The concubine knows it all, from the bottom of her heart she lets the fire burn it all around her. Her cloth is red, painted in the blood of her sorrows. White as snow it used to be, until something changed.
She’s in a sitting position and next to her can be found an old sword. Gracefully, she lifts her blade up to the sky. With a swift motion, she cuts the thick air surrounding her while muttering some sort of incantation. The air turns into smoke and the smoke into white petals. All of them, all forming a small tornado, manage to fall flat on her cloth; and so, they absorb the blood from her lap. She looks down at her creation; and sings. Sings a song of her people, of condolences and tyranny.
The environment she finds herself in is known to her like the back of her hand. This is the house her family used to live in, this is where everything started. The wooden planks under her legs tell the story of many and of none. The floor has been eaten to its core by the rats that dwell beneath the walls. But the walls and the paint on them have long been chipped. Never reconditioned, as if that would have made a difference in terms of covering up the smell of tobacco.
The concubine is wise, she never needed to cry for help, even in her worst moments. She shakes off the petals and stands up on her wobbly feet, stretching them out with her hands on her knees. Up she comes, walking one step at a time towards the entrance door. She strokes the door frame as wooden chips manage to strike her under her fingernails. She is serene under the winter blizzard. Looking out into the distance, she realises that ahead of her, a long journey awaits. But she doesn’t dwell.
She rushes out the door at once, tapping her feet one after the other through the thick snow. What she did not realise is that the rats were following close behind her. She might be the last one of her kin, but the rodents are part of what might have been left.
She rushes out with her head striking forward, galloping on the ground as if she’d turned into a majestic horse. Both her hands on her sheath, eyes bloodshot from the cold; that’s how she’s always been ever since she was born in this massacre.
She’s running without a certain purpose, but because something out there could’ve been heard calling out her name. A stranger, perhaps? It had little to no importance.
All she knew was the fact that she should never stop, even when her body might start giving up on her. She must keep going, even if that’ll be the last thing she’ll ever do. Even if it might bring her to her end, she can’t stop.
Author: 星桐
-
It was a chilly Saturday in the park. On the green grass, two souls were meeting at once. They held each other, embracing each other’s very beings. Their hearts were pounding as if they were drums, they were serene.
With the back of his hand, he stroked her cheek, her eyes locked with his.
Imagine how it would be to feel at peace again. Show me the ropes of feeling whole again. I am your pupil from this point on. I will lean onto your shoulder with the hopes of maintaining my sanity. In union, we will celebrate our connection. Reunited as one, one entity on a long and periculous journey. I don’t require much, but your hand and time. Hold on to my hand as if it would be the last time.
His eyes remembered the tale of the galaxies and the shooting stars in the stormy sky. Her’s, on the other hand, were a void in which you could easily get lost. Her poker face said it all, she’d seen many and felt so much.
No. She said at once.
No? My darling, tell me you don’t reciprocate what I am feeling for you. Try and lie to my face. Try and fuck with my heart. He groaned. I dare you.
Eyes still interlocked, she replied: No.
At an instant, he shoved his hand into her hair, pulling her head back. A silent crack could have been heard.
No. She kept on repeating with the hopes of being listened to at least once.
What the fuck do you take me for, huh? He squinted his eyes and brought his face closer to her’s. The smell of tobacco in his breath was pungent. Am I one of your options, is that what’s really going on?
A tear rolled down the cheek he had caressed. No.
Is that as far as your vocabulary fucking goes? For Christ’s sake. He yelled as droplets of spit shot out on to her face.
He backed away at once and her head leaned flat onto her left shoulder. Her neck felt like a slug.
She truly does care for him, it shows on her face. She loves when they spend time together, she loves to know him close. Physical attraction? That’s all there was at one point. But now? Looking at the whole picture, things have changed. The question is, was she able to keep up the pace? Did she manage to change with them?
My love, I am looking at you…
And? What do you see? He calmly asked her. He usually acted like this, hot and cold. It was the behaviour that characterized him the best.
And I am afraid…
Afraid? He chuckled.
Of you. -
The day she decided to unwind happened to be the last day. Her last day in which she would be haunted by an obsessive intuition: a subconsciousness that would steal away her sleep. The patterns were always the same: she sat down on the greenery of mother’s nature, preserved to perfection. She gazes up into the sky and allows herself to morph.
Dear God, look down upon your ungrateful creation. She’d chant. One last breath of your merciful nature… One last try.
Therefore, the vines would spring out of her fingertips, plating themselves into the soil. The dirt that she sat down on happened to be firmer than usual, as if the prophecies were finally becoming true. One by one, larger and longer than the other, would the twigs pierce the skin on her back.
She coughed.
Blood.
This is unusual. The routine she was accustomed with was broken. She just wanted to allow herself to vibrate with the frequencies of the hidden life of the trees, the unbothered scenery created by the forest, and the blooming flowers surrounding her nature.
She started to worry, she’s allowed herself for fear to conjure her mind as red fluid would flow out of her orrifices, may they be occular or auditory. She is gasping for air, as she gives her all. From nature, she came, in nature, back, she’ll merge.
However, she would not have been left alone on her journey. Her guardian angel always watched over her. It was supposedly a lovely afternoon, just another lovely afternoon. Not the first, and certainly not the last.
The so-called guardian angel pierced the sky with its forceful nature, thus creating its own ecosystem. The sun was hidden by a precise number of clouds as long garments of the ghostly creature flowed. It had no eyes, ears, nose, or anything that could categorize it as a humanly being.
Help me. The girl wheeps as her oculars begin to turn into a waterlike consistency.
Help? The creature stopped her routine as to sit beside the helpless girl. You need no assistance.
I am… Bleeding out.
The creature straightened its posture as it glazed the tips of its fingers across the vines that the girl had created. In doing so, the ramifications of her blood vessels would begin.
You’re hurting me. The girl spat a gush of blood as her powers weakened by the second.
The hurt you experience is only yours to bear. Do not blame this on anyone but yourself.
The earth… I feel it’s power flow through me, as if life is being created inside my very ribcage.
The creature smugged.
Yes.
Without any sort of hesitation, the creature rushed its hand towards the girl’s neck, hardening its grip on her larynx. She became numb by this point, so numb that she did not even realize that her head had fallen on her very lap. She could no longer see, hear, or smell; she had lost all her senses. The senses she used to navigate through life just like everybody else.
The ramifications had perforated her insides, allowing for the vines to extend towards the sky. The creature rushed to protect the head in its embrace, not even at these moments, would the guardian angel abandon its role. As life took shape in a forceful manner, the guardian angel would sing songs of doléances to yet another fallen sinner.
You have done well, my child.
-
Four blank walls, each serving a distinct role, are put together to construct a room in which a creature with some level of consciousness seems to dwell in. It had known nothing else its whole life other than the four walls which would always talk back to it.
Aren’t you worthy of so much pity? The first of the four walls gazed upon the helpless creature with a snazzy look. When exactly do you plan on actually escaping from this place you keep on calling pure torture? Shame on you for waiting for a miracle to happen. Without us, you’d have been long dead.
The creature looked back at the talking wall in horror. It’s been here for so long, keeping track of time seems to be redundant at this point. The four walls have offered it so much: criticism, cynicism, but never the help it thought it needed.
You are not real. The creature commented back at what seemed to be a retracting head. The first of the four walls had successfully managed to morph itself into a more familiar shape that would resemble somewhat of a humanoid head. There’s so much that could have been achieved through this transformation, as some spikes of burnt hair rise from the top of this shape; two big black holes in which the universe could be found into instead of eyes; a huge slit in the middle of the face for a nose; and one cocky pair of cracked lips which could be compared to a mouth.
Fuck you, I am not. The wall shouted back.
Now now, let’s not get too hasty. The third wall joined the unpleasant conversation as the creature saw it. It had to be the nicest of all four, refusing to morph into anything other than what it already was, a blank canvas. It echoed once in a while, putting an end to any arguments that might arise.
Let me go. The creature looked down at its dry feet as if a river would be flowing out of its eyes.
Always with all this whining. Might I remind you that you came here by choice? Don’t make us responsible for your poor judgment. The second wall responded. And stop with all this dammed crying. You’re going to flood this place all over again, and quite frankly, I am tired of cleaning up after you over and over again. The second of the four walls had taken it a step further in terms of trying to become familiar with the creature. A pair of tall humanoid-looking twins have been engraved on the wall, one wiser than the other.
I’ve done what you’ve asked of me. Do I deserve no mercy? the trembling creature directed its gaze at the pair of twins.
Not until the door through which you have joined us in this location will spring open again. The last of the four, positioned behind the creature which it could never look at, echoed when its turn finally came around. It was cracked, which was the crack through which the creature came through.
I am so tired of your anecdotes. I just want to go home. The creature cried out.
Home? The first of the walls chuckled back. What is it that you call home? We have been the closest environment to that ideal you call home.
A vibration coming from the third wall echoed, a soothing sound for the four of them, but a piercing screech for the creature. It fell to the floor as the other three walls joined the third in some sort of a union, each producing its form of sound.
For as long as you are going to live, the wall behind the creature spoke out with great power, you are going to assist us in the making of a new era.
The creature let out a shout before banging its head with great force to the ground. The blood which began to flow out of the cracked head combined with the pool of tears previously spilled. The creature looked back in utter shock at its reflection.
Humans. Never capable of anything else other than what their condition would allow them. The twins carved on the second wall joined in union before lifting their arms in the creature’s direction, their fingers pointing at the crack on the banged head. And so, the creature began to morph. Before it could react to what was happening, it burst so greatly, splashing the walls in splats of salty blood.
Time to make room for another test subject. The fourth of the walls had confirmed before the cracks in it began to take shape similar to a door through which yet another creature would be welcomed.
-
The procreation of a child must be, perhaps, one of the purest forms of love. A mother in the year of 2000 could definitely attest to that. Even so, she couldn’t but sit and wonder, why does it bring so much burden? Why is the child in her womb defying the rules of nature? No motherhood planning manual she’d stumbled upon had prepared her for this. The doctors did warn her “Unless you get rid of this prodigy, your life will be miserable”. For some odd reason, she begged to differ. She knew her life would be at risk if she carried on like this. Yet, she’s as stubborn as one can be and no one in their right mind would try to take her first unborn child away from her. And so she went on a journey, asking for opinions left and right, trying her best as long as her wallet would allow her. Because, you see, these consultations weren’t cheap. Even so, even if it meant putting her own health in danger, she pushed on.
“This fetus you care so much about will turn out to be handicapped one way or another” she kept on hearing from every professional she went to. She took the destiny of this womb into her own hands. She was a fighter and she wasn’t ready to stop her searching just yet. Even if it meant sacrificing herself along the way.
“They are just some cells, that heartbeat does not attest to a functioning member of society” on and on she’d be told. Why was everyone so sure of what she was capable of? “I will not abort this child.” she’d always mutter back to those monsters.
Almost twenty-three years later, when that prodigy was all grown up, she’d recall on those memories of her mother. Having lost contact with her and her life turning for the worst, she looked at herself in the mirror as she always had and said “Maybe they were right.” With tears running down her face, her pale expression could only suggest, the world would be better off without her. But yet, she doesn’t have the strength to either push forward or fall back. She’s a coward and she knows it.
Macovei Anda 