Elemental Decay

Red Moon. He was powerless, drained of every intention of living. A lifeless corpse riding in the passenger's seat of his dad's newly bought automobile.

They drove along the moderately busy highway of the city; lights warped into straight lines that seemed to touch the city limits, as they raced along the road that seemed to have lasted forever. He was aware; seeing pairs of embers streaking right beside him – everywhere, engulfed by the flood that moved at speeds that surpassed their own. He watched the dancing of these embers and felt more alive. He was, at last, in a world where everything felt alive. His eyes widened as he stared blankly, outside the window of their car.

For a moment, he was consumed by the fire that flew right by him.

"James. Hey son! Wake up!"

"What is it?" He replied in anger.

"We're here."

A vast, empty plain masked by a cloud void of desire; outside the city limits, separated them from a little, run-down shack that stood atop a hill, shadowed by the red moon. They parked the car in front of an impassable dirt road leading to the eerie dwelling. James and his dad left open the doors of the car and set out, walking on the road. It was bumpy, filled with holes, the cloud making it barely possible to see. With flashlights in hand, they walked towards the house unshaken by the crops and plants that stretched for their feet.

"Why are we here again?" James asked arrogantly.

"We're here to see someone special."

"Who?"

"You will see."

They reached the rotten wooden porch of the shack. Planks fell broken to the floor, eaten by termites that have lived there for so long. The roof was filled with apertures where light can be seen piercing through it. An uprooted tree fell beside the house, leaving a large, gaping hole in the kitchen. Charcoal was seen scattered along the floorboards of the porch, implying that a fire had happened there a long while back.

James observed this and felt much attached to it. Flashbacks of a once beautiful house filled his mind. His heart drummed as he walked closer to the house, up the porch and stopping right in front of the charred, wooden door – a golden doorknob still attached to it. His father stood behind him, on the dirt road filled with weeds and plants, merely observing James.

"Do you remember?"

"Quite"

"Open the door."

Without remorse, James turned the knob slowly to the right, unlocking the doors that hid the mystery of his being. He slowly opened the door, pushing it with latent force that it started to creak like any other badly made door would have done. A gush of air breezed from behind him, oxygenating the entirety of the house.

James stepped in for a look and saw the past; A flashback of fire and chaos. Screams of maiden horror filled his ears. His eyes, shrouded by smoke, making him tear. It was a sight of disbelief and a revelation. There was dried blood everywhere. It seemed to have spewed out of the walls, the floorboards, the ceiling and even the furniture. He was baffled and at the same time allay. For James, this was not a sight that frightened him – no. It was a sight that reminded him of him.

"Do you remember who you are now?"

"Yes"

"Who are you then?"

"My name is Warren."

"Good. Do you know what you have to do now?"

"Yes."

"Do what you must. It is the reason why we gave you life, your mother and I."

"My Mother?" He asked confused and enraged.

"Yes. You once had a mother. Look around."

Warren looked around, around the rooms that said "come and see" in dried, blackened blood. Around the remnant lining of furniture that turned to grains of ash. Around the kitchen where the tree fell on the cracked tank of gas which seemed to have been the cause of the fire. He wandered around the home that felt familiar to him until he found a body, under a blanket of ash, her left hand sticking out of the mound, seemingly trying to reach for something unattainable, to no avail. The body was curled in a fetal position holding onto what seemed to be a pendant in the right hand. He took the pendant from the body and raised it to his eyes, to examine it more closely. It was a symbol, the number 4 with a sword that cut through it diagonally. He realized quickly that it had belonged to him. It was an item that gave him his identity, his 'real self'; an item that had told him of his old, forgotten destiny.

Warren ran out of the house towards his dad, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, angrily staring at the calm man's face.

"What did you do?!"

"I did nothing. It was all you. Well, that other part of you."

"Why did you bring me here old man?!"

"It is your destiny."

"What destiny are you talking about old man?!"

"Your destiny... It will happen soon enough."

He was filled with anger. Asking questions his father knew the answers to. His rage engulfed him. He tightened his grip on his dad's collar to the point that it choked him almost to death.

Warren grabbed his flashlight and started pounding it to his father's head.

Again and again

And again.

Blinded by aggression, he did not notice that he had already killed his father under the glow of the red moon. Warren took the keys of the car from his father's pocket, glancing at how arrogantly his father smirked back, lying on his back, bedded by bounty of black roses.

Warren ran. He ran towards the car through the cloud covered dirt road, passing the overgrowth of plants that grew beside it. Sweat trickled down his face as he ran laughing until he finally got into the car and drove off; Swearing to never return to that place. He drove along the busy highway; lights warped into straight lines that seemed to touch the city limits, as he raced along the road that seemed to have lasted forever. He drove past 4 hectares of colorful, random beauty.

Pale White Bucket. It was a moderately sunny, moderately bright, moderately cloudy day that was teeming with minute signs of life. Birds chirped, bees buzzed and insects made their uncanny, annoying noises. Diether felt like taking a stroll through the flower garden his family owned. 4 hectares of colorful, random beauty. He took the bike and said "I'm off." Sixteen minutes into his bike ride, he heard a loud, distorting explosion emanating from the direction of his parents house.

He Grinned.

"That worked perfectly."

Strolling along the road that led to nowhere on his bike, he could not help but recall the instances of the condition that led him to his current, mindless occupancy.

Moments before he had left his house, Diether was lying on his bed, thinking of stupid nothings as his mom called him for breakfast. His room comprised of a number of priceless white art that he had collected in his younger years. A typical, day-to-day teenager, Diether was a very repetitive and obedient person, Following the rules and norms of the household and the family. He never had the intention of disobeying his 'makers'. His room was void of color; of anything really, except for the life that he had to carry with him and a photograph that hung on top of his bed, framed by extravagant, excellent white wood, lined with golden ornaments. The photo included him on the left-most part of the picture, his best friend standing in the middle and his best friend's girl standing on his opposite side; who smiled happily and carefree back at him.

"Dear, it’s time to eat. A growing boy should not miss breakfast."

"Okay mom, be down in a bit."

He recalls going down the granite steps of the post-modern house, grabbing a pale white bucket from his room. As he reached the bottom of the steps, he said "I'll just check on something in the basement." And he went, holding the bucket tightly in his right hand.

"I think that shall do the trick."

He placed the pale white bucket filled with red sticks and a clock that said 20:00, decreasing as every second and minute passed, specifically right below the dining table where the family was happily eating breakfast.

He returned to the dining table, feeling full, he had no appetite – nothing but the thought of taking the bike out for a spin in the garden. 4 hectares of colorful, random beauty.

"Mom, I don't feel like eating just yet. I'll come back after my stroll through the garden."

"Okay son. Hurry back."

Diether took the silver bike, where the words 'come and see' were engraved onto the frame. He said "I'm off." Sixteen minutes into his bike ride, he heard a loud, distorting explosion emanating from the direction of his parents house.

He Grinned.

"That worked perfectly."

Everyone in the household was oblivious of the incident

It had to happen.

As He biked, with a grin on his face, he couldn’t help but revel at the thought of finally encompassing the administration that had kept him hidden from himself. He wandered off, off into a plain of eerie confusion – a sight that, for him, was perfect. The road that curved and swiveled eventually led him to a dirt road filled with holes and bumps, impassable, leading to an abandoned, run-down shack that stood atop a small hill. Diether favored the scenery and decided to venture towards it, unaware of the body that lay beaten there. As he reached the shack, he could not help but notice the blood-bathe body that lay on top of a bed of black roses. He admired the artistry of the sight and stayed there, sitting cross-legged beside the corpse; nonchalantly throwing his bike onto the overgrowth beside him. He sat there quiet and said: "This is perfect."

Blue Bed. It was a depressing day for Fred, just like any other day of the year – of his whole life. He sought for companionship and saw it in an old picture of his best friend who stood to the left-most of the photo, his current girlfriend who stood opposite of his best friend and himself, standing in the middle of the two, framed on top of the wooden nightstand beside his bed, directly below a hole with no bars, no glass – nothing. His house tells that he was in the middle class. It was rickety, on the verge of collapse and just plain old. A perfect square, with 4 rooms, divided into two parts, the first and second floors, perfectly aligned and perfectly unstable. Its ceiling was already forming holes, holes that from afar would read 'come and see', displaying the maze of metal pipes and wooden beams within it. The walls were slowly decomposing, gradually eaten by termites. It really was an unsafe environment to be in but Fred had no other choice. It was the only place he could stay in. It was his home.

"I sometimes hate this place but I love it as well." he said to himself.

The scales of destiny have weighed their faith.

Fred enjoyed the game of lust. On a normal basis, he would seek the pleasure of sex. No other partner would have done it better than his current girlfriend who, at the most, enjoyed his lust for pleasure as well. They both were yearning for the pleasure, the intensity and the passion.

The hot, wet lips of a perfect kiss; a slow dance that synced their bodies and their hearts into one.

There were hints of regret, of not seeing his best friend, of only prioritizing his current girlfriend even if they had the best sex in the world.

"I miss seeing him, spending quality nothings with him..." he said so randomly.

"It's okay; you have me, now and forever."

Morning came and both of them were eager to have sex. His girlfriend initiated all the possible moves to make Fred as horny as possible. She caressed his crotch, up and down. Grabbed it and played with it like a child. It turned him on – oh so on that in moments he was as hard as a rock. They were both in lust, the scalding of their sweat on each others bodies took them on a different high. The blue bed shook, rattled as they moved roughly on it. Waves of intense fire burned within them and at the peak of pleasure, they heard a loud, distorting sound, emanating from a distance, trailed by a shock wave that shook the entire house to its very core.

She was still peaking when the second floor of the house gave way, falling to the first floor. Wooden beams and splinters fell on them. Finally, the ceiling, housing the maze of metal pipes gave in; breaking the pipes that fell on the ground, missing the couple except for one, large metal pipe that fell vertically, in perfect trajectory. It pierced all the way through the hearts of the couple that lay on the blue, blood covered bed.

The scales of destiny have weighed their faith.

It just had to happen.

Glass. Twins have always had an uncanny, supernatural connection between them; seeing, feeling and muttering words in unison. She was Penny; a half of a whole, broken at birth by the parents that gave her and her sister, life. Each was represented by something significant. Penny was given a silver necklace with a bow attached right in the middle. She had short her. Her sister had long, luscious hair which was her distinguishing feature. Growing up, Penny was the type of person who blended in with the crowd too much that she disappears within the said crowd like glass.

All her life, she was transparent. But now, to stir things up, she brought back the old forgotten myth. Even more invisible than before, she could watch her plan fall into play, hidden in plain sight.

I was not just a witness to the events that led to the short destruction of the world. I was the overseer and initiator, following that of which tradition held the strings of Destiny. Time merely moved the essence of a culture that had long been gone; forgotten by a world that lost belief in the system.

I was there, in an old abandoned shack, atop a hill, many nights before the red moon, before Warren found his true identity. I am responsible for the revelation that casted its shadow upon him, the one who revived Warren from within him.

I placed the pendant, 4 with a sword cutting through it diagonally, in his mom's hands. I intended for him to find it. Standing in the shadows, I merely observed the formation of the signs of rage within him; his lust and power, his fearlessness, his metamorphosis to 'Warren'. I stood and observed hidden in plain sight, in the shadow by the light of the red moon.

The morning after, I heard a loud distorting noise, coming from the direction of a house I once had been to. As I walked past the 4 gardens of colorful, random beauty, a boy on a biked grinned, joyfully riding his bike along the road that passed me. He seemed unaware of my presence. I stood there, staring at the boy as he faded into the distance. "Perfect." he said. And perfect it was. It has already started: the awakening of the four that will bring chaos to the world. Four henchmen of the underworld, bent on restoring balance to the world.

I walked. Walked past the remains of the house where Fred's home stood, rattling, rickety, unstable and dangerous. I scrutinized the mutilation of their bodies. Fred did a good job. A very good job indeed, though it wasn't part of the plan that my sister had to perish along with him but, nonetheless, good job. The scales of destiny have weighed their faith.

I am merely one of the many vessels of transparency that hides, plainly among the commoners; doing nothing, only planning and hiding, glassed by the absentmindedness of the people that surrounds me.

My name is Penny.

I am Pestilence.

It has begun.

Short Fiction

-words are simply crazy-

The rain pierced through the hollow stems of the bamboo canopy where droplets trickled down like small ants following a trail to their prey. He watched them fall so slowly wherein time for him felt still. He curled up in his blanket as he tried to avoid the wretched flowing of water that seemed to imitate the falling of his own tears. He could hear the deafening sound of voiceless apparitions in the atmosphere. The floor boards creaked and bellowed as he stood up to find that he was alone in the empty halls of his apartment floor.

There was nothing but emptiness, no one but himself.

The man walked around trying to look for any signs of humanity. There was none but a small, little mouse, searching for scraps of food. He named it Fred.

“Where are your friends?” the man asked Fred who quietly ran away.

He kept walking, searching for signs of life only to find that life has already gone. He walked the empty streets of the old busy highway. Cars were stained with blood, spewing like sewage to the bay. Their doors ripped open by force like some devilish being abducted its passengers. Street lamps fell broken to the floor. Glass windows, shattered into pieces. There were no bodies, no evidence - nothing.

“What could have caused this? When did this happen?” the man asked himself already knowing that no one would answer.

Silence befalls his bewildered state of mind. He turns toward his reflection showing the image of a very different person.

“That’s me?!” he asked himself frantically. “What happened... why am I so.... NO!” He cried out.

He was different in his eyes. An unbelievable change he could not accept. His skin was wrinkled, sagging like noodles. Eyes, bloodshot, as the red moon shined down on him. Teeth were missing from his mouth, countable with two hands. The body showing signs of malnutrition and deprivation, hungering for nutrients. Legs were as thin as two well carved pieces of wood. His hair was white, glowing under the rays of the moon. He was old, very old in fact. There was no doubt he had no idea of his slow deterioration. His fit, masculine body has already left him. He was as frail as a leaf, hanging onto its stem.

Old and alone, he had no point in living. He gave up on life. He wanted to die that night, thinking of throwing himself off the old footbridge that stood between him and a new land. The moment he started to give up hope, the land suddenly rearranged itself by some unknown force; swirling, twirling, surreal. The colour of the night sky, meshed with the dark earthy colours of the land. Water turned into whirlpools of suffocation. Light turned into darkness. Suddenly, the man fell flat on the floor – confused and unconscious. When he woke up, he saw himself in his room, staring at the ceiling; beads of sweat trickling down his face.

“What just happened?” he asked himself.

Dazed, he stood up and tried to find his way to the bathroom. He washed his face and saw his image in the mirror.

“I’m myself again!” he exclaimed.

His wrinkles have all gone. Smiling, he saw no missing teeth; they were as white and perfect as pearls. Stunned to see his image, he couldn’t help but check his body. It went back to its original shape; fit, masculine and young.

“It was so unreal” he said to himself. “What was that I saw? Was that the future of humanity? Was I being shown my own future as well?” he continued to ask.

With these questions in mind, he couldn’t help but think about that vision - The Dream.

Just-in Time

In time this will be. Everything else, will start as just friends. Someday soon, you'll
hit it off.


Obvious by Westlife


Yeah, ooooh...
We started as friends
But something happened inside me
Now I'm reading into everything
But there's no sign you hear the lightning, baby

You don't ever notice me turning on my charm
Or wonder why I'm always where you are

I've made it obvious
Done everything but sing it
(I've crushed on you so long, but on and on you get me wrong)
I'm not so good with words
And since you never notice
The way that we belong
I'll say it in a love song

I've heard you talk about
(Heard you talk about)
How you want someone just like me (Bryan echo: just like me)
But everytime I ask you out
(Time I ask you out)
We never move pass friendly, no no

And you don't ever notice how I stare when we're alone
Or wonder why I keep you on the phone


I've made it obvious
Done everything but sing it
(I've crushed on you so long but on and on you get me wrong)
I'm not so good with words
And since you never notice
The way that we belong
I'll say it in a love song
Yeah...

You are my very first thought in the morning
And my last at nightfall
You are the love that came without warning
I need you, I want you to know

I've made it obvious
So finally I'll sing it
(I've crushed on you so long)
I'm not so good with words
And since you never notice
The way that we belong
I'll say it in a love song


And sing it until the day you're holding me
I've wanted you so long but on and on you get me wrong
I more then adore you but since you never seem to see

But you never seem to see
I'll say it in this love song