Not so destroyed anymore.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

I saw a vision today, so beautiful I knew it was fake at once. And yet, this beautiful angel didn't disappear immediately out of my sight - Even after I've stared at him - unsure, hasitant, disturbed, amazed, stirred, excited; For he was like nothing I've never seen. He's an angel, and I was so sure of it.

I was on a bus, travelling alone, late at night. It was closed to Midnight, and I knew, for I could see that the moon had risen high up in the sky, shedding its silvery light upon insignificant many below it. I watched the moon from below, not knowing where else to look, as I glanced out of the bus's foggy window. I reached out a hand to clear the mist as I continued staring at the moon, amazed by its strength, for it was alone. I was one who could never stand to be alone.

The bus whistled to a stop, and my eyes shifted unconsciously to peep at the person boarding - I knew that he was boarding the bus, for there was no one else here except me, and the old driver who sang at the top of his voice. It wasn't polite, and I knew that pretty well, but I couldn't help myself. My eyes landed on a single person - A boy I would say, of a teenager's age. He was dressed in black, probably hinting that he didn't want to attract attention to himself. I took the hint gladly, and went back to what I was doing - Staring at the moon.

Obviously, my guess had been wrong - The one about him not wanting to attract attention. The bus was empty - There were at least thirty other available seats, but he took the one on the aisle beside mine, on the same row as mine, putting himself in my line of sight. I saw his black and white line scarf swing as he walked towards me, and watched it swing out of sight. He made no sound as he sat down, but his movements told me, with the confirmation of my side glance, that he was looking at me. I looked at him, unable to help myself. I was only human.

At that moment when my purple eyes met his brown, I felt my body freeze, but my heart pumped really fast and hard against my chest, so much so that it hurt. His eyes were so beautiful, it was actually painful to look directly into them, but all the same, it was impossible to draw your eyes away from them. I forced my lungs to take in air, and when it finally came, it brought with it a sweet smell that I inhaled gladly - Only to realise later that it come from him. Wow, he does smell good, I thought. Maybe it's colonge, or something along those lines. I was embarrassed and disturbed by my thoughts, but it didn't make them stop.

He must have had enough of me for now, because shortly after the magical moment I experienced, he turned away from me to face the front of the bus as the driver sang merrily in a different language. It was like he didn't feel what I felt, and I couldn't help but to feel disappointed - Maybe I wasn't attractive enough for him. He had the aura of an angel, or if anything could be close enough, a supermodel. The ones you see on magazines and posters, who parade around in costumes or with products. I couldn't never be as beautiful as him, nowhere close enough even. I held my breath as I tried to study him, with my head lowered slightly so it wouldn't look too suspicious. It was still suspicious, but I couldn't care much, like how songs always sang - I couldn't take my eyes off him.

He had shoulder length black hair, layered slightly with highlights - Blonde and silver ones. The ends of his hair hung just over his shoulder, caressing his scarf gently as he moved with the bus, and I couldn't help but to blush as I watched them swing. It was a wrong thing to think about, I knew, but I couldn't help myself. His frindge was long, and it hung gently against his cheek. He looked pale, as though he was sick, but that strange gleam in his eyes I saw just now objected to that. Maybe it was just me, I thought. It should be just me.

His left side profile was facing me, and from my view, I could see the multiple piercings on his left ear, with simple black rings for earrings, which looped through the piercings he had elegantly. There was about 5, maybe 6, I couldn't see too clearly. The earrings didn't stand out eye-glaringly like how many gangsters made them did, but blended in nicely with his hair. It was just another reason for me to keep my eyes on him. He was perfect in so, so many ways.

At this point, I couldn't help but to wonder whether he'll talk to me, if I initiated. It sounded like such an absurd idea, to talk to an angel that was so close, yet so far away. I wondered what he was called, and whether he was even human - It seems to me that no one would be able to find a name so perfect it could match this angel before me. I held my breath, careful not to inhale his scent, careful not to lead myself into a trap, into embarrassment. I failed terribly.

Friday, May 15, 2009

If I knew, I wouldn't have came back early today.
Samantha stood frozen at the backdoor to her house, staring at the mess in the kitchen. It was as though a war had gone on here when she wasn't around. The fruits she'd picked up just this morning were thrown and smashed against the walls and floors, leaving patches of colours all over the recently-scrubbed kitchen; Her favourite China-styled plates, bowls and other utensils laid shattered all over the food stained floor; Her knives were lying dangerously on the counter-top, coupled with other forks and spoons. To top that off, the lunch she'd specially prepared for Isabella and her husband Knight was ruined; Thrown against the walls like the fruits, by the looks of it. Samantha's hands were balled up into tight fists. This was not the first time something like this has happened.

If I knew, I would have given you a bit more space.
Stepping through the backdoor angrily, Samantha whipped around and closed the door quietly, attracting no attention to herself. She crossed the ruined kitchen with careful and measured steps, until she was out of the mess. Something else was definitely going on in her house right now, and Samantha knew that because this had happened before, and it was already the third time in this month alone. Being a simple but cleanliness freak, Samantha had decided to clean up the mess the first two times this had happened. However, as she was busy scrubbing her walls, she heard someone escaping through the front door, and she'd already lost him by the time she made her way to the front door. Now, Samantha was determind not to let the same happen again.

It must have been someone, anyone else, and not you..
Samantha heard a muffled 'Thud' issuing from upstairs as she approached the stairs. Good, she thought. That must mean that the burglar is still around. Samantha's feet were silent as she made her way up the stairs, step by step. When she finally reached the second floor, where her master bedroom was located on, she heard the same noise from within her room - And she scrutinised the old, wooden door. The burglar must know to lock the door, Samantha decided. She drew out her keys quietly, and found the one to her room with no difficulty.

I thought you were the only one who wouldn't do this to me.
She must have been practicing, as this could be seen from the fact that the lock on the handle to the door made no sound as Samantha inserted the key inside, slowly and gently. The thudding continued, and Samantha heard her heartbeat hastened with its increasing frequency. Finally, unable to contain her anxiety and curiosity, Samantha flung open the door, blinking rapidly at the scene before her.

Seems like today, I found out that I was wrong. About the both of you.
Samantha slammed the door shut almost immediately, and the door continued to issue a hollow, ring sound as she walked back down the stairs mechanically. Picking up the handbag she left on he couch, Samantha rummaged through its contents and found what she was looking for. She held the cold metal stiffly in her trembling right hand, and proceeded up the stairs, and back to her room. She flung the door open once more, to see the both of them hastily getting dressed. There's no need for that, Samantha screamed in her head as she stared at her Knight, and her Isabella - Her husband, and her best friend.. Samantha raised her hand and pointed it at Knight. He never had the chance to scream, for it hit him in his forehead.. Bam. It was a clean shot, Samantha knew, for he was dead at once.

"No Sam, please, no.." Isabella howled, shivering and still lying in the newly accumulated puddle of blood - Knight's blood. It was as though Samantha didn't hear her at all, for the corners of her lips twisted upwards into a horrifying smile. The gun shifted its target, and now, it was pointing directly at Isabella's forehead. Samantha laughed, and before Isabella could utter another word, the bullet ran straight through her forehead; She didn't even have the time to duck..

It was like waking up from a nightmare;
You suddenly realise you've lost everything, but also gained everything.
Samantha dropped the piece of metal, now hot with its recent use. She turned to the cupboards and withdrew all the money and her jewelries she could find, and did the same with Knight and Isabella's pockets and bags. She found plenty, and stuffed them all into her handbag as she skipped down the stairs. She then gather everything valuable, and stepped out of the house. With a gentle smile, Samantha clicked her lighter and threw it into the house, flame and all. The house burst into brilliant flames, and Samantha burst into maniacal laughter.

(I CHANGED THE ENDING!)
Samantha woke up, sweating furiously, her blankets thrown to a corner of the room. Above her, the ceiling fan rotated peacefully at a constant pace, undisturbed by its owner, who now laid in a small puddle of her own sweat, her eys wide opened as they stared blindly infront. It was just a dream, honey, just a dream. Samantha glanced at the clock beside her, and it read 3:00 a.m. Too early for breakfast, too late for anything else.

She didn't understand the purpose or the reason of the dream, but Samantha felt better as she got out of bed anyway, to wash up. As the dream started to fade away, Samantha glanced at the calander hanging by the side of the wall, which read 21 November. Her Birthday.

Knight haven't been home since 3 days ago.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

This is a blog I created to post my short stories.
They sound like Role Playing, (Go on, have a laugh.)
So that's why they're not on my main blog.
Don't like? Leave. I'm not stopping you.