Istoryan Writers

[galenostiel]

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[color=navy]galenostiel, done with Chapter 2 of Tales of the Damned? Moving on to chapter 3?

@diem: as a matter of fact, yes, i am now on chapter 3. yay for me. i'm still trying to find time to post it up, though.

I am now adapting a "go with your heart" approach. I was hoping to join in some contest but found that it sort of restricted me somehow, so right now I, too, am currently writing for my own personal ends heheheheh.

Hugs to everyone!

[gareb]

@diem: due to insistent demands by that voracious brain-consuming organism called work, i've never got around to actually starting it.

@galenostiel: hug hug

[thisbe.ara]

@Galenostiel: welcome to the world of plumping the passion, as dubbed by our beloved kuya diem.

HUGS HUGS HUGS to everyone!

[diem]

[color=navy]GROUP HUG! GROUP HUG! Hehehehe Huddle huddle huddle~

Bitaw, it takes time and effort to write especially if one wants to write something good, even for just oneself. Please keep on writing whatever the reason as long as it makes one happy~

[Von!-x]

i'm working on a crime/suspense story. i have plenty of options for the plot and i'm still undecided. i cannot think like a criminal at this moment. work gets into the way most of the time.

[diem]

[color=navy]Hey Von!-x, good to hear from you! Bitaw bro, crime/suspense is tough! Sige, I'll post some pointers from a book I got, Writer's Digest "How To Write A Good Mystery" by Shannon O' Cork.. maybe this will help you move through the plot better!

[diem]

AURORS II: Path to Darkness

Author's Disclaimer: This is fan-fiction inspired from the magical world of Harry Potter, words and works of JK Rowling. Thanks to Luthienne for pointing something out, from hence forth Pansy will now be referred as Panny

The sun blessed the child’s blonde hair, raising a bright halo fitting for his innocent face. Standing dark-haired and willowy, Annie watched with fondness as the sun-blessed child, her six year-old son Stuart, pursued the butterflies that flitted and flew among the tall meadow grasses.

The butterflies flew close as if enjoying the child’s presence rather than being bothered. Stuart raised his small hands not to grab them but to imitate their flight, to fly among them, to gently caress their colorful, delicate wings.

Annie watched in amazement as the butterflies flocked about Stuart in large groups. Unafraid, Stuart laughed. It was a beautiful sound; it was the same sort of laugh he would give when Annie tickled him with her kisses.

Butterfly kisses, Annie thought. How delightful!

Stuart giggled and smiled as the butterflies continue to land on him, kissing his skin. He waved at his mom, careful and slow so as not to hurt his tiny friends.

Annie stood where she was, leaving her son this moment to remember. She would remember it well herself. It was not often days like these come.

Then it came to her. It was sudden. She felt bitten by icy fangs. Startled and stunned—she stood still as the sunlight dimmed. The butterflies fell dead; their winged colorful bodies lay like broken glass.

Standing among the shattered remains is Stuart, now pale and sickly—no longer laughing, no longer smiling. Instead a dull, doll-like stare came out of his round dark eyes and from his small mouth came a loud gasp—
And the fog rose out from behind Stuart and fell upon him, swallowing him.

“Stew!” Annie shrieked. Feeling snapped back into her body. Without a moment’s thought, she rushed into the fog for her son.

The cloud took Annie in willingly and she felt its dark embrace gripping her like a greedy hungry thing.

She found it hard to breathe in the darkness—to even try was exhausting. She opened her mouth to shout for help but the cold forced itself in— clawing at her throat, reaching down into her heart, wanting warmth, yearning heat, greedy hungry thing that was eating all that is good and whole— it was reaching for her heart!

“Stew!” Annie sat up straight in her bed, somehow she found herself in her bedroom. Numbed with cold, a greater fear forced her to move off her bed, out of the door, down the hallway. She opened wide a door decorated with drawings of butterflies and birds, switching on the light—

There on his tiny bed, lay Stewart gasping and coughing. Annie came to him and touched his skin. It was freezing! She raised and held her son tight, praying that she had enough warmth for the both of them.

“Annie?”

She turned at the source of the quiet voice. Howard, her brother-in-law, was wrapped in his night robe and came in the room. Concern was on his pale face. “Is everything all right? What happened?”

The woman checked her son and saw that his breathing became normal. He now felt warm to her; color bloomed on his cheeks. He opened his eyes, dark and deep. “Mommy— I’m scared.”
And all Annie could say was, “Me too.”

*****

White steam whistled out of the kettle. Annie watched the rising cloud, reached out a hand to touch it, and felt heat splashed against her palm. She drew back, registering the pain with gratitude.

The kitchen door opened and Howard stepped in. “He’s resting now-I tucked him in on your bed.”
Annie switched off the stove then raised the kettle. “Thanks.” She poured the hot water into three mugs of cocoa and added a spoonful of milk in one of them.

“Was it the nightmare again?” Howard asked when Annie handed him a mug. The cocoa with milk was for Stew but she had to let it cool a while. Annie took a sip of the warm, bittersweet chocolate. It was like fire, igniting her senses of the kitchen around her.

“It wasn’t a nightmare”, she said clearly, sure of herself. “No… it was a nightmare but how could Stew also have it? And besides there is something else.”

“What?”

Annie looked down at her mug and caught sight of her reflection in the thick brownness within. “Before I turned on the lights in Stew’s room… I saw something…”

Howard just watched her, waiting. He had blond hair like Stewart but dull yellow and untidy. Annie closed her eyes as if remembering, “I saw something. Leaning over Stew—it was like a tall shadow, hooded, and it was leaning down on Stew like it. Like it was…”

Annie opened her eyes, “Like it was leaning down to kiss him.”

The man frowned and took a sip of the chocolate before he spoke. And when he did, it was words that Annie didn’t want to hear. “Annie, you must be tired…”

“Howard...”

“You have every reason to. Pulling in two jobs and taking care of Stew. You’re only human, Annie.”

“But Stew... his dreams, his drawings—he’s afraid, Howard!”

“Of course he’s scared Annie! He’s just a kid —and kids got their phases. We all go through them. But I guess that with your close attachment with him makes you relive yours. I’ve seen you two together— no kid could ask for a better friend or playmate but what Stuart needs now is a mom, Annie. You got to be strong for him Annie. You got to be the adult.”

Howard paused and looked uncomfortable. He continued, slowly. “I know I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this but I just feel that you’re over-indulging Stew and his imagination. What I would suggest is that we curb it. It’s about time Stew understood what things are real and what things are not.”

Annie nodded in agreement. “And dark shadows that give cold kisses are not real.”

“I think he’ll be less scared if he realized they’re not real.”

Annie nodded again, the fog in her mind clearing. “Thanks, Howard.”

Howard came to her, patted her head and held her shoulder. “Go to bed, sis, Stew’s waiting. I’ll clean up here.”

“All right.” Annie took Stew’s mug of cocoa with her towards the kitchen door. “Howard?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit chilly for July?”

“Two words, Annie. Climate change. It’ll ruin us all.”

*****

In the dead of the night, the still darkness was unsettled by a brief flash of pearl-white light. When the light faded, two hooded figures remained. One was tall and thick-set while the other was a tad shorter of the other and slimmer; the folds of a red cloak fell straight down. Sebastian turned to Panny as she drew back her hood with her long slender fingers, “Is this it?”

The girl looked around—clear cat-like eyes pierced the night’s veils of darkness. The girl turned to her companion. “The jinx led us here, Sebastian, so it must be here.”

“Tsk, shadow, kiss, cold—not really much to go on.”

“But enough to warrant an investigation,” Panny insisted.

“Okay, okay—let’s have a look around then.” The man fished out from his left pocket a long small chain of silver with a pointed crystal attached to it as a pendant. He stretched out his arm and allowed the crystal fall and dangle from its chain like a pendulum.

Then he drew out one of wands from his cloak. A point of light shone from the wand’s tip and this he touched the crystal while whispering, “Expiscorari.”

The charmed crystal glowed and began to swing in circles. For several round turns, Sebastian and Panny watched the pendant swing. [... to be continued]

[Von!-x]

Late Again

“Wer r u� read the text message from Amy. I was supposed to meet my best friend tonight at 7pm at a resto in Mandaue.

However, I stayed glued to my seat and continued checking the cash disbursements book. I had to finish this one because my senior is going to review my work tomorrow. I kept saying “Just fifteen minutes more and my field work will be done�. Four times I repeated the phrase. Next week will be the tax payment deadline for this client using the fiscal year. I need to rush things. I even planned to continue working in the office after meeting Amy.

I could not refuse her. Though at times I tried to avoid her, my conscience squeezed my stomach. I owed her nothing and she was not indebted to me too. But she is very persistent. It must be it. This time was no exception.

She said she had this problem and she wanted to talk to me. The last time it was about her parents. We talked on the phone, met in some café and she just cried on my shoulders. A colleague, who saw us from another corner in the café, thought she was my girlfriend. No, we’re not an item, not even before. Some thought it weird, but for me, she’s just my friend, and nothing else.

She said it’s about her love life. She has this boyfriend for the first time. She told me of her crushes and suitors before but this one escaped me. She claimed he is a very good man and a good husband material. She’s 23, and none of her sisters and female cousins got married beyond 25. She might have felt the pressure, albeit done by her alone.

I haven’t met the guy though. I was too busy with my audit work that I was not able to attend barkada outings for the past three months. They said he worked in a large bank, got a car, and smells good on a Hugo Boss. My axe cologne is probably no match for it. And she probably thought that I was too busy, that's why she failed to introduce me to him.

After packing my things, I rushed to the MEPZ 2 gate. Taxis were scarce in this part. It took me 15 minutes to be on board one. I sent a text message saying I was already on my way and blamed it on the difficulty in finding a taxi. It was already 830pm.

Every time I arrive late at our appointed time, I always blame the traffic. She won’t usually ask questions and seems pleased that I arrive. Better late than never! This time was no different. I got stuck at traffic at the Mactan Bridge. The driver turned on his radio to some AM stations. News. He was listening to evening updates.

“A woman in his mid 20’s jumped over the bridge� says the reporter on radio.

Suicide. Who on her right mind would do it? “Why can’t she just take 10 sleeping pills?� I murmured. “It’s less painful.�

“Or drink muriatic acid� the driver butted in.

�Another crazy man� I thought, referring to the driver. I continued to listen to the news. The woman drowned and her body was rushed to VSMMC. The traffic began to ease but we’re still moving slowly.

My mind couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. Who is she? What could be her reason for committing such deed? Could it be love? I had a classmate before who hanged himself with his belt. He had this beautifully written goodbye poem on the floor. His parents had no idea what his problem was. The poem talked about his beautiful life on earth. Ironic, isn’t it?

I almost forgot about Amy. I tried to call her cellphone but she was out of reach. Impossible! She’s a woman who can’t live without her phone. I sent a message again saying that I’ll be arriving in 5 minutes. It’s quarter past nine. I hoped she would understand. With my line of work, she should understand.

I finally arrived. It was a dimly lit café with only ten wooden tables. We really like the ambience here. From the outside window I could not see the table where we’d usually meet. She must have left. I was two-and-a-half hours late, but am still unapologetic about it. I surveyed the room and there were only two other occupied tables.

“Did some lady came in here and sat on that table?� I asked the waiter and at the same time pointing at our usual table.

“Ah, sir! She was here an hour or two ago. She left this letter and told us to give it to you.�

I immediately took it. It obviously was hurriedly and nervously written. My phone rang, signaling that a text message had arrived. But I was too excited to read the letter first.

“Dear Larry,

You’re late again. As usual, I waited for you for an hour or more. But there was no sign of you nor your shadow. My phone died so I can’t call or send you any message. I really have this terrible problem that I felt like jumping over the Mactan Bridge. By the time you read this my lifeless body might be floating in the Mactan Channel. I even wished I’d be swallowed by sharks…�

I stopped reading and my heart was beating faster. I tucked the letter in my pocket and immediately ran outside to hail a cab. That dead woman could be Amy. Why? Did her boyfriend cheat on her? Is he married, or is he gay? A lot of things floated in my mind, as I commanded the driver to go straight to VSMMC. I somewhat regretted that I arrived late. I could have stopped her. Tears began flowing from my eyes. But I held my tears. “Should I call her parents and our other friends?� that is my other dilemma. But I reserved it after I’ll see the body.

The emergency room was filled with people so I asked around about the woman who jumped over the bridge a couple of hours earlier. I was led to the morgue and there I saw her. She looked sad and lonely. I continued to survey her. I felt like a heavy object was unloaded from my shoulders. It was not Amy.

I slowly walked outside and thought about the good and bad times Amy and I shared. I felt terrible for not immediately coming to her. What if I actually did lose her that night because of my being late? I took out the letter from my pocket and continued reading.

“…But I love life. Call me later. I’m recharging my phone battery.�

I could not help but grin at myself. I should have completely read the whole thing earlier. Then I remembered about the text message. I read it and the message came from Amy. I dialed her number and we talked. It was a relief to hear her voice again. She asked me why my voice was rough and I seemed like trembling. I completely ran out of reasons and instead, proposed that we should meet. But I never mentioned to her that I was in VSMMC gazing at some dead body who I initially thought was her.

[galenostiel]

@Von!-x,

Hmmm, in one of the later paragraphs, Amy became Annie.

I like the way you built up the suspense. Also the "Is he gay?" possibility that Larry was considering, heheheheh.

_________________________________________________

Here's an excerpt from the humble draft I'm currently working on.

[3]

- Don't be sad, Clara... -

There it was again. That strange little child's voice echoing and re-echoing inside her head.

It haunted her dreams quite frequently of late.

- Don't be sad anymore... -

It always said the same thing, over and over.

She'd hated having these dreams. She thought she had put them behind her, that they weren't ever going to bother her again. Obviously, she'd been wrong.

She'd had other dreams before, years ago, and she had desperately buried them in the past. She had hated them, because she knew they weren't just dreams.

They were visions. Glimpses of things past and things yet to come.

Others would call it a gift, but to her it had been a curse. It was like trying to solve impossible cryptograms, or guessing badly played clues at a game of Charades.

She would always end up frustrated, always figured it out too late, and it left her too utterly helpless to do anything about it.

Just like when her mother died. She'd had the dreams, but they were so cryptic, she only realized what they meant when she had stood staring at her mother's lifeless body.

That had been the last straw. With all her willpower, she had refused to have the dreams again, had pushed them away as soon as they came. She would compel herself to stay awake, and forcibly wake herself up if she fell asleep. Her life became a living nightmare until, one day, the dreams stopped.

Now they were back.

But this time, Clara reacted differently. She decided that she wouldn't try to stop them. This time, she was going to listen, and pay attention. She would try to make sense of the dreams, because they might just be her salvation.

The voice spoke again.

-Â* Look. They fight over you. -

And then she was sitting on the bed, staring at two beings who faced each other before her. One was a strangely beautiful woman, with long hair of the deepest black, like a clear night that had suddenly become devoid of moon and stars. Her dress was of the same color, long and flowing, reaching all the way down to cover her feet. It shimmered about her, which was eerie because there was no breeze at all. The tips of her long hair swirled into shadows that seemed to dance about her. But it was her eyes that caught Clara's breath. They were red; a deep, blazing red.

The man who faced her was breath-taking in his loveliness. His hair was a rich golden brown, parted at the right, the front ends falling over his left eye. He wore a white tunic belted at the waist with what looked like gold cord, and white breeches that ended into old-fashioned sandals. He was surrounded with light, a light so calm and peaceful that Clara felt herself wanting to reach out and be part of it.

But the sight was just too strange to behold, all she could do was simply gape at them.

- Darkness and Light, the voice continued. Good and Evil. -

Clara frowned. Good and evil, it said. An angel and a demon? Fighting. Over her? With a sigh, Clara felt the familiar confusion engulf her.

Suddenly, the voice turned ominous.

- Who decides what is good, and what is evil? -

[Von!-x]

@galenostiel, thanks for pointing it out. In my original draft, it was Annie. But I noticed that diem's character is also named Annie.