Muder of the First (A Short Story)

I did not like the way she talks to me. I did not like the way she brushes her hair every time a much more 'appealing' guy comes by. I did not like the way she flaunts her eyes at other boys while I was with here. I did not like her at all. I was with her and she was with me. But we did not belong together. So, I murdered her.

I scratched the wooden panel of the door to her bedroom. It had been thirty minutes since I knocked and an hour since I came by. At my first knock, she said to give her a minute. At the second, she said to give her five more. I did not complain, instead I waited because I am patient enough. I went downstairs and came back ten minutes after. This time, I did not knock. I pressed the side of my head close to the door. I can hear her. She was giggling. Why?

An Appointment with Whiskey (A Short Story)

A young man is seated at the reception area in one of the offices of the most important and famous Citizenry Control building located at the business center of Monarch City. He is wearing a dark blue suit and a checkered tie which seems to look like he just carelessly placed around his neck, which of course is acceptable because he almost forgot the appointment the night before when he wasted himself with friends at an underground, infamous dance club which these offices does not ever tolerate. He appears business-like except for his worn-out sneakers that looks like it has not been washed for a long time. He scratches his head a few times and glances at his watch every now and then. He has been sitting there for 30 minutes, thinking of how he dashed out of his apartment even forgetting to lock it when he had left and all he will be doing is wait for extra long minutes in this hell of an office or the reception area.

The reception area is rectangular with the width of half the freeway and fifty feet long. Its walls are painted bluish white with patches of darker shades in every meter square or so. The ceiling serves as the light for the entire area, and can change in various shades of luminescence in just a single swipe on the secretary's computer. There are four identical plants in the room, one in each corner. The seat where he is sitting is one of the four couches that lines up from the doorway up to the secretary's desk. Adjacent to the couches are different racks of magazines, books, tabloids and newspapers. There are also two different machines, one which serves different cold non-alcoholic beverages including water and the other one serves as a coffee machine. The young man is the only the person on the hall with the exception of the secretary. The secretary is busy typing and swiping on her holographic desktop and constantly talking in an earpiece. She is a largely built woman in her forties, her stance is that of a military woman rather than a sexy secretary in which one would envision to be especially in an office like this. Her face is full of focus on what she is doing. She must have been here for a long time or probably paid high to do what she does, he thinks.

Memory (tBc)

There are just two possibilities on where he is now. Either he is sitting in his room facing his laptop, or he is lost on his own bizarre, exciting world of his imagination. But he always thinks that he is the only one that calls it exciting.

There were just too many thoughts that occupies on the vast mind of the man he had become. A kaleidoscope of vivid, haunting, happy, and dreamy memories that seems to float over every single thing.

It is on the bottle of water that stood at the table in which he is sitting. It jumps on the mattress of the bed where he sleeps at night. It prances with the dust along the ray of sunlight which filtered through the window. It's swirling and playing with the wind and dances when it hit the fan. It shakes at the branches of the trees outside his window whenever a bird hops on it. It is overwhelming, just sitting there watching it all. But of course, it wasn't real. It was only in the mind of an 18 year-old man who doesn't know whether to carry on or to just drop it all off.

Unspoken

I made no effort to speak. The room was buzzing with conversations. But for me, those were just noises. Noises made by this strangers to keep themselves busy.

I contained myself into a chair and watched, listened. observed. There are a few familiar faces here but all seemed to be just strangers. I had had conversations with a few of them for the past few months but none seemed to be as friendly as they look.

I took my pen and scribbled some nonsense words on a piece of paper to keep myself from drifting away. I contained my thoughts again and started recounting the events that had happened to me since I stepped last year into this new experience, "college". I chuckled at the thought of this one word that'll change your status in a society like this. A train of thoughts occupied my head that I almost didn't notice my instructor walked in.

Perspective (tBc)

"Nothing is what it seems..."

Tik, tok, tik, tok. The sound of the clock. Tiny sounds that seemed to reverberate forever on the walls  of the quite house. But the silence made it sound like a gunshot  on a peaceful alley. As if it brought him into a dirty, loud world rather than a house at the edge of a cliff. It was loud music in his ears rather than a beautiful melody in paradise. Thinking of the word 'paradise' made him flinch. It wasn't the perfect thing in this very situation. It made him remember why he came here in the first place.

His thoughts drifts away remembering. Friends. One of the reasons. He was very careful in choosing friends. He chose those who chose him first. People that are humble enough to makes him laugh and people who cares. It was hard yet good.

Breathe (tBc)

It wasn't like what he had expected of it. But tiny spasms of pain was felt on his chest. It always occurred when he laugh, cough, sneeze or do something tiring. And sometimes when he moves his arms or stand very straight up. It wasn't good but it was better than having a heart attack. He'd had thought about it much often when he feels the pain. But it was not impossible, heart problems would be the last on the list if ever he'd have a disease. Besides, it' his chest that hurts not his heart. Breathing always keep the calm mind relax and forget the terrible things it could bring. Breathe in, breathe out, he told himself every now and then.

It helped, of course. It was the easiest, quickest and most natural thing for a prevention. And also the most stupid.