And I enjoy it. Its only now that I am able to be real friends with my 2nd cousins.
I finally bought my diary…well its different this time..just a thick notebook because I want to do a lot more writing. Sadly, I wasn’t able to drink a lot of alcohol this new year (but I did drink 5 shots of red horse…1 shots of i-don’t-know-what-but-it-looks-like-white-wine-but-gives-more-of-a-kick and i think 2 shots of red wine..I don’t quite remember..its was during our xmas party in the bh) except a little sip from the red wine at home (i didn’t want to be scolded by my mom)…and I was late for the drinling session of my cousins…oh well…but alcohol was the reason I first became sociable…it really is a social lubricant..
anyways I have nothing else to say except Happy New Year and belated Merry Xmas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I guess I have to study harder now….:) and my bday is fast approaching I don’t know if I’m gonna have a party or what…maybe they can just give me an electric guitar…I wouldn’t mind having no party at all…
Ciao!!!!:)