Red (Part 3)

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My nails were left on the floor covered with blood. I saw the way I tried to put my nails back on my fingers. For the first time, I thought I heard a sound. The screeching sounds of my nails touching the stone walls. But in the end, it was just my thoughts of a screeching sound. Everything still did not have any sound. I just felt that the gestures I did might have produced such horrible sounds. The nails were never that clean as before. Disappointed.

I was not me. Yet I knew that I loved me. I saw a one way mirror hanging on the closed room. There was an empty table at the other room, just waiting there diagonally placed near the mirror. I was too happy that I knew no one would see me from across. I made my eyes explore along the dimensions of the room from behind the mirror. There was an empty white cup on the floor, no dust yet no coffee. In this place, I saw an assurance of solitude. It was not that bad at all. There were still my favorite stairs, built on every side and corner of the room. I could go anywhere I want, either upstairs, downstairs, sidestairs, crossstairs, upsidedownstairs, anywhere. But there was that difficulty of going upstairs. I felt like I was not walking but instead I was crawling my way up. Going downstairs was the best. I just fell right to the center and still stand upright. Until someone lit a fire and all the stairs started to break that they fell and opened along empty corridors.

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Red (Part 2)

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The river was filled with crystal clear water that I could see the blue pebbles sleeping along the riverbed. Blue pebbles? Sleeping? Yes. But then that was not the thing that surprised me. As I walked near the river, I saw a reflection. My face was not the same anymore. I saw myself with a pair of brown eyes, full lips, a light tan skin, and long black hair. I was no longer a man, but was an average girl. There was no longer the splendor of a man but was replaced by the tenderness of more or less a woman. I knew there that I was not that strong as a man yet I was really a graceful woman.

There were eyes staring at me. They were coming from behind. There were some from the sky. The pebbles woke up. They too had their eyes opened and they started to stare. They saw how I was turned into a lady-like puppet. My eyes, nose, ears, lips, hair, all were altered. My hair braided with the freshly cut grass from the riverside. My lips were full with the touch of red blood which came out of my fingers. My ears were just of the right size with a pair of pear earrings pinned on each side. My nose was not so pointy, yet not so square. My eyes reflecting the clear view yet displayed its dashing brown gaze.

They sky started to fall its purple, pink, blue, and orange hues that everything started to dance. Songs danced along the horizon. They were not just words, lines, but were accompanied by musical notes. I saw a quarter note then a whole note after a half note. The cleft was floating along the skyline with the lines of my favorite song. The thought of being lost and neglected was forgotten as the song finished its course.

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Red (Part 1)

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I was inside a box. I assumed it was a box. Maybe it was a room, a well, or was it a can? There was no light, no wind that I could fee. I tried to touch my toes, to feel my body, but there was nothing. I tried to reach for the walls, yet there was none. Still, quite amused, I could not feel my body moving. I was thinking of actions and knew I was doing it but there was none of this consciousness.

A door opened. I saw the dazzling lights featuring the tagline for tonight’s theater show. It stood in front of the extremely humongous arena at the center of the streets: Are you really who you think you are? See Mr. Magnifico. One night only. Those words were illuminated through the purple, then pink and blue flashing lights coming from the sky. No, sorry, from the streets. Oh, it was coming from my heart.

Heart?

I finally saw my body! I saw myself, reflecting those hues from my opened heart. But I could see every detail, now, even myself? There was no mirror but I knew that the person standing in front of me was me. This was the most magnificent, most unbelievable view anyone could possibly imagine. Everyone was lining up; no one seemed to notice the purple, pink, and blue lights reflecting from my heart and lighting the signage for the show. Who was Mr. Magnifico? What were his tricks? Was he part of the ancient travelling circus that my father used to talk about?

Suddenly, people started turning their heads and gazed at me. All hundred pairs of eyes stared blankly at me. I saw how my hair started to stand. Yet there was no sensation that I could feel.

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Endless

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They say I’m a good-for-nothing person. Though there are times I really think they are right.

But most of the days they’re wrong.

Oh my, how long have we known each other?

Fifteen, twenty years perhaps.

I know every little bit about you.

The way you look into my eyes. The way we talk for ages and still laugh at each other’s jokes.

I even remember the time we made our first ride on a Ferris wheel.

That was an amazing night, wasn’t it?

Everyone was falling in line to get their asses on the coolest ride at the carnival. I do remember how tricky you were.

Oh, those were the days.

Well, that was the only day.

You scared away those girls and told them that the ride was very dangerous. That when they sit and go up to the highest point, they’ll fall.

They’ll scream a loud noise which may or may not get the attention of everyone. The last scream they’ll ever make. The last sound of their voices.

But they don’t know anything!

They easily believed what you said.

Seriously? Screaming!

That’s the only thing you said and they were gone from the long line.

You were really that good ey?

But let’s say I was better.

My dear old friend, we’ve been meeting this way far too long but I’m still fascinated.

You were my first, you know.

My very first.

Many have told me that it’s difficult to forget your first.

Oh boy, they were right!

I could still smell the rush of the blood through my veins.

I could still feel the scent of screams in the air.

I still hear the attention you were receiving that night.

They remembered you up to this day but they never looked at me.


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Best Friend

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I looked through her eyes and I saw
Green, Blue, Red, and Yellow, feeling so light and good.
I thought it was paradise, but I got stabbed.

The lie passed through my back and hit my heart
Only then did I realize, I was dumb so bad
That even sudden death, I allowed her to do

What kind of friend smiles and stabs at the same time?
What fate lies to the beauty rotting in the inside?
You said all the things I wanted to hear
Nonsense cries,
Screams all night
Until the pain knock me off my stupid self

Killing the feeling that remains

Diary

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Diary

As I was waiting for the clock to strike twelve
I found my hand writing an unfamiliar word
My final dialogue with my one true self
I fought with it, I thought
But it never lasted this long

Twenty five hours, I’ve been writing nonstop
Slowly feeling numb
My fingers were giving up
But my mind wouldn’t stop
So, for the next seventy-five hours
The blood got stuck in my hand
And blisters started showing their own life
But there’s no stopping anytime soon…

After thirty minutes, one of the blisters popped
Then slowly blood covered my pen,
Soaked the paper red
Left no mark of any written text
Then I stopped.

A tear fell

It made some ripples across the blood stains

I smiled.

I said a short prayer of relief
I had my final story
No memories of me left
But a splatter of blood and a soaked bunch of paper
Neither a book nor a memory

Waking Time

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Macy speaks three different languages. Her mother tongue. Her body. Her soul. All three are very peculiar, in the sense that none understands the other.
Macy wakes up at exactly 7:10 every morning. But she stays in bed until an hour and a half later. She always tries to go back to sleep.
She sees through the curtains, through the walls, and through the ceiling.
Tossing and turning.
Blinking, shutting her eyes close.
She always tries to go back to sleep.

At 9:00 AM, she starts to exercise. But after almost ten minutes, she stops. She walks in front of a full-body mirror.
She stares at her image, smiles, and goes on to prepare breakfast.

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