[	home	|	in the space between	]
[	mood	|	blank	]
[	music	|	dark of the bleeding moon theme	]

...

the sunlight was streaming in from the windows at the back of the classroom, softened by the peach-painted walls into a soft morning glow. students were listening to their classmate's report, when i limped into the room and instantly smothered the pleasant mood.

i looked at the student standing in front, who was fiddling with his report's visual aid not a moment ago. the faceless bastard who planned the attack on me and my kind.

i looked at the other students frozen in their chairs, staring at me. the other faceless bastards who supported the first bastard's plan.

the softened peach-hued sunlight faded into an icy blue as i beat my breast and pointed a finger at each and every one of them. and, blinking through a haze of furious, unushed tears... i cursed them all to the depths of hell.






"isinusumpa ko kayo'ng lahat.."





clutching what was left of my clothing closer to my grime-laced body, i limped back out of the room, to the hopeless cries and begging of those bastards.

at least they knew.. that being damned by someone you thought you'd killed is a fate worse than death.

...

i watched with lowered lids as the big-boned women savages brought one of the hostages to the front, setting her down on the altar for all to see.

i remember how the blood drained from my head as the leader grabbed me, shoved me towards the woman at the altar, leered at me, and said through dirt-laced broken teeth:



"you. go on and kill her. with your own hands."




i slowly looked down at the woman on the altar; saw her kind, frail form gasping softly for breath, looking up at me with glazed eyes. i wondered aloud that i would rather offer myself as the next brutal sacrifice rather than kill this creature for their pleasure.

before the savage women could beat me into submission, the one on the altar lightly grasped my hand and made me look into her calm, glittering eyes. something akin to despair gripped my heart at her whispered words..




"it's alright, dearie.. don't you see? all of us are going to die here anyway.. but now it's better for me, because if you're the one who kills me, you can do it slowly and gently.. go on, now.. don't be afraid.."




i barely noticed the rusted butcher's knife that was roughly shoved into my hands. the world faded around my line of vision, until only my steady knife-wielding hand and her smooth bronzed neck existed. she was calmly chatting with me as i pressed the blade against her pulse, the tears blurring the present and giving me a vision of the future born from this moment.

she was going to be a saint because of me. the saint who died a peaceful death at the hands of a gentle murderer. i listened to her talk until her voice and spilt blood faded away into sleep.

the world went calmingly white for her..and blindingly black for me.

…

i was chasing the sunset.

as the sky blazed a fiery orange, i slowed down. the timing had to be perfect.

right before the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the burst of red and orange suddenly glowed a midnight blue. there. it was what i was waiting for.

i chased the elusive blue sunset until it bathed me in its light. my hands retained the sun’s blue glow as the world faded into the black night.

“i am speaking to the power within me.. you have been asleep long enough.. come out now and teach me how to wield you!”

the man was showing me where my power came from and how to use it. He patted his right shoulder and called it the China of Chi. that i should follow the Silk Route from the China, and out my... fingertips.

the weirdest part of the lesson was the fact that it worked. My China of Chi glowed a blinding blue, along with my Silk Route, and from my index and middle fingers escaped… a bolt of lightning.

he quietly stared at me and at the damage my little “silk route expedition” created. It looked as if he was afraid something like this would happen.

it turns out… he had hoped to never teach anyone the power of lightning ever again.

…

…

my dreams have always been lucid. i’ve always had control.

on the rare occasions that they are not lucid, it usually means they are messages that i have no choice but to interpret.

i think i’d wish for nightmares than to have more of these..