My Dreams up Close

Crappy Pancakes

2011-04-19T12:27:00.002+08:00

The bleary flash of headlights swirled around my eyes. I swiveled on my seat. I sighed. He was still there.

He took his eyes off the road for a split second and smiled at me. He playfully punched my shoulder. "Wake up, tiger."

I rubbed my eyes. "Yeah, I'm up."

We reached a barren parking lot a little ways from the highway. In the dim dawn lighting, the tin exterior of the diner flashed a calm sapphire shade on the concrete floor. I stared into its fluorescent windows, flickering as insects swarmed towards it.

Dad slipped his hand into mine, and I flinched away. He looked hurt. "Dad!" I complained. "I'm not a little kid anymore."

The rim around his eyes wrinkled, and he ruffled my hair. "Sometimes I forget," he said. He draped his heavy arm over my shoulder and we continued into the diner.

The black and white tiles shimmered wet, but we easily slid over it. He led me to the booth at the backmost part of the rustic interior. "I'll have a pancake and eggs," he told the waitress, scribbling his order down. He nodded at me.

I leaned forward on the broken down table. "Same."

"Coming right up!" she said with a perky grin. She sauntered off behind the counter and into the kitchen.

"So," Dad said. He pursed lips and clucked his tongue. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

My heart drummed in my chest. I'd forgotten all about it. I swallowed.

"Dad, I don't know how to tell you this," I began. His eyes flashed with interest. I felt a crick at the back of my neck. I fumbled with my fingers. "I'm . . ." I cringed at the words forming at the back of my head. I looked up at him. "You know what, it doesn't matter anyway."

I saw his jaws tense. He backed into his seat with a blithe nod.

The waitress came back with two steaming plates. She set them in front of us. I could only stare at mine. I didn't have the appetite. And it seemed, neither did he.

He grabbed his fork. "Dad," I interrupted. He looked up from his plate. "I'm gay."

My head spun with thoughts of possible responses from him. What if he wouldn't love me anymore? What if he thought it was his fault? What if . . .?

But he never faltered from his pancakes. He only shrugged. "Yeah," he said matter-of-factly. He pointed his fork at my plate. "Eat up."

"What?" I asked, thinking I'd missed something.

"Yeah," he mumbled, chewing.

"You don't care?"

He arched an eyebrow. "No. Eat up," he insisted. "I don't care, son." The side of his lips twitched up to a greasy grin. I felt a tug on my lips.

He set his utensils at the side of his plate. "You're my son. The fact that you like dudes doesn't change that." He shrugged. He pointed again. "Pancakes getting cold."

I warily grabbed my knife and fork. I smeared butter on my pancakes and drowned it in syrup. I blinked up at Dad before I took my first bite. He winked at me.

I made a face at the bitter substance that touched my tongue. The food at the diner was awful. I never understood why Dad bothered to take me there every weekend.

Somehow it didn't matter. Those were the best damn pancakes I'd ever had.

* * *

Magpie Tales

Originally posted here.

Day 18: Like I'd Never Left

2011-04-19T11:38:00.002+08:00

Take me back,

Like I'd never left.

I need you.

Take me back—

As if nothing wrong had happened—

To where we left off.

Take me back,

Like we never fought.

I love you.

Take me back—

As if all had been perfect,

But it never was.

Day 17: Person, I Love You

2011-04-19T11:25:00.002+08:00

See now, how much I have cost you;

Indeed, I do, but I cannot regret

Questioning where we were going—

Unyielding, uninterested—

Except the fact I didn't mind

Much as long as you still loved me.

In time I knew to know much wrong:

Leaving you for my non-belief.

Ostracizing you from my heart.

Very much I admit,

Everything I thought, wrong.

Yon, now standing hurt and alone,

Once together—you and I—

Under pallid moonlit skies.

In time I knew to know this much:

Amidst the pain and hurt I made you feel,

My heart still hopes for your return.

Sever me now, than a day without you.

O'er seas and mountains if I must—

Remember that I love you; please

Remember I exist,

Yearning for your return.

Day 16: Stay in Bed

2011-04-19T11:21:00.002+08:00

Stay in bed.

"I don't want to leave."

Stay indeed.

Stay in bed.

"I don't want to leave you now."

Then please stay in bed.

Day 15: Outspoken

2011-04-19T11:10:00.002+08:00

He spoketh too much

On what should not be nosed around—

Does so anyway.

Day 14: Dear Bishops

2011-04-19T11:03:00.002+08:00

Dear Bishops of the Conference,

Is it really one of brilliance

To make so many enemies?

With your dogma full of follies?

When your God speaks none but silence?

Day 13: Was He

2011-04-19T10:27:00.002+08:00

My love

My one, my only—

I can only wish that were true.

Oh, to wish that were true, for now:

My one, my only—

My love

Was

Day 12: A Diagonal Haicrostic

2011-04-13T16:58:00.002+08:00

If you think a sestina is hard, think again. I've been tinkering with the diagonal acrostic form and mashed it with my haicrostic idea and I've invented a completely different, and somewhat more difficult form: The Diagonal Haicrostic! Observe:

Today we stand up

To all things that are stupid—

Today we must think

***

Temporary bliss seems all but futile,

Rowing midst a river deep, lost;

Dodging 'way from Winter's frost

Splayed in faux beauty grand—

Straying in His shadowy hand.

Willowing through the thickets deep;

Ye shall not return.

Settle in the snow, you would,

Attached to fairytales;

Grand the world beyond these walls!

Torn and shattered, you would see—

Grand the world beyond those walls.

Until the time comes, I walk lone

Spitting to my side with none.

***

Temporary bliss seems all but useless,

Born of minds lost in their sleep.

Attached to childish tales,

Illuminated by time,

Billowed by reason.

These beliefs must all come, pass;

Shed some light on humanity's flaws.

Shiv'ring little children, these people are—

Bound to absurd doctrines, dogma crass!

Wringing logic into cubes;

Lights circling the sky, praised.

Terrified of fending off His grace

When He cannot even set us right!

Flat, the world—preposterous.

That the gay are demons sinister.

Acrimonious, the words you throw at me;

Are to claim that I am meant to burn—

In erratic flames, a faggot, I!

Shamed because I yearn to love

Attractive men that draw me close;

Equipped with three-pronged forks and swords,

Grappling onto walls to slay me dead.

A rapid blow upon my head;

Stupid townsfolk win, I dread.

***

Those I've known walk among us mindless

Doing worse than me and those who've fallen

Wading through life with no direction shown

Straying in the dark abyss

Splayed with grandeur uninspired.

Worshipping a star or two above,

Meddling in things not bound by faith.

Misunderstood as that against their God,

Burning in a hell of their making, I;

Hushed logic to the tone of their chanting,

Rusting in the years that go by.

Those I've known count on me to teach them

The knowledge the Earth holds, unknown

Twinkling in distant galaxies

Yon never to be known by man,

Thinking that a god is all we need.

Day 11: Maybe

2011-04-13T16:54:00.002+08:00

Maybe we weren't meant to be

It just wasn't working out

But now you and I are free

Of a lovelorn life; without

Day 10: Never Again

2011-04-11T18:50:00.002+08:00

Never Again

I'll never again try to touch the sky

Nor the moon in her pallid, mournful dress.

I wring my hands 'low where we used lie,

With this painful healing I dare suppress.

I clench my jaws and fight the urge to cry,

Although what sole use would that act possess?

Never again, his love, will I possess—

Not the moon, stars, nor the sun in its sky.

In his memory, I writhe and I cry,

Watching as the moist air sways in her dress.

The touch, the feel of his hands—I suppress.

And now here in the covers, bare, I lie.

To say we cannot be would be a lie

But to will the strength I do not possess . . .

Much better off these feelings try suppress.

Much like the moon, as the sun in the sky

Cannot reciprocate as she dances in her dress,

Much I, as I bemoan in fright and cry.

I wonder what use does it have to cry—

For was it all not but a lie?

That the sun should chase the moon in her dress?

To reciprocate love you don't possess?

And I call out to the gods in the sky:

Are all these thoughts worth trying to suppress?

Long forgotten, but I cannot suppress,

Not this, not that, nor the urge to cry—

Bemoan to the heavens, scream to the sky

That I love you, for it is not a lie.

That I would take you for the love you don't possess.

That I'd chase you like the moon in her dress.

But what use, to don a pallid sundress,

When all those feelings you have, you suppress.

It is true love that I wish to possess,

Not this, not that, nor the urge to cry.

That I love you, for it is not a lie,

But I can only look up to the sky.

She writhes in her dress and I join her cry;

The hurt suppressed, and asleep as I lie,

Never to possess the glint in the sky.

NaPoWriMo.net

April PAD

OSI: Reciprocate

Day 9: Half Past Twelve

2011-04-10T23:41:00.002+08:00

I guess I shouldn't be wond'ring why

It's a half past twelve and you're not home.

I try to smile but I can't lie.

I guess I shouldn't be wond'ring why

I'm sitting by the fireplace dry

With a weighted feeling I'm alone.

I guess I shouldn't be wond'ring why

It's a half past twelve and you're not home.

NaPoWriMo.Net

April PAD: Day 9

Day 8: Today we Stand Up

2011-04-09T18:32:00.002+08:00

I am in the works of a diagonal haicrostic. Here is the first part:

Temporary bliss seems all but futile,

Rowing midst a river deep, lost;

Dodging 'way from Winter's frost

Splayed in faux beauty grand—

Straying in His shadowy hand.

Willowing through the thickets deep;

Ye shall not return.

Settle in the snow, you would,

Attached to fairytales;

Grand the world beyond these walls!

Torn and shattered, you would see—

Grand the world beyond those walls.

Until the time comes, I walk lone

Spitting to my side with none.

Day 7: What If

2011-04-08T09:15:00.002+08:00

What If

What if there'd never been a god?

Would people then know how to think?

Instead of buying something odd—

Like a unicorn in faded pink.

It is absurd how they can't ask:

What if there'd never been a god?

For if they did, in logic bask—

And not in faulty reas'ning, odd.

Their thinking hides them inside pods—

To kill all those without belief.

What if there'd never been a god?

No cosmic being. What relief.

They teach their children how to hate

A person because he is odd—

The mindlessness they propagate.

What if there'd never been a god?

Day 6: Don't be Surprised

2011-04-07T09:50:00.002+08:00

Don't be Appalled, just Watch and Stare

Don't be surprised if no one cared;

The people here would never dare

To think past what they know or do—

An epidemic worse than flu,

That people are just not aware.

To see much sense is very rare,

For they would rather hide in prayer

Than make a logical breakthrough.

Don't be surprised if no one cared.

You'll see them worshipping the air—

Don't be appalled, just watch and stare.

If you dare talk they'll scowl at you;

All reasoning, they'll just eschew.

These people you'll just have to bear;

Don't be surprised if no one cared

NaPoWriMo.Net
April PAD
One Single Impression: Epidemic

Day 5: Every Sperm is Sacred

2011-04-05T20:50:00.003+08:00

Okay. I know what you're saying. Another limerick. Yes. But I am on a roll here.

The challenge at April PAD today was to either make a goofy poem or a serious one -- or both. Or a goofily serious poem. Or a seriously goofy poem. You get my point. A limerick is technically cheating, I guess, but whatever. It's NaPoWriMo. Anything goes.

Every Sperm is Sacred

There once was a pastor named Fred
Who solemnly hated Sex Ed

He wanted to save

Every sperm from its grave,

And not save his marriage instead.

Anyone in the Philippines would be incredibly pissed at how much the Catholic Church feels it must be involved in politics. And it's amazing actually how easily they can manipulate people into siding with them against the Reproductive Health Bill.

You'd think Filipinos had learned thing or two from the Church in the Spanish Era. Shall I have to die for the country like Jose Rizal for the Filipino people to finally see that the Church is not always right?

And as a treat:

Day 4: Bishops

2011-04-04T07:30:00.002+08:00

For Day 4, I thought I'd do something political. And what better way to say "Politics" than the Church's inability to comprehend the Separation of Church and State here in the Philippines. Now, I wanted to say something about the RH Bill, but as I started writing, ended up with a limerick about how the Church views homosexuality. They actually think homosexuals are mentally retarded and that is not true. Most homosexuals make more sense than at least half the Catholic Church's absurd doctrines.

Bishop rude

There once was a bishop so rude

Thought all homosexuals were lewd

He went down to church

And there on his perch

Was a magazine of men nude

Amen, indeed.

NaPoWriMo.net

Day 3: Freely

2011-04-03T18:59:00.002+08:00

Freely

She flies freely—

There she whirls and twirls in the air.

She flies freely,

Where no man dictates what not be;

Without gods to throw her a care,

Nor a cage she doth have to bare—

She flies freely.

NaPoWriMo.net

Day 2: Idiots

2011-04-03T14:48:00.002+08:00

Idiots

None

But these

Idiots

Can know nothing

And know everything,

Yet know very little.

None but these idiots can.

And try, we may; they stay intact

With a solemn prayer to the sky,

And a knife to their chest and a wry smile.

Day 1: Pasta

2011-04-02T11:44:00.003+08:00

Alright, so I am late for my first poem for National Poem Writing Month. To make up for that, I am posting another one in the afternoon.

Now, I've decided to go for something nonsensical today. I'm sure most of you have heard of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. No? Well, it's this awesome satirical church, who believe the Supreme Being is made out of spaghetti and meatballs. I have just recently started to get into it. Don't knock it 'til you try it. It's quite fun. It's less bigoted than most religions.

Here is my poem for He who has boiled for our sins:

Pasta Lord

Slippery tendrils lash above the sea

In a frantic manner to save what be

A crew of pirates, stranded, latching on

To his noodly appendages a'dawn.

His Noodleliness holds two spheres of meat

Muddled in the tangle of pasta, neat.

In Him, I find true mirth; my solace, joy!

The Pasta Lord, He taketh me—ahoy!

He promises a Kingdom grand, so long

As we abide to Captain Mosey's song:

Yon, beer and ale spurt out of mountaintops;

A stripper factory that does not stop.

Rejoice, for He has boiled for our sins!

And now his wheaty blood runs 'neath our skins.

My Pasta Lord who flies with wholegrain love,

Invisible in the heavens above.

NaPoWriMo.net

NaPoWriMo 2011

2011-03-26T11:57:00.004+08:00

Gosh, it has been a while since I last posted on my lit blog. I've made a new one here. It's a bit more controversial, but whatever.

April is drawing near, and as we all know, April is National Poetry Month. Last year, I, as well as other poets on the blogosphere, have committed to writing 30 poems in one month. I'm doing the same this year, although, I may focus on the shorter forms as I am currently working on an entry for a contest, as well as a pilot for Script Frenzy.

Man, do I miss writing poems! I've been on Wattpad most of my time, writing more prosaic material, so I'm a bit rusty, but here goes:

Long had ceased the flow
Of words buzzing in my head;
now am back to rhyme.

That's a senryu, right? Right. I gotta brush up on poetic forms. It's been a while.

The Best of My Heart up Close 2010

2010-12-31T17:11:00.003+08:00

Every year, I make a habit of posting a list of posts that I enjoyed writing. You may be wondering why the title of this one says "My Heart up Close". That's because MDuC is simply a part of the main blog, My Heart up Close. That's why I never bothered to changed the URL.

So. Here we go!

Well, there you have it. My favorite posts for 2010. Also, the ones marked with a * are the ones that felt the most random and, thus, came out the most beautiful among all of these posts. I never bother to arrange these lists in any particular order. Nope. I never do.

New Year's Resolution

2010-12-31T16:59:00.003+08:00

It’s that time of the year again. Well, it sort of isn’t. . .. I don’t know. But, anyway, here is my list of New Year’s resolutions:

I am once again away from home this year, so I couldn’t create a Titles This Year badge.

February this year, I changed the blog title from My Heart up Close to My Dreams up Close. The purpose of that was to drive me into achieving my dreams. Well, it worked like magic!

Back in April, a few Filipino WriMos and I got together and sold our novels as e-books. The sales were so-so, but it was fun.
This year, I fell in and out of love. That’s living the dream, because I never thought anyone would fall in love with me.
November this year, I produced 25,000 words in a single day in NaNoWriMo.
I met my father for the first time in 10 years.
I sang in front of people
I seized the day without a care of what tomorrow had in store

What are your New Year's resolutions? What amazing things did you do this 2010?

Thanks for the Memories

2010-12-31T16:19:00.002+08:00

2010 has been a good year all around. My life has taken a drastic change since 2009. I did some pretty bad-ass things this year, and they won’t go about unnoticed!

Firstly, there are 72 of you followers now, compared to last year’s pathetic 30-something. And for that, I must thank all of you for reading me. I must also apologize for the lack of content and more drama these last few months. Things have not been easy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The conflicts are what define me as a protagonist of my own making and no one else’s. I have become comfortable with who I am. I have become comfortable living as myself. As me.

This year, I ‘seized the day.’ I didn’t wait for the opportunity to pass me by. I took it—consequences and all. I looked for my dad and I found him. I chose to act on my own—not because of my mom or anybody else, but my own. And guess what, it wasn’t all that bad.

Back when I was in high school this year, I was nobody. Our choir conductor never gave me a single solo. Perhaps he had his reasons, but it made me feel like crap. Watching the same people sing their hearts out in front of everybody, it made me jealous. I wanted the same treatment. I wanted to sing to everyone about how I felt. It’s the same in the publishing business—you either get the deal or someone else does. It was worse than a rejection letter, because I knew I deserved it. I tried the hardest out of everyone, and I got nothing.

I graduated believing I’d screwed up somehow. I went up the stage and received my diploma and medals, knowing I had missed my shot at my dream. To tell you the truth, I wanted to shut down My Dreams up Close back then. I wanted to write about how I sang up on stage and lived the dream—of course I never got to. But I thought, maybe it wasn’t my time yet. Maybe there was something bigger in store.

Enrolling for college a few months after, I disobeyed my mom. I was supposed to enroll into the Computer Engineering program, but I chose to follow my heart and enrolled into Secondary Education.

My first few days in college, I felt like a rock star. This whole new world was at my feet, and I made all the choices and I called all the shots. I was more popular there than I was back in high school. High school was crappy. It was hell. That was when I began to question if I’d made the right decision taking up a degree in Secondary Education. I mean, to come back to the same place that scarred that part of me . . . that was stupid of me.

Back in September, I went back to my alma mater and handed a proposal to hold a seminar for young writers. I didn’t want everyone else to have to go through the same hell I had to, when I was studying there. Truth be told, my alma mater’s journalism program sucked. There wasn’t even a creative writing club. In short, there was no venue for my talent, no means for me to shine. I didn’t want that for the students there.

Of course, things didn’t work out like I wanted to. When I visited, I saw how great our choir conductor had made our little group. He’d made it into something we’d always believed was just a dream. I was jealous. I wanted to be part of it. I wasn’t anymore. I was happy for them, sure, but I couldn’t bear to see them shine the way I’d always wanted to. I took a few months off from visiting them. In all honesty, I don’t know if I can muster up the courage to come back. That’s something I have to deal with next year.

But you know what I’ve learned from that? It’s that college is where all the solos are at. To me, college is a fresh start—where you can start over, be who you always wanted to be. It is a place for you to do the things you had to suppress—and were repressed—back in high school.

I sang “Hey, Soul Sister” and a variety of Christmas carols this year—and, no, not in my bathroom. People actually think I’m a good singer. People think I’m a great writer. And above anything else, they think I’m an awesome person.

The only thing left for me to do is to part from high school and to move on. I may have graduated but it feels as if a piece of it has been left wedged at the corner of my heart. In other words, a piece of 2009 still lives in me, and before the clock strikes 2011, I want those feelings and insecurities to go away. And what better way than to do what I do best:

So, to all the bullies who made going to the locker difficult: You can all kiss my ass because I rock now!

To the girl whom I slit my wrists for: I deserve better. But thank you for the inspiration.

To the annoying teachers: You can all go to hell because I’m going to be a better educator than you all ever were.

To my mom: We both know that I got my love for music from my dad, and you’re afraid I’m going to screw up just like him. But, please, just shut the hell up and let me live my life! I’m not going to screw up because I have a piece of you in me, and you did not screw up—you picked yourself up and lived the dream. I am going to finish college and I’m going to be a teacher. I will always love music and singing and collecting Tamagotchis, and neither of us can do anything about it. It’s what makes me happy.

To all you anti-gay reactionaries: Well, who died and made you king of anything? Last I heard, you guys believed that only God can make such drastic choices as condemning people for being who they are. Let me live my life and I’ll let you believe in a nonexistent deity in peace.

To my high school music teacher: You will always be a father figure to me, but you hurt me badly. And you know what? I think that’s what’s driving me to strive even harder.

Well, I guess that’s everything that needed to be said. Now, we can move on. What do you guys have to move on from?

Taking Chances

2010-12-27T18:46:00.001+08:00

My closest friends know that I’m a Tamagotchi fan—I have ten Tamagotchis to date, but even that’s a small collection compared to the many collection videos I’ve seen on YouTube. My mom hates the fact that I collect them. They’re worthless, tacky, and childish—but the fact is collecting Tamagotchis is what makes me happy.

I get into countless fights with my mom. When I was a kid, they’d released the Version 5s. These new ones allowed the user three Tamagotchis on one screen at a time. I wanted one so badly! But my mom told me to wait it out. They’ll probably become cheap one day. She told me I could buy as many Tamagotchis as I wanted when I got a job. Three years later, the Version 5s were such a hit that they’d become rare and were no longer sold in toy stores.

In short, my mom was wrong.

I love my mom, but the point is I should’ve taken the risk. I should’ve earned the equivalent of twenty dollars in peso and bought a V5 behind her back. I should’ve taken the chance. I should’ve risked it, and I regret every day that I fail to do something reckless and immature.

Now, a few days ago, I took the biggest step in my life: I looked for my dad. I went on Facebook, found a cousin, asked for my dad’s number, and, voila, I was with him on Christmas day. But I wouldn’t be if I’d been afraid to take the chance.

My mom had convinced me that my dad was a bad person, that his family was full of bad people who made bad choices. To some extent, she was right. My dad did drugs … and everything pretty much went downhill from there.

But my mom was also wrong—she was wrong telling me my dad didn’t love me, that my dad didn’t need me, that he wasn’t looking for me, and that he was happy without me. She was also wrong that the drugs had fried his brain; he’s better now, thank you very much.

A few years ago, my dad had overworked himself and had developed a case of pneumonia. What if God had decided to take him away from me then? What if he were a V5 and his time was sold out before I even got the courage to buy one? What if I’d lost him before I hugged him again?

He may not have been there for me when I needed him, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to be. I know he should’ve mustered up the courage to take me away from the worst possible place in the world. But the fact is, a father will always need his son, and a son will always need his father. I forgive him for all the wrong he’s done, and I love him so much.

Making my dreams come true is what this blog is about, and it’s always been my dream to meet my dad.

My mom will kill me after she reads this, but I don’t care. I’m taking chances, telling my tale on here, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

What Pad?

2010-12-05T02:59:00.003+08:00

Before we get on with today's post, I'd just like to say that NaNoWriMo this year was awesome. The Philippines jumped all the way up to the 47th wordiest region from the 130th last year. Also a collective 4.9 million words to 13 million this year. So, congratulations to all of us Filipino WriMos, then!

***

A few days ago, a friend of mine introduced me to a little online social-networking-esque website where you can upload your stories and add to them while getting readers. It's called WattPad. I gave it a try, and I must say that the readership is as great as she'd said.

The only problem I have with it is that the community is composed of a lot of young writers. Some of whom are fresh from reading Twilight and claimed to have been inspired by it. That's all good, I guess, but then a lot of the stories are either Twilight fan fiction, or about vampires and werewolves, which can get tiring.

And I often still do read despite that. I'd read this story about a shape shifter. It began with a short prologue that looked nothing like one. And so I offered my advice. I told the author that it was more like a preface than a prologue, and that she was telling for most of the two paragraphs.

The author replied to me, saying that she had written a brand new prologue and she did not know why. She blamed me for "having no imagination," when I had clearly just said that she should not have left it all to my imagination, not that I wasn't imagining her scene playing out in my head as I read -- because there were no words to have anything playing out in my head to begin with.

I checked out her edited story, and she'd changed the heading to "Preface," and had added a "Prologue" section. It still did not look anything like prologue, and I was forced to just say "It's nice," like all the other senseless, attention-seeking comments on there.

I don't understand why she had to blame me for anything, but I do understand how it feels to get harsh constructive criticism and that it can get depressing.

Speaking of constructive criticism, my WattPad project could use some of that right about now: Queer Content. There are cookies in store, if you leave a comment! Figurative ones. Haha! But I could do with some healthy criticism. I really could.

NaNoWriMo: 30 Crazy Things I Did This Month

2010-11-28T04:27:00.006+08:00

I just validated my win a couple of days ago at about 62,000 words. I added an extra 23,000 (approximated; last I counted) just now. And I'm probably going to have to call it a month, so to speak. I had my sights set on 100,000 words, but that's just it for me. My muse is bushed. She can't take any more of it. But it was fun, though. I have to say that it was better than last year's. I beat myself by 29,000 words, which I deem my new personal awesome.

Now, we all did a lot of crazy things this NaNoWriMo -- admit it, I know you did, too -- just to be able to keep writing and to pad up my manuscript. Some of the crazy things I did have nothing to do with writing at all! But here they are in no particular order:

I bought a Tamagotchi iD (I don't know why, but I did after our regional NaNoWriMo kick-off party)
I took my boyfriend to said kick-off party, and
I got him to join NaNoWriMo and at least start a novel (because I know he wants to write, too, only in Tagalog)
Ate 40 bars of Power Pops
Drank 25 cups of coffee
Successfully avoided using contractions throughout my manuscripts
Made fun of Oprah in one of my character's ponderings
Cried during Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows Part One three times (first, when Hermione obliviated her parents; second, when she'd been pinned to the floor my Bellatrix, and the words "Mudblood" had been sliced onto her skin; and finally, when Dobby died)
Broke up with my boyfriend
Made up with my boyfriend
Lasted six days without taking a shower and not realizing it until it smelled like rotten potatoes in my clothes
Mentored three NaNoWriMo participants (all of which are still trudging on to the 50K mark -- GO MENTEES!)
Managed to squeeze in two deaf characters ("Huh?" "What?" "I said, can you hear me!?" "What?" "Huh?" "What?" -- You get the picture.)
Beat my 10K-day from last year with a 25K-day this year
Played Peter Pan in a parade at college (don't ask why)
Went on a 2-week hiatus (because of the hindrance that is life) but managed to catch up during week 4
Passed 50K by the end of week 1 (FTW!)
Filled a whole page with ONE paragraph's worth of participial phrases
Forgot to eat one time
Forgot my name, too
Wrestled with a Guilt Monkey in a dream once... Wasn't pretty.
Learned to NOT delete; I use "|" and retype the previous fragment | and retype the last phrase or clause with my Inner Editor's corrections
Probably beat our regional record for most words on the first day
Cried when Marten and Dora broke up
Found out I look hot with facial hair
Found out I look hotter without facial hair
Found out I look hottest with just the right amount of facial hair
My nose bled once while I was writing
Wrote while inside a jeepney; and
Ended up with two manuscripts to be completed by Summer next year

This is one heck of a list, and I just found out all the stupid I've been doing all month. But it did pay off, that's for sure. This year's NaNoWriMo has been one heck of an adventure, last year's doesn't compare to this, with all the drama and writing and the goals and drama and monkeys and unicorns and The Shovel of Doom and zombies and drama and cupcakes and the whispering to chickens and zombie unicorns and sunflowers and rainbows and puppies and drama and writing... You get the point.

I may have failed in reaching 100,000 words, but I'm sure to make it next year. And I have all these crazy things to remind me of how fun it was trying to do so, too!

How about you guys? What crazy things have you done this NaNoWriMo?

An Excerpt of "Zeke"

2010-11-08T04:25:00.003+08:00

I may be at 51k words now, but I'm not even at the halfway point in my novel yet. I'll get there somehow, but until then, here's an excerpt of "Zeke," a gay epistolary novel. It comes with the cover art. What do you think? (Oh, and it gets a little erotic there, near the end.)

***

The basement comprised five rows of cubicles. We took the third one from the first, near our end of the hall, the one beside the cubicle filled with buckets of paint, the one directly behind the aisle flooded with sewer water (and dog shit). Like I said: germs! But I sat on the dusty table with you. Even if I didn’t feel comfortable.

I remember this next bit vividly: You held my hand for the first time.

You looked into my eyes and smiled your million dollar smile again. You take my breath away when you do that.

“I like your hands,” you whispered. “Just like a girl’s.”

I pulled away—and as I like to think—abruptly, and I turned away from you. “Really?” I said.

“Well, yeah—the way they’re soft and slender and fair and…” He trailed off. “Oh, no. I said something wrong, didn’t I?”

Obviously.

Zeke, I may be gay but I only take it to an extent. I’m still a guy. A gay guy. I like men but I like to think I’m one, too. (I think that’s what turns me on: the intimacy of two people of the same sex.)

“Shit. I’m sorry, Pat,” you said. And when I didn’t look to acknowledge your apology, you grabbed me by the chin—gently, you did—with your thumb and pulled me to face you. “If I offended you I’m sorry, but don’t you ever do that to me.”

I smiled. How could I stay mad at you?

That was my queue: “Listen. We need to talk—”

Your phone buzzed to life. I saw your eyes grow wide for a second before you grabbed it.

“Who is it?” I asked, trying to see past your fingers. But I didn’t need to ask. I knew who it was. “It’s your girlfriend, isn’t it?” I scooted off the table. I’d thought long and hard about it, and I was prepared to let you go. For both our sakes.

“I can’t do this, Zeke.” I tried to make a move for the stairs, but your tight grip had found my arms, and I found myself lost in your gaze yet again. Stop doing that!

“It’s not,” you said with a firm shake of the head. You let go and looked down on the floor. Then back at me. “If I tell you, promise you won’t get mad.”

I only nodded.

You took a deep breath. “It’s my … professor.” My eyes flashed with surprise. Your voice fell to a whisper. “Has a thing for me.” You winced.

I chuckled. “So, what’s her name?”

You closed your eyes. “She’s a he.” That made things complicated.

I felt my heart beat even faster. Sweat poured down my forehead. My hands clenched into fists. I bit my lower lip to stifle the tears.

You laughed. “But he takes me to restaurants, you know. He still owes me three dates!” you said. “Once, he took me to this Indian restaurant. We had curry and I—”

“I’m sorry, Zeke,” I said, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” A laugh found its way past my nerves. I fell to the ground and leaned against the cubicle wall. “I don’t understand… I don’t understand myself. I don’t understand you!”

You went down on your knees. “No. Don’t cry.” You tried to wipe my tears with your hand, but I nudged away.

You hit your forehead with your knuckle at the realization. “Shit. I’m sorry…! I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be,” I said. “I know where I stand.” I wiped the tears from my face. “I’m nothing to you. You have a girlfriend. A girlfriend whom you cheat on with your professor who takes you to dinner, and a gay guy whom you only like to fuck with. That’s where I stand, Zeke. I’m just the gay guy who pleasures you—nothing more.” I smiled a sad smile, and I ran up the stairs, but you caught me on time.

“How do you feel about me?” you asked, your grip growing tighter with each beat of my heart. Where did that come from?

I tried to shake myself free. “Let me go!”

“Tell me!”

No.

“Tell me, Patrick!”

Say it. I like… I like…

“I love you!” I shouted. My voice didn’t echo too far off, and there was no one in the basement. You let go of my hands and leaned against the wall. I cupped my mouth. I had meant to say like, not love.

“Zeke, I—”

You raised a finger.

“I’m—”

You looked at me sternly. You walked a pace towards me. Nearer. Nearer. “Do you know what that means?” you asked.

I didn’t answer.

You asked again, this time more firmly: “Do you know what that means?”

I shook my head.

You smiled. “That means we’re seeing each other.”

“Zeke, no,” I said. I gave you a push at the chest—but you grabbed hold of my hand. You put it against your broad chest, and I felt the arousal below. “You have a girlfriend,” I reminded you. “I can’t… I can’t.” I shook my head, trying to pry my hand from yours.

“I was going to break up with her, anyways. She makes no sense—” I stopped fighting you “—you, on the other hand, do,” you said. “Plus, it wasn’t a problem the other night!” You smiled. Devilishly, you did.

I shook my head. I tried to push you away again—physically and emotionally. “I didn’t know, then,” I said. “I saw it on your Facebook profile, and—”

You leaned your throbbing scepter against my knee—I felt it. Really felt it. I felt your hands slide up my neck and at the back. And that was when you did it: You kissed me.

And in that, the best fifteen seconds of my life, I found it funny that I had pleasured you below before we had even kissed.

...

He at Fault

2010-11-06T13:17:00.003+08:00

For oh, the eyes of love have found the love
Of loves and loves which Man forbids be held,
And Man pretends to hear our God above,
For never had his heart—and more—been swelled

With this love of loves that I now behold
Here in my hands his hand against all odds.
And I, a man in storms of yon, holds bold
As we fight against plights of god and God.

For Man’s treachery doth have poisoned hearts,
Or of that and his misunderstanding:
That God holds brothers be not torn apart,
For He shows them love yon overflowing.

It is the fault of Man and ignorance
That we be killed, and not God’s acceptance.

. . .

"Update"

2010-11-03T02:18:00.005+08:00

It's 2 AM on my clock and I'm finding it hard to move forward with my novels. I'm at 30,000 words but others in my region are slowly catching up, and other overachievers out there have flown past me and may have already reached 50,000!

I know what you're saying. That I shouldn't complain since I'm already, what, two weeks ahead of everyone else. Well, you make a valid point there, so I won't complain. I'll just keep on keeping on.

Some of my closest friends (and my sister, too!) are doing NaNoWriMo this year, and they ask me how I manage to write that many words in just a few days. To tell you the truth, I don't know, either. But here's what I think how:

Look for a reason to click the "Update" button.

It's that yellow button at the upper-left side of the screen. It mocks me every time I go to the NaNoWriMo site (well, most of the time, since the site sometimes doesn't let me in), tells me I can't click it yet, tells me I don't deserve to click it. Well, I do deserve to click it.

Oh, boy, the grogginess is getting to me and I'm not making any sense here...

What I'm trying to get at here, fellow writers, is that if you want to zip through the progress bar, look for a reason to press "update."

Even if it's just a single word, or a single paragraph of twenty words, that's a reason.

So, you've just clicked it. Write more and then click it again. Heck, you can click it with every one word you add to your word count for all I care! And soon you'd have registered 1,000 more words to your word count. Great!

...

Goal for the Day: Reach 30K!

2010-11-02T03:03:00.003+08:00

Firstly, the above title rhymes. Awesome.

Next, if you will look at the sidebar to the right, you will see that I have put there a little badge from here, which is a blog chain of bloggers who will be (and are already) blogging throughout the course of November. I shall post at least one time during each week of November.

And also, if you have not noticed, I am not using any at all contractions and am being very, very wordy -- that is common practice among National Novel Writing Month writers. It pads up the word count.

Haha! I just reread the above paragraphs and they sounded stupid. But, that's the whole point of doing NaNoWriMo: just getting your story out no matter how badly written your prose is. I mean, after all, you can edit some other time, right?

It's Day 2 in the Philippines, and yesterday I broke our regional record for most number of words on the first day, at 25,000 words! Today, I'm going to go easy on myself and go for 5,000 words to reach 30,000.

What's your goal for the day? Do you count by words or by chapters (or sections?)

P.S.
OMG! This is my 300th post! I didn't notice. Cool. Happy 300th post to me!

Sally's Adventures Ep. 21

2010-10-31T19:30:00.002+08:00

“I can’t believe you have to leave...” Tommy crossed his arms and harrumphed. “You’ve barely been here a week!”

Sally nodded, clutching her suitcase on the sidewalk. She smiled sadly. “Well, at least there, I get to be with my dad, Tommy,” she said. “It was fun playing with you, though.”

“Yeah, it was,” he said. “But—come on!—first Poly, and now you, too?”

“Poly can’t stay on this planet,” she said. “They’re on their way to some place better—just like me.” She knelt down to look Tommy in the eye. “I’m proud of you. You’re the best sidekick anyone could have. Promise me you’ll take care of Melina and keep having adventures with her.”

“Oh yeah, that reminds me of something,” he said. He took off his glasses and threw them on the ground. Melina flew out, apparently having just woken up. “You’re free to go.”

“Really?” Melina said. “Thanks Tommy.”

“Well, at least I have Corrine with me,” he said, referring to the puny imp on his shoulder. “At least I know she won’t leave me.”

Sally smiled. “No one’s leaving you,” she said. “We’re right here in each other’s hearts.”

He rolled his eyes. “Clichéd.”

“Your mom’s there,” Melina said. A red sedan had rolled into the driveway. “Let’s go.”

“Come on, Honey!” her mom called.

“Well,” she said, “I guess this is goodbye, Tommy.”

“DON’T LEAVE!” Tommy shouted. He flung his arms around her. “Don’t go! Don’t go! I know I said I hate you, but I don’t. I had fun and I don’t want you to go, Sally! NO!”

“I know, I know,” Sally said, clutching her daisy amulet. “I’ll come back some day. Promise. Okay?”

Tommy nodded through sobs. “Okay,” he said. “Go.”

And as Sally went into the car, she was glad she’d found a new friend, and even more glad that Tommy had forgotten all about her poisoning his mother with chamomile tea.

Sally's Adventures Ep. 20

2010-10-31T19:15:00.004+08:00

Sally thought that they were all too late when she and Poly had gotten to the empty lot which she knew was where the mansion stood. But where could Knix have gone? They pushed open the rusted gates, and once Sally had stepped onto the decaying lawn, a flash of bloody red broke across the sky. A vortex had opened in midair.

She looked at Poly. “Do we go in?” she asked him.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” he said. He stepped forward to leap, but he felt Sally’s hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

She smiled at him. “You be careful, all right?”

“You’re not coming?”

“What can I do to help?” she asked. “I’m useless.”

“You’re special,” he said with a droopy smile. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her across directly below the vortex. “Ladies first.” He stretched himself wide into what looked like a trampoline.

Sally jumped high and landed on Poly’s firm but rubbery surface. She felt herself catapulted off him and had lost all sight of the world the next minute. Everything had turned black and she couldn’t feel anything.

Poly landed on the ceiling. At least, he thought it was the ceiling. He wasn’t disoriented. He certainly did not feel like he was. Sally lay unconscious above him—or was it below? His situation was befuddling, and the swirling red and black wisps weren’t helping at all.

He took a step to his right, and he found himself beside Sally. He looked around for a possible hole, but saw nothing. He tried to wake her up, but she was out cold.

“Darn it, Sally,” he muttered. “Wake up!”

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” said the familiar voice. Poly froze on his feet. He turned. It was Knix.

“You!” Poly fired a chunk of acidic slime at him. Knix merely raised his hand, and the black two-petal daisy amulet on his chest pulsated with red light that shielded him from Poly.

“You don’t scare me,” he said. “If I can take on your whole population what makes you think you stand a chance against me now that I have two petals of the Death Amulet?”

Poly still felt Melina’s energy coursing in his body and with Sally by his side—her spiritual energy radiating towards him—he knew there was still hope. He felt it. He felt the power. He forced it all to his hands, and he found himself emitting green aura, as if he were radioactive.

“Well,” he said, “for starters, I can do this!” He zipped across the air—fluidly, as if he were water and air at the same time—and turned himself acidic and burnt through Knix’s arm. He splashed across the floor and rematerialized. “How do you like that?”

Knix didn’t look like he was in pain. Not at all. “Good,” he said. “But I’m better.” He grew back his arm and whipped Poly with a string of lightning.

It neither scathed nor damaged him, and in fact, he felt like he’d been recharged. He leaped into the air and zoomed towards Knix. But the skilled necromancer was prepared. He charged up the amulet to explode with a beam of dark energy. Poly was quick to spot it. He stretch himself in the air and covered Knix like a blanket. Both of them were engulfed in flame.

Poly couldn’t see Knix anywhere through the smoke, but far away he saw the glistening of his amulet.

“Give up while you can, you filthy non-human,” Poly said. “Let my family go or I shall be forced to burn through your stomach.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said.

“You’ve lost, Knix,” Poly retorted. “Without your zombie army, you’re just as useless as any other human being.”

The smoke began to clear. Knix stood up. “How are you so sure?” he asked. The amulet burst into a flurry of red and the vortex opened, releasing hundreds of the zombies he’d created; it looked as if Knix was vacuuming all of them into his amulet. Poly saw Tommy and Corrine along with the army, and so he grabbed them just before they’d gotten sucked in.

“What’s he doing?” Tommy asked Poly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think he’s trying to suck all the zombies into the amulet.”

“Watch out!” Tommy shouted. The amulet had absorbed all the zombies and it released a sheet of bloody red light. Tommy rubbed his glasses. “I wish we had a force field around us.” Melina catapulted out of his glasses and spread her arms out to create a shield.

“SALLY!” Poly shouted. He tried crawling out of the barrier to save her, but it was no use. She’d have already been burnt to a crisp by the energy Knix had released.

“Holy crap!” Melina shouted. She came crashing down into millions of pieces of glass. A big gray hand had slammed right into her. It was knix.

“Knix!” Poly screamed at the large behemoth of a slime creature he’d transformed into.

“Still think you can take me on?” he taunted. “Come and get me!”

“Wait!” Tommy said. “Take this.” He handed poly what looked like a breath mint.

“What for?” he asked.

He just nodded. “You know,” he said.

Poly did know. He whooshed across the room to avoid Knix’s huge fist, and he leaped into the air and threw the tablet at his gray skin.

“What was that?” Knix boomed.

Poly fell splat on the floor. “Wait and see.”

Knix felt his body itch. He felt it shrivel and shrink. The more the mint dissolved into his body, the quicker he got smaller. Soon, he was mere inches taller than Poly.

“Do it!” Tommy shouted.

Poly nodded and jumped into Knix’s petrified body. He’d taken over. The gray skin faded to a vivid green. Knix clawed out of the body as nothing but a wisp of air. The dark energy left with him, and the amulet was back to normal, albeit discolored now.

“I”ll be back!” Knix shouted. “And when I do, I swear I’ll get the both of you!”

Poly tinkered with the amulet, and he’d somehow managed to switch on the vacuum, only it was on reverse. Soon the room was filled with the rest of the slime creatures back to normal.

“We did it!” Tommy yelled. He and Poly hugged. “Wait. Melina!”

“I’m all right,” she said, next to Sally. “She’s all right, too. Don’t worry.” She looked at Poly. “You go catch up with the rest of your folks.”

He smiled. He’d never felt so happy in his life. “581! 771!”

Dragon Wars: RP 101 (An Excerpt)

2010-10-30T23:59:00.003+08:00

Well, here's my Halloween surprise to all of you. It's an excerpt from the series I'm working on getting published. It's called Dragon Wars and this is the first book: The Dragon Slayer's Heart. In this chapter, I had fun with the characters, got to develop them a bit here, too. Plus, they put on costumes and stuff.

Oh, and also, the setting is within a video game. RP stands for Role-Playing.

***

“An affiliate clan?” Lord John said. He shuffled on his red throne.

The Dragon King, who was officially the guild’s leader, hadn’t logged on in quite a while now. We all assumed he’d quit, so Lord John, naturally, had taken his rightful place as the new leader of the clan.

“I’d never heard of such a thing!” he shouted.

“Yes, I know, my lord,” I said, “but trust me on this that it will work to our advantage in the tournament.” I’ve had my /bow on for more than ten minutes now, and it was just so degrading to see Kuyer on his knees.

“Yes, yes, and their starters’ stats are well higher than Novus and Jed’s,” he said. “But I can’t just tell the two that we’re taking them off the team; that’s just cruel on my part.” He paused. “You do it.”

“No one’s getting the boot,” I said.

“You forgot to say ‘my lord,’” he said, expectant of me to correct my mistake. “Well?”

“I just said ‘my lord’ in a previous sentence,” I said dolefully. “It’s redundant to have to say ‘my lord’ in every sentence—” I smiled “—my lord.”

I heard his stifled grunt, but saw no change on his avatar’s face.

Oh, I sure got him good!

“Okay, then.”

“‘Okay, then’ what, my lord?” I asked. I liked it that he couldn’t dismiss me; he needed me for the tournament and for the XPain quest.

“‘Okay, then,’ I shall affiliate with theirs and form an alliance,” he said, adding emphasis to each vowel. Now I was really sure he was holding back his anger. This made me laugh, and I had to keep from being— “I can hear you laughing,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry!” I said, laughing. “I was just—ha, ha—sorry!”

“Kuyer!” I heard Xere’s firm voice sound through, and my laughter ceased, like he’d pulled it out my throat. (That would’ve been gross.) “What are you laughing at?”

“Apparently, me,” Lord John said.

“Kuyer!” Xere said, outraged. “Do you want to get kicked off the clan or what? Do you know how long it took me to try to get Lord John—my lord—” /bow “—to approve your membership?”

“Sorry, Xere,” I said. But I didn’t mean it. I just wasn’t one to RP, and yet I just wasn’t so sure Xere was RP-ing, either. Did he really mean all that?

“It’s okay, Xere,” Lord John said, “I don’t mind. Plus, it’s kind of thrilling to have member like him here; I want a player with smarts. He livens up the RP sessions.”

“You mean that?” I asked.

“Sic!”

“Ha, ha!” I said. “Good one, ‘my lord.’”

“For a player with moxie, your jokes have gone stale,” he said. I heard him stick out his tongue. Wow. Well that was very mature of him. He laughed, which was very unusual of him. “Hmm… since today is a Saturday and we’ve addressed all concerns, why don’t we have an RP session right here, right now? What do you guys say?”

“‘I’ says me,” Xere said jokingly. “You in, Kuyer?”

“He has to, or else it’ll be just the two of us,” Lord John said, “and that’s no fun at all. Not one bit.” I didn’t answer. Role-playing just wasn’t my thing. “So?” he asked.

But maybe I’ll give it a try. Just this once.

“Fine,” I said. “So what are we RP-ing?” I heard both of them smile and laugh. “What? What’s so funny? I don’t like the way you two are laughing.”

“Anything goes!” Lord John announced, and the both of them were down the flights of converging stairs, out the Master’s chamber and into the main lobby. I followed warily.

There was no one at the base of the stairs—not Xere, not Lord John, and not Novus or Jed who’d both been waiting patiently for us to be done with our muted chat; and Konan wasn’t logged in. It was just the slippery-looking, marble floor and the many doors that led to locked rooms that housed the clan’s members. Mine was tentatively the one at the very bottom of the castle, three doors beside the prison chambers, until renovations were complete.

“Where are you guys?” I asked.

A cowboy with a blatantly fake mustache peered from the cylindrical wall to my right. “What the heck, Kuyer?” It was Xere’s voice.

“Whoa. Where’d you get your cool cowboy costume, Xere?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “I want one!”

“You like it?” Xere said. “Well, too bad for you! The event’s passed three months ago, before you even registered.” He stuck out his tongue again.

Lord John appeared from the left side of the same wall. He was wearing a clown costume. “Lolz, guys,” Lord John said. “Kuyer, do you even know how to role-play? This was the first time I’ve heard a mage say ‘where are you guys?’ in the Psychotic Clown’s castle?”

“What Psychotic Clown?” I asked, befuddled.

“Ugh!” the both of them moaned.

“We really need to get him a costume, Xere,” Lord John said, exasperation in his voice.

“Sending,” Xere replied.

The inventory icon on my screen flashed gold; I’d received Xere’s gift. I was curious as to what costume he’d sent me, but whatever it was, it just had to do the trick.

My jaw dropped after seeing what it was. Not that I felt anger or shock, or anything—but seriously!

“So, how do you like your new costume, Kuyer?” Xere said. He laughed menacingly.

“Oh, you’re on, Xeremiah,” I said.

“Ooh, did he just say my full username threateningly?” he asked Lord John.

I removed my Black Arcane Robe, and put on the costume Xere had given me.

Kuyer turned into a big puff of white, barely even visible in the ultrapure castle. The costume sported two long ears with pink on the insides. My nose was the same shade of pink and came with twitching animation, which, I must admit, I found adorable.

Oh, and the whiskers!

“Oh God! I have got to get a screenshot of this!” Lord John said. “I’ll post it on my blog!”

“WAIT!” Xere interjected rather abruptly. “Don’t just yet, John!”

Wait. Did he just call him John? Hmm. Must be some RP code or something. I might as well tag along and see how this turns out.

John laughed. “What is it, Xere?”

“You’ll see.”

My inventory icon had lit up once again. He’d sent me a weapon to match my outfit, I guessed. I opened the inventory. And it did match my outfit, which was kind of Xere to do. So, I threw my Nova Staff back into the remaining space I had left in my inventory, and I was now full-fledged bunny rabbit, complete with Carrot Staff.

Lord John and Xere chuckled, like mischievous children.

“Prepare to be vanquished by my awesome awesomeness!” I said. I really felt this RP thing going on now, even if I was just a bunny.

/weapon.

Kuyer raised the orangey weapon he held with a mighty stance that, in this case though, made him look silly.

“Okay,” Lord John said finally, “I got my shot—and you look mighty good in it, too, Kuyer—so now we can role-play.” He paused. “Ready… Get set…” He broke into a fit of laughter and he vanished into thin air.

“Howdy there, you—er—rabbit,” Xere said. His voice sounded uncomfortable; he was trying his hardest to sound like a cowboy. “I reckon we’d better go catch that clown before someone else gets nabbed.”

Here goes my line!

/hop /hop “Agreed,” I said.

“Wait, John,” Xere said. “Hold up, Kuyer. No rabbit says ‘agreed.’”

“I know, but I feel weird talking like one,” I said. “I already have the costume—can’t we just go on?”

“We’ll work on your dialogue some time in the future,” he said, “but right now we’ve got a deranged clown to catch. And I’m afraid of deranged clowns.”

“Yee, hee, hee, hee, hee!” I heard Lord John shout. “You’ll never get me alive! Honk, honk!”

“Well, don’t just stand there, you varmint!” Xere said. “Let’s go and bring that clown back to his circus. Now, yee-haw!”

/hop “Sniff, sniff,” I muttered despairingly.

“That’s more like it, Kuyer!”

“I’m wagging my tail,” I drawled.

And we were up at the Master’s chamber once more, but there was no sign of Lord John anywhere. No sign of the polka-dotted jester’s outfit or the red afro he had on. There was just the empty red-satin throne that stood in the very middle of the room.

“Well, I’ll be,” Xere said. I smiled, as I just wasn’t used to him speaking all tough-like. “There ain’t a sign of that red-haired loon anywhere.” I heard him scratch his head. “I coulda sworn I heard his voice come from here.”

/hop /hop “Nods head in agreement,” I said. Now, I was smiling at me, too. And then I’d just thought of a brilliant arc in the storyline. “Sniff, sniff. Smells clown—er—cologne from behind the throne.” I paused. “Hears the clown’s heart beat faster—you see, I have, like, these keen senses since I’m a rabbit...”

“Good work, my rodent friend,” Xere said. “Now, let’s go nab that psycho before he gets away again. The doctors at the asylum Down Town have been looking all over for him.”

“Nods head.”

I’d only just noticed that Xere had a looped rope as his weapon. And he was on target as his shot hit the throne, which made it look all so realistic. He walked up to his catch.

“We did it, pardner,” he said.

“NOOOO!” Lord John said, as he appeared from behind the throne. “You’ll never get me alive! Never! I’ll kill myself if I have t—” He just stopped all of a sudden, like his headset had broken or something.

“Head turns to the silent clown,” I said. What had just happened?

“I’m guessing the staff’s muted him,” he said. He headed out the arch and down the flight of stairs, with the soundless Lord John trailing behind him.

I followed. “Raises ear to insinuate curiosity—sorry, that was crap,” I said, chagrinned. “What do you mean ‘muted’?”

Xere sighed, finally able to speak in his normal voice. “When the staff hears something bad, they just mute you, cut you off,” he said. “They implemented this just the other month to prevent players from cursing—and there used to be a lot of those and profane discussions, too—as there are younger players.

“But the thing is, sometimes they don’t hear you, so you can get away,” he said. “Although, if you’re a paying player, you don’t have to watch what you say, which makes it kind of unfair, you know…”

Lord John stopped in his tracks and /pouted-ed.

“But it’s just that at most times, they go overboard and mute a player who hadn’t even said anything wrong,” Xere continued. “But no need to worry. It only lasts a few minutes and then you’re back.”

“Wow. That’s just plain irksome, ain’t it?” I said.

“Sure is,” Xere agreed. “Why, just the other day Novus, John and I were role-playing, and we had to use the word dissipa—” He had apparently been muted, too. There was a red ‘X’ mark on his lips; I hadn’t noticed the same on Lord John because his costume came with makeup.

“What Xere meant to say, before he got muted,” Lord John said, “was that we used the word mm-mm-pated. We all got muted—even if Novus was RP-ing a tree at that time. Now, tell, me how a tree can say such a highfalutin word as that!?” He chuckled.

I nodded. “Yeah. And people rarely use the word for its other meaning, i.e., to drink alcoho—”I’d been muted, too. “Hello? Hello?” I didn’t hear the resonance of my voice in my ears.

“Kuyer? You there?” Lord John said. “You were muted, too, weren’t you?” He laughed. “Well, if a tree can get muted from saying something like mm-mm-pated, why can’t a bunny for saying mm-mm-hol.”

“—ha, ha, ha!” Xere was back on, too. I was the only muted player left, but that was only because I was the last.

“Well, Kuyer,” Lord John said, “at least now you do sound like a rabbit!” He chuckled even louder.

“Wait,” Xere interjected. “We haven’t brought the evil clown to the asylum yet. Come on, rabbit, let’s go and pull him over to the ward where he belongs!”

I laughed uncontrollably in the dark, where I was.

/hop /hop I followed the two of them.

We’d reached the door.

But then my heart stopped. A sudden tremor broke into the silent atmosphere, but it was lighter, more different from when a boss made its entrance. But a tremor was a tremor and my hands gripped the mouse tighter.

“What the heck?” Xere exclaimed. “What’s going on here?”

“We have intruders!” John exclaimed. He changed into a different armor. It wasn’t his usual purple armor; it was something else, something very similar to the armor the Paladins had. It glistened brightly with gold and silver. “Xere, better suit up!”

“Already ahead of you, John,” he said. He was in his healer robe now; with his angel wings; and a different staff that had at its tip, a huge yellow star that let out a pulse of gold every few seconds, like it was powered by radioactivity.

The twin doors made of marble collapsed before us. A flurry of dust flew into the air, and I couldn’t see the look on the intruders’ faces.

I brought down my inventory and hastily put on my black robe and staff. But there was another item along with the rest of my hoard, too. I hadn’t noticed my inventory icon glowing.

There was a letter attached to it:

I heard you’ve made quite a name for yourself. That’s good for you. Here’s something you might find useful; your Black Arcane Robe must be ages old by now! I bought this with all the gold I had left on my account. Enjoy! — Vea ^_^

“Vea…,” I murmured, staring at the silver- and gold-plated robe. The armor she’d sent me looked much like a warrior’s or a knight’s, except there were some parts where it was made of white silk. The ecru-gold hood was optional, but I put it on all the same.

A battle was no time to be role-playing.

How to Carve a Pumpkin with a Pen

2010-10-30T01:28:00.008+08:00

Okay. So, I may have meant figuratively but since you're here you might as well read! Click the image below to view in full size.

I may not be able to post on the 31st for the big day itself, so this is up now. You know, Pre-NaNo rituals and all.

So, whatta say we light this baby up?

Ta-da!

And we can do this every year for Halloween, too. Yay! An easier yearly thing (because, let's face it, writing a series every Halloween can be tiring). By the way, the last two episodes of Sally's Adventures should be up tomorrow. Should, because I'm going to our NaNoWriMo kick-off party. I'm going in costume. I'll be sure to post a picture of me in it.

Sally's Adventures Ep. 19

2010-10-29T19:48:00.003+08:00

In hopes of attracting more last-minute readers, I have posted a picture of me as a kid in a clown costume. Don't I look cute? Great. Now, go and read the rest of the series. The zombies are falling back!

***

The zombies marched slowly—there were hundreds of them!—their body parts falling as they trudged on into the streets. Tommy saw an eyeball roll to his feet from somewhere. Worried that Knix had created aero-zombies he looked up. He sighed. They were safe from airborne assaults.

The goblin chief called out to his army with a resonant shriek as he raised his axe in the air. They replied with a firm stomp of their feet, and they moved out. They split into three groups on both sidewalks and the pavement.

The zombies were quick to retaliate. Their limbs were made of slime and they used that to fend off the goblins. The zombie in the pale green tux transformed his arm into a solid bat of hardened slime. He flung the goblin chief at a tree and swatted the rest like mere flies. The chief had been hit hard. He dropped his axe and retreated, limping back towards the lawn.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sally told the ghosts. “Go help them!”

“Aye!” said the grumpy one. He signaled at the rest of them, hundreds in midair, and they moved out. “Second row there, first row with me; the rest, scare the heck out of the people so no one gets hurt!”

Sally nodded at Tommy.

“All right,” he told the imps. “Divide and wreak havoc on the zombies—that’ll teach them not to mess with us. Go!”

The imps looked at each other for a while before finally hopping to the job. Corrine stayed with Tommy. He thought of throwing her back in, but then she might have some other use.

He rubbed his glasses. Melina looked at him warily. “I wish I could shoot laser beams with my eyes!” he said. His glasses flashed a bright blue and he found himself blinded with light. He couldn’t see. Not at all. “I’m blind!”

“I’ll be your eyes,” Melina said. “No one ever said there weren’t any kinks to this business.”

He felt the glasses on his face pull him into the streets. They felt warm. He wanted to touch them, but he understood that he could cut his fingers off with them. He felt Corrine on his head. She swallowed a big gulp of air and then screeched.

The zombies froze in its sharp tone, giving the goblins, ghosts, and imps ample time to knock their heads off.

Sally saw an opening in the wall of zombies. She grabbed Poly by the arm and pulled him towards it.

“Where are we going?” he asked her.

“We’re going after the big Kahuna himself,” Sally replied.

“Got a plan?”

“No.”

Sally's Adventures Ep. 18

2010-10-29T16:41:00.003+08:00

Tommy had named the little puff of blue Corrine. The horned imp sat on his shoulder, waving its heart-tipped tail in the air like a flag to signal the other imps of its tribe to follow in their march. They couldn’t speak like humans, but Tommy figured Poly could communicate with them when they’d met up at Sally’s place.

At the gate of the woods, Corrine screeched, and they all stopped.

“Ouch, that hurt,” Tommy said, his ears still ringing with the sharp sound. Corrine pointed towards the trees. There were tiny shadows—millions of them! “What are they?”

“Goblins?” Melina suggested.

Corrine growled at them. Tommy cooed her. She calmed down.

“Hey,” Tommy said. The green-skinned creatures listened. “We really need your help. There are zombies attacking the town. If we don’t stop them, they might take over the world—and that includes your homes.”

The three front goblins whispered amongst one another, and soon the whole group of them were. Some nodded, some shook their heads. But then they all stopped, and the leader goblin—the one wearing what looked like a crown made from rotten apples—stepped forward and reached to shake Tommy’s hand.

“Welcome to the group, Mr. Chief Goblin sir,” he said.

Tommy and Melina, and the army of magical creatures had made it to Sally’s house just in time. She and Poly were seated on the pavement, and it looked like they’d brought company. The air was cold, but Tommy could not see them.

“I take it you found ghosts?” Tommy asked.

“You bet,” Sally said as she stood up. “Sorry I went all psycho on you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Now, we’ve got an army to fight the zombies.”

Poly harrumphed. “I still say we should have made extra-growth formulas and fed them to the plants. Did you know that plants are the zombies’ natural enemy?”

The sun had already sunk, and kids of all ages had begun ringing doorbells, carrying pails shaped like pumpkins. Most of them, with their parents, stopped to stare at the goblins and imps on Sally’s lawn. They never thought to ring the doorbell.

“Let’s head out to the mansion,” Tommy suggested.

“No need to,” Melina said. “Here they come.”

Sally's Adventures Ep. 17

2010-10-29T15:19:00.004+08:00

The sun had already begun to sink below the horizon when Melina and Tommy had made it to Brink Woods. The ground was marshy, but he knew that they were in a hurry not to mind it seeping into his socks. They needed to find anyone, anything—a werewolf, a dwarf, or a fairy—he’d never really been to the woods before to know if there was anything in it but mushrooms and trees.

“Are you sure we aren’t lost yet?” Melina asked Tommy. “I think we’ve passed that tree three times now. I think we should head back.”

“No way!” Tommy said. “We’ve come too far to—”

“We’re lost, aren’t we?”

“Well, who’s the teenager here?” he retorted. “Not me!”

A vociferous grunt sounded in their midst. Tommy traced the sound towards the bush of weird yellow berries beneath an old oak tree. It rustled and it rustled. The grunting grew louder.

“Did we find something?” Melina whispered.

“What do you think?”

“Touché.”

Whatever it was behind the bush, it stopped struggling. Tommy crept closer to it. But then three huge balls leaped into the air, and Tommy found himself on the ground, startled. The more immense ball of black growled at him; the one of pale vermillion barked at something behind him. Tommy noticed a little horned ball of cotton candy blue by his feet.

Tommy stood up. “What are these things?” he asked.

“Imps,” she said. “And by the looks of it, they’re bullying that little one.”

Tommy growled back at the two imps, and they froze.

“And now, we have the imps on our side!” Melina said. “Go, us!”

Sally's Adventures Ep. 16

2010-10-29T15:11:00.004+08:00

GOD! I am incredibly late. Check out the tombstones in the illustration below. Whose names are on them? Happy Halloween!

Check out Book or Treat!

***

Melina had suggested that they split up and look for anyone else who could help them fend off the impending wave of zombies. There weren’t that many people in town. Sally knew that even the grown-ups were no match for the hybrid zombies.

“I know,” Tommy said. All ears were on him. He smiled smugly; he loved it when everyone listened to him. “Maybe if we can round up some of the magical creatures in town, we could create an army large enough to thwart off the zombies!” Tommy knew it was a long shot, but it was their only hope. It was either that or barricade in the basement.

“No offense, Tommy,” Sally said, “but where are we going to look for magical creatures?” She paused. “No, how are we going to look for magical creatures, when I don’t even have my amulet to track them with?” She pounded her fist on the coffee table. This startled all of them. She turned to Melina. “We don’t have time for this. What we need to do is look for Knox’s daughter!”

Melina grunted. “Sally—!”

“If I may,” Tommy interjected.

She nodded at the seven-year old.

“Simple, Sally,” he said. “Where else do we find creatures of the night?” He smiled at her. She nodded, probably reluctant in agreeing. “Good,” he said. “Now that we’ve got that covered, let us now split into groups.” They were all ears. “As usual, Melina comes with me.” Sally was about to shout at him, when she remembered she didn’t own Mel anymore. “So, that leaves Poly with Sally.”

“Where do we look?” Poly asked. “There aren’t anymore ghosts in the abandoned house since Sally obliterated them, and the haunted mansion is obviously not a good place to look.”

Tommy raised a finger. “The cemetery,” he said matter-of-factly. “We shall look for ghosts there.” He turned to Sally. “Are ghosts any good against zombies?”

She nodded. “They’re mortal enemies, but I’m not sure they’ll be as effective on slime zombies as they are on regular brain-eating zombies.”

“Good enough,” Tommy said. “Now, Poly, you go with Sally to the Brink Woods.”

“What’re we looking for?” Sally asked. “I don’t know. Woodland creatures? Whatever the heck you can find.”

“Well, I for one refuse to go to some crummy old cemetery,” Melina complained. “I think Sally and Poly should go there instead.”

Tommy groaned. “Fine,” he said. “Mel and I will head to the woods, and you two go to the cemetery to look for some ghosts.”

Sally had never been to a cemetery before, but she’d read about them. She thought they were a nice place to meditate and relax. She was wrong. The moment she and Poly had stepped beyond the gargoyle sentry by the gates, she felt cold. It was a different kind of freezing. It pierced through her skin, like a dagger—dug into her and injected cold into her veins.

She shivered. “It’s cold,” she said. “You see any ghosts?”

Poly laughed. “You tell me.”

“I can’t!” she yelled. Her knees quivered. “I don’t have my amulet, remember? It’s what makes me special. It’s what’s been helping me see things others can’t all these years.”

He mused about this. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I still feel something extraordinary about you, Sally.”

“Well, gee, thanks anyway, Poly,” she said.

The fog seemed to only get thicker as they went further, and soon Sally found herself clutching on to Poly’s slippery, slimy texture for support. Poly had no problem hitting rocks and stones, but Sally, on the other hand, had solid legs she could trip on.

Sally groped for a stone she could sit on and she lowered her weary body against the large marmoreal object. “I’m tired!” she said. “Let’s face it, Poly. There aren’t any ghosts here.”

“You’re acting more like Tommy than he is,” he retorted. “At least he’s trying to help out—you’re just whining. Tommy may have the backbone of an invertebrate, but he knows when to grow a spine.”

She buried her face in her hands. “I know,” she said. “But what are we going to do?”

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do!” a jolly voice broke into the silence. “We’re going to turn that frown upside-down and make you smile—whatta ya say?”

Sally felt a shiver ran up her back. “Who’s there?”

“Looks like we found our ghost,” Poly said. “Hey! If you don’t mind, we need a little help. The town is being hit by a huge wave of zombies soon and we were thinking maybe you could help us.”

“Make us,” another said. This one was more stern, angry; grumpy, just like Sally had been.

“Yeah,” yet another one agreed. There were three of them there.

Sally groaned.

“You gotta laugh first before we decide whether or not to help you,” the first one said. “Come on, let’s see those pearly whites!”

“You can’t even see anything in this fog,” she said. “I know ghosts are guardians of the cemetery, but why the special effects?”

“Hey!” the grumpy one shouted. “We like it cold, okay?”

“Yeah,” the last agreed.

“Plus, we wouldn’t want you to see these,” the jolly one said. The fog cleared, and the cold on Sally’s skin left fleetingly. She saw what the ghosts had been hiding and she laughed.

“So, we have a deal?” Poly asked them.

They nodded.

Costume

2010-10-21T11:14:00.001+08:00

The word at OneWord today is "Costume." Here's what I came up with:

A smile is often the best costume. It is. Better than a mask. Better than a pair of glasses. It conceals who I truly am. It hides me from the world. All the scars, all the bruises, all the pain. Yes, a smile is the best costume anyone can wear. A smile.

Sally's Adventures Ep. 15

2010-10-21T10:52:00.002+08:00

Tommy didn’t know how he’d managed to get himself into this mess. He didn’t need the drama. He didn’t need the stress. No seven-year old did! What he did need was to get back to his mom, see if she’d snapped out of it.

And as he paced back and forth the pink carpet of Sally’s house at three in the morning just a day before Halloween, he decided he did despise Sally. Despised the idea of her. Having met her. But she was his friend—he knew that. He couldn’t do anything about it.

He watched her sulk on the coffee table. He acted tough. He didn’t want her to know he cared.

“There, there, Sally…,” Poly cooed. “We’ll get your amulet back.”

“Where do we start?” she asked. “We don’t even know where Knox’s daughter is. Let alone, a single clue where she could be!” She banged her head on the table—thud, thud, thud—until Poly cushioned her cranium with his arm—splat! “Gross, Poly!” She didn’t look happy.

He reeled in his stretched limb. “Sorry…,” he said. “I was merely trying to appease your current melancholy state.”

“Leave me alone!” Sally screamed.

Boy, Tommy thought, she sure sounded more like him than her.

“You got that right,” Poly said aloud. This made Tommy smile.

She raised her head. “Where’s Mel?” she asked.

Come to think of it, Tommy hadn’t seen her, either; neither had Poly. Tommy tried rubbing his glasses. Maybe she would appear. She didn’t. He rubbed harder. There was still no genie.

“Your glasses aren’t dirty,” Sally said.

“I never said they were,” Tommy retorted. “I’m trying to make her come out.”

“Your glasses?” Sally asked.

Tommy nodded. “She’s my genie now,” he said. Poly saw Sally’s eyes grow wide; he knew what she was thinking, too, and it wasn’t nice. “She lives in my glasses now,” Tommy continued, still rubbing.

“No!” Poly shouted.

Sally slammed her hands on the table and tackled Tommy to the floor. He felt his world turn upside down. She punched him. Again. And again. He wanted to fight back. But he couldn’t. She was stronger than him.

“You give her back to me!” she yelled. “Give her back!”

“I wish I could,” Tommy said with a slight smile at the pun, “but I can’t.”

“Oh yes, you can!” She took his hands, pulled them to the crooked pair of glasses on his face. “Rub it! Rub it!” He did. “Now, wish!”

“I wish Sally was off me!”

A warm flash of blue blinded Sally, and she soon found herself stuck on the pink wall, hands bound by an unseen force. Her head had hit the hard concrete, and she knew there’d be a bump there when she checked.

“You two, stop fighting!” Melina shouted at the both of them.

Sally blinked and regained sight. She was that Tommy had been pinned opposite her. She stuck her tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes.

“Very mature!” Tommy barked at her.

“Can it, twerp!” Melina yelled. She turned to Sally. “Sally, I—let me explain…”

“There’s nothing to explain, Mel,” she said. “You broke your promise. And now you have to leave.”

Melina smiled. “That’s not how it works,” she said gently. “I will be here to protect you.”

Sally felt the teardrops fall down her face. They were warm just like Mel. She shook her head. “You have to leave me soon,” she said. “I don’t want you to go.”

Melina transformed back into her tangible form and she wiped her tears with her hands. Sally felt her fingers. They were warm, too.

Mel’s hand found its place on the side of her head. “I will always be here,” she said, pointing at her chest. “I will never leave you.”

“Oh, Mel!” She pushed herself off the wall and fell in her arms. She hugged her. She knew that they would have to go their separate ways soon—that was a fact. She wished they didn’t have to move, wished Melina could come with them, wished she had her amulet back.

“Okay, it’s good and all that you’ve got things sorted out,” Tommy complained, “but can you please get me off this wall!” Melina snapped her fingers. Thud! “Thanks a bunch!”

***

First | Previous | Next | Last

Table

2010-10-20T21:34:00.002+08:00

Yesterday, I was using StumbleUpon. Well, I use it every day, but anyway... I stumbled upon (yes, I know, that's the pun) this wonderful site called OneWord. Each day, there's a new word and it gives you just one minute to write about that one word. There's a timer and you'll only get to see the word once you press 'Go,' so you can't cheat. Although, it does let you finish your last sentence.

Anyway, the word today is "Table." Here's what came out:

I lay my hand on its hard sur face. He looked at me. He put his hand in my hand. I clutched it tight. I kissed him for a long time on the table, and after just a minute, found myself on it; him on top.

This is the first thing that came to mind. I don't know why. To be fair, I had only one minute.

Sally's Adventures Ep. 14

2010-10-19T19:26:00.005+08:00

I am on a roll here! This is my second Sally's Adventures post today. This one has a bit more back story than the rest of the chapters. Plus, there's: mysteries, necromancers, and even more zombies! Well, no. There aren't any zombies in this one, but word on the streets is there's, to quote, "A huge wave of zombies approaching!"

Check out Book or Treat!

First | Previous | Next | Last

***

Melina lit the hallway with her warm blue light, like a tongue of fire floating in a distant pool of black. Tommy and Poly tried desperately to catch up with her. She was too caught up in the moment to even remember there were two others with her who couldn’t fly.

“What are you in such a hurry for?” Tommy asked. “It’s not like we’re being chased or anything.”

“Sally,” she said, still in her hasty flight.

“I think we gotta take a break,” Tommy said, “you know, try to see what we’re up against.” Melina stopped, turned towards him. She knew he was right. He turned to Poly. “What do you have on that guy Knix?”

Poly despised the name. “He’s turned every plasmoid but me into a zombie,” he said. He stomped his feet on the unlit floor. “I should’ve stopped him. Now they’re gone…”

“Not necessarily,” Melina said. “They’re using some sort of amulet like Sally’s. Maybe we can use hers to reverse the effect.”

“Then let’s go find Sally,” Tommy said.

Melina led them towards a turn to the right. “You know what I don’t get?” she said. “What does he need an army of zombies for?”

“Well,” Poly said, “isn’t it obvious that he wants to use our number to take over the world?”

“An army of one thousand zombie slime creatures isn’t enough to take over the world, Poly,” Tommy said. “He’d need, like, a thousand more or something.”

That was true, Melina thought. “Yeah, but the virus is hella infectious,” she said. “The zombies could infect the humans, and then those infected human zombies could infect more humans, and those zombies could infect even more humans—until the whole world is filled with zombies under Knix’s control!”

“That’s precisely it.” They all turned towards where the familiar voice came from. It was Knix himself. He flew down the flight of stairs, trailing his long white cloak. “What brilliant escapees I have, figured out my plan already. Too bad you want be able to stop me!”

“Where’s Sally?” Melina shouted. “Tell us and we’ll go easy on you.”

“Third door to the left,” he said, pointing behind them. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s not like you can do anything to stop my army of undead. And besides, I got what I wanted.” He vanished into thin air before any of them could reply.

Sally woke up to the bang of the door hitting the wall. She knew they’d find her sooner or later. She heard Melina yelling but she couldn’t tune into what she was saying. Her mind was blank.

“...And furthermore—Sally?” Melina asked. “Oh my god. Sally... Is she dead?”

She shook her head. Melina sighed with relief. “Don’t you scare me like that,” she said. “Are you okay? Let’s get you free and we can go home. Whatta ya say?”

“He took my amulet…”

“What?”

“He took my amulet!” Sally yelled. Tommy had never seen her that mad before; neither had Poly and Melina. “The amulet Dad gave me—Knix took it!”

“What does he need it for?” Poly asked. “It just doesn’t add up. Your necklace is charged opposite than his. If he used its power, his zombie army would revert back to plasmoids.”

“Well, duh, he’s going to reverse the polarity so it’ll make him twice as strong,” Tommy said. “And maybe even more.”

“Yeah, well, it might not all work out for him,” Melina said. “Zombies are slow and dumb. People are bound to just run away before they get infected. Right?”

“Halloween,” Sally said. The three turned to her in silence. “He’s doing it on Halloween. Tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Tommy said. “How long have we been in here?”

“Oh, his plan is just brilliant!” Poly said. “With all the kids in costumes, the zombies will blend right in, infiltrate the humans’ homes and suck out their brains! Foolproof.”

“Except for the part where we fight back,” Melina said. “Don’t worry, Sally. We’ll get your amulet back from that asshole.”

Poly stretched out his arms and used his body’s cooling mechanism to short the energy shackles that had Sally stuck on the wall. The slimy metal slid through his gelatinous build and fell to the floor. He grabbed Sally by the waist and lowered her down gently.

She smiled. “Don’t call my uncle that.”

They’re eyes grew wide. “Knix? Your uncle?” Melina asked. “You’ve got to be kidding. Your mom and dad didn’t have any siblings.”

“But it would explain why Knix had an amulet like hers,” Poly said. “The problem is, I can’t read his mind. It’s almost as if he isn’t human...”

Sally nodded. “It’s because he’s not,” she said.

“How do you know?” Tommy asked. “Have you met him before?”

She shook her head. “You see, Dad used to tell me bedtime stories about an evil—what was his word?—I think he said necromancer, or something,” she said. “Anyway, the necromancer’s name was Knix.”

“Aren’t all necromancers technically evil?” Tommy asked. “I mean, not that I believe they exist. At least, not prior to meeting you, of course.”

“Not all necromancers are evil,” she said. “You see, Knix had a brother named Knox. Knox was a good necromancer. No. He was the best! Aside from being able to raise the dead, he could control other kinds of creatures, like werewolves and goblins, and even vampires to some extent.”

Tommy’s shoulders fell. “That’s it,” he said, heading for the door. “I’m getting out of here. Your story’s bogus.”

“And Knox fell in love,” Sally said. He stopped. “Yeah. With an alchemist.”

“An alchemist, huh…,” he said. “Interesting.”

“But one day,” she continued, “Knix had come up with a plan to destroy his brother. He planned to steal the ancient Amulet of the Dead and use it to create an army of undead. More than Knox could handle.

“So Knix sneaked into Knox’s castle one stormy night, but what he didn’t expect was that Knox knew of his plan. And so they fought. Knix, of course, cheated by summoning a skeleton giant; and Knox was seconds away from death. But before he could get his hands on the amulet, Knox’s wife revealed something to the both of them: She was a witch.

“Just as Knix was about to use the amulet to unleash all Hell upon the village, the witch cast a spell on the amulet, breaking it into pieces, scattering across the land. Knix was never going to get his hands on it. But it cost the witch her life.”

“Aw, sad story. Now, let’s go.” Tommy ran for the door, but Melina stopped him.

“But there’s more,” Sally said. “Knox and the witch had a daughter. She was destined to defeat Knix once and for all.”

“Nifty,” Tommy said. “Can we please go now?”

“I think Dad may have had something to do with Knox and the amulet… Maybe the amulet he gave me is actually a piece of the whole thing,” she said. “Maybe if we can find the daughter, we can defeat Knix!”

“That’s great and all, Sally,” Melina said. “But the matter at hand right now is to evacuate the town and save as many people as we can before Knix unleashes his zombies. I promise. We’ll get your amulet back.”

***

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Sally's Adventures Ep. 13

2010-10-19T02:50:00.005+08:00

Zombie factory. Is that epic enough for ya? No? Well, something legendary is on its way. More puns, too.

Also, it's freaking cold here in the Philippines. The cold makes it easier for me to write ... and it makes it even spookier, too.

Check out Book or Treat for more Halloween-themed posts.

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***

Poly sat silent among the other plasmoids. They’d all been immobilized, but he was glad to have found his family. He saw that they were held in a small room, but as their numbers dwindled, he discovered that it wasn’t a room but a funnel he was in. And after numbers 726 and 238, he was next.

Tommy backed away from Melina, whose azure glow was at its peak. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Melina, I don’t like what you’re trying to do!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tommy,” she said, “just trust me. I wouldn’t dare hurt any of Sally’s friends.”

“Okay,” he said. He balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes. “Do it!”

Scourge sat at the far end of the hall, deep in thought as he watched the processor transform the slime creatures into zombies. The Black Petal’s power could only perform an imperfect transmogrification, but it’d have to do the trick. He and Knix were going to take over the world!

He smiled at the thought of humans bowing down to their army of undead. He liked the idea. With their power, they were unstoppable. But his daydreaming had come to an abrupt end at the flash of blue from across his post.

“Who’s there?” he asked. He grabbed his binoculars. The prisoners had escaped! Knix was not going to be happy with him.

Tommy felt his knees wobble, and he found himself on the ground. His whole body was shaking but he didn’t know why. His glasses felt warm. The last thing he remembered before the bright flash of light was Melina tackling him to the wall…

“Who goes there?” he heard Scourge call. He got up fast and ran under the conveyor belt. But it was too late. “I’ve got you now!”

He saw the glowing demon swoop in, try to grab him by the shirt. He was quick on his feet to hide behind a pole. He heard a loud clunk, and fled towards the doorway. His glasses felt heavy, like the pair had him by a rope and pulled him back.

“We are not leaving without Poly!” he heard Melina say.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m in your glasses,” she said. “You’re my new master. Rub it and wish. Quick!”

“Oh—uh—okay,” Tommy said, frantically looking for another place to hide. Scourge was swimming in the air towards him, cackling like the demon he was. A shiver ran up his back.

“Now!”

“I don’t know what to wish for!” he blurted. “Wait. How many wishes do I get?”

Melina groaned. “How many times do I have to say, it doesn’t work that way!”

“I wish you were a comet!”

“What!?”

Melina felt like she’d been catapulted from his glasses. The sound of glass shattering broke into her ears, and she found herself blazing across the room. She had no control over the magical force that coursed through her veins. Soon, she found herself crash through the far side of the wall.

Scourge laughed. “A genie as inept as you are is no match for my superior black magic!” he said. Now, for the boy. Where’d he go to?

Tommy had found the master control. The slime creatures were still pouring out the tube and the mold was transforming them into live corpses. He didn’t know how to operate it. He had to stop it or—

“Tommy…,” Poly called from the conveyor belt. He was the last one. “The red button.”

Tommy searched desperately for the color red amongst the greens and yellows, and a few purples. But before he could even spot it, there the cackling went again.

“Hey there, little boy,” Scourge said.

Tommy froze on his feet. He’d never come that close to death before. “Stay away from me!” he shouted. “Stay away or … or else!”

“Or what?” Scourge beamed.

Tommy rubbed his glass and wished for Melina. A dot of blue came crashing from the other side of the hall, and Scourge found himself paralyzed on the ground. Tommy made a break for the master control and immediately spotted the red button. He hit it and the processor stopped. The Black Petal fell off the mold, and Melina grabbed it as she made her way towards Tommy.

Poly slithered off the rusted belt and fell flop on the floor. Tommy and Melina rushed towards him. He nodded at Melina and rubbed his glasses one more time. Poly shone a bright, light blue and he felt his hind section fizzle and separate. He had feet! He couldn’t believe it.

“Get up, Poly,” Tommy said. “Let’s go find Sally so we can get out of this place.”

***

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Queens and Burritos

2010-10-18T13:04:00.006+08:00

Almost died of an asthma attack today. I'm thankful for being alive, of course. Had to get off the jeepney home and ran to the nearest 7-eleven. Prior to that I'd had a fight with my best friend and partner, so I was all alone. With all this drama, what I need now is a little bit of comedy.

“Seal her up fast!” yelled the King.

“Aye!” his servant replied.

The queen hung her head low. She shouldn’t have had the burritos for lunch.

Visit Stony River for more micro fiction about this here image.

Also, I'd like to apologize to my best friend. I probably should learn when to shut the hell up.

Sally's Adventures Ep. 12

2010-10-17T23:27:00.003+08:00

I'm doing some last minute reading before NaNoWriMo begins. I have Charlie Price's "Dead Connection" and Ian Beck's "Tom Trueheart and the Land of Dark Stories." I know, I know... It's a children's book. Sort of. But I'm studying different styles, and I hope to be able to write for kids, too, soon.

Are you doing some last minute reading, too? What books are you reading?

Oh, and also, finally! We get some Tommy time in this chapter. He seems like the brat at times, doesn't he? I used to be him.

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***

Tommy felt sore. His body was aching, and his arms felt numb and tired. He felt water on his forehead. He had to pee.

He opened his eyes and saw a conveyer belt before him. Thousands and thousands of slime creatures were lined up—Where’s Poly? One of them was bound to be him, he thought. At the middle of the moving belt was a mold that pressed down on the weary creatures. A burst of light. And then, as the steam cleared, a horrifying form: They were turning the slime creatures into zombies!

He struggled to break free, but his hands and feet were shackled onto the wall by some weird energy. It was no use.

His eyes traveled to what looked like a shell of bright vermillion glass, probably a force field, he thought. Melina was inside it, her hair tousled and burnt in some parts.

“Mel,” he whispered. “Mel!” He had to be careful not to attract attention, or Scourge might see. “Mel, wake up!”

The genie barely opened her eyes. She saw nothing but blaring lights like that of the sun, only fierier, hell-like. She swore she could’ve heard Tommy’s voice just then. She returned to sleep.

Tommy groaned. He kicked and kicked at the wall, hoping that the tight energy shackles would break. But they were as tight as chilled polymer on him. And then he remembered something.

He swung towards the wall. He could feel the vial full of slime still in his pocket. He swung again. He heard it clink. He swung harder and he felt the glass crack. One more time and the whole thing was in pieces. He felt the slime ooze into his pants. It was moving, alive.

“Poly?” he asked it.

The chunk of slime peered out his pocket and crawled up the wall. It had no eyes or lips, but it could move. Poly or not, it was better than nothing. It wrapped itself around one energy shackle after another, and cooled each one so Tommy could break free.

Tommy fell on the mildewed floor. He surveyed the area and saw a way out just past the levers and buttons by the belt. He made a move for it. He felt something tugging on his foot. It was the chunk of slime stretched from high on the wall.

“What?” he asked. “Let me go!”

The goop pointed towards Melina.

He groaned. “Fine!”

The chunk of chartreuse expanded into a sheet of slime and wrapped itself around the force field. The shell burst into a puff of smoke, and the goop fell on the floor and shriveled into a single cube of green.

Melina had regained consciousness. She flew down to Tommy. “Thanks,” she said, but he’d already run for the doorway. She swam across the air towards him. “Whoa. Where do you think you’re going?”

Tommy had been startled. “Don’t do that!” he said. He shoved her away. “I’m getting out of here.”

Melina was furious. “Wait a second, mister!” she shouted. “We’ve got friends here that need our help.”

“Poly’s found the scientists. I think he can handle it himself,” he said. “And Sally’s got that weird, voodoo amulet of hers—she doesn’t need you and me.” He tried making a break for the doorway again.

“They do need us.”

Tommy laughed. “Well, what can we do?” he asked. “I’m just a kid and you’re a genie who can’t even grant wishes.” He sure got her good. “We don’t stand a chance against those … whatever they are! You saw what they did to us. They had us unconscious, locked us up. I don’t wanna have anything to do with you.”

Melina slapped Tommy with the tip of her tail. He was surprised that she was tangible. “Look. I know you just met Sally, and she probably doesn’t mean that much to you,” she said. “But she’s important to me, and I can’t do this on my own. So, can you please find it in your cold, little heart to help me?”

Tommy didn’t know what to say.

“Sally likes you, you know,” she said. “You look like you don’t have many friends.” She was right. “Well, Sally sees you as her friend. You’re my friend, too. Poly’s. You don’t have to be alone.”

“Suppose I do help,” Tommy began, “like I said, what can a kid and a genie who can’t grant wishes do?”

Melina smiled. “I have a plan,” she said. “But it’ll cost us Sally and your glasses.”

***

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The Hand

2010-10-17T12:52:00.003+08:00

Photo Credit: Flickr

Like a bell, the gunshots sound,
With the last of whom unfound.
They who fought and they who failed
To thwart bullets; then impaled.

Few’d gone missing, of this kind;
And none which of they could find.
High and low—to seek their heads,
But not soon to find them dead.

These the warriors of our day,
Have done none a wrong to pay!
Be it wrong to raise the land,
From ignorance by The Hand?

Champions, they who fought to hold—
Now lay dead in beds of cold,
As they shout and shout, and fall—
Like the bullets, they must all.

One by one, The Hand, to choose;
Which it does, to fall and lose.
The Hand, They use just like a tool,
On the fools, like fools—the fools!

For it chooses not to see
That, the light, the truth, like we!
Fallen victim to its own,
It crumbles, succumbs—alone.

In our ashes, here we lie,
And yon watch Her fall and die;
That, our Mother, sickly she,
At the wake of us that be.

And like a bell, the ringing
Of silent dawn here bringing:
Yon, where the sun does not rise,
And only sinks to its demise.

The country in Her advent,
We of few, there to lament;
The sun, as it sinks and dies;
Ho, the warriors failed to apprise.

***

I've been mighty progressive with my writing lately and I don't know why. This is good, though. I don't know why. But it is. Sort of. I guess you could say I surprised myself.

I believe in peace, and I believe that war is never the answer. I am against yelling. Shouting. Writing is the only way I can express what I feel about something without having to stand behind a megaphone.

I'm not an activist. Not a warrior. But I am a writer. A champion, although unheard.

Visit OSI for more poems on this week's prompt: "Champion."

Sally's Adventures Ep. 11

2010-10-15T17:41:00.005+08:00

I've got a case of the munchies and it isn't even NaNoWriMo yet. I'm getting a huge supply of chocolates and Power Pops (the stuff is so addictive!) soon. Or I could just as well go trick-or-treating with my boyfriend for kicks. I'm so short I can still pass off as a little goblin. I think I have a picture of myself in a costume somewhere...

Are you going to stock up on sweets for NaNoWriMo? Or are you eating healthy?

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***

Poly felt his body numb, as if the air had dropped to subzero. He fell flop on the grass. He saw Tommy drop beside him; in between them, Melina. He could barely hear anything, but he knew Sally was calling to them.

Tommy had his eyes locked on to Poly’s. He couldn't move a single muscle of his body, and he didn’t know why.

“Poly! Tommy!” Sally screamed. “Melina! What’s happening?” She tried shaking Tommy awake, but there just was no use.

All three rose from the ground. Her amulet was shaking at the ominous presence she felt.

“Scourge!” A firm voice broke out. Sally turned towards the mansion and saw two fiery, red eyes. It was a man with the palest skin she’d ever seen. He had blond hair, and a lab coat. He was the scientist Poly was talking about. “Bring them to the dungeon, and that escapee to the processor!”

What looked like a demon, hazy, afloat had conjured up a force field suspending Sally’s three friends on air.

“Yes, Master Knix,” the demon Scourge said. And he carried them into the stucco mansion, murmuring in his guttural voice as he flew up the few steps up.

“Who are you?” Sally managed to say. “What are you doing with them?”

Knix merely snapped his fingers, and Sally felt the air push her down to her knees. She fell hard, scraped her knee on a rock. She wanted to fight back. But how?

“Pringle,” he said. Sally listened. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “What do you want?” she asked. “What are you doing to my friends? What did you do with Poly?”

“None of your business!” Knix yelled. Sally felt the force push her down as he spoke. “But I do want that amulet of yours.”

“You’ll have to take it from me, you old man!” Sally retorted. She felt the power from the amulet surge through her body. Her feet were free from Knix’s hold, and soon her entire body. She felt the ground leave, and before she knew it, she was floating in the air.

The amulet reacted strongly to Knix. She could feel it, too, the amulet’s rage.

“You sure you wanna do that, little girl?” Knix asked her. He bellowed, reached from inside his cloak, and produced an amulet much similar to hers. His was but a single black petal. But it was far more superior to hers. Sally could feel it.

“Billy,” he said. “Billy, Billy, Billy…”

"What about my dad?"

“This was from him,” he said. “He gave it to me as a gift when I killed him.”

Sally didn’t know how or why, but she’d managed to throw a bolt of lightning from her hands. She knew it came from the amulet, but that was all. Knix evaded it effortlessly. He snapped his fingers again, and Sally felt the air flick her across the sky and—CRASH!—she found herself unconscious, hearing only Knix’s laughter.

“Sleep tight,” he said. “Let Uncle Knix tuck you in tonight, love.”

***

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Book Stacker

2010-10-14T18:59:00.005+08:00

I have tons of books at home. And I don't mean it hyperbolically. I literally have a lot of them, like a whole tiny library full. Well, technically I don't own all of them; most are my grandpa's, but ... yeah, he sorta gave them to me. Anyway, I'm an avid Badger Scout, and yesterday's badge is the You Must Be This Tall Badge (below).

So, anyway, I thought it would be fun if I got all the books I'd never read before and stacked them all up. This is what happened:

Look, Ma, I freakin' reached the ceiling!

I guess now I have to read all those action/thriller books my grandpa gave me, huh? I so hate action. Well, it's not that I hate it; I just find the plots ... well, boring. Clichéd. Anyway, I'll give them a try and see what happens.

Also, I found a Stephen King book that I lost before I even got to finish it.

Can you find what doesn't belong in the picture?

Sally's Adventures Ep. 10

2010-10-14T12:59:00.004+08:00

I drew an awesome fight scene below. Well, I think it looks awesome, at least. Come on! A slime creature that's a bit Blob-esque and a zombie fighting has got to count as awesome to some extent.

We've made it to ten chapters, and I'm only behind schedule by about three. No problem. It's our semester break, and boy, am I glad I passed my Psychology.

What do you think the evil scientists will look like?

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***

It came as instinct to Poly to chase after the zombie. He leaped into the air and squeezed through the bars without leaving a single trace. He swam across the dead soil and seized the limping zombie.

“Poly!” Sally screamed. “No!” She shook the gate with her flimsy arms. She turned to Melina. “I wish the gate were unlocked.”

Melina shook her head. “I told you, it doesn’t work that way,” she said. “You have to have my lamp with you.”

Sally groaned. “Poly, you come back here!” she screamed. “You don’t know what zombies can do!”

Tommy snickered. “Well, what can zombies do besides limp and say—” He put his arms in front of him and walked stiffly about “—‘brains, brains, brains!’” He laughed.

“Tommy, this isn’t a joke,” Sally said. Tommy stopped immediately. He’d never heard her that serious in his life. “Zombies are more dangerous than vampires and werewolves combined.”

“Why?”

The zombie looked awkwardly at Poly. It thought it knew him. It thought he was familiar. But he wasn’t. And Master did say that anything unfamiliar had to be destroyed.

Poly stood up from the ground. “Number 562,” he said to it. “It is I, 341. Can you understand me?”

The zombie just stared.

“But, Sally,” Melina said, “that is no ordinary zombie.”

“I know,” she said. “But I have a good feeling it has the virus in it.”

Tommy shushed the two. “Look,” he said.

The zombie threw its limb at Poly, which he’d barely evaded. He jumped off the ground and landed on the zombie’s head, knocking it off balance. The both of them landed on the decayed grass with a thud.

“Looks like he can handle it himself,” Tommy said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get home and rest.”

Sally grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt before he could take one more step. “You aren’t going anywhere,” she said. She turned back to the slime creature fighting the zombie. “Poly, come back right now!”

Melina sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it,” she said.

“You stay right there!” Poly yelled. He threw a slime ball at her, flinging her back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t need your help anymore. I can take it from here. I appreciate your help, Sally.”

“Poly…,” Sally said.

Melina was seething. “Why, you little—!” She was stuck on the ground. “When I get out of this gunk, I’m gonna—!”

Poly faced the zombie who’d managed to get back on its feet. “562,” he said, “can’t you remember me?”

The zombie groaned. It reached for its eye and hurled it at Poly. He avoided it. The zombie grew quick on its one foot and kicked Poly with its trailing slime. Poly flew back at the gate and his weight sent it crashing down on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Sally asked.

“Go!” he said, before jumping back into the fight.

“You heard the green jell-o monster,” Tommy said. “He wants us to go.”

“Nobody tells me what to do,” Sally said. “Come on, Melina.” She grabbed her off the ground and ran into the yard.

“Might as well…” Tommy followed.

“I said leave!” he yelled. He hurled a ball of slime at the zombie, but it’d just swallowed it whole. “That is disgusting!”

Sally’s necklace shook violently at the zombie’s presence. She felt power coursing through her.

“Don’t!” Poly yelled. Sally felt the amulet’s glow fade. “I don’t want to kill her!”

“That’s a ‘her’?” Tommy retorted. “That’s an ‘it’ and a zombie.”

“It’s a slime creature in the form of a zombie…,” Sally said. “Oh my god. That’s what the scientists have been doing.”

Poly jiggled vertically.

“That’s weird,” Melina said. “I can’t sense anything living in it.”

“What?” Sally asked.

“There isn’t anything living in the zombie,” she repeated. She looked at Poly. “I’m sorry…”

“No!” Poly yelled. “You’re lying!”

“I’m not,” she said.

“You are, you are!”

“Poly…” Sally wanted to comfort him, but his eyes, they turned grim with anger. Red. “Calm down.”

The decayed grass beneath Poly sizzled as his whole body turned acidic. He felt himself lose it. He heard the zombie groan, and his instincts told him to fight. And so he did.

He kicked and he kicked at the zombie, until all its body parts were scattered—half-scorched—in the yard. His eyes gradually went back to normal and his body no longer felt hot, but he knew 562 would never return to him. She was gone. Dead. Or undead.

***

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He Gives Back

2010-10-14T11:05:00.004+08:00

My heart jumped to the start of a new day. I had my eyes closed, but I felt the sun on my skin, like an alarm clock without a snooze button. I opened my eyes—it was the same old sight three weeks ago: the window. I figured this was as close as I was going to get to the outside.

I’d asked Mom to leave my window open. That way, when it rained, I could pretend to dance in it; when it shone, I could pretend to be able to walk in it like I used to.

I punched the pillow. I grabbed it, stuffed it in my face, and then screamed.

I disliked being unable to walk. Sometimes I wish I’d never saved that cat, let it die. But no. That wasn’t me. I didn’t like to see death—even at the cost of my legs. But it wasn’t all bad. At least I’d made it to the Daily Blabber—"Hero Girl Saves Cat." There was never really much going on in town. This was as close to news as they were going to get.

Mew, he went, probably on the window sill like always.

I took the pillow of me. I looked at him. “This is all your fault,” I said. “Look at you. You’re a cat! I don’t suppose you missed your senior prom, too, because your legs were paralyzed…”

He jumped from the window and onto my bed. Mew.

I sat up. “What?” I asked. “I can’t feed you. As you can see, I am paralyzed. You, on the other hand, are not. You should be feeding me!”

Mew. He rubbed his glistening ginger fur against my feet.

I smiled. And then laughed. He was tickling me. Soon, he was licking me.

“Stop it!” I told him. “You have no idea where that’s—stop!” I could barely breathe from all the laughter induced by one cat.

Mew.

I smiled. “Apology accepted.”

And he stayed with me. He didn't have to, but he did. We watched the sky's colors change, and disappear as night fell. He'd brought the outside inside.

Ridiculed

2010-10-13T18:10:00.004+08:00

Photo Credit: Flickr

They hiss and hiss, but

They have nothing to absolve.

I ridicule them.

Sally's Adventures Ep. 9

2010-10-10T01:09:00.007+08:00

Before you even think about not reading this chapter, you should know that there are zombies in it. Okay. So, maybe just one zombie, but that's still awesome, right?

I'm starting to wonder where this'll lead to. To tell you the truth, I hadn't done much plotting. At all. Yep, I've been winging it all this time.

That being said, I kinda like the story, albeit a mixture of more than three genres now. Haha! Okay. Let's enumerate: It's definitely got Adventure in it; the fact that we have an alien from outer space and a seven-year old nerd makes it Science Fiction; having a teenage genie is sort of Fantasy; and haunted houses, ghosts, and zombies make for great YA Horror fiction. It just goes to show that there is scary in everything. (I bet ya I could make nitro-powered ponies scary.)

But, you know, I kinda want to focus on horror. I'll do that. More spooks coming. More zombies, too. I mean, who doesn't like zombies, right? Beats vampires-versus-werewolves stories any day.

And I hate to say it, but I kinda did draw the MILK zombie (below) awesomely. Haha!

Oh, and check out Book or Treat (and then maybe donate)! Also, you can submit your Halloween-themed posts to join the blog party. This is a good way to discover some interesting stuff, too. I should know. That's where I got the idea to include zombies in the plot.

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***

Tommy shuffled on his feet. “So, wait, let me get this straight: Your babysitter is really a teenage genie sent by your father to protect you while he’s gone?” He laughed. “This is madness!”

Melina shook her head. “Sally found my lamp when she was three, when her dad brought home a trove full of gold for an Arabian exhibit,” she said. “Sally is technically my master. But her father made me vow to protect her at all costs.”

“Madness, I tell ‘ya!”

Sally smiled. “But where does this—” She point to her glowing necklace of a single-petal daisy “—all fit in?”

Melina snapped her fingers and teleported onto the bright pink couch. She motioned for them to sit. “Except you,” she said, referring to Poly. “You stay where you are. I don’t want any stains on my carpet!”

Poly nodded.

“And don’t go into my thoughts again.”

He smiled. “I’ll try not to.”

“Now, then,” Melina continued. “You were about seven then—”

“That’s when Dad left for his expedition…”

Melina nodded. “But before he went away, he left me with that necklace. He told me to give it to you—”

“On my tenth birthday,” Sally finished.

She nodded again. The smile on her face faded, as she reached for Sally’s hand. “That necklace was your grandmother’s,” she said. “She was special just like you.”

“Is she still alive?”

She shook her head. “But if she were, she’d be proud of you, I’m sure.”

Sally looked into Melina’s eyes. “What am I?”

“You’re human, just like Tommy,” she said. “Only, you’re special. Extraordinary.”

“I don’t get how…”

Melina squeezed her hand. “You just are,” she said. “Your father said you’d know how to use that.”

She smiled. “So, where is Dad, anyway?” she asked.

“He asked me not to tell you.”

“Mom?”

“Should be back in the morning.”

“Sally,” Tommy interrupted, “I hate to break up this really sappy moment between babysitter and babysittee, but … what is that awful smell?”

Sally took a whiff of it. It smelled like old cheese and decay. And her necklace was reacting to it violently, pulling against her neck with the fragile string of silver it was attached to. It pointed towards the door.

She covered her mouth. “You’re right,” she said. “Poly!”

“It wasn’t me!” he said. “But I can feel it, too.” And the fusty, rotten air felt familiar to his senses. He slithered towards the door. He felt it even stronger. He knew what it was. “Tommy. Sally. It’s them!”

Sally stood. “Oh my gosh! The evil men?”

“I think so,” he said. “Whatever that is, I’m getting some cottage cheese and sour milk. They were in a milk truck then, when they vacuumed up my friends.”

“Then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa…,” Tommy interjected. “We can’t just rush into these things. We need a plan.”

“I say we go now!”

Melina stood. “Nobody’s going anywhere until I know what’s going on!”

“Some scientists kidnapped Poly’s friends, and we’re afraid they’re doing something cruel to them,” Sally explained. “Please let us go. We really wanna help him.”

She sighed. “I guess I have no choice but to let you,” she said. Sally beamed at her. “But, only if I come with you. I gave your father my word that I would protect you.”

Sally nodded. “Let’s go.”

Melina snapped her finger, and her whole body disappeared with a puff of smoke. It took Sally a second before realizing she hadn’t teleported, but had become a wisp of cerulean against the bright walls of pink.

Sally opened the door, and Poly could smell it even stronger. He bounced off the porch and splattered all over the sidewalk. He felt the stench emanate from the right.

“I think it’s coming from this way,” he said, leading them towards it. And as they continued, he found he was right. “The smell’s getting stronger!”

“Don’t remind me,” Tommy said through his nose. “Yuck!”

“Lucky for me, I can’t smell a thing,” Melina said.

“I wish I couldn’t smell … whatever this is,” Sally said.

Melina looked at her. “It doesn’t work that way,” she retorted.

Poly stopped. So had the rest of them.

“Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing right now,” Tommy said. “That isn’t what I think it is. I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

“I can see it, too,” Sally said. A shiver ran up her back. “I think we’d better run.” But her necklace was reacting to it. It was pointing towards its direction, pulling her by the neck. “Or not.”

The four of them could only stare as the grey-skinned creature continued limping along the street. Wherever it was headed, Poly knew that was where the rest of his friends were. He was sure of it.

It was a zombie. Sally knew that. She knew that if she got to close and got bitten, she’d get turned into one. She knew to stay away from it.

The creature was wearing a moldy sack that had the word “MILK” in capital letters on it. It had lost an eye and looked as if it was going to lose the other one soon. It had lost an arm and the flesh on one of its legs, and was dragging a small sac of slime attached to its foot.

“Let’s follow it,” Sally said.

“Okay. Bye. See you guys tomorrow. Tell me if you catch the bad guys,” Tommy said.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she said. “You owe me from the bet.” She smiled.

“Zombies is where I draw the line,” he said. “I don’t wanna get turned into one!”

“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” she teased.

“Fine.”

It took the zombie long enough, but it had managed to lead them to the other abandoned house on Brink Street. It was a mansion of three stories high and at least four houses wide. The gate was locked, and it looked as if the zombie had no way of getting in, but as it reached the rails, it dissolved into slime and slid from under it. It rematerialized into a zombie again a second later.

Poly could not believe his eyes. He knew who the slime creature was.

***

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Sally's Adventures Ep. 8

2010-10-09T00:48:00.004+08:00

I'm still bummed about that whole Tanaga thing. I've realized that it's more frustrating to have a "great" professor who doesn't acknowledge talent than one whom you constantly disagree with but does praise you for your work. Sucks, really. But at least the semester is almost over.

I'm going to try something different this time. I'm going to place the illustration first before the banner in this Sally's Adventures post. I haven't been able to entice that many readers into reading it yet. It's called Blogging Feng Sui. (Did I spell that right?)

***

Tommy’s face lit up with a smile at the sight of his peach-colored house and the flowerbeds by its sides. He ran towards it, leaving Sally and Poly behind, and leaped up the porch towards the door. He pulled the knob. But it wouldn’t budge.

“Go. Away,” his mom shouted.

“Mom, it’s me. I’m home!” he called. “Are you okay?”

She punched the door. Tommy backed away.

“Mom?”

She opened the door and peered passed it, her face red and puffed up. “I said freakin’ go away!” she shouted. A look of fear replaced his smile. And then she slammed the door in his face.

“Mom…” He felt like crying. But he hadn’t the tears to do so.

“Cheer up, Tommy,” Sally said. He felt her hand on his shoulder. He looked up. “You can stay at my place for a while. Just until your mom gets better, okay?”

Tommy couldn’t ignore the fact that it was her fault that his mom was acting all weird-like, but he had nowhere else to stay. It was either her place or the little crack under the porch.

He reluctantly accepted: “Fine.”

Sally squealed, jumping. “Slumber party!” she boomed into the night. “I’ve never been on a slumber party before. Come on!” She pulled Tommy from the porch and into the street. And then she stopped and turned to Poly. “You have to come with us!”

He jiggled horizontally. “Your parents—”

“It’s just my mom,” she said. “But it’s okay with her. She knows ghosts exist, too.”

“Enough with the ghosts already,” Tommy said. “I’ve had enough weird for one day.”

“Then you’re going to love my house, Tommy.” She smiled.

Tommy knew that he wasn’t.

Sally opened the door to their plain-white house, trimmed with splashes of cyan and indigo. It was not locked. Tommy could not believe what he saw: walls and walls of pink, and as well as the carpet. It wasn’t easy on the eyes.

“Why’d you paint it pink?” he asked, half-covering his face.

“I … don’t … know…,” she muttered. She looked around the room. Everything, including the coffee table and the couch, was pink. “Uh-oh.”

“Why? What? What happened?” Tommy asked, tugging at the frills of her dress. “Tell me.”

“Poly, hide!” she shouted. “She’s here.”

“Where?” Poly frantically searched for a nook or cranny he could squeeze into. But there was nowhere to hide. “It’s all pink, I’m getting dizzy!”

A voice Sally knew was not her mother’s resounded through their hushed ruckus: “Sally?”

“Not my mom,” she told the two. She turned to Poly. “Hide. Now!”

He shrugged with his upper section.

She reached for the eyelet spread on the coffee table, and threw it on Poly. Since it was pink, she knew he was almost invisible … until his whole structure began to seep through the holes.

“Delicious,” Poly said. “Tastes like hazelnut with just a dash of cinnamon.”

“Poly!”

“I have an idea,” Tommy said.

“Sally?” The voice grew louder. They heard footsteps approaching, slowly descending down the stairs. “Sally? Whoever you are, if you’re a burglar … I’ll … I’ll… Well, I’ll do something!”

Tommy rolled Poly on his side, and began kneading him.

“What on earth are you doing to me?” he protested. “Let me go, right this instant!”

“Oh, shut up, Poly,” Tommy retorted. He folded him in half twice.

“Hurry!” Sally whispered.

“Sal, did you bring friends over?” Her voice resounded into the room. “Sally?”

“I—uh—yeah, I did,” she replied. “Just a normal human kid I met today. No ghosts or monsters or anything. Nope. Just a kid. Here. With me. He’s staying over, by the way. His mom threw him out.”

Melina stepped out of the narrow hallway that led into the living room. She’d tied her hair back since the last time she and Sally had seen each other, which was two weeks ago, back in Arizona, before they moved. But she was still the same Melina who wore baggy pants and tight tank tops.

“You painted the inside pink!” Sally said.

“Sure did,” she said. “I love pink.”

“You’re wearing a blue top.”

“So?”

“What brings you here?”

“Your mom called. Had to go out. Wanted me to make sure you were safe.”

“Where’d she go?”

“Neat ball,” she said, looking past her. “Huge. Why is it dripping?”

Sally’s head turned towards Tommy. She almost laughed when she saw he’d molded Poly into a ball to hide him.

He didn’t know what to answer. “It’s, uh…”

Melina crossed her arms.

“It’s a new toy,” Sally answered. “At least … it’s going to be. This one’s just a prototype.”

“Oh yeah?”

Tommy nodded.

“Sit on it.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s right,” she said. “I want you to sit on it. Let’s see if it’s durable.”

Poly could read her thoughts well. He knew that she could see right through his disguise. What he hadn’t expected upon entering her mind was that she, like Sally, was not ordinary. Only, she was a different kind of special.

Poly, if you can read my thoughts, wink! he heard Sally shout in her thoughts. He winked. Good. I knew you could read minds! She giggled. Now, tell me: Does she know? Wink. He did.

“Okay,” Tommy said. He held Poly steady. “I’m … going to sit on my ball now.” He tiptoed. “Yep. Getting on my ball. I am getting on my ball.” And then he jumped onto Poly. A look of disgust was apparent on his face as he felt the slime seep through the fabric of his pants. “See? Durable.” He even punched him a few times to make it believable. “Told ‘ya.”

“I guess I had you wrong,” she said. “You can stay as long as you—”

Splash! Poly couldn’t hold the spherical form for long. Gravity had taken its toll, and Tommy had fallen into him.

“Oh, the carpet!” Melina screamed.

“You shouldn’t have punched me so hard!” he complained, jumping back up from the floor into one piece.

“Stop being a baby!”

Sally laughed. She didn’t know why. “Would you look at that!” she said. “We’d better tell the makers their toy doesn’t work.”

“You found another monster,” Melina said. “You found another monster, when I specifically told you to stay clear of them until…!”

“‘Until’ what?” Sally asked.

Melina was frozen. And so were Tommy and Poly. Sally realized they were staring at her necklace. It glowed much the same way it did back at the abandoned house.

“Until that,” Melina finished. She went up to it and held it in her hands. “You’re ready, Sally.”

“What for?”

“Since when has this been like this?” she asked. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?”

She shook her head. “An hour ago at…” She trailed off. “When we found Poly. Some ghosts attacked us. It just… Boom!”

Melina smiled.

Poly’s eyes grew wide. She knew about it as well. But how?

“Sally you’re a special girl,” she said. “Your father left you with that necklace in hopes that he could protect you while he’s gone…”

She looked at her awkwardly. “And you’re my babysitter, remember? You never met my dad.”

She giggled. “And you never once wondered why after eleven years that I remain sixteen.”

“Oh my god, I knew it!” Sally exclaimed.

Melina nodded.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“She’s a genie,” Poly answered. “And you, Sally, you are an extraordinary human being.”

Tommy groaned. “I hate extraordinary!”

***

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What is Poetry?

2010-10-07T14:27:00.003+08:00

Not a rhetorical question. What is it? Really.

My elementary school teacher said that whatever prose is, poetry isn't. Those weren't her exact words, but that's what I got anyway.

Remember the series of poems I posted here (here, here, and here)? Well, my Filipino professor blatantly said it wasn't "right," calling me a purist (which I admit I might be, after reading about it on Wikipedia). He said that I shouldn't use figures of speech (I guess because that's not was he was asking for in the assignment he gave). He said to write tanagas that explain the science of the self -- and I did! I wrote tanagas in Filipino, even if I wasn't comfortable with the language. But I didn't want to do it unless I did it my way.

Poetry without rhythm, rhyme, and meter is still poetry. But poetry without aesthetic ... is that still considered poetry?

Writing is the most sacred thing to me. More than anything in the world. It's the only thing that gets me on my feet every time my alarm rings and I want to hit snooze (aside from Facebook, at least). If I lose it, I have nothing else -- that's what I feel. I'm a purist. Sue me.

He was after the usage of the tanaga form and not some "purist crap" I call poetry, sure, but the question here is: Is poetry still poetry if it isn't aesthetic? Are poetic devices all that matter when you write poetry?

NaNoWri -- huh?

2010-10-06T05:39:00.002+08:00

Tell me if I'm crazy, but I've just thought of the most awesome thing to do this NaNoWriMo... Wait. You do know what NaNoWriMo is, don't you? Well, if you don't, it stands for National Novel Writing Month. You have to write a novel (or two. *wink* *wink*) of at least 50,000 words in one month. And this is my second year!

Last year, I did Fantasy. Well, sort of. Video game, Fantasy. Whatever. It's similar to Conor Kostick's Epic.

Anyway, this year, I'm going to attempt writing two novels. I know, it's crazy. And completely suicidal. But it'll be way fun! Plus, I have a list of pros and cons:

Pros:

No writer's block
I'll reach 50,000 words earlier
I get to work on editing two novels after. Awesome.

Cons:

Confusion
Pressure
SUICIDE!!!

Haha. Whether I succeed again this year or not, I'm sure I'll enjoy NaNoWriMo just as much as I did last year.

Oh, and did I mention I'm doing two of the most unfamiliar genres (well, to me, at least) this year? Chick Lit and Gay. This is going to be interesting.

Sally's Adventures Ep. 7

2010-10-06T05:16:00.003+08:00

Today I've got ICT finals. I haven't slept a blink. My drawing sucks today. Oh, and good morning!

***

The ghosts had surrounded the three of them in a hurricane of blue clouds, like a wall of fog. Tommy had never been so afraid in his life. He was shivering, cowering. He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have. But it was all too late.

Sally held his hand tight. But who was there to hold hers? She was scared, too. This was the first time ghosts had attacked her.

The three ghosts whirred and twirled, wailing as they did. The cold air they generated felt like daggers to the skin, and soon Tommy found that his arm was near-frozen.

“This looks bad!” Sally shouted.

“I knew this was a terrible idea!” Tommy said. “I shouldn’t have come along.”

“But, hey, at least I proved ghosts exist!”

“Getting us all killed in the process!” he added. All he could do was stare, as their deaths came nearer and nearer with each second that passed by. “How is this possible?”

Sally didn’t know, either; she just knew that it was.

Her head turned to Tommy’s side. Poly was frozen solid, his whole gelatinous body as hard as a rock. Tommy tapped it. It was just as cold as the air. But even if he was frozen, he could hear—only, he couldn’t feel.

Poly thought that the ghosts had taken him out first so they could get her next. He could feel it, and they could feel it. Sally made them hostile.

“It’s just air, which means we can walk through it. They're just ghosts. They don't exist!” Tommy said. He shook away from Sally’s hands. “I’m getting out of here.”

“No, wait!”

And just as he took the first step, the fog began to clear. The ghosts had dispersed.

He stopped, watched. “They’re gone,” he said. “Let’s go, before they come back!” He grabbed Sally’s hand, tried to pull her. She wouldn’t budge.

“They’re still here…”

He groaned. “Come on,” he said. He tried to push Poly, chipping off a piece of him as he did. “Help me.”

Sally stared into the night. She knew she was right. They were still there. She could feel it in the fusty air.

“Look. Do you see any ghosts? I don’t.” Tommy said. “They’re gone, I’m telling you. Let’s go! Help me push Poly.” He rolled him to his side and kicked him far across towards the back gate.

“Watch out!” Sally called to him.

The ghost cat appeared just as she’d been expecting. Tommy froze up at the sight of the ferocious spirit. He didn’t know what to do. He thought of running, but his feet couldn’t respond.

The cat wore a sinister smile as it neared him.

“Don’t touch him!” Sally shouted. She’d caught its attention. “What do you want from us?”

The two other ghosts grabbed Tommy by the arm and held him against the fence, as their leader neared Sally.

Tommy tried squirming free, but there was no use trying. “Let me go! Let me go!” he shouted into the streets. “Help! Somebody help me!”

“Shut it!” the rabbit ordered.

He nodded.

“Tell me,” Sally said, backing away from the ghost. “Don’t come any closer!”

“You, my dear, are a very special person.” It flew up to her ear. “Special.”

She jumped away from it. She swore it was the coldest thing she’d felt in her life. “I know…,” she said. “My dad used to tell me that all the time.”

“‘Used to’?”

She nodded. “I haven’t seen him in ages,” she said. “He’s off on an expedition. He’s an archeologist.”

Poly watched from afar. The ghosts knew about Sally. That worried him.

“Will you please let us go,” Sally said.

“If you cooperate,” it said. “I want you to give me your necklace.”

“This?” She held her one-petal daisy necklace. “No. Dad gave this to me. He told me to keep it safe.”

“Well, it isn’t safe when you go looking for phantoms,” it replied. “Now, give it to me!”

“No!”

“I said, give it to me!” The cat flew towards her, ready to pry the necklace from her if it had to.

Sally screamed and put her hands in front of her.

Tommy’s mouth fell agape at the strings of lights that her hands began to emit. Her necklace was pulsating with a bright azure glow. He watched as she sent waves of energy at the ghost.

Sally felt a warm sensation in her hands. And when she opened her eyes to see, she almost pulled them away. She felt electricity surging through her body, radiating from her necklace.

The warmth it had been emitting had thawed Poly out. He stood on his hind section and spat balls of slime at the two ghosts that had Tommy by his arm. The two fell to the ground at the weight of the substance, and Tommy ran towards Poly.

“Now, why didn’t you do that in the first place,” Tommy said.

“Because of that,” he replied, referring to the necklace.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

The ghosts vanished into thin air, and the necklace ceased glowing. The air no longer felt heavy and cold, but Sally’s heart kept pounding madly.

***

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Happy Teachers' Day

2010-10-05T22:46:00.004+08:00

The apostrophe is after the S, because we have more than one teacher to thank for helping us become who we are today. And I want to thank each and every one of them.

Dear teachers, without you, I wouldn't be who I am today, and I thank you for that. I wouldn't be the writer that I am. Most importantly, I wouldn't be the person that I am.

I love my English teachers -- each and every one of them (and this includes the few who were still students themselves, who are now teachers). I have to thank them for teaching me about grammar and literature, and that semicolons can be a writer's best friend. But most importantly, they believed in my writing when no one -- not even my parents! -- believed in me. So, thanks to each one of you.

That being said, and as much as I do love English, my favorite teacher does not teach students about the importance of correct punctuation usage and verbal consistency and organization of thought and poetry and prose (and the list goes on and on...). Nope. He teaches music. But more than that, he taught me a lot about myself. About being a person. About perseverance. About determination. About never giving up. About being happy with who I am and how it makes me great.

And in fact, he's taught me more about being a writer than all of my English teachers combined! It's not enough to be able to write something. You have to believe in what you write. Believe in yourself. I mean, what use is correct punctuation if you don't have an effective statement to back your sentence up, right?

He taught me that being a bass in choir isn't all that bad. And in fact, it's something to be proud of. Sure, the audience can barely hear you sometimes -- but that's not what choir-singing is about. It's about the audience feeling what you sing that matters.

Right now, my writing hasn't gotten me that far yet. And heck, I can barely even get published in the local newspaper! It's depressing sometimes, but then I remember what he said to me: "You don't need to be heard. You just have to be felt." And then I feel all right again, because I have a little more than 60 followers who can feel me and my writing! (I want to thank you guys, too!)

In conclusion, everyone in this world can be (and is) a teacher, but today, we celebrate the few who gave up everything (like being a singer, or a news anchor) to teach students. And sometimes it can be such a hassle, and it gets depressing and lonely, but seeing your students get somewhere, that's the biggest reward.

All my other teachers believed in me.

He believes in me.

Ako'y tinuruan mo,

Kung pa'no -- at kung pa'no --

Nagmamahal ng buo

Ang isang tao: guro.

Until they Hear Me

2010-10-03T22:13:00.006+08:00

Photo Credit: Flickr

Frozen hands here in the shadow.

The words—the fools!—come out my pen;

In these walls do none but wallow.

Yon, the sharks, they call me callow.

The millionth time: looked out my den.

Frozen hands here in the shadow.

See, my words they are not hollow.

But they say so time and again;

In these walls do none but wallow!

But their likes we do not hallow;

But are feared by men and women...

Frozen hands here in the shadow.

See, my words they are not shallow!

Why, oh, why can’t they be heard, then?

In these walls do none but wallow…

One day I’ll run out of ammo…

Until they see beyond their ken.

Frozen hands here in the shadow.

In these walls do none but wallow.

***

Trying to get published is the most depressing thing in the world. Especially when you live in the Philippines and you like to write exactly the kinds of stuff the publishers there don't usually publish. I've even tried starting small, like submitting to poetry anthologies, and I still haven't had any luck!

I know it doesn't help to complain, but, hey, the prompt at OSI this week is Try. So, I'll keep trying. And I swear, someday I'll be [flying so high, defying gravity!] published.

Sally's Adventures Ep. 6

2010-10-02T23:06:00.005+08:00

If you're seeing this in your Blogger feeds, you gotta see this post! I think I may have potential. What do you think? Come on, lurker-McLurker-pants, I need your help improving my craft.

***

Tommy had never been so glad to have stepped outside in his life. He swore that if the trimmed grass were clean he would kiss it. But it wasn’t, so he knew to stop himself.

The backyard was well-kept. He found this awkward.

“The kind neighbor tends the grass,” Poly said, before he could even ask.

Tommy tiptoed to whisper something to Sally: “He can’t read minds, can he?”

Sally smiled. “He has no brain, so he can’t read minds,” she joked. “I thought you’d know that.”

“But he can talk and hear!”

“Miss,” Poly interjected, “I am one big acidic nucleus with multiple bodily systems just like you human beings—that’s how I can communicate. That creatures of my kind have no brains is a common misconception.”

“That you and your kind don’t exist is a common misconception!” Tommy added.

Poly smiled. He led the two of them towards the center of what was a circle of longer grass in the middle of the yard. “The entities should appear here any minute now….”

“The ghosts?” Sally asked.

He nodded.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Tommy insisted. “Can you read minds?”

Poly stared long at Sally. He could. But he didn’t want them to know. Not yet, at least. If he wasn’t careful, Sally would find out. And the more he didn’t want that to happen.

Poly jiggled horizontally.

Liar, liar. Pants on fire…, Sally chanted in her head. She knew he could. She felt it.

He tried to ignore her.

The wind blew strong and swept the dead leaves off the freshly-trimmed grass. Poly knew they were near. He had no nerve receptors to feel the chill, but he saw the two humans’ response to it.

They’re here…, Sally thought. She’d beat him to it.

“They’re here,” Poly said. He clenched his bottom section and used that to stand up, and he formed two arms from his sides. He was amused by how awed Sally and Tommy were.

The wind stirred long in the air before it came to a halt. That was when Tommy’s legs froze and he found he couldn’t move them. No. Not when he couldn’t dare look at the three silhouettes that had materialized in front them.

Sally shook him. “Look!” she said. “Ghosts! Ghosts! I told you they existed. See? Look, Tommy. Come on! They’re so adorable. Quick!”

His eyes shot open. ‘Adorable’? He thought ghosts were gruesome creatures, cold and dark, dim, expressionless—that was how he pictured them—not the cute, floating white sheets he saw in cartoons. But ‘adorable’? That was something entirely different.

He turned his head to look. They were adorable.

“Those are ghosts?” he exclaimed. “They’re … they’re…”

“Cute!” Sally finished.

There were three of them ghosts, but they weren’t what Tommy had been expecting. They were ghosts of animals that he thought had passed away. One of them was a bloated hamster who looked like had had too much to eat (and would forever have); the one beside it was a cat whose ears looked torn and stitched back together; and the last one was a rabbit who’d apparently taken a fancy for Sally’s bonnet.

Tommy felt his right leg twitch. “Well,” he said, taking a long step back towards the house, “yup. Ghosts. Great. They exist. You win. Let’s go—uh—on an adventure.” He faked a laugh and headed towards the house.

Slam! The wind blew the backdoor shut.

The rabbit swam in the air towards Tommy, trailing wisps of pallid blue in the air. “But you haven’t seen our dance yet,” she said. “You just gotta stay!”

The feline followed. “Yesss,” she purred. “Come on and stay.”

“Come on, Tommy,” Sally said. “They’re just ghosts. You shouldn’t be afraid. Plus, they want to dance for us.” She smiled. “Also, I won the bet, so you have to do what I say.”

He hung his head and walked back towards her.

“Are you sure we can pull this off,” the hamster complained. “I can’t move!” How could it, when its belly was twice the size of his head?

“You alwaysss say that,” the cat retorted. “Remember: We end with the jazz squares.”

And so the three ghosts performed their dance, Sally dancing along with them. They twirled and whirred around her, creating a spiral of cold air in the form of icy blue smoke. She loved the feel of it in her hair, in her hands. It felt like snow, only it didn’t melt. It lingered longer.

“They do this every Thursday night,” Poly whispered to Tommy. “If they hadn’t been out here that night, those evil men would’ve caught me…”

Tommy was intrigued. “Did you get a good look at them?” he asked. “The evil men, did you see what they looked like?”

Poly nodded. “There were two of them,” he said. “One of the men—the bigger one—had a bush of facial hair on his chin. The other one … he was the more evil one.”

“Why?”

Poly felt bubbles run up in him at the image of the man with the rubber gauntlets in his mind. “He had the most sinister smile…,” he said. “He had this machine … like a vacuum that sucked my brothers and sisters into this huge canister… He was smiling as he did so.”

Sally stopped in her dance. The ghosts continued without her, floating high up in the air as they did.

“This is where your meteor crashed, isn’t it?” she said, sure of herself. “I can feel it. It’s still warm.” She knelt and patted the grass. “See?”

Tommy sat and felt it, too. She was right.

Poly nodded. “We had to hide it somehow.”

Tommy furrowed his forehead. “I didn’t hear a crash or anything,” he said. “And I always look up in the sky every night; how come I didn’t see any sign of a meteorite?”

Poly smiled. “You weren’t looking hard enough.”

Sally stood up. “Well, if you guys are up for it, I wanna look for the evil, mad scientists that took your friends,” she said. “How about we meet up tomorrow and look for clues? Scientists are sloppy, sloppy people; they’re bound to have left something behind.”

“Do I even have a choice?” Tommy said. He smiled. He’d never felt so excited in his life. He wanted to go on an adventure. He wanted to help Poly. But most of all, he just wanted to get out of the place.

“I guess we’d better head home,” Sally said. And she was halfway towards the back gate, when a cold billow of air pushed her to the ground. “What the—!”

“You can’t leave now!” the cat said, its voice booming across the yard. “Pleassse stay!”

She stood up. “Sorry, but we have a long day ahead of us, so we really have to get going. You have nice moves, though.” She smiled, and motioned at Tommy and Poly. “Come on,” she whispered.

The two of them ran towards Sally, but the two other ghosts whooshed in to stop them.

“Oh no…” Tommy groaned. “This can’t be happening to me!”

“I demand that you let us through this instant!” Poly complained.

“Come on, we don’t have time for your games!” Sally shouted.

“Oh, you three aren’t going anywhere…,” the cat said. “You’re going to stay with us here forever.”

***

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Sally's Adventures Ep. 5

2010-09-30T14:49:00.005+08:00

My schedule hasn't been very cooperative lately. Oh well. Better late than never, I suppose. Plus, you'll want to see where the plot's going.

***

Tommy’s heart was pounding. He felt it with his hand on his chest, as he stopped at the corner into the darkness. He wanted to run further, but his legs were numb.

He surveyed what little he could see in the darkness, but there wasn’t really much but walls and walls of crumbling bricks. The radioactive green glow of the creature was no longer visible, so he knew that he was safe. But he swore he could hear footsteps from the distance. He heard it hitting the slime-surfaced floor, splashing and splashing, hastening.

He gripped the edge of the wall and braced himself for what he believed was another creature after his brains.

“Tommy!” He heard the familiar voice. But he didn’t know whether to be glad or if he thought being eaten by a slime creature was better. “Are you alright?”

He tried to adjust to the darkness to see her face. “Y-yeah,” he tried to say. He was shocked at how much his lips were trembling. He breathed to calm himself. “Th-there—” He pointed back towards the direction from which he’d run “—over there. I-it—there!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…,” Sally cooed. “Calm down. What happened?”

“A th-th-thing!” he shouted. “Th-there!”

Sally’s eyes grew wide with excitement. “A ghost?” she asked him. She knelt and shook him by the shoulders. “You saw a ghost? I won the bet!” She beamed at him. “Told ya they exist.” She stuck her tongue out.

But Tommy shook his head in disagreement. “N-no—ghost, not—it!” He pointed. “Lime—there! Lime!”

“A ‘lime’?” Sally almost choked laughing. “Now, Tommy, why would there be lime in this place? They don’t even have food in the pantry—I checked.”

He shook his head. “NO!” he shouted. “Slime!” It rung in his ears. “A slime monster—there!”

“Oh. You mean that?” Sally pointed behind him.

Tommy felt the hair on his skin stand at the sight of the gruesome creature beside him. He jerked away from it and ran behind Sally.

“That’s it!” he said, pointing. “It’s a monster!”

Sally looked at the glowing chunk of jelly. She liked how it felt warm to her eyes, the hazardous chartreuse it emitted. She noticed it had eyes. She saw how they were filled with sorrow. Grief. Loss.

“Let’s go, Sally!” Tommy shouted. He tugged at her black shirt, tried to pull her with the little strength he had. “Let’s go before he eats me!”

“He’s not going to eat you,” Sally said sure of it.

She knelt down to touch it.

“Are you mad!?”

Sally shushed him.

The creature scooted towards her. It looked into her eyes. It knew she understood it. It knew she was no ordinary human person. There was something special about this girl.

“You…”

“It talks!” Tommy shouted. He pointed. “It talks! Tell me it did not just talk.”

“Tommy!” Sally said. “You’re scaring him.”

“Stop calling it a ‘him’!” he said.

Sally turned to creature. “Hi there. Do you have a name?”

“Y-you…,” it said.

“Me?” Sally pointed to herself.

“You.” It neared her. It felt safe with her. It felt no danger. “You.”

“Yes, we’ve established that ‘you’ is a second person pronoun,” Tommy said. “Now, what are you?”

“Tommy!”

“No,” it said. “It’s okay.”

Sally was glad he’d said something other than “you.” She stepped closer to it. “Do you have a name?” she asked it softly.

She saw it jiggle horizontally.

She stood. “Well, then,” she said with a sigh, “we can’t have that, now, can we? You have to have a name.” She decided: “I’ll call you—”

“Poly,” Tommy said. “Poly. Let’s call it Poly.”

“Him,” Sally corrected him. “Why Poly?”

“Poly from the word polymer,” he said.

It jiggled vertically.

“Now, Poly,” Sally said to it, “what are you? You’re obviously not a ghost.”

“I am what you humans would call a slime creature,” Poly said.

“Cool,” Tommy said. “It’s French!” He was referring to its accent.

“Where’d you come from?” Sally asked.

“My kind hail from a distant planet called Amsalpia far in what you life forms call the Andromeda galaxy,” he said. “We came here because we had no choice. Your planet was the only place with just the right temperature. You see, my home planet was destroyed when a black hole neared our belt. It was a good thing we escaped in time.”

Tommy had fallen blank. It was no ghost in front of them. It was an alien. It had always been his dream to reach the stars, but in this twist of fate it had been the stars to come near him.

“How?”

“We hitched a ride on some meteors,” he said.

“Where are the rest of your kind?” Tommy asked.

Sally swore she saw it wince.

“My kind … they’ve been abducted by evil men,” he said. “I found shelter in this place not too long ago—about a week or two—”

“The milkmen!” Tommy exclaimed. He remembered seeing some shady men in an obviously fake milk truck parked outside the house. “I bet’cha they were scientists who took your friends for testing.”

Sally saw Poly’s eyes widen.

“You know where the evil men are?” Poly asked. He jumped towards Tommy with a splash.

“Sorry,” Tommy said. “If I did, I swear I’d tell you.”

“We’ll help you find your friends!” Sally volunteered.

“Really?” Poly asked. “You’ll really help me?”

“Sure!”

“Hey, hey, hey…,” Tommy protested. “Now, you leave me out of this. Neither of us won the bet—he isn’t a ghost—so I’m not your sidekick.” His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he saw the trail Sally had followed to get there. “I’m going home.”

“What bet?” Poly asked.

“If I prove that ghosts do exist, he’ll be my sidekick,” Sally said glumly. “If I don’t, I have to leave him alone.”

“Well, you’re in luck because the ghosts just happen to be doing a dance routine in the backyard later at midnight.”

Tommy’s shoulders sunk. “Oh, boy.”

***

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On "Function"

2010-09-29T20:45:00.004+08:00

This is where I'm confused.

I'd always believed I served a purpose in life. That each one of us has his own mission to fulfill. A destiny, if you will. But this part of the Science of the Self says that we, as human beings, function only to serve the Lord. Bogus.

I mean, don't get me wrong. Religion is okay, but to dispose yourself -- your whole self -- to prayer (for life) ... I dunno.

I'm gonna stop myself here. I don't want this to be the most controversial thing I've ever posted here.

Photo Credit: We Heart it

Sa dulo ng buhay ko,
Nagtataka kung pa'no,
Kung anong gagawin ko,
Kundi maglingkod Sa'yo.

Translated:

Here, at the end of my life,

I can't help but wonder how,

And what else I would do

Than serve my Lord and my God.

***

Afterthought: Maybe it's a little bit of both: that we have to honor the Creator in everything that we do without living a meaningless life of only prayer.

I dunno. Religion and spirituality have never been the clearest matters in the world.