Yes, we are actually going to get to know each other properly. 
It’s set for August 15, Friday, after classes. Sir Joey’s reserving a place in school but we might also end up holding it at his house. Yes, his house.
There will be video games (hehe) and other fun stuff, which will remain a secret until Kuya Gero and I have properly planned everything already. Although of course most of you probably know about our plans to have it be.. uh… a costume party. :))
Spread the word!
costume accents?
Since I am director/costume designer for our Ramayana play, well…
This is what I was thinking of for our Ravana. Much thanks to whoever posted this image first! I just found it on Google. XD
I was thinking of putting these things on our characters, either painting them directly onto the skin (since tattoos aren’t allowed at school, and besides, we’d be forcing them to contaminate their blood) or painting them onto the cloth.
The upper left one I was thinking of using for the back of Ravana’s black vest thing. Cool. He said he wanted wings, well that would look rather silly on stage (seriously, if they’re not made properly) and I said no, so as a compromise I looked for wing designs instead. 
Which reminds me of my promise to Hanuman about the girl’s wig. He wants long hair, and I don’t know where to find a decent looking wig that won’t make us look bad onstage. Although he could probably pull it off, he can pull anything off. Lucky guy, I wish I could do that.
Which leads me again to our Lakshmana! I’m putting him in girly colours (purple [yay my favourite] and pink!), because they somehow seem to suit him. Well I mean all colours suit him (once again a lucky guy) but those more so, because his skin is really white with some pink tints in. His costume will probably end up looking like Aladdin from the Disney movie, but I don’t mind- Aladdin looked quite nice, in my opinion.
I was practicing our Surpanakha earlier, teaching her how to seduce Rama. It was strangely fun! Especially since no one was around so I wasn’t conscious about it. Although it was made much easier for me because our other director (who happens to be playing Lakshmana) taught her before, and wow. He’s a natural at choreographing it- I dunno, it looks so pretty and not wooden or shy at all. Although it’s somehow better when he does it himself, since he actually is an amazing actor, and he’s not shy about practicing seduction scenes with guys. 
He does it a lot, for fun. XD It is actually amusing for us all to watch.
Speaking of our other director and his role, my role as Kaikeyi earlier during our practice was…. gah. I don’t know what happened to me but suddenly all my lines got wiped from my memory. I couldn’t remember what they were at all, and I just made things up on the spot. So embarrassing.
This year I am now the vice president of our creative writing club in school. XD
I mean, wow. You know, I’ve always wanted to be a club officer, but… wow. Awesome. That’s all I can say. I mean, I know there are people who deserve it more than I do- after all, I do kind of suck at writing. I don’t seem to be able to perfectly capture the emotions, to really say what I want to say- but hey. I’m my own worst critic, I wouldn’t really know. Maybe some people like what I do.
Anyway I just wanted to say that. Next chapter of Seraphim will be up soon, it’s still in the last stages of editing.
No, I am not discontinuing Seraphim- this is just an interval.
I learned something horrible just now. My friend’s mother was killed, June 11, by gunshots. The employees thought she was the one who fired them, even though she wasn’t, and they killed her.
I don’t know what people think they’re doing, killing people for revenge, or for self-gain, or for anything at all, really. Do they never think that, sure, they were fired and maybe they have kids to support, but other people have lives too? Their victims were living, breathing people- with families and friends and people to miss them if they went away. What’s my friend going to do now? With the worldwide increase in costs, how is his family going to get by?
The killers were selfish, and since I know they themselves must have families to support, I hope they realize what they’ve done. I hope the thought of what they did will haunt them for the rest of their lives.
“-ago, it was believed that races could not interbreed, although through the evolution of genetic makeup, it has been proven that it is, in fact, possible. Mr. Prime is a clear example of that.”
Edward’s ears twitched as he caught the professor mentioning his name, and felt all eyes in the classroom swivel to settle on his face. He blushed furiously, a dark green staining his cheeks. Suddenly acutely aware of the attention fixed on him, he shot a glare at the innocently smiling Professor Camcaro in front.
“His heritage is apparent even as he blushes, see! This definitely proves how the chromosomes in his genes pair up. Of course, his human side is more dominant, but that is to be expected-”
Edward mentally thanked the bellringer as the shrieking red bell announced the end of the class, and he hurried toward the teacher’s table as everyone else filed out of the classroom.
“Professor!” he exclaimed in mock irritation. “Why do you always pick on me?”
Professor Camcaro laughed, his cheeks splitting to let the grin literally reach his ears. “Well, I must say, Mr. Prime, I do like embarrassing you- it puts a little life into the classroom. You’re too quiet, it scares me sometimes. It’s always the quiet ones, you know?”
Edward rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”
“I’ll have you know that though there are several crossbreeds in the school, none of them are as obvious as you are. You make an excellent exhibit.” Professor Camcaro checked his watch. “Don’t you have any more classes?”
“Actually, sir, I don’t. It’s 4:00, all classes are over,” Edward said as he put his books into his bag. “I was wondering if I could ask you a favor…”
“Of course, what is it?”
“I’m meeting someone on Sunday at three. I don’t really know this person well-”
At this the professor turned sharply around to face Edward. “Who is this, why are you meeting them? You do realize it’s dangerous to go around with strangers, don’t you?”
“I don’t know, I just met him on the street last night. He was very civil, but he seemed to freak Riel out. He asked me to meet him.” Edward hung his head. “I know I shouldn’t, really, it’s common sense, but I have this weird sort of feeling, you know? That I should be there. That it’s going to change my life somehow.”
The professor looked him carefully in the eye, then sighed. “What is this man’s name?”
“Gralsk. Cherubim Barachiel Gralsk.”
The glass that the older man was putting away fell from his hands and crashed into the floor, shattering into several colourful pieces. The professor didn’t even bother putting them away as he grabbed Edward’s shoulders. “Cherubim Barachiel?”
“Yes. Do you know him?” Edward asked, more than a little worried by his professor’s reaction, and already reconsidering his decision to meet the man.
“Did he say anything, do anything to you that might indicate why he wanted to meet you?”
“Um…” The blond boy stuttered a bit, unused to this sudden change in his normally gentle professor. “He- He just kept his eyes on me all the time, only once looking at Riel, though it was Riel speaking to him. I met his eyes while we were standing in line to get into the theater, he seemed surprised but he went over to talk to us.”
Seeing Edward squirm pathetically in his grip, Professor Camcaro hastily released him. “I apologize for that. No, I don’t know him, but I realize he’s definitely not someone to be trusted. Cherubim, eh?” Realizing that his student didn’t understand a word he was saying, he explained himself. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you this yet, but since this seems to be a special case, I’ll let you know.”
He led Edward to a chair and asked him to sit down. When the boy complied, albeit reluctantly, Professor Camcaro took the seat in front of him and began to tell his story. “You know about the House, am I correct? The House may seem all-powerful now, but a long time ago, the House was just beginning to emerge. This was around the time when the Great Human War began. As you remember from your history lessons, the humans arrived on this planet looking for a place to stay, since they had apparently destroyed their own. The native Qandrians refused, thinking that the humans would end up destroying their planet too. A war started between the two races, and the superior technology and war tactics of the humans prevailed.”
Edward nodded, wanting to hurry the story along. He had learned all of this in his history lessons, although he had a niggling feeling now that his professor was still hiding something from him.
“The humans started spreading their culture to the Qandrians, and the one aspect that stuck to the Qandrians the most was religion, especially Catholicism. Intrigued, the Qandrians researched more into the history of this religion, and dug up facts that most humans themselves didn’t know.
One of these facts was the hierarchy of the classes of angels. This hierarchy is now what keeps the current House working. Unlike what you would think, it doesn’t take intelligence or money to work in the House. Only special individuals with a certain gift that are allowed to get in. They go through training after they are discovered, and gain a place in the government. Gralsk’s name, Cherubim Barachiel, is most definitely not his real name. I don’t know how their system goes, but I know that Cherubim is a rank in the House, though I am unsure as to how high it actually is.”
“So, you’re saying that Gralsk thinks I could work in the government?”
“In a sense, yes.” Professor Camcaro’s eyes crinkled up in a smile. “Either that or he’s part of an organized crime group specialized in kidnapping unsuspecting little crossbreeds.”
Edward glared at him, but was unable to suppress the smile on his face. “Could you take me to meet him? I need a ride.”
“Of course,” the professor said, sighing heavily. “I can’t very well go against the House.”
~*~
“The humans were the dominant race long ago,” Edward recited blandly as he sank into the leather-covered seats of the hybrid car. “And so most of their culture passed onto the Qandrians. Aspects of their culture included language, the dating system, religion, technology, and clothing.”
“A full twenty points, Mr. Prime. That was excellent.”
“With all due respect, Professor, it’s unfair for me to be given extra credit if I answer an oral quiz on the way to somewhere that no other people in my class will go to.”
Professor Camcaro chuckled. “You should know by now that I was never going to give you extra credit in the first place. I just wanted to make you suffer through extra studying.”
Edward couldn’t help but snort at that.
Number 43, Fargew Street, turned out to be a rather gaudy, tastelessly designed house near the main street. It was orange all over, with a purple roof and scattered purple pillars supporting the ostentatious facade. It was small, but it gave the impression of showing off, almost as if it were trying to outdo its neighbors. And indeed, all the houses on Fargew Street seemed to be similarly designed, if not with even more shocking colours.
Knocking on the fuschia pink door- Edward shuddered involuntarily- they were greeted by none other than Gralsk himself. His shoulders tensed as he noticed Professor Camcaro, but then he relaxed as he turned his eyes to Edward.
“Thank you ever so much for coming to see me, Ed. Do you mind if I call you that?”
“Not at all,” the boy replied, feeling his companion’s guard rise.
“Ed it is, then. So, er…”
“Professor Aldous Camcaro.”
“Pleased to meet you. My name is Cherubim Barachiel Gralsk. Professor, would you mind if you left him here with me? I want to bring him somewhere. It won’t take long, I’ll have him back by five.”
The professor’s brow furrowed in suspicion. “Where are you taking him?”
“The House.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but Edward shook his head silently at him. “I’m sure that Mr. Prime can take care of himself. I’ll pick him up back here at five. You do know what you’re doing, Ed, right?”
“Of course, sir.” Edward gave him a small smile, trying to reassure his professor.
The older man looked at him pityingly, and, rather forcefully leading him by the hand, took him to another room.
“Stay here, Mr. Prime. I would like to discuss some matters with Mr. Gralsk. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take too long.”
As soon as Edward was out of the room, he tried the door- apple green this time- and found it to be locked. Sighing in frustration, he sank to the floor, attempting to listen at the foot of the door. He heard nothing but muffled conversation, none of which he could comprehend.
After what seemed like hours, the door was finally swung open and Edward tumbled out from behind it. Scrambling hurriedly to his feet, he looked up and straight into Gralsk’s eyes.
“Come along now,” he said, hauling the boy up to his feet. “Camcaro’s left, we should go too.”
“Where?” Edward asked dimly as he was brought inside a shiny red car.
“I thought you were listening, boy. I’m taking you to the House.”
My new project- a multi-chaptered, novel length (hopefully) original fiction piece.
Nothing was as it seemed on Qandros. The planet appeared, at first glance, to be full of surprises, with something new at every turn. People from every solar system frequented it, and the Tourism Department was rolling in money. If any of the tourists, however, cared to stay permanently, they would discover, much to their dismay, that there was a method to the madness. The planet was a melting pot of different races- indeed, some having migrated from remote galaxies, the farthest probably having been the humans from the Milky Way or the slime monsters from Andromeda. However, once you looked at them closely enough, you would see the similarities in their actions and speech. It was unnerving, how alike they all were, and how they all seemed slightly fearful of the House, which was what they called their government.
Of course, none of this had any effect on the younger generations. They were as unruly and disobedient as you would expect them to be, and didn’t seem to have any fear at all about the House. Once they graduated from high school, then everything would be explained to them, or so their elementary school teachers had told them. They would learn exactly how the planet, and the House, worked. It would be a wonderful learning experience for all of them.
In one particularly unruly and disobedient class sat a calm, quiet boy of about fourteen years. Edward Prime was one of the many random crossbreeds on the planet, the son of a human and a Martian. He had a rather odd combination of a frail frame, blond hair, large green eyes, fair skin, and long green suckerlike ears sticking from the sides of his head. His hands appeared to be human at first, but on closer inspection had what appeared to be miniature suction cups on the tips of his fingers. At first glance one would be mildly disgusted at Edward’s appearance, but then again, what was attractive in a world of crossbreeds and madness? At least he didn’t look like a slug.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up, grinning, to see his friend, Xariel, smirking down at him. Xariel was the same age, but unlike Edward, he was a pure Caldaran, a relatively new race in Qandros. His skin was a light brown, dusted with freckles, and instead of his hair in a messy mop on his head like the others, he had stripes of crimson fur running from the back of his neck and meeting to form a long, fluffy tail. Sharp claws adorned his twelve long and spindly fingers, and his grin showed off gleaming canines.
“Riel,” Edward said by way of greeting, finding it difficult to pronounce his entire name. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning! The Headmaster called a staff meeting today and we won’t have classes.”
Xariel whooped with joy. “Perfect! I wanted to take you to Central City anyway, I seriously need to show you something! It’s horribly expensive, but it’s so-”
Edward smiled and stood, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Take it easy, Riel. Sure, let’s go to Central City. Have you got tickets for the train?”
The Calderan just grinned at him, slapping down two pink tickets onto the desk. “Of course I do, don’t underestimate me, Ed. Come on, we’ve got a city to mess up.”
~*~
Walking through Central City was like walking through a labyrinth. The streets seemed to run in a chaotic mess of concrete and neon lighting, with the buildings a senseless jumble of skyscrapers and bungalows of all colours and shapes. It was an astonishing sight to see, really, how different the people and places in the city were. To the foreign planet-hopper, it overwhelmed the senses, but as one stayed longer, the sights got a little less interesting. However, there was one place in Central City that would never lose its charm, and that was the Nargulz Theater.
The Nargulz Theater was, by five in the afternoon, filled almost to bursting with waiting viewers and ticket-stealing hopefuls. The building was constructed of ornately carved wood and golden ornaments, gleaming under the light of the setting star, attracting even more people towards it. Underneath its rather ostentatious front, Edward and Xariel stood waiting to get inside.
Edward had a small smile on his face, eagerly drinking in the sights. Not one to talk, he tuned Xariel out as his best friend chattered incessantly away by his side. It wasn’t his first time in Central City, nor would it be his last, but he knew that the changing sights and sounds were something he could always count on. It felt like home, strangely enough, more than the warm and cozy dormitory rooms at school. Central City was his haven.
“Move, Ed,” Xariel complained with a smile, pushing the blond crossbreed forward. “You’re making everyone wait!”
Edward, with a sheepish smile and a light green blush on his cheeks, walked forward, and caught sight of the man standing by the corner of the building. Transfixed, Edward stared.
The man was tall and well-built, with skin that had a silvery tinge to it and piercing red eyes. Curly black hair cascaded around his face, the rest of it pulled back in a high ponytail. His gaze caught Edward’s, and his eyes widened slightly, then he relaxed and inclined his head.
Perplexed, Edward stared up at the man as he walked ever closer to the pair of friends. The man didn’t seem to wish them any harm, but he could not shake off the feeling of foreboding that grew with every step he took.
“Good evening,” the man greeted them in a light baritone, one that Edward could not help but feel drawn to. “My name is Cherubim Barachiel Gralsk. Might I inquire as to why two young boys such as you are going unaccompanied in such a large city?”
Gralsk had addressed both boys, but his eyes were burning into Edward’s. The blond boy could feel Xariel’s suspicion rise beside him, but he spoke anyway, unable to resist the question that such a lovely voice had posed.
“We didn’t have class today, so we decided to go out. It’s no big deal, we’ve done it before. Edward Prime, pleased to meet you. This is my friend, Xariel Oeleptipus.”
Xariel shot him a warning look, then turned back to Gralsk and snarled at him. “Look, we don’t know who the hell you are, so why don’t you stay away from us? And stop looking at Ed like some sort of- of child trafficker!”
Gralsk stared blankly at the Caldaran who had just stepped protectively in front of Edward. His eyes seemed to flare with anger, but then calmed. To their surprise, he threw back his head and laughed. “Such loyalty! I must say, there aren’t many people like you around. Then again, that should be expected of a Caldaran. But Ed,” he said, turning his attention back to the crossbreed. “You simply must come and visit me one time. I’ll be in number 43, Fargew Street, on the eastern side of town. How would you like to come next Tuesday, at three?”
“Classes,” Edward replied automatically, his hand instinctively moving to the ID card he had in his pocket.
“What a shame. Sunday, then, three in the afternoon? Perfect. I’ll be taking my leave now. I hope to see you again, Xariel, Edward.” Gralsk lingered a while on the latter name, then melted away into the crowd.
Xariel let out a sigh. “Creep. He must be some sort of freaky pervert, he kind of scares me.” Nudging Edward along the line, which had by now been considerably held up, he glanced at his friend, noting his pallor and the sweat beading his face. “Hey, you seem rather shaken. Then again, you were practically hit on by an older guy, now that’s not usual, is it?”
The humor was in bad taste, but the sad attempt was lost on Edward, who handed his ticket to the guard on duty as if in a daze.
“Oy, Ed, you aren’t seriously considering going, are you? He could be dangerous!”
Edward ignored him.
As the boys took their seats in the soft, red velvet chairs around the stage, the curtain opened, and the main actor bowed to applause from the audience. Edward only seemed to snap back into reality when the clapping stopped and Xariel grabbed his hand.
“Ed,” he said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t want you near that guy Gralsk ever again. I don’t trust him. But your life is your life, and only you decide if you’re going to him or not, so I’m going to respect that. But hear me out on this- at least take someone with you.”
“I don’t need protection,” Edward shot back, although not really angry with his friend. “I’m not a child!”
“Ed, face it! You didn’t inherit the Martian venom, or super-strength, or anything remotely useful for that matter! Neither are you Caldaran, so you can’t rely on claws and teeth to defend yourself. You’re a mugging waiting to happen, and I’m just worried about you.”
The blond boy sighed again. “Fine, fine. I don’t want you coming with me, though- you’d probably attack the guy on sight.” When Xariel made no move to object, he continued. “I’ll ask Professor Camcaro if he’ll come with me.”
Xariel nodded reluctantly, and settled back into the chair to watch the play.
(-Another one’s arrived. Let’s hope he comes to the Monstery.-)
There was something odd about the sleepy little town of Nachterton. It was a small place, situated in a valley a way off from the much larger Vallenmoor city. At first glance it would seem to be ordinary- it had the usual arrangement of simple shops and square houses. But something lay in that town which just wasn’t quite right.
The baker’s mother, Mrs. Jones, was a very old woman, with long white hair and a kind twinkle in her large blue eyes. She looked up from her knitting as she heard the door creak open. Standing in the doorway was a tall, fair-haired, slender young man who looked to be in his early twenties.
“Good evening Mrs. Jones,” the young journalist greeted her politely. “Is Daniel around?”
“Hello Edward- please have a seat, Daniel will be here in a moment. The poor man’s still in the kitchen, I expect. Perhaps he’ll have a few sugar rolls left over, if you’d like some.”
“Yes I would, thank you. There’s a matter I would like to talk to him about, although if you could be of any help…”
“Of course, of course, dear. Old women know a lot about things that most other people tend to overlook,” she said with a smile. “Go on, what do you need to talk about?”
Edward fidgeted in his seat. “It’s about the Monstery.”
“The Monstery, eh? I would advise you not to go near it. Call it an old wives’ tale, but believe me, I know a lot about that old house.”
“Why is it called that?”
“Tsk, tsk. I would have thought a smart young man like yourself would already have guessed.” The click-clack of the needles stopped momentarily. Mrs. Jones sank down into the soft armchair and gazed at him in slight curiosity, as if wondering why he would ask such a question.
“ It was considered a mansion back when it was properly lived in, and it belonged to a rich family. The daughter was brought up well, a right young lady if you ask me. But her twin brother was mad, or so I heard. He wasted the family fortune on frivolous matters, he took to gambling and drinking, the usual thing. But rumor had it that he was a witch. Not a wizard,” she told him just as he had opened his mouth to speak. “He was a witch. There’s a terribly large difference between a wizard and a witch.”
(-He’ll love it here, I just know it.-)
“I know,” Edward said impatiently- a lie, as he still could not completely understand the concept of witchcraft and magic. “So why is it a Monstery?”
“You will find out soon enough. Anyway, the brother had gambled away their entire fortune, and the father decided to move the family to the city of Vallenmoor. The daughter protested against this, and so did her brother. In the end, the rest of the family moved, leaving the siblings behind.”
Edward scoffed. “That’s all? And let me guess, they died and are haunting the house now?”
“Hush! You mustn’t speak that way of the Monstery! It’s more than the place where the siblings died- it’s where they lived. They lived mysteriously, according to legend. No one really knew quite what they did. But sometimes the townsfolk would be able to see three pale faces in the right most window of the second floor. It is said that the third face was the face of the Doll.”
“The Doll?” The young man asked, his brow furrowed.
“It’s said to be a formless and featureless magical item, and it transcends all supernatural knowledge. With the Doll, it is possible to create un-life, that is to say, monsters.”
“Impossible,” he replied automatically. “That would defy all the laws and principles of scien-”
“Edward,” Mrs. Jones said gently. “You are young yet, fresh from the university and starting to travel the world. You may not understand now, as you are just a visitor here, but I beg of you, do not speak ill of the Monstery.”
He fell silent, not wanting to agitate the old woman even more. Logical her tales or not, she had been very kind to him during his stay in Nachterton. Eventually, though, he spoke up.
“Thank you for your time,” he said to Mrs. Jones as he rose from his seat. “It’s very dark outside, I feel I must get back to the lodging house.”
The old woman gazed at him worriedly. “Don’t do anything rash,” she cautioned him.
He simply smiled at her and left, planning to do exactly what she had warned him against doing. After all, stories didn’t come dropping from the sky- here was a chance to do something exciting.
(-Here he comes!-)
As the young man made his way up the winding path that led to the old house, he had misgivings about his intentions. He tried to push them away with comforting, familiar thoughts of logic and science, but the doubts still lingered in the back of his mind.
He shivered and drew his jacket closer around his body in an attempt to ward off the chill that had inexplicably fallen on the land. The Monstery- the house, he reminded himself firmly, because there are no such things as monsters, surely- lay only a few meters ahead. The first tendrils of fear began to curl around his stomach. To his mind’s eye, it looked as though the house was bathed- no, thriving in the almost pitch-black darkness of the night.
The stone steps leading up to the door were cracked and uneven, worn smooth with hundreds of feet shuffling across them back when the house was still alive with laughter and light. As he stood on them, arm raised, poised to knock on the ornatley carved wooden door, it suddenly struck him how odd it was for him to be so unreasonably frightened.
The door opened, strangely without a sound. A long, despairing creak would fit the situation, he thought wryly to himself. He stepped into the house, wrinkling his nose at the layers of dust that had accumulated over the years. There was a certain smell pervading the air, the sickly sweet scent peculiar to old wooden houses. The floorboards groaned under his weight, and he heard the little scuttling sounds of panicked creatures who had never been disturbed from their restful existence in several generations. He moved further forward, noticing that he had stepped into what appeared to be a large living room. On the left was a long corridor with one door at the end, and on the right was a large window, once fine silk curtains rotting with age. He made for the corridor, not once glancing through the window. He was not afraid, no, he was being cautious, he told himself. Still, he kept his eyes firmly in front of him.
(-Coming closer and closer, isn’t he? We’ll have a lovely surprise for him then.-)
The old doorknob was rough and rusted beneath his hand. It took several heart-stopping minutes for him to turn it, minutes spent watching and waiting for something to stop him, to grab his shoulder, to breathe down his neck. Nothing. Of course it was nothing, he scolded himself. There isn’t supposed to be anything.
The door opened into a small room. It held, on one side, the entrance to what appeared to be a library, filled with yellowed pages and dirty bindings. On the other side, it was the entrance to another room, with towering statues with peaceful, yet almost menacing, expressions. There was a Saint Joseph, unmistakeable even with the fingers broken off, face littered with holes from hungry termites. There was Mary, her gentle face seemingly the only reassuring light in the darkness of the Monstery. Strangely, though, neither room seemed as threatening as the single, small spiral staircase in the middle of the smaller central room.
Ignoring the tiny, niggling doubt in his mind that maybe this wasn’t the best course of action to take, he climbed slowly up the spiral staircase. He tested each step carefully before placing his weight on it, cautious of rotting wood. As he reached the top of the staircase, he found himself on a raised platform overlooking another, larger living room. This was more ominous-looking: there were pieces of old chairs littering the floor, slivers of wood scattered everywhere. He shuddered.
Moving forward, he looked into one of the doors beside the raised platform. It was a bedroom with a balcony, moonlight streaming into it, casting an otherworldly blue glow on the ripped mattress. He shut the door quietly, and stepped down from the platform. He was worried now- to get to the other side he would have to cross the living room. He had no idea why, but he was uncomfortable with the thought of him going across that open, unprotected space. He decided to move along the length of it, keeping near the wall. He headed towards the large mahogany table in the middle of the dining room. He counted the number of chairs around it: thirteen. Feeling even more uncomfortable, he moved away. He did not dare to look into the kitchen, fearing more than knives awaiting him there.
Beside the dining room was another bedroom, appearing to be the master’s bedroom. It was large, with a bay window looking out into a garden, the queen-sized bed in the center taking most of the space. What unsettled him were the two tiny pinpricks of light peeking out from the darkness. Were they stars? Or something more sinister? Edward now did not know what to believe.
He swallowed his fear and headed towards the last room.
(-He’s here! He’s here!-)
It was a nursery, with pink walls and a blue, frilly lampshade lying broken in one corner. A double bed was positioned against a wall; light streamed in from two large windows. Wide double-doors led back into the living room. Near one of the windows, there was a wrought-iron dresser, gold paint peeling off and lying in small piles on the floor. There was a mirrror, blackened with age, perched on it, margins decorated with ornate carvings. A single chair sat in front of it.
And on that chair, gazing at him in absolute glee, sat the Doll.
It was not shapeless, nor was it formless. It was human in shape, long and thin, with spindly, weak-looking arms and legs. Its face was masklike, with a single break running from its right eye down to its chin. Its eyes were wide and alert, glowing brightly; its fractured smile sent shivers down his spine as he gazed into the black depths of the mouth.
“Hello,” it said to him, the smile never once breaking. “I know you- you’re the boy who went to Mrs. Jones.”
He was struck speechless with fear, his body frozen even as his mind screamed at him to get away, to run, to be as far as possible from this abomination.
“I know a lot about this town,” it said, giggling in glee. “People don’t know, but I watch them, all the time. Do you know who is the boy pining after the town beauty? Do you know what the crooked old man down the street from the bakeshop does when his arthritis isn’t too bad? No? Pity, pity.”
He couldn’t respond.
“Dear me, you must keep me company. It’s so boring with only the monsters to talk to, and they don’t look like much when they’re undead.”
Edward whirled around suddenly to find the pinpricks of light that he had seen earlier morph into twin monstrosities, scales and fur randomly erupting across greyed skin drawn tight over warped and twisted bones. He screamed out in fear and horror, screamed until the blackness engulfed him and he saw no more.
(-Got you.-)
Mrs. Jones sat down in her soft, plush chair, knitting forgotten for the moment, a warm cup of tea in her hands. Across her sat Daniel, the old baker from the next street. He was gazing intently at the mug of coffee sitting on the table, fingers twisting as if kneading imaginary dough.
“He never came back,” he said, breaking the silence.
“No, he never did,” Mrs. Jones confirmed.
“So the Doll is satisfied for now?”
“It appears to be so.” She leaned back in her chair and smiled at him. “Now we wait.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the wildness returning to him as effortlessly as it did all those years ago. “We wait for some other fool to come and challenge the Monstery.”
“Dear brother,” she said lovingly. “What a very pleasant game you thought of. No, you were not really mad at all, were you?”
“And you aren’t such a right proper young lady anymore, eh?” he laughed raucously. “I tell you, one day, we can go back home and hold a grand ball, and it’ll be great, I tell you, great!”
“Now, now, dear, let us not get too carried away.”
(-Someone’s coming. I can tell. Come in, come in to the Monstery.-)
I’m in a new section this year, Beryllium. So far I like my new classmates.
We’ve got new, hard subjects- Science and Technology Research, and in my case, the elective Laboratory Techniques in Biological Sciences. Whew, that was long.
Anyway, I only really want to say two things. A) I’m the director for Beryllium’s Ramayana play this year (well, one of the directors) and B) I LOVE THE MANGA “LOVE IS IN THE BAG”!!!! <3 *heart heart love love squee*
Anyway, about A. I’m quite worried that we won’t be able to pull it off, since the play’s in August already and we don’t even have a script. No one else seems to be particularly worried about this, so this makes me even more agitated. I was thinking and thinking about costumes, actors, what the stage should look like, what the atmosphere of the whole play should be like… It’s a bit stressful, and I’m sure it’ll be worse later on. But I’m happy- I’ve wanted to be a director of Ramayana since I was in first year high school.
Ramayana’s really such a lovely epic. It’s so interesting and it really shows the culture in India back then. It’s beautifully written and it’s so… I don’t know. I love the story between Rama and Sita- they really did love each other, and it was so nice to read about love like that.
Speaking of love…. EEEH. I am a huge, huge fan of Ace Vitangcol now. He wrote Red Boots and now he came up with this beautiful, beautiful manga, Love is in the Bag. It’s so cute! I bought it at first for my teacher, who happens to be a friend of Ace Vitangcol (and the other people who did the manga). But I ended up reading it first, and now I’m addicted! I can’t wait to find Volume 2.
Quoted from the back of Volume 1:
A wacky comedy about a romance that never quite goes as planned.
Timid, 16-year old Kate Mennella is just like any average high school girl from Saint Xander International High; she studies hard and has a crush on their basketball star Calvin Jacobs.
Except she has a distinct disadvantage compared to the other girls: Whenever Kate gets excited…something happens to her.
To make matters worse, Calvin Jacobs is unbelievably dense, and our poor heroine is completely invisible to him. Unable to do anything but literally stay silent whenever he’s around, it’s up to Kate’s more agressive best friend, Kara Francesco, to step in and get these two lovebirds together–by any means necessary.
Chock-full of silly gags, awkward situations, and tingly romance, Love is in the Bag is an atypical love comedy that’s sure to brighten your day…and prove that in love, with the right set of friends, it’s all in the bag.
I really love how it’s a Filipino who made it. Seriously, we need more creativity around. Maybe we can move on to Filipino anime instead of always telenovelas!
Fanfic for the Dramione Drabble Easter 2008 challenge. Prompt: Envy.
There was something decidedly Slytherin-ish about Hermione that afternoon. She was green.
It all started in the morning, during a particularly grueling Potions class. They were brewing something with quite a strange shade of green (something like a cross between mint and lime) and a very, very disconcerting smell of pineapple. The smoke that wafted up to the ceiling had a slight tinge of purple to it, and was making rather interesting shapes that Parvati had insisted held a very bad omen for a certain Harry Potter. All in all, it wasn’t a day that anyone expected would be filled with screams, sobs, and a life that would be changed dramatically.
“Longbottom,” Snape breathed down the back of the poor boy’s neck, nearly frightening him out of his seat. “Thicker. Five points from Gryffindor for being an incompetent fool.”
Hermione, who had chosen to be Neville’s partner this time, whispered to him urgently. “Quickly, you have to get these porcupine quills in, before the potion boils over.”
In his haste to get the right ingredient, he instead knocked over a bottle of squid ink into the potion, causing the liquid to burst right in Hermione’s face.
“Fifty points from Gryffindor, Longbottom, and clean up that disgusting mess you made.”
Needless to say it hadn’t been a very pleasant morning, and the effect of the potion on Hermione had still never been found out. Until, of course, that afternoon.
“Hermione,” Draco said with a smirk. “You turned… green, just now.”
“Yes, I do that sometimes,” she snapped back, glancing at the small package that had landed in Draco’s lap. “More sweets from your parents?”
He opened it slightly, peered inside, and turned back to her with a grin. “Nice, pleasantly warm apple pie, to be precise.”
If possible, she turned even greener.
“Oh, I get it,” he said, chuckling. “You want this! You’re green with envy.”
“Oh, shut up, Draco.”
“Hermione’s envious! She wants my apple pie! She-”
He was silenced, suddenly, by bushy hair in his face and warm lips on his own.
When she pulled away, he sat there for a moment in shock, because they had agreed to keep this a secret, and what was she doing kissing him in public, but he had liked it, and….
Where was his pie?
Yes, there was something decidedly Slytherin-ish about Hermione that afternoon.
I haven’t updated in… well, it feels like forever.
*pokes at post title* Wah. I think I’m in love- with a new book. The Kite Runner. Forgot the author, but it’s extremely good. I’ve only read the first few pages, but I’m already addicted to it. The writing style is so amazingly great that I can’t help but want more. I know I’ll have to wait until after the exams to read it, but hey. I’m absolutely bursting with anticipation! XD
That’s all for now. How pathetic. I’m just too busy! Gah.
