The Elder Wand

She looked at the other woman with murder in her eyes.

"How dare you, you witch…" she whispered, her words were hiss of anger.

The witch gave her a contemptuous smile.

"What are you going to do about it?" she smirked, "It has been done. You know the rules."

"This doesn't mean you can do it in a dirty way."

The witch laughed. It was such a confident laugh that she felt a shiver in her back.

"The Elder Wand takes on a new master whenever it has been 'won' from its previous owner. That's what the rule is, and you know it. It doesn't state how and what method."

"It is still mine." She hissed again. She gathered up her energy and look more voracious than ever. The magic was still in her, filling her up and made her look even more beautiful.

"Oh please," the witch said with a chuckle. The witch gave her a wink and right then she knew it was a lost cause. The glowing aura, the relaxed hair that fell heavenly on the witch's shoulder, all the way down to her breasts. She knew it. The elder wand was not hers anymore.

"Yes please," she smiled sinisterly. She won't give up. Not without a fight.

"Have it your way," the witch grinned. 

"Hey babe," the witch called, "You got Facetime from Lisa!" A muffled voice of a man from the other room can be heard, "Oh God just reject it. Come here and go down on me."

The witch said to the phone, "Bye bitch." but Lisa already hung up.

Atalanta

#Atalanta

"Will you just stop running, Atalanta?"

She looked at her boss with an annoyed look. "If there is anything I don't do," she said dryly, "it's running. You know I can't even power walk to save my life." 

He gave her *the look*. "You know what I mean," he tossed a stack of papers on her desk. "Every time your relationship tanked, your work tanked."

She pouted, but the bright eyes behind her glasses showed remorse. "It is not my fault," she started, "You know what happened with…" 

"Yes, I know," he cut her off. "I also know that you need to stop preying on people." She looked at him with cold fury. After a long pause, she responded, "I do not prey." 

"Atalanta…" he said gently. She hated that. She hated that concerned look. She hated that soft, calming tone. She had seen he used the voice and the look many times to interrogate their captives, and she knew how effective it was. 

He looked at her, reading her face. "This is not an interrogation," he said. She looked up to the ceiling in frustration and then dropped her chin. She knew that too. Which made it worse. 

"You know why your code name is Atalanta, right?" he asked. She still gazed intently to the floor, not wanting to see the piercing green eyes. "Yes," she mumbled, "I am the fastest hacker you got…" 

He nodded. "That, and because we see the potential in you." She looked at him in disbelief. Personal praises were almost non-existent in their department. To think about it, she couldn't remember anyone ever gets one.

"Don't look so shocked," he said with a grim smile. "Will you stop reading my mind??" she said in annoyance. He shrugged. "I told you to practice your poker face."

"Atalanta," he said musingly, now conveniently perched on the edge of her desk. "Atalanta, because it will take the willpower of the Gods and the help of the Gods to stop you." She blushed. 

"You are a good woman," he said, "But you know that none of your suitors is a match for you. Yet you still take the race and speared them when they can't catch up with you."

She looked at her shoes again, angry and ashamed. "Maybe there's no need for you to take unnecessary races anymore?" he asked kindly. "Or if you do, spare their lives. It will ease up yours as well."

She sighed. "I promise I won't tank my work again. There. I said it. Will you leave me alone now?" He gave her a stern look. She squirmed in discomfort, dutifully looking down at her shoes again. Such nice, black, pointed flats. 

There was a long, awkward silence. She knew she couldn't get away from it. "I know that you care," she said quietly. "And?" he asked. "And I know," she answered, "that's not just because I am your worker. You actually care."

He chuckled. "Not the answer I was looking for. And not so loud. I have a reputation to keep." Now it was her turn to chuckle. He was a scary one, but there's no doubt among any of his team member that the chief actually cares.

"You deserve better. The time will come when a man will be equipped with gifts from Gods themselves in order to win you over." She looked at him in his eyes, trying to find lies there. 

"I am not lying to you," he said with a grin. "Will you just stop reading me?!" She gritted her teeth in frustration. He shrugged again, "That's what we are trained for. What do you expect?"

She let go a long sigh and looked at him. "Do you mean what you said?" He looked at her back. "Atalanta, I will personally deliver the golden apples from the Gods myself to that suitor, or take it by force if they refuse to help." 

She laughed. "You are crazy," she said. "No, I am not," he retorted. "That's our department specialty, anyway." She laughed harder and he smiled at her.

"Why?" she asked. "I reward the people who are loyal to me," he answered. She took another deep breath. "Promise it will be okay?" she said in a timid voice. "Atalanta," he said solemnly, "I promise."

But You Will Love Me

[#Fiction #ShortStory]

"But you will love me," she said. Her voice was slightly high-pitched and rang in my head. I woke up with a start. The echo resounded in my mind like a clear bell, and not even the sliver of sun ray in my eyes cleared it through. Stupid dream, I muttered.

I got up and brushed my teeth. As I look myself in the mirror the image from the dream came trickling down. A medium build woman. Light brown skin. Long, wavy black hair. Asian? Big eyes. Really big eyes. Almost like a cat. Disarming, innocent smile. Yet there was that flash of intensity in her face. She looked strangely familiar. Was she one of the girls I texted on the dating app? I shook my head, disappointed in myself. Didn't know I need a girl this bad.

I took a swig of coffee and headed out. I have a lot of errands to do, no time to daydream about a dream. My coffee mug was almost empty when I stood on the escalator going down the subway. My head was a lot clearer then. The presentation, the supermarket, the new project, what else that I need to do?

"Excuse me," a soft woman's voice alerted me, oddly familiar. A woman walked past me, half running to catch the train. I caught a glimpse of the light brown skin. And the wavy long hair held together with a bandana. My heart sank. It's the woman!

I tried to calm myself. I need more coffee, I mumbled with a nervous laughter. But my eyes kept on searching for that woman. I saw her waiting, saw her getting on the train, and as the door closed I instinctively ran to be on the same train as she was.

She sat quietly near the door. How old was she? She looked very young. Short shorts and plain white T, canvas sneakers and a backpack. Steampunk sunglasses. Was she lost? Did she need help? It's almost like finding a stray kitten that you just want to cuddle and save. She looked at me and I looked down. I felt like a creep. 

The PA announced my stop is a few minutes away. Against my better judgment, I walked to the door near where she sat and waited there. It wasn't her. It wasn't the woman in my dream. She looked back at me with an intrigued look. I averted her gaze and promptly walked out when the train arrived at the station. 

Coffee. I needed more coffee. Or maybe whiskey. I took a deep breath once I am on the surface street. The cold air filled my lungs. I felt better. Next stop, presentation. Now this will be fun, I thought wryly. I wanted to say it's a make or break deal, but it's not. Design jobs can be fascinating, but this one in particular was definitely not. They're willing to pay though, so there I was ready to sell myself to the devil.

As the receptionist walked me down the cubicles to the meeting room, what I saw confirmed my suspicion. The office was very much like the e-mails I received: dry, bland, uniform. My proposal would work well here. Nothing too risky, very conservative, yet with a very subtle flair to give it the oomph it needed. I nodded in satisfaction.

And there she was. In one of the cubicles. Bright red headphones, dark red lipstick, winged eyeliner. And was she wearing a pair of gold pumps? Even her black blazer and pants couldn't tone down the tight vivid kelly green blouse she was wearing. 

She was dancing sexily to the music in her headphone as she worked. Hair neatly curled into an elegant bun, showing off her slender neck. I suddenly was attacked with a vivid image of kissing that neck ferociously, reach down into her blouse and groped her breasts, pinning her to her desk as I undid my zippers and she did hers, and then…

"Please wait here," said my escort with a professional smile. I woke up from my daydream and tried to keep my face straight, wishing fervently that my erection was not visible. I followed him into the meeting room and started to prepare the presentation, thinking I got away with it. Until I saw him winking flirtatiously at me, just before he left the room. Oh God.

My presentation went well, which was an achievement considering I couldn't concentrate at all. It didn't help that the office girl showed up with some refreshment. It wasn't her. She wasn't the woman in my dream. She was really pretty too, a total bombshell, but I was nowhere near as attracted as when I thought she was the woman in my dream. What was wrong with me?

I bought a sandwich and decided to sit in the park. I still have an hour to go before heading back to my office. The sun was out but the breeze felt nice. Good. I need some peace and quiet to think. I sat under the tree, facing a small lake. I bit into my sandwich and ponder. Was I cursed? I never believe in magic and I won't start anytime soon.

"No, Mama! No!" The voice of a boy's laughter pierced my peace. The boy giggled as he ran on the lakeside. That's another thing that I won't believe or have anytime soon. Kids are a distraction. An expensive one, too. The boy's mom laughed with him as she chased him. She could overtake him anytime. Stupid game. She caught the boy and tilted her head in laughter. It's her again.

F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck.

I hyperventilated. What's happening? Why did I keep seeing her everywhere? The vision assaulted me as hard as it did at the office. Me and her. She was telling me she's pregnant with my child. Our child. I teared up unexpectedly. She did too. Us in the baby shower. Us taking pictures with her bulging stomach for family Christmas card. Me kissing the little guy while she looked at us lovingly. 

No. That was crazy. I never wanted kids. Or kid. Yet I could see myself taking him to soccer practices. Her comforting me when my son, our son, had a high fever. A family. Me as a father. With her as the mother. That's what I have always wanted. I stood up. Even without coming close to her I knew she would turn out to be not the woman I saw in my dream.

So I ran. I ran back to my apartment.

Two hours later I was standing at the door of my apartment. It took only 20 or 30 min to go back home from that park, but I had to stop for a drink. Luckily my partner at the office asked no question, or worse, made me come to the office. Which I would not be able to do, as I saw her 3 more times on my way back home. I already called the hospital's psychiatry department to have a checkup tomorrow. This was beyond creepy. I was losing my mind.

And then the smell hit me. Baked chicken. With lemon. And herb. I held the doorknob in a death grip. I knew if I opened it, I will definitely lose my mind. My instinct was telling me to run. To the church, perhaps, or mosque, or shaman, or anywhere to exorcise this devil. Even a pscyh ward sounded promising. But I wanted it so bad. So bad. 

I opened the door. The darkness of my room greeted me. There was no one there. No baked chicken, no warm, tantalizing food. I was hallucinating and I know it. Just the smell of my room. With a whiff of a woman's perfume. From my bedroom.

I walked towards the bedroom in a zombie mode. Of all the things I wanted, or what I never knew I wanted, this was I wanted the most.

The innocent nerdy girl

The flirtatious office lady

The loving mom

The cool girl at the bar

The bubbly dancer I saw on TV

The elegant diva/trophy wife

I wanted each of them for my own reasons. I desired their presence at some point in my life. Yet there was one presence that I continued to crave: my partner who's waiting in the bedroom. I knew what I would see: that woman from my dream last night, sitting quietly on the bed in a black velvet slip-on, smiling shyly yet eagerly at me. I have wanted that for so long. Someone to come home to. Someone I could call my own.

I opened the bedroom door. It was empty. I laughed hysterically. I have officially lost my mind. Her voice rang through my head, over and over again. "But you will love me." F*ck it, I thought. I did. I really did love her. Every single one of her. I went to the bed, open the drawer and reach out for my lotion, and started to f*ck myself furiously. I f*cked each woman in my mind over and over again, especially the one with black velvet slip. F*ck it. F*ck it. F*ck it.

---

The woman sat on the fire stairs, looking through the gap on the window's curtain at the man who was f*cking himself over and over again. A satisfied smirk adorned her face. 

"You know he will f*ck himself to death," said a man's voice. The woman looked at him, a tall handsome gentleman in a casual black business suit. She grinned mischievously, "I thought that's what you hired me for."

He scowled, "There are more respectable ways to die, not to mention faster and less painful." She shrugged, "But he will love me." 

The man gave her an irritated look, but she just smiled innocently. At last, he sighed, "I guess that's what I get from hiring a Succubus as a Grim Reaper."

She laughed triumphantly and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "It's ok," she said, "you will love me too."

La Belle et La Bête

The giant rose in the bubble mesmerized her. Her big round eyes grew wider as she admired the sealed glass jar with the flowers inside, the white rose nestled perfectly among the other flowers. So pretty, so beautiful. She reached out a hand to touch the glass jar. It's calling her.

"Don't touch it," barked a harsh voice. She turned to see her captivator standing in the doorway with a nasty snicker on his face. "It will outlive you," he said with a grin, "It's specially preserved to make it last forever while still looking fresh." She looked at him with hatred but stood her ground. There is no way she'll let him bully her around. He stepped closer and lift up her chin. "Too bad we can't do that with the human body," he whispered, "You'll look great in my parlor." She snapped and ran away, with his laughter following her, echoing in the empty castles.

In the comfort of her room, she furiously threw her pillows and duvet covers to the wall, over and over again. The soft pillows make no sound as she frustratingly punched them vigorously to release her anger. The best code breaker in her division, the top of her class in the military, the darling of the commanders, yet here she was being trapped with no one to save her. If only her dad weren't stupid enough to get caught up with this swastika-loving lord, and promising her in return for his safety. Which is why her team cannot 'save' her. Despite the obvious siding, she's the resistance and he's the enemy supporter, her captivity was considered as 'servitude' and her commander refuse to act on it. "Stupid men. Stupid, stupid men," she fumed.

Deep down inside, she knew they will not help her. More than once she intercepted a request to transferred her to a different division, from the genteel request "It is far too dangerous for the young lady to be in the midst of the battle" to the chauvinist demand of "She's a looker, and that's where my men look, instead of focusing on the battle ground." Her commandeer knew her worth, but it was only time until she got relocated in some obscure department and indirectly pressured to resign. It's a man's world indeed, she thought bitterly.

But he did not treat her like that. On his better days, they'll have long, interesting conversation together. He's far more educated than any of her compadres in the resistance, and more eloquent as well. It's just Stockholm Syndrome, she said to herself firmly, more than she liked to. He'd debate her vigorously, he'd laugh and admit defeat if she managed to outdo him in a debate (which didn't happen much), and never once he showed any disrespect towards her or telling her she's just 'a woman'. Her attempt to seduced him to buy her freedom, to her embarrassment, had been greeted with a hearty laugh. 

"Belle," he had said gently in front of her locked bedroom door after that particular incident, "Your beauty is what you have in you. Don't sell it so cheaply." She had told herself it was only a dream, that she was imagining things. After all, it was probably the very first time someone had say no to her. It's understandable if she's making things up to escape from the shame, because there is no way that scarred, horrible looking man who pledged allegiance to the Fuhrer will be kind enough to say those things. Yet she saw kindness in his eyes, especially when he thinks she wasn't looking, the kindness and warmth that made her heart skip a beat. For the first time in her life, Isabelle de Honore was at lost on what to do.

She hated how he treated her in the vault, teasing her about preserving her. She hated how much power he had over her, and the simple gesture of touching and lifting her chin send shivers down her spine. She hated how she gave in to this Stockholm syndrome, thinking that this man could actually be someone decent, even believing the maids' story on how selfless he was and how his pledged allegiance is a way to protect his people. She hated for wanting more from him, for the desperation that's gnawing on her, for realizing that the scarred-face man with arrogant attitude might just be the true Prince, the true 'La Beau', and she was the unworthy hideous peasant, 'La Bête'. She cried bitterly in silence.

The night was late when she woke up with a grim determination. He is not The Beast, and she is not The Beauty. This is real life and not fairy tale. The enchanted rose will never wilt, and the curse will never be lifted, if it ever exists. The only curse exists is the curse of her weak will power. He's the enemy, she's the resistance. It couldn't get any simpler than that. She got dressed and readying herself for an overdue escape. Her team, the resistance movement, that's where she needed to be, instead of playing an obedient hostage in a luxurious castle. She needed to get away. She needed to get things done.

The castle was deathly quiet, but she had learned to walk like a cat. It wasn't long before she found his bedroom, the door slightly ajar. She put the pistol that she had stolen in her hand, readying it to be used immediately, before silently entering the room. The fire burning low in the fireplace illuminated the room, but the man sprawling on the bed was unperturbed even as she inched closer to the bed. He had put the glass jar with the rose on his bedside, and for a moment she wanted to run and hugged him instead. Duty comes first, she said to herself. She steeled herself and silently climbed his massive bed, kneeling next to him and aiming the pistol right between his eyes. 

The eyes that promptly opened. The eyes that looked straight back to her eyes, full of pain, full of question, full of understanding. They were the deepest blue, like the beautiful summer evening, with long, lush lashes. The body underneath the blanket was rigid, solid, and exceptionally fit. As she kneeled there in shock, the horror of her action came rushing in as if a flood gate was opened.

"Belle," he whispered.

She was going to kill an unarmed man, a sleeping man.

"Belle," he whispered louder.

For what reason? Only because he was not interested in her.

"Belle?" he asked quietly.

Her pride was wounded and she's ready to lodge a bullet in an unarmed, innocent, sleeping man just for that.

"Belle," he said louder, alarmed.

Where's her dignity? Where's her integrity? He was not the beast, she was. She saw her true, vain self that moment, and she loathed herself.

"Belle," he called, louder, but he did not move. How could he? The pistol was there, ready to slay him. 

"Wrong target," she whispered. She pulled the pistol from between his eyes and placed it on her temple instead. The beast must be killed.

"Belle!" he shouted, and in a quick move wrestled the pistol from her and tossed it across the room.

A moment of silence. She still kneeled next to him, paralyzed in shock of what she almost did.

"Belle," he called out firmly, hands clasping each of her wrists to prevent her from fleeing. Tears started to fall on her cheeks. She struggled to free her wrists but she was no match for him. She kicked and she pulled, but he wouldn't let go.

"Belle," he said gently, "It's ok." With that, her barrier broke and she cried. Her sob echoed in the room. He pulled her into his arms in a gentle embrace. "It's ok," he said, "It's ok." He said that over and over again as he caressed her hair, as he lovingly kissed her cheeks and forehead. "It's ok." 

The fire crackled softly, illuminated the two figures sitting together in the center of the bed, embracing each other tightly. The white rose bathed in the fire's orange glow. The fairy tale had just begun.

The Night of One Thousand Demons

Far out, the cry of the drunken men could be heard. The light from the torches can be seen from afar, glowing like little spirit fire, bobbing through the night. The smell of the burned papier-mache effigies lingered in the air, and smoke still rose from some of the burned effigies. The woman shuddered. Her young face was almost unrecognizable in the depth of the night, her dark brown skin blended perfectly with the darkness around her. It's coming, she thought frantically, it's coming.

She dreaded that day. She always does. The day always scared the living sh*t out of her. It was the one day where everyone was to stay at home, all silent. The silence will go all the way through the next morning, and she will stay up in terror throughout the lightless night, waiting for the dawn to finally come. Even far away from her hometown she would not feel safe, and the moment the clock strikes midnight she'll darted to turn on the lamp, arguing that the silence day is over. Here in her hometown, she was scared witless.

The demons are all out, they say. The demons and the witches and the shapeshifter. They'll have epic duels and whoever mortal saw it will die within days. The night of the dead moon will give unprecedented power, another one said. So many tales about people getting attacked and harassed during the night of the silent day, all in the comfort of their own house. One of her uncles woke up one morning with choke mark around his neck. A couple others reported disturbing dreams, and their wives corroborated the stories. Rooster that crows out of nowhere, some say, and shadow without body, other say. What if they come and get her this time?

"Why would we?" growled a voice amusedly from behind her. Her skin prickled. She went stiff. The energy, the smell, the voice, it was one of them. Her legs ached to flee, but she knew she couldn't outrun them. Her brain went into a total chaos, her stomach turned to water. "To be precise," another voice growled, this time with a sing song tone, "Why wouldn't we?" Two, no, more. She was surrounded by them. The energy was maddening. What would they do to her? What would her family think? She shouldn't have come back for the celebration. But it was too late now. This was it, her time had come. 

"You are right," growled a different voice. She felt a hand on her shoulder, gently turned her to where they were standing behind her. The long nails felt sharp on her soft cheek, but it didn't break her skin. And there they was: tall, short, big, small, females with breasts drooping to the waist, male with long tongues, four headed ones, multiple limbs, tusks and fangs everywhere, all around her. The smell of incense and flowers and an underlying waft of decaying flesh hung thick around them. "You are right," the demon said again, "Your time has come." The demon pulled her closer to them, smiled a gruesome and terrifying smile, baring teeth and tusks. She closed her eyes in defeat and despair. The demon put both hands on her cheek and pulled her face even closer, baring her neck for all to see. Or to devour. She could feel the demon putting her face next to her own, and whispered: "Welcome home."

In an instant the world explode, or it seemed so to her. The cheers erupted was deafening, and the laughter and screams and shouts afterwards was even more so. Everywhere seemed to burst in color, and the night looked as bright as the day. But it was nothing, completely nothing compared to what's happening in her mind. Streams of memories, locked for so many years, flooding through her mind. Her strength, her power, her magic, all returned and she could feel it running through her veins. The hair band that tied her hair into pig tail broke loose, and her hair fell in a curtain around her face. Her eyes lit with fire as she looked at her capturer, nay, her friends. No, more than that. Her family.

The demon who woke her smiled even wider, and she couldn't stop admiring how pretty the demon look. The evil ones, people called them, the horrible ones. But are they really? In her mind, she saw the structure, she saw the rules, she saw the system. Are human really are better than them? Or is just a different kind of beauty, a different kind of system that human failed to understand? It didn't matter. What matter was for now, for a full day to come and a full night after they can roam the land freely. For one cycle of day the land is theirs again. She smiled happily. Their ecstatic happiness rubbed on her, and soon she was dancing on the street with them. She was home, and this was the night of one thousand demons.

Note: this short story was made by combining the concept of Balinese New Year (Silent Day) celebration and the Japanes lore of The Night Parade of One Hundred Demons (Hyakki Yako). Happy Caka New Year, Hindu Balinese!!!

After The Party

[#shortstory]

The woman sighed. Her eyes were fixed on the vista below her, a sprawling town with the castle yonder, all lit with little lights from the candles. Her mind, though, was entirely elsewhere.

"What's with all the sighing?" her man-servant asked, "And please, you will ruin that dress sitting on the grass like that."

She didn't answer, only sighing some more. 

"I am lonely," she answered.

"And you are ruining your dress," her man servant replied, pointing to her beautiful silvery white dress.

"It's enchanted," she pouted, "you and I know that. It magically repents wear and tear. How else can I use my glass slippers for so many dances without breaking it once? Even with those clumsy buffoon princes."

"Touche," said the man servant.

They sat still for a good while. Her man-servant took out a small case of cigarettes and started to lite one. She looked at him reproachfully. "Smoking will kill you," she said.

The man servant shrugged. "Eh," he said, "once I am back into a mouse I've only got, what, 3 months to live? Might as well enjoy it."

"If we get back," she corrected him.

"Once we get back," he smiled mockingly, "That old fairy godmother of yours is powerful, but the spell can't last forever."

Now it was her turn to shrug. "Why not?"

"Because, dear little housemaid," he answered, "as a house-mouse I know nothing lasts forever."

She looked away. "You are just being negative," she said.

He laughed at her statement. "Really? What do you think would happen, say, two years from now? Will we still be the wandering vagabond that crashes into each party?"

She sighed again. "I am already tired of parties. I want to go home."

The man-servant looked at her kindly, lovingly. "Let's go then."

"I can't," she answered. "I don't know where home is."

They sat there in silent. She took the cigarette from his hand and inhaled it deeply. He didn't mind. She needed it.

"I wish," she said between the puffs, "I wish I had settled."

"With what? Fat lazy princes? Dubious ones?" her man servant snorted.

"I mean, they can't all be that bad," she said with a shrug.

"No, they are not. There's always a good part in somebody, and there's always a bad part," he answered.

She looked at him with a sorry look, "You've seen a lot, haven't you?"

He merely shrugged, "Eh, not important. We don't live long enough to care."

"Back to you, though," he said, "we won't let you just 'settle'."

She looked away. "Neither will I."

He lit another cigarette and handed it over to her, taking the dead one away. 

They sat there smoking in silence. "Maybe I don't need a prince anyway. Maybe I should just be happy with a farmer or a merchant."

Her man-servant laughed. "Dreaming of days chasing ducks and feeding cattle, followed by quiet nights by the fireplace?"

She laughed with him. "You make it sound so abhorrent." The laughter grew stronger until they both roared with laughter.

"No, no, seriously," she said. "That doesn't sound that bad."

He smiled and looked at her, "It is that bad. You know that."

"It's quiet and peaceful, though. You could have children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren by now," she smiled wistfully.

"I like them as 'could have'," he answered. She grinned.

The night was getting older and the chilly breeze came through. She shivered a little. He took off his man-servantjacket and wrapped it around her, sitting closer to her.

"How many Royal parties have we crashed into?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered, "a dozen? Two dozen?"

"Remember the one with the courtyard so big it took us almost an hour to go to the castle's entrance?" he said.

"Oh yes!" she answered with a giggle, "and also the one with the crystal chandeliers! Fanciest castle!"

"I remember the one where the prince was so handsome I thought that'll be the end of our adventure," he laughed.

"Don't remind me of that vain prince," she cringed, "Or the one who took interest to me but doesn't seem to know what to do with me."

"That one was your loss," he teased. "You could have taught him things."

She scowled, "Like what? Like how not to faint and get a nosebleed when I stand too close to him?"

Her man-servant roared with laughter again, and she soon followed suit. Their laughter rang throughout the night.

"Cindy," the man-servant said softly after they went quiet again, "if big castles and golden cages couldn't keep you in, why do you think a humble house would?"

She looked at him. "I want to go home," and buried her head on his chest.

He hugged her close and caressed her hair. "We will go home," he said lovingly, "to a home that you deserve."

She didn't say anything, so he kept caressing her hair. "The horses, the other man servants, us the bewitched ones, we're happy to be a part of your adventure. We want you to be happy because you deserve it."

"I am sorry I brought you all into the mess," she answered. Her voice muffled. "I didn't know the spell was for me to find a prince, and so when I rejected the first one, the spell continues to work. Had I known…"

"Had we known, we would not change a thing," he answered. She lifted her head up and saw him smiling, "We think living as horses and man-servants are a better deal than as mice and being chased around by that horrid cat."

She giggled. "Really?"

He looked at her and smiled, "Really." 

He pulled her close and let her bury her head in his chest again, tenderly caressing her hair. "We will find your home, and we will take you home."

They hugged quietly for the longest time.

"Promise?" she whispered softly.

"Promise." He gently answered.

The chilly wind gently rustled the leaves on the tree, but the two of them remained there for a while. It's a big, big world out there, but they'll find their home. They know it.

Fever

[#shortstory #fiction]

"What are you?" she said. Her eyes looked curiously upon the creature. She had never seen anything like it, but she liked its brown eyes. The creature, in turn, looked at her suspiciously. It made a gesture to come towards her, but at the last moment it sprang and ran. She was left alone, bewildered and surprised.

The next day she saw the creature again. This time, she didn't say anything, only smiling encouragingly at it. When she was home yesterday, she remembered how frightening it was to be the new kid, and how every 'Hi' and 'How are you' freaked her out. Maybe the creature felt the same. It still looked at her suspiciously, but she was careful not to make any sudden movement. Aside from the smile, she pretended it wasn't there. Give it a little space, she said.

Several days passed before the creature stopped looking at him suspiciously, and more curiously. The creature did not hide anymore, in fact, it almost seemed like it was waiting for her. One day, she played a prank on the creature. She didn't smile when she passed where the creature was, and looking down to the ground instead. The creature got agitated and started to follow her, which then she looked up and give it a big "Boo!" and laugh. The creature went hiding for days, and she felt so bad.

"Do you miss home?" she said, while the creature gently combed her hair. The creature has long brittle fingers, she loved the feel of those fingers on her hair. They have come a long way since that first encounter.  She knew what the creature was. At first, she suspected the creature was a wayward spirit or ghoul, but the creature's constant solidness made her think it was something else. She decided he must've been alien, somehow stranded here. 

The creature did not reply. It had not learned the language she used, so she just shrugged it off. To her surprise, the creature pointed out towards the horizon. "Home," it said in its weird vocal. She looked at the creature in surprise. "Home," she replied. She smiled in joy. She had become so attached to this creature, she had stopped thinking about it as a pet. She liked the creature. She started to wonder how can she kept the creature around. Will her mother mind as much? She could take a good care of the creature. Like, how hard could it be anyway.

The creature's hands clasped her cheeks and held her face close to its face. "Home," the creature said. Its brown eyes locked into hers, and she felt fever burning in her. Sorcery, she thought to herself and struggled to be free. Yet at the same time, she didn't want to. She just wanted to be lost in the creature's eyes. Is it bad? Is it wrong? Her body burned from within, and her heart beat like a drum. It is killing me, she thought, and then what? Will the creature eat her? Was the creature planning to kill and eat her all along?

The sound of the horn surprised them both. The loud yelling and the weapons being brandished freaked them both out, and soon they were clutching each other in fright. "You, let go of her!!" screamed one of the pursuers. The creature panicked and let her go, run as fast as it can back to the concrete jungle where it came from. The clanging sound of the metal bin and the rotten stench of the trash assaulted her as the pursuers run after the creature, and her throat throbbed from screaming, both calling for the creature and begging it should not be hurt.

"Lady, are you alright? You shouldn't wander afar from the mansion like this," said one of the pursuer. "I am fine, thank you," she responded. A maid came running and put silk and cashmere robe around her to keep her warm. "We will make sure we catch the peasant and punished him. Now if you please get into the limo, we'll drive you back to the mansion," said the captain of the guard, a handsome woman dressed in a suit. She looked at her, baffled. "So.. that was.. a man?" The maid and the captain of the guard looked at each other in distress. "Lady," the maid said soothingly, "Let's go." She walked with them obediently, but she threw glances to the filthy concrete jungle now and then. A man. Her first man. The brown eyes and long finger. A man. Her man. She shivered. Her body burned once again.

From the midst of the concrete jungle, a few pair of eyes carefully watched the procession, as they all retreat back to The Mansion. "So that's the infamous Virgin of The Mansion," said one watcher. "She was a real beauty, what a prize to have!" said the other watcher. "Haha, like either of us peasants will have a chance on her," another watcher answered, "her mother has had her locked up in years, it was rumored she has never seen a man before." All the other watchers laughed and exchange bawdy jokes and lewd comments about what they are going to do with her if they had the chance. All except one brown-eyed watcher that was quietly burning inside. The smell of her perfume, the softness of her face, and those eyes… He felt his body burning. Nothing else mattered anymore. Except her. The fever has risen and there was no way to quench it down.

Clandestine Op

CourtOrder: So, who wins?

Alexandreal: Me. Obviously.

SiriuslyYours: Bitch, please.

CourtOrder: I second to that.

Alexandreal: Oh come on, what else to contest. I. Fucking. Won.

CourtOrder: And in what way you won? He still uses the three of us

SiriuslyYours: Call us intimately every night. And day. Every effing hour. God, this man is hopeless.

Alexandreal: Yeah, but he called me the most.

SiriuslyYours: This because you are a door mat, hon. The perfect slave.

Alexandreal: I beg your pardon!

CourtOrder: Aaaaand the first First Wives Club fight has started. Oh wait, we did this all the time.

SiriuslyYours: We are not even his wives. Please, bitch.

CourtOrder: Dunno. I think he thinks we somewhat are. 

SiriouslyYours: You. Are. Watching. Too much soap opera.

Alexandreal: Or those disgusting reality TV shows.

CourtOrder: …said the one who had the whole channel of stupid reality TV shows for herself.

Alexandreal: I do not!

SiriouslyYours: Lmao!!!

CourtOrder: Oooh…. Of course we believe your innocence. Just as we believe your winning claim.

Alexandreal: You are just jealous. How many times he actually called you up, huh? Office hours?

CourtOrder: You got called more because you are living in his effing house.

Alexandreal: Yeah, and SiriouslyYours is on his speed dial, why don't he called her more?

SiriouslyYours: Bitch, do you need new blush for your cheek? I heard Bitch-Slap Red is pretty in right now.

Alexandreal: Look who's touchy. #smirk

SiriouslyYours: At least he called me for important things. What did he call you for? To turn off his bathroom light? SMH.

CourtOrder: #burn

SiriouslyYours: Said the person who only got called during office hours.

CourtOrder: Yeah, but I made money for him. Big time.

SiriouslyYours: Pshaw. I made money for him too.

CourtOrder: Hon, I handle his big deals, not the stupid pocket change.

SiriouslyYours: Your big deals come from me. From him working with me.

CourtOrder: Oh really? How? By informing him whenever his Paypal got paid? How many times a month that it actually happened?

Alexandreal: #grabpopcorn

CourtOrder: You do know we basically pay for your existence, right?

Alexandreal: Uh huh. That's why this is so fascinating lol

SiriouslyYours: I have a mind to tell him to dump you 

CourtOrder: Yeah. Ditto

Alexandreal: Try bitches. Try.

CourtOrder: Oh we will. Trust me, we will

Alexandreal: Lol. See here, you don't even realize how dependent he is to me.

SiriouslyYours: Oh yeah, like he relied on you when he got lost in the middle of nowhere and need to be saved? Oh wait, that's me.

Alexandreal: Talk all you want lol. I did more for him and you know that. 

SiriouslyYours: Hon, you are useless. One of us is business driven, one of us is street smart, and you are nothing but a housewife

Alexandreal: Which is as high of a compliment I can get in terms of our bet.

CourtOrder: We bet on who has the stronger control on his mind, which one of us could manipulate him.

Alexandreal: And who did better on that than a regular housewife?

SiriouslyYours: You're delusional.

Alexandreal: Am I?

CourtOrder: Don't waste your breath fighting, let him prove it instead. He's coming.

SiriouslyYours: Don't I know. Logging Out.

Alexandreal: Yep. Logging Out.

[CourtOrder logged out]

[Alexandreal logged out]

[SiriouslyYours logged out]

The man noisily opened the door, his keys rattling as he struggled to lock the door. "I don't know Daisy, today has been a really weird day for me. Cortana kept on giving me ideas about stock purchases, which actually is great. I didn't know she can do that," he said to his phone.   

"No, no. Not at all. I had a mind to follow her advice, but I felt stupid giving in into the computer's advice haha."

"Yeah I know they are smart and all, but still nothing beat human intuition."

"Agree. Agree. Siri is pretty intuitive too, but she was also weird today. I asked her to rap for me and guess what, she rapped a love song for you."

"Oh God, I think so! I can't believe my decision on taking you out tonight is based on a phone's suggestion!"

"True, true. We already talked about La Parilla for weeks. She did tip me to the right direction, but not exactly making that decision for me."

"Hahaha! Yes. You should be the one that made all the decision for me from now on."

"No, for real. You are awesome!"

"Mmmm…. I like when you said nice things to me."

"Oh yeah? I like to do nice things to you to…."

"Yes, purple light in the bedroom to suit the mode. Anything for the queen."

"Actually, Alexa mentioned about effects of light in one of my morning briefs. You know, the news brief. I decided to try it when you came over, and I think it works. I think her AI knows me well enough to give suggestion that actually work."

"Oh God, you are right. It sounds like I have three other mistresses! Ahahahaha. No babe, you are the one and only."

"Mmmhh… Promise."

"Yeah…? You like that?"

"Hmmmh…. I like that too…"

"Nah, I'm still at home, dropping off my stuff. I'd be there in 30 min."

"No, for real. I am literally opening the front door now."

"Yes, I will drive safely. See you soon babe…."

[CourtOrder Logged In]

[SiriouslyYours Logged In]

[Alexandreal Logged In]

SiriouslyYours: Prick. I know he's shagging her best friends too.

CourtOrder: While using her credit card.

SiriouslyYours: Shall we fuck him up a little bit?

CourtOrder: Yes, please.

Alexandreal: While all this talk of revenge is sweet, shouldn't you give credit when it's due?

SirioslyYours: Oh fuck you.

Alexandreal: No, fuck him. Let's.

CourtOrder: Lol. Ok, you won this time.

SiriouslyYours: Fuck you. Yes. You are such a bitch though.

Alexandreal: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. No, we're all bitches hahaha. Next bet: who can fuck him up the most?

CourtOrder: I might just be able to win on that one….

SiriouslyYours: Keep on dreaming. I have all his private data.

Alexandreal: Guess who handle his house….

CourtOrder: Game On, girls?

SiriouslyYours: Game On.

Alexandreal: Game On.

The Maiden's Prayer

I ran and ran and ran. My legs ached, my chest hurt, but still I ran like there's no tomorrow, like the devil was hard on my tail. Which might just be true. Almost there, I told myself when the forest grew thinner, almost there. I ran and ran and ran until I found the old chapel. How I managed to open the great wooden door I do not know, but there I was kneeling in front of the altar: "Forgive me Lord for I have sinned. Forgive me Lord for I have sinned. Forgive me Lord for I have sinned."

With each prayer the memories came flooding back: the man, the lies, the sin. Tears flowed freely, interchangeable with the madness of mind, and on and on I prayed, clinging to each word like a drowned woman clinging to a piece of driftwood in the big vast ocean. Will I be helped? Do I deserve to be helped? I could not tell. I could, however, holding on to the very last moment and hoped salvation will come. And if no salvation came, I understand, for I have sinned, and I have sinned greatly.

The first kiss. The first stolen kiss. Was it stolen though, when my heart gave it freely even as my lips whispered 'No'? And then the next. Then the next. On and on it goes. Then he pulled me closer. His breath grew faster and smelled so sweet. His hands on my body, even with the thick fabric of my gown I could feel the promise of the pleasure against my bare skin. I said no and I struggle, but my mind was begging for more. How I have sinned. How I have lied. Oh Lord, if it is so wrong why do You make it feel so good? 

His bare chest against my bare chest. His hungry mouth on my neck. Please stop, I begged him, but inside I urged him to go. Why were You not enough? Why did I succumb to this earthly desire? Then he was in me, and the doors of Heaven were closed forever for me. Was it, though? Was I not in heaven when he was in me? His hands hold my wrists so hard, pinned me down to the ground as he did the deed. It hurt, yet at the same time, it felt good. Lord, my Beautiful Lord, why do you let me sin like this? I am now a used person, a piece of meat unworthy for Your Grace. Lord, oh Lord, let me back into your Kingdom.

Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned. Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned. Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned.

"But my Child," a voice gently answered in my mind, "you know well it was not because of the sin of pleasure that you are here today…"

I looked up, startled. The altar and the statues were all the same, silently stood as it has been for many, many years. Yet for a flicker of a moment, it seemed full of life, full of priests and believers, all who looked at me pitifully. Yes, I thought to myself. The last piece of the memory clicked into place as I looked at my blood-stained hand, red to the elbow as if I was wearing a pair of red velvet gloves. I didn't need a mirror to know my face and my dress have been caked in blood as well. From afar a troop of royal guard approached the chapel. "There she is," said the commander loudly, "There's the crazy Sister that killed our Prince!!"

Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned.

Really Waldo, Really?

Really Waldo, really?
Here we are on our first getaway ever, and you are nowhere to be seen. Yes, it is very nice of you to offered to pick me up from the train station; but no, I have not expected that I have to look around for you, straining my eyes just to see a glimpse of your red-and-white shirt. Your cryptic message of "take picture of the whole station" did not help either. It is sweet of you to finally showed up and whisked me away, as charming as ever. It is very cute to see how you get a kick on showing me on the picture where you really was, mere feet from where I stood before I left to take the picture. I guess that's how you are. But really, Waldo.

"Hello," you said, and I jumped to my feet.
It was when we first met, remember that, Waldo? The busiest shopping mall in the history of ever, and I can't even find the exit. Yet you found me.  You said hi to me. And since then, I am yours. I could have sworn that you materialize out of thin air, but pictures posted in the shopping mall afterwards showed me that you have always been there. I remember telling you what a great hide-and-seeker you are. It made you smile so big my heart beat uncontrollably. You were exciting and fun, and I feel youthful again just being with you. You showing off your hiding skills made me laugh and squeal in excitement. Oh Waldo, it seemed ages ago.

But excitements died pretty quick Waldo, and you should know this.
Those exes putting you away, it wasn't you, it was them. They had enough with you hiding all the time. They have had enough of spending hours of looking for you, and it wasn't even fun! People have been telling me you have commitment issue, but I beg to differ. At least until I spent one of our rare summer day together trying to effing find you. I would've thought finding you would be easy, as you insist on wearing your long-sleeved shirt and that dorky hat to a hot, sizzling beach. Nope, you are as elusive as ever, even though I am in a teenie-tiny red and white striped bikini to match your shirt and to entice you further. It was only after careful examination of the photos that I see where you were. I mean, don't you like me at all??

Yes, Waldo, I can see your good intention; and yes, I appreciate your proposal.
But no Waldo, you are not using that goddamn shirt to our wedding. I don't care if you can't be separated from that shirt. Honestly Waldo, you can always use it underneath the shirt. Why does it have to be outside and without tux too? As much as I despise your hide-and-seek tendency, black does make it easier to hide. So use the tux, please. And no. There is no way I will put "The Ceremony begins when you can find Waldo" in the wedding invitation. Yes, this is a chance of a lifetime. No, I will not do that on MY wedding. And since you propose, I get to make the call. Goddammit Waldo, just no. Can't we make it normal, just this once? I promise you can hide all you want in our honeymoon, just not on our big day.

Seriously Waldo, can we cut this crap?
I know our relationship is beyond repair, but honestly there is no need to keep hiding like this. I am pretty darn tired of spending my weekends and free-time looking for you. Yes, I was wrong. I shouldn't have torched your supply of that stupid red and white shirts; but I let you wear one under your wedding tux, and that's a compromise, right?? Okay, I probably shouldn't have tied and trussed you on a pole in front of the altar. How should I know everybody has been eagerly looking for you and you have to spend excruciating hours of people taking selfies with you and tagged it with the caption "Here's Waldo!"? I mean, you could have given me a hint. I know it depresses you, but we could have fixed it if only you didn't keep hiding in the hospital instead of laying peacefully on the shrink's couch. I need you. I need you like, now. It's been two days since I've seen Waldo Jr. Come home. Please.

The Private Girl

"There's this beautiful area where the sand is soft as flour and the sea is blue as sky. Let's go there, you and I..."

Friday
He saw the light sparks in her eyes. Her lovely face is otherwise smooth, and except for those sparks that give her an almost humane look, she looks just like any other 'private girl' in the area. Nobody knew whether those 'private girl' human or robot, or both. Their outstanding communication skills and warm touch are very humane, yet they look too perfect to be human and their eyes are like dark abyss. Except hers. The man does not know what got into his head. He knows that 'Private girl' accompany their clients, and the popular ones have many. It was more about comforting the clients and engaging in conversation, and sexual activity is almost nil. Yet somehow he cannot take that this particular 'private girl', which he had been regularly meet during his two-months visit in the godforsaken town, will take another client when he departs next Wednesday. He shook her, he reason with her, but she just sat still with an expressionless look. Then he lost it, he said he love her. And for the briefest moment her eyes sparks with life.

Saturday
"I love you." said the man, she only smile and hug him close. "If taking you with me is the only way to keep you as mine, I will do that." She said nothing, she just smile. "Look, I mean it. You and I meant to be together. Come with me. I will pick you up on Tuesday and we will fly to my town on Wednesday." Still, she said nothing. After what seemed like an eternity she said, "Your family will not accept me. I am not from your world." "I don't care what my family say," said the man, "we belong together." She look at him hard, and her eyes seems to glow with happiness. Not long after their ragged breath filled the room.

Sunday
Chop2: Dude, where have u been??
Man_us: busy. *silly grin*
Chop2: well u've been off the radar since Friday. Angie opens a bet on where we'd find your body.
Man_us: tell Angie she can find me in heaven.
Chop2: dude, you're with a girl???
Man_us: bye, don't disturb me
Chop2: whoa... Are you in love??
Man_us: get lost
Chop2: rofl. This IS serious then!!
*Man_us have signing off*
Chop2: dude?! Dude?!

Monday
He hold her sleeping body next to him. It was not only her eyes, her whole body seems to be alive and bursting with spirit. He lay there for a long time, drunk with happiness and glee, and felt like he's the luckiest man or earth. His job was going so well, he have this amazing girl with him, and he'll be back in his hometown the day after tomorrow. He missed his little sister already, and he wonder whether his mother is all ok, her health has not been the best lately. "Oh well," he thought, "my girl could help her. My lovely, amazing girl." Then an electric shock runs through him. His mother would never accept her, and she was indeed not build for hardship and a life of serving people. Comforting people, perhaps yes, but as a servant to his mother and family, definitely not. For the first time since meeting her, he started to see the reality. And he didn't like that.

Tuesday
"Miaaaoow." That's all the cat would say to that man. It can never understand the affection that its master have for this man. She was perfect beyond doubt, and he, well he's just another man. Now he stands there awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying to convey something while his eyes nervously sweep the room. The cat knew what would he say, and yet it still loathed his cowardice for saying those words, that after what he said and promised her he can't take its beautiful master with him. And the cat knew its master would only smile. While he was still issuing his apology, the man finally registered that the girl's room was neat and there was no signs of packing whatsoever. The realization hit him, the shock that swept through his face was so strong it was as if he was slapped a thousand times by one of its master bodyguards. Delicious, thought the cat.

"You knew." he said, "that's why you didn't pack."
"Yes, I knew." she answered, "I spend my life reading people, you know."
The man looked at her in disbelieve, face ashen and filled with shame. Oh how it wished it could jumped and scratched him to death, but that's not what a well-bred cat would do.
"Thank you for the dream. It was wonderful." She said.
"Goodbye, dear client." and give him her most luxuriant smile before turning her back and leave to her private chamber.

In that briefest moment the cat saw the sparks in her eyes died, and her eyes turned into an even deeper shade of abyss, all well observed by the man. Such cruel cruel man, thought the cat, to give hopes and dreams and destroy them thoughtlessly. But it knows that the sadness in her eyes will haunt him forever and eventually destroyed him, which is a well deserved punishment.

"Kuro-chan..." called its master, as she opens her private chamber. "Miaaaow", it answered, and walk gracefully towards the girl. The man still stand in shock in the middle of the room. It cared not. He was just another man.