DAY 7 Memories of My Forgotten Childhood

Dreams and plans are sweet things that add flavor to my days. However, too much dreaming made me feel sick. These thoughts that flood through my mind blinded me. There are times that I wish I could just erase all the memories and start fresh. But small patches of the memory still stuck on my head.

That’s when I decided to read more books and be close to characters from another world. These people live harmoniously and in power. They make me feel different emotions and make me thankful for another day. These I shall never forget.

Fickle

Raindrops keep on tapping my window. They try to go through the roof. Each drop stays on the glass and leave for a while. I simply stare and bare the cold covering my feet, going up my legs. I lay lazily on the sofa, trying to scribble some profound words of wisdom. But as my senses come back to life, I can see the empty pages I made. Almost a hundred empty pages, stories of my life, written with a pen with no ink to breathe in life.

I never really saw the pen, I only like the feeling of holding it tight and scribbling some words to describe my day. Some days are almost always the same. Some days are very different that I have to fetch a dictionary to guide my through my writing. Other days are just too tiring for me to even hold the pen. They just stay in my memories.

I really want to see the world, but I’m too lazy to take a step. Too fragile to try and see things for myself. I simply get the remote control and switch on the tube. Now, I can be anywhere in the world.

I’m not really sure if it’s laziness that leads me to my misery. More than that, I think it’s actually fear. It’s devouring my whole being, chopping my feet, legs, and arms to make me immobile. It’s numbing my whole body, slowly but precisely. Soon, I hope not, but soon it might find my heart  and make it numb, broken, or dead.

Red (Final)

That was the only time I felt that someone cared. I felt comfortable, safe, and I was not scared anymore. So when my heart started functioning again, I reflected the purple, pink, and blue hues of my youth. Then I had the courage to open my eyes and finally thank the person who rescued me from this insanity. But it was my lost, for someone was no longer in sight. To my amazement, I was only hugging an empty space between my arms.

A tear fell.

Body moved.

Tiny steps danced.

A river of blood was everywhere.

*** ***

Eyes.

Brown. Blue. Black. Gray. Hazel.

Eyes shut close, rusting nails pounding. Blood flows.

Cheeks were warm and I saw the beauty as before but redder than the rose.

*** ***

Fingers. Nails.

Screeching sounds.

Blood.

Fingers. Nails, no more.

Continue reading

Red (Part 4)

That was the reason why I liked that room. I felt the need to see those shades and feel the happiness of dreaming. In a world where I never grew tired, I still hoped of seeing my dreams come alive. That world of dreams was the only escape I had to empower my solidarity and to rule a word that I once tried to produce myself. Though it was also a place of ironies because even as it presented itself as a place of my rule over my own world, it also had its own rule of presenting the sequence of events and it was never my call.

*** ***

Fingers. Nails.

Screeching sounds.

Blood.

Fingers. Nails, no more.

*** ***

Eyes.

Brown. Blue. Black. Gray. Hazel.

Eyes shut close, rusting nails pounding. Blood flows.

Cheeks were warm and I saw the beauty as before but redder than the rose.

*** *** Continue reading

Red (Part 2)

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.

Continue reading

Red (Part 1)

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.

Continue reading