Drabble 006

“You got the wrong person”, her husky voice wafted through the railings of the balcony. The air she breathed out smelled of apricots and cigarettes and he wondered if it would have felt the same way if he casually took a taste of her lips. His legs were glued on the same spot he had been standing for the last two hours, yet his mischievous mind had long decided to wander around in different places, far away of his primary intentions. Still, he did nothing. Girls with an inferiority complex were never a speciality of his and secretly, he did not care enough to face the consequences. A pack of Lucky Strike blocked his sight and he instantly knew that she was the one. Nobody except that man’s daughter, herself, would carry such an expensive thing and generously offer it to a stranger.

Refusing her offer with the back of his left hand, he politely smiled and pointed the black-white wristband he was wearing.

“I’m on the verge of quitting.”

“Good for your health,” she calmly replied, “at least one of us will survive long enough to see our grand-grandchildren”. He watched her taking long breaths out of her cigarette and blowing the greyish smoke out.

“Trying to approach to me would be a waste.” her words filled in the gasps between the fumes that she had just created. A smile rested hidden on the corners of his lips.

“I’m not sure that I’m following.”

Hearing his answer, for the first time since the beginning of their little talking, she lifted her eyes and her gazes burned holes on his skin like the hell-fires.

“Don’t play games. I don’t like it, don’t deny your goals either, I know that you have been watching me.” She tapped lightly on the top of her cigarette with her index finger and went on as the ashes flew away to meet the land thirty feet down. “But I advice you not to do it, there will be no results.”

He sighed and took of his wristband, then picked a single cigarette out of her pack which had been lying forgotten on the railings. If she had already seen through him it would be a waste to miss that smoke.

“You know,” she said after a second of hesitation, “ for years I had been wondering the reason of my father’s coldness.” He crouched on ground with exhaustion, his back turned against her and his legs lazily stretched towards the entering of the balcony. If she had decided to utilize him as well, it was going to be a long ceremony of confession.

“Today I’ve learned, that I had killed my mother in a way.” He gazed her over the screen of his cellphone; her eyes were just as calm as before and she seemed untouched by her own act of revelation. There were no signs of regret nor a sole sign of guilt written on her face.

“So yeah, you’ve gotten the wrong person.” He inhaled one last time and stood up. She was right, he had gotten the wrong person, she held no help, she would be a useless step to take on the path of his elevation.

As he closed the door behind him, she lit one more cigarette; to shorten her life and to forget.

Drabble 005

Birthdays never had a special meaning for her. The burning towers on her cake served only to remind of the harm she had caused, the lives that were stolen to give birth to her. Every step she took in the muddy road of age dug a hole and swallowed her own pieces. “There is no use in struggling”, she was taught, “even if you do save the remaining, it’ll only cause you to sink”. So, as the time continued to march, she learned to leave pieces of her benignity behind, to perish in the swamp. The crumbs she dropped on the path were not meant to help her find way back home, she wanted to get lost, secretly aiming to break loose of the ropes that her mother held, to taste the fabled candy house. Yet, no matter how many sacrifices she was forced to make, her feet had touched the dirt once. The misdeeds of her mother ran down her legs smearing their sins all over. “What I do are, all for you.” she was told. Just like that, she took all on her shoulders and kept walking. Each step pulled her in, each year seeded more guilt into her soul.

Then finally, she wept when no one looked and declared:

“If you do anything that you shouldn’t I, mom, I’ll go to hell for you”.

Drabble 004

Inside her, there was a woman, still her body belonged to a man. Her soul chanted the softest tunes, but her voice rocked like a stone. She had locked all her manly clothes into a drawer deep down in her head and put on a glossy lipstick. As the night went on, she continued to swirl her hips, as if they were sips of a cult wine; allowing her surrounding to sniff and taste, but not to swallow. The darker it got, the more she danced; shadows broke off her spell and music spread her charm. Oh, hers was a twisted yarn.

In daylight, she had always felt like a mermaid; half woman, half fish.

The rays of sun dispersed the glamour of her tail and locked up her mythic beauty. The witch had given her the wrong pair of legs, her soul failed to stand on the land of men. So every night, she dressed up and shone, then quietly, turned back into a bubble.

Drabble 003

She hadn’t planned to die, it was spontaneous.

The wood of her desk was lost under the unfinished stories, her fourth cup of coffee was yet to be drunken and her book was left open.

Just, just for one second, she was captured by the beams of light dancing outside. And that was enough. Her legs moved unconsciously, then slowly she climbed up to the window. A soft music was playing in the background, the saxophones hit their last notes and it was a perfect moment to fly. She was never this beautiful, nor life had ever been this addicting. With one last effort, she turned her head, looked at the newly baked cookies left untouched on her plate and inhaled the odour; yes it was a perfect moment to die.

Drabble 002

Do you still remember our tea parties? Oh, how you liked to name a simple encounter as a “party”, acting as if we were the most important couple in the whole world; just to show off our little happiness to your non-existing friends.
You would pilfer your mother's favourite tea set, I would sneak into our kitchen in the middle of the night, my heart pounding as fast as a Chevrolet.. To tell you the truth; I wasn't always this carefree. At the age of 6, I was afraid; afraid of the dark hole next to our fridge, afraid of getting caught by my mother, afraid of being punished, afraid of every single sound coming from our fragile windows... Oh yes, I was afraid of many things.
Shall I reveal one more secret? I lied. I never once thought of our game as a girlish thing, never hated it like I claimed to. Secretly, you were the reason why on each Friday, I still did go in that room, my hands trembling like a feather in air, my teeth chattering as rhythmic as the church choir. It had felt sweeter than fortune bubble gum and more breathtaking than mortal combat.
Can you believe, you are long gone but I'm still sitting on the same spot, holding onto a brand new tea cup.
Then I think, it's you who I shall blame for never being able to enjoy an actual tea, funnily, only the taste of air can satisfy me.
Once again, just like you wished, I setted the date on 18th January and wore my sweater that my mum had knitted for me. Tea is ready, you shall come now.

Drabble

She was enchanted.
The little girl reached to touch; but it slipped away. She scowled and raised her head unwillingly, blinking her eyes as if his face was too bright to look at.

“Mister, why are you hugging a plastic bag?”
“Because.” he answered nonchalantly. A confused expression shadowed her smile. “Don't you see, it is a balloon.”

He looked away and closed himself to the outside world once again; drowning in his own, real-life problems.

“Why are you holding it that tight?”
“So it won't run away.” he mumbled. Then, after pretending to sleep for a while he reopened his eyes, only to meet hers.
“Don't worry, it can't run away too far ”, her smile reappeared on the corners of her lips, “ this, little mademoiselle , is a very mischievous creature, soon it will come back, when it's hungry.”

Moche 001

001

She had been warned.She couldn't say she wasn't, she wouldn't say she wasn't. To be honest, tyrannical comminations and exemplars of disgrace had always been an unavoidable part of her life. “A road you should never enter.” The Newcomer remembered her mother saying. “ All followers are gone and they are never coming back.” Her words were not the first ones she had heard so far, but guess that was when all those ideas of running away and catching a sight of the fabled black hole with her own eyes started to wander in Newcomer's mind. Curiosity is a sin, curiosity is a dark poison softly swaying in your body. There is no way to get it out the moment it passes beyond your limits. Either peel your skin off or shed your blood, nowise it's letting go.

As far as she could call back now, it was one foggy evening when the Newcomer found herself on the bus. Her being was no longer able to collect any decadent memory of it; how she had ended up there, what had pushed her to that point, who she had seen the last, what were her final words, none of them was clear enough. Like her last hours in the village had gotten lost in haze. Yet if you asked her, it was not that strange in this town, nothing was.
Where her past began was the first step she had taken out of that bus. Although every single thing she wanted to forget consisted a piece of this place, that was also all she had. Amongst all those superstitions believed to be cursed, she wondered if this was the one. Still being able to remember the sweet odor, still being able to feel the same warm touch all over your trembling body, still being as enchanted as the birth... Enchanted, guess it is the right word. Yes, it is. She had felt her senses flying away from her body as the pure magnificence of Moche came in sight. She was captured, the Newcomer had lost to Moche's beauty before it was entirely unmasked.


“Welcome.”
One little word was enough for her to fall over her heels with the place; full of mango trees and lovely fenced houses... So perfect, so true, so real. Turning your gazes back to six feet under ground after having one look at its celestial allure was slightly impossible.
"Welcome”. Yes, she was aware that this was the magic spell. Truthfully, the Newcomer knew it all along.

After drawing herself out of the bus, she unconsciously watched a few people who had traveled with her taking their shoes off and moving ahead with dauntless paces for an uncountable while. The dimmed spot where they once stood was sharply separated from the doors of the divine panorama by a thorny, narrow pathway. This was her first yet also the last time of seeing there with her own eyes, and she still did remember how it had reminded her of a gate between two completely different dimensions. She still did remember filling her lungs with moldy air surrounding the outside world, for one last time, then breathing out. The Newcomer's childhood dreams were slowly coming true.

As her bare feet landed on the barely touched grass, an ecstasy of peace began to boil in her veins. Shoes, she thought unconsciously, had always been nothing but a burden. From that moment on, she was addicted. But, this was Moche's nature after all, it would penetrate into your soul, grow inside of you whilst you lay down your eyes fully open, unable to keep away from its clutch.

It was going to take a long, long while for her to completely understand what they had meant by the cobweb.

Because what ties you up to Moche is not only an adorned case, it's something inside you. When the bracelets fade away and are no longer palpable, the etched feeling stays behind with you. It's an endless thread overwhelms you with anguish.

And then, every night you search for it, the feeling deep inside you, the one nobody knows. And every night you search for it, the missing piece to fill in the gaps of your misery.

Moche 000

Nothing was ever going to be the same. She knew it, she had felt it right from the very first moment. This place, where she was condemned for the rest of her life, was a bottomless well; it accepted no way out, there was no room for any contrition in your steps. No matter where you were from, no matter who you were before, despite all martyrs of tempting beauties within yourself, once you got in, that well-known, lackadaisical dimness would capture all your tracks.
It was a dangerous path, it was a forbidden path.

Her whole life had passed listening to those abiding stories had been told and retold in her small town. Some would ruffle your soul, some would make you shudder uncontrollably. That mystic realm, that unexplainable feeling they had been mentioning could shake your world up over and over.
Then after a while, she started to believe that all those stories were meant to prepare them. They were trying to build a guardian shelter upon their heads. They were trying to spare the last remaining children.

Just like it was told; some heeded and carried away progressively while the others fell and stuck into the cobweb.

She, in plain English, was one of the wretched preys, that no one cared enough to remember.
She, thinking she would find the nectar of Greek God's, went to the place called wicked.

But in the end, all she's seen was ~ Moche*.





*Moche: Forensic anthropologist John Verano of Tulane University in New Orleans has been investigating a series of grisly executions in the arid valleys of lowland Peru. Evidence from the skeletal remains shows that the victims, who lived during the Moche civilization nearly two thousand years ago, suffered shockingly brutal deaths. When the graves at a Moche temple complex in northern Peru were uncovered, the human remains showed many clear marks of violence. Some were apparently skinned alive. Others were drained of blood, decapitated, or bound tightly and left to be eaten by vultures. But who were they, and why were they killed so viciously? Various theories arose to explain it. One proposes that the Moche sacrificed some of their own people to appease the gods and improve the fertility of their land. Another suggests that the victims were enemies of the Moche executioners—losers of fierce power struggles between competing prehistoric city-states—who were ritually murdered.

La Lascivia

For it is a true rule, that love is ever rewarded, either with the reciproque, or with an inward and secret contempt. ≈ Essays of Bacon






There was a time when she believed that elephants could fly and you could hear trees talking if you listened careful enough. Then again she also used to think that every love was reciprocal at one point. Her being was refusing to believe the otherwise. It was simple; when you touched water, it touched you too, when you kissed the air, it kissed you too. In other words, the middle age witches were all wrong, there was no formula nor elixir for love. If it was real enough, one could touch a soul and it would kiss her back.

But reality happened. It took her beliefs and hugged them tightly, 'till they eventually broke off. She was so captivated by the moment that it hadn't occurred to her until the music had stopped and she was the only one standing up, failed to get a chair. At age of 21 Kim Eun Joo was dumped.

From where she once looked, that should have been the very end. When one lets go your hand of, you let go of his too. Nevertheless, thoughts didn't match feelings and the glass shoes fitted the step sisters feet perfectly. Cinderella was left dumbfounded.

The cheerful girl who enjoyed life the most, locked herself into a dark room and threw the keys out of an open window. Watching the miraculous creatures of God all alone was pure unbearable. She didn't wanted to be a part of the flawless plan, she refused to go out and get lost amongst the crowd. The only thing she had ever desired was to be special to the one she loved, yet his heart was torn between many more, to a point where there was no room for him, himself. An actual player.



“Time to go.” regaining her consciousness, she slowly turned back.
“Yeah.”


They say there are seven deadly sins; pride, greed, envy, gluttony, wrath, sloth and lust. And she had committed almost all of them for his love. She loved him as desert loved sun and fish loved water, then she yearned for him like bullet yearned for flesh.
When things had gotten out of her hands was too unclear, one night she opened her eyes only to find a handful of pills silently swaying through her throat.



Kim Eun Joo continued to take light steps towards the door, one after one another, one another after the other. Then she suddenly stopped when two men appeared out of nowhere. Putting on a crocked smile she greeted them for one last time.

“Father”, she asked with a soft voice, “ do you know what Lucifer stands for, the reason why he was kicked out of heaven?”
“Pride, my child.” answered the old man. His certainty amused her.
“I believe you're wrong, he was kicked because he loved. So much that he wanted God's love for only himself.”

Her steps fastened and soon she was out of sight. The Father turned his confused gazes to the Chief.
“Why was she here?”

The pills got mixed to the poisonous sins in her soul and she closed her eyes satisfied once again. She wanted to be closer to the one she loved. The music had stopped and she was the only one left without a chair.


“She lusts for God.”