Yes, we go plot centric today and this is a different story. I changed the name of my previous story into something more befitting. This is based on a play that I'm writing. Twitched it a bit to fit zeh Shiznat it. Wallah
"ABSENCE DOES NOT MAKE THE HEART GROW FONDER." Thus the high divorce rates. But I, the classical romanticist, the gay young lover sent from planet Bozania, an old bean in a young goat's body, rise to challenge that acquisition.
HOW SHOULD THIS BE READ? Well, pick any universe except Mai Otome and imagine a middle class Shizuru and Natsuki living in a completely imperfect society just like you and me, adhering to the norms and laws of their nation or society, beat, tired, slowly crumbling into corporate slavery, dreaming and yearning (just like you and me) for/of a new and better life. For when was dreaming ever wrong, dear reader? There is no sin in dreaming.
You'll have to excuse my usual slips and shortcomings. After all I'm not a master grammarian. I'm just a coffee-addict struggling against perpetual boredom, punching clocks in the morning and romancing the moon during the daily death of the sun. Enjoy.
Dedikasyon: For Gail, ever radiant, ever sweet and astounding. I owe you fifty bucks harhar. For Elaine, who keeps slapping me back into reality whenever I dose off from rabid boredom. Fuck you, thanks. For Nanding, who always doused my temper with taro flavored pearl shakes, and to Amanda Carter, who may very well be, the most original and the brightest moralist of this ragged, hedonistic contemporary era. Cheers to you lassies.
WARNINGS: OOC-ness may ensue. I'm not schizoid. Character death (oooh!! Because dying is a part of living. Get fucking over it).
10 MINUTE APOCALYPSE
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Act I: THE BOX OF CURIOUSITIES
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Wednesday, July 15.
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"FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE", was written in blood-red ink all over the small, yellow box in Shizuru's hands. She clasped it tightly as she hummed ballads to quicken the passing of the night. But the clouds would not give way to neither sun nor moonlight, and the fury of the bells from the distant church counted every passing millisecond with a thunderous toll. She had spent the dead hours of her wasted evening checking and rechecking the contents of the curious yellow package.
A most curious package indeed! For there; tucked neatly beneath batik after batik, were the curiosities of all curiosities, each wrapped in thin, ancient, golden silk, and smelling of old spice and wintergreen. For the umpteenth time she tenderly poked the curiosities inside the box and –
"Ah!", she exclaimed as she instinctively drew her bleeding finger away.
Her enthusiasm faded and Shizuru slipped the box in her hand bag.
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"Everything I touch
with tenderness, alas,
pricks like a bramble.", She recited in a hushed voice.
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She peeked at her wristwatch, cursed the time under her breath, and sang, a little sadly, about dead poets and dead stars. She could not remember where she learned that song from and she only memorized a few lines, so she hummed the forgotten lyrics away.
She was silenced by the familiar raging of a familiar engine from the gaping darkness in front of her. Two rectangular lights outdid the dying lampposts with a hiss and before she could even resume her singing, Natsuki was on the other side of the street; gesturing for her to come over.
She complied.
.
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Asked about the inconsistencies and peculiarities that occurred during the course of the day, Natsuki merely shrugged weakly in response and sat on her bike; unmoving, unblinking and almost not breathing despite the chilliness of the evening. The monsoon rain's visit lasted for almost five hours and the school grounds were still wet with the heavens' tears.
Shizuru, in contrast, sank into her pea coat's collar as she shivered and huffed breaths of cold air. A thin layer of fog danced around their feet to the tune of the frogs' croaks and to the fandango of the swaying, swooning leaves. The whole earth was drunk with rainwater and Shizuru was annoyed. Terribly annoyed at how Natsuki was acting. My god, it was as if the woman was drunk herself! Or suffering from a terrible hangover. She had not spoken a word for forty minutes. Was she mad? Did something bad happen? Did someone die? Did she lose something? Break something?
"Or kill someone? Shoot someone? Did you witness a gruesome crime? A rape scene? A murder? A theft?!", Shizuru finally said aloud. But Natsuki, cold as she was, closed her eyes, winced, and shook her head in response.
"NO? Natsuki, how can one syllable hurt your mouth? Just say no, please. Don't nod, don't shake your head, stop shrugging. Say something, for goodness sake!"
"I'm…"
"Yes?"
"Nothing…", and to Shizuru's great disappointment, Natsuki shook her head again.
What was she to do? Kiss her? Embrace her? Make love to her? Sing to her hymns of beauty? Or read poems of love undying and love lost – lost to silence and lost to deaf ears? What was she to do? Weep? Beg? Fall on her knees and plead? Why, what a merciless little wretch! What an ungrateful, insensitive temptation she was!
"Natsuki!", Shizuru almost screamed in exasperation as she grabbed her lover by her leather jacket's collar. "What is it? What's the matter? Why won't you talk to me?"
Natsuki spun around, shrugged her hands off and with a rough voice replied: "You ask too many questions."
Shizuru fell silent.
What a merciless little wench indeed.
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Yet how enchanting, she thought. How inevitably invigorating her presence was! How extraordinary, how curiously fascinating, how devious she was. She seemed to grow more beautiful in her hastiness.
She comforted herself with memories of younger, brighter days; of kissing underneath star strewn heavens, and eating snow cones during summer dates. She remembered every single word of endearment that Natsuki told her. She recalled those dear moments of dire need of a source of strength when everything around her crumbled but oh! Oh no – not Natsuki. She and Natsuki would run towards the ends of the earth, swim through acid oceans that could melt flesh in a heartbeat, waltz through battlefields of clashing cannon ball and musket fire. Oh! How it all ached her and soothed her at the same time.
As they rode home, with neither word nor sun to brighten their paths, Shizuru clung on to Natsuki's back, wondering, wishing that somehow, somehow she would be able to decipher the puzzle in Natsuki's eyes and in Natsuki's silence. She snuggled closer. Natsuki did not move. Why? What made her so distant? So far fetched? Aha! It was time! That cruel, old phantom again! Giver and destroyer of dreams, stealing hearts and lovers.
Aha! It was time again! Cruel time and his wicked, wicked ways. Time and his ways of parting, distancing constellations, souls, universes, heart strings. Something bad happened at work. This, Shizuru knew. But, time. Time, you rascal, you mad, deceitful demon –Time! 'Time, what have you done?', She wondered. What occurred during those long hours of loveless toil, that Natsuki should refrain from speaking to her, that the lover should avoid the muse? Aha! Time, once again, you had filled the quiet heart with anger and sewn shut the lips and barricaded the ears with fury.
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They stopped in the middle of a park where the raindrops reflected the neon lights of the city like a swarm of fireflies. Shizuru, dazed and weary, got off the bike with a timid hop. Natsuki took off her helmet and without getting off of her bike, she turned around to face Shizuru.
"I forgot to bring your helmet. I'm sorry."
"It's alright. It's not like I flew off the bike."
"But you can never be too sure with anything. There's always this chance."
"Shizuru?"
"Yes?"
"I had a rough day. I'm sorry…I just…", Natsuki's face contorted into a miserable frown. Shizuru took her into her arms and reassured her with a kiss and a soft: "I know".
"I'm sorry, love." Natsuki said with an apologetic smile. "Now get on the bike. It's going about to rain again. We better catch up with the wind."
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"I do not know anymore. I am tired of knowing. I am tired. I long for the simplicities that make living a joy: Moonlit nights spent in solitude and quiet red sunrises in Kyoto, or in Kansai, or even just watching the sunset from this apartment's rooftop with Natsuki.
Ah…I suppose I shouldn't worry too much about Natsuki. It is only making matters worse for both of us. To put it more accurately: Our anxieties are driving us both into insanity. The excitement of receiving a note from her is unbearable, and so is the disappointment of facing my empty mail box. I know she feels the same. I regret to say that things have become undeniably difficult for both of us. She is often away and whenever she comes home it is my turn to leave. It's ironic. When we were far from each other, in peril and in draught, we were inseparable. But now that we are together, a gap grew between us. I think our quarreling schedules are to be blamed for this silent chaos. Why silent? Because we have become quite reluctant to speak with one another regarding the personal matters that shroud our personal, separate lives. For one, she does not know that I just lost another promotion job thanks to my reproductive organ.
Silly me…The tea is getting colder with every word that I write. Natsuki is watching television as always. I hope I do not seem cold to you. Please do not misinterpret! I love Natsuki, I truly do! But I've become so used to these daily routines. I'm not living in a mess – Oh no! In fact I live in a most organized fashion – SO ORGANIZED that is has become quite tedious. Everything, save for Natsuki, has become a complete bore. And I intend to save that last remaining lit candle in my life. Oh no! I won't let anyone or anything blow it away. I'm going to make it shine even brighter – just as it was before anarchic winds blew us apart—"
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Shizuru crumpled the letter without hesitation.
It was a night rich in rain and silver sparkle. The room was lit by a singular lamp. Natsuki was watching T.V in the darkness. Shizuru sat quietly at her study table. She pushed her lecture notes aside and reached for her hand bag. She took out the box of curiosities as she placed her journal and her work material inside the cabinet. She then carefully took out the contents and placed them neatly on the wooden table in front of her. She set the empty carton aside and proceeded to unwrap the curiosities. There was an eagle's feather, a bundle of brightly colored but smaller feathers, two bronze amulets, a dream catcher-like necklace, a geometrically designed cloth (It was as big as a handkerchief), a gold-filled crocodile tooth, a bird's preserved beak, a bottle which contained coagulated bits of blood, a pygmy statue, small sticks of spices and incenses, an old book, and an ivory knife. She placed the silk wrappings in the empty yellow carton and examined the contents.
"What are those?", Natsuki asked cheerfully.
Shizuru was a bit surprised. Natsuki picked up the crocodile tooth and scrutinized it with inquisitive eyes.
"I bought them from an antique shop near school. It was a very strange place, Natsuki. You should've seen all the shrunken heads that decorated the shop's interior."
"Shrunken heads? These things amuse you?", Natsuki laughed.
"I am interested in them. They are fragments of different cultures and I love learning about other cultures."
"Stop lecturing me.", Natsuki teased as she kissed Shizuru's cheek.
"I'm not lecturing you," Shizuru replied as she kissed Natsuki back. "I'm just answering your question."
"So you do find some sort of sick amusement from such things?"
"They interest me. To be amused and to be interested are two completely different things."
"This is…", Natsuki said as she inspected the other foreign objects. "Indi-"
"South East Asian."
"Yes, I was about to say that."
"You were going to say 'Indian'."
"Hey, India – South East Asia. It fits, right?"
"You were going to say 'American Indian'.", Shizuru responded as she shook her head.
"Oh for pete's sake! How can you be su-"
"T'nalak.", Shizuru read the small note attached to the colorful piece of cloth. "The embodiment of the dreams of the T'bolis of Cotabato, Philippines."
Natsuki chuckled as she sat on the bed. Shizuru took the small book and followed her lover. Natsuki moved to the left side of the bed; the flows of the white linen followed her as she lied down. Shizuru carefully flipped the tattered, brown pages open. She took in the smell of antiquity with each page. The book also caught Natsuki's interest. She rolled on her side to face Shizuru and cocked her head to look at the book's cover.
The aged pages of the enigmatic material were hard bound in what seemed to be dark-green leather. Most of the letters were faded but Natsuki was able to fill in some of the missing letters (at least she was able to understand the Japanese translations). It read:
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'MU_ _ _ G PAGSIlANG NG YUM_O'
Rebirth _ r o_ t_ e D _ed
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Written by: The daughters of the moon.
Translated, Compiled, and Edited by Emiliana Ka _ p i _ _n.
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Shizuru adjusted in her seat and raised her arms to give way for Natsuki's weary head. Natsuki was delighted, and at once she rested her head on Shizuru's lap.
"It's self published!", Natsuki said in awe. She peeked at the first page, hungry for more details. But there was no publishing house. There was merely a date and a few places that (she supposed) the author might have visited. The first page contained the following information:
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Note: most of the information from pages 56, 78, 99, 101 – 112, 134, and 136 – 142 were taken from the journals of the great adventurer Arcanio Burlanhagi and the ethnographic studies of Drobandante K., who travelled throughout the archipelago to record the ancient practices and rituals of the sages of the old, and who, himself, was a practitioner of the arts of the Katalonans.
Emiliana K. 1877, July.
Madagascar, Siquijor, Hamtik, Maynilad, Sulawesi, South Cotabato, Meghalaya, Karnataka, Limasawa, Phitsanulok, Kanchanaburi, Osaka.
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It was a rare find indeed. A priceless antique! 1877 and still quite well preserved. The few details made her brain itch and the supposedly useful information only led to more confusion. Which was which? Where was where? 'An old, tickling puzzle, you are.', she thought.
"Listen to this," Shizuru began as she wiped the fallen dark locks of hair off of Natsuki's face, "If one seeks a new and better life, then one must go through the first stage of existence. He must lose himself within the forest of fire – the first plane of existence. He must walk naked before the eyes of the creator, through the plains of burning rhinestones where his flesh will be peeled off like fruit's skin. But fret not, for the river of life awaits him, there Pasig, the water serpent, shall embrace and soothe his scorched skin with the coolness of the night."
"A sort of trial by fire?", Natsuki asked nonchalantly.
"Nothing is given for free.", Shizuru continued meekly.
"That's for damn sure."
"Let me finish, Natsuki.", Shizuru replied in a neutral tone. Natsuki stuck her tongue out in mock annoyance and Shizuru pinched her pale cheek in reply.
"Nothing is given for free. If you wish to live anew, then you must give up your present state of existence and return to the state before all states: the state of perfection."
"I'm confused."
"So am I."
"But a new life!", Natsuki exclaimed. The breeze outside penetrated their room by the small slits on the half closed glass window.
"And not just a new life – but the life we want! It sounds promising."
Shizuru looked at Natsuki and laughed. She did not know what provoked such an amiable reply from her stoic partner, but she was glad to hear such a statement from Natsuki.
"But how exactly do you attain this new life?"
"There's this ritual."
"Please continue reading, Shizuru."
"If by any chance, you wish to break away from the monotony of you present life, take the mandaragit's beak, hang it beside your open window pane. This will allow the guardian of the lost to enter your house and watch over your mortal coil as you walk about as a kaluluwa (soul). Burn some of the incenses to alleviate your ginhawa (natural healing force, pertains to both spiritual and physical ability of the body to self heal) so that when you awaken from your sleep, the wounds of the past life will be healed completely."
"Next step. And please stop reading all those footnotes."
Shizuru chuckled and pinched Natsuki's already reddened cheek.
"Take the eagle's feather and place it by your side. If you wish to bring someone along, encircle him with the colored feathers and burn a spice three inches below his feet. This will make the separation of the soul from the body faster. Wipe the pig guts and blood on the bulol (the pygmy statue) to call upon the spirits of life. When all of this is done, take the ivory knife, think of the life that you wish to live, give thanks to the spirits of nature, give thanks to the almighty creator, state the prayer written below the page, and end your (and your partner's) current unwanted state of living."
Shizuru closed the book and placed it on the small table beside their bed.
"One big joke," Natsuki laughed, "One big retarded joke."
"The owner of the shop told me that it actually works."
Natsuki laughed harder.
"A better, happier life."
"Yes."
"In exchange for your old life.", Natsuki said as her laughter slowly died.
"Yes.", Shizuru replied calmly.
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The rain had stopped and the world had fallen into a cutting, eerie silence with the heaviness of the last instruction. They looked at each other – the red at the green, the green at the red, the stars at the moon, the moon at the stars, the rain at the clouds that spewed it ungracefully, the heavy clouds at the puddles of rainfall it disgorged, and in that somber silence there grew a sudden understanding, a compliance.
Wants were revived; old desires were lit anew into a stronger, brighter flare. Outside the trees twinkled with longing for new life and old love! And stars grew dull as the clouds gave way to the rising of the summer crescent. The room became river cool, the night became morning bright, the hyacinths quivered with rain and moonshine, and aloft the wind was whispering ancient psalms from distant, ancient lands whose names were unknown to maps, and it hushed the fog with love poems from the dead.
Natsuki and Shizuru had built between them a conjugal unseen sanctuary, brick by brick, memory by memory of the mind, wondering, pondering on the kisses unshared, the serenades unsung, and what else could've occurred or happened that rainy Monday, or that sunny Tuesday when they weren't home because of the demands of money, because time was too short and work was too much, too many. And they shifted in their beds, lied down with eyes wide open and thought and wished and hoped and dreamed and wanted and lived within their heads.
"But it's a fair deal, right?", Natsuki said at last. Shizuru turned her head and stared at Natsuki, or rather, stared at the question.
"Trade an old life for a better life. Fair trade, if you ask me."
Shizuru looked up at the ceiling and acted as if she could not hear Natsuki.
"What I would give, Shizuru…what I would give to just have…", she stopped and looked at Shizuru whose eyes were ephemeral works of sheer wonder.
She smiled, closed her eyes and continued: "To be free with you. To be free to love you."
Shizuru giggled but refrained from looking at Natsuki. Feeling encouraged by this saccharine gesture, Natsuki went on glumly: "Less work and more time for love, more time for you. So yeah, all things considered, to attain that want I practically have to pattern a new way of life since right now, most of my time is spent earning."
Natsuki exhaled audibly. "I'm not discontented with you, Shizuru. I just want more. Maybe I am. God, I don't really know."
Shizuru laughed wryly at Natsuki's vagueness.
"I'm a slave. A slave to money. A slave to this organized chaos! Wake up at 7 am, go to work, eat. Even the crap that I eat in the cafeteria is limited by some unseen rule book. I can't eat fish every Wednesday even though I crave it. I can't eat ramen at Mcdonalds. I – I can't hug you at the train station because people will find it weird! I can't call you sweetheart at the mall like those horny pimple adorned kids do!"
"How very poetic of you, Natsuki."
"I'm serious! Darling, I'm serious! Everywhere I go, there are things that I have to do and things that I can't do. Everything that I want to do is limited. The stuff that I hate doing lasts longer. God-fucking-damn work. Yes, yes, I guess to lose those chains is to give up this mechanized life. I don't want to be an organic super computer anymore! I want to be happy – I want to spend more time with you. That's all that I want. Is that too much to ask?"
She took Shizuru's left hand and held it tight.
"Is that too much to ask, Shizuru? From God, from this fucked up society?"
Shizuru did not answer her. She sighed and kissed Shizuru's hand.
"A new life. Heh!", she sardonically said as she rolled on her side to face the darkness of the left side of the room.
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"Why were you angry four hours ago?", Shizuru asked.
Natsuki grunted and covered her eyes with her right arm.
"I really don't want to talk about it right now, darling. Things went pretty bad. Someone blew the ledgers and I have to clean up. Please, Shizuru, I'm not really in the mood right now. Like I said three seconds ago: I want a new life. I'd die for a new life with you!"
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Shizuru held her tongue. She was not angry at Natsuki. In truth, she completely understood her lover's dilemma. There were times when talking only made things worse. She thought about Natsuki's question. Was she asking too much? Shizuru did not have an answer to that.
She looked at the open window pane. The clouds seemed to be galleons sailing across dark water. Everything moved in a prescribed slow motion. How many days has she spent balancing other people's checkbooks? How many sleepless nights has she spent finding fluxes in other people's relationships to legalize a divorce, when she could not even marry Natsuki? And she wondered how long she would have to keep doing these time-consuming, mind-consuming, life-consuming tasks. She was beat, my god, she was tired of clock-punching in the morning and dreaming of court battles at night. Yes! Yes, even her dreams of Natsuki had been replaced by dreams about work - about this life. 'This LIFE!', her mind screamed.
"Shizuru?" Natsuki softly called out. Shizuru was shaken out of her thoughts.
"Shizuru, you wouldn't really kill me, would you?"
Shizuru laughed. What a silly, silly question. "Of course not."
Natsuki sighed contentedly.
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What. A. Silly. Silly. Silly. Silly. Question.
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How still the night was! How still the earth was! How unmoved, how mercilessly slow time was! By the by the lights died, the city slept in entombing silence, the trees rested underneath the shade of the moon and the clouds, and everyone returned to their own personal sanctuaries to bask in the solitude of their private rooms and private selves, to love domesticated, to sleep a prescribed sleep (eight hours is healthy and enough to keep you awake at the office) - Unseen, unheard by the world. Stranded, stuck in their personal, self made purgatories to rise to the call of alarm clocks, and engines roaring, and to the scent of the earth burning. Ah! they were all machine parts - nothing more, nothing less. Disposable. Pity much.
And while the earth awaited the coming of a new day, while the world prepared itself to rise to another yesterday, the wind chimes rung against the hawk's beak that hang by a nylon string on the open window pane, the room was bathed with the smell of chamomile and ginger, and Shizuru watched wistfully the shadows of the night that danced on her beloved's virgin snow cheeks and smiled at her dreams of new life and old love. And bending down slowly, she planted a chaste kiss on Natsuki's lips, and lovingly sank the ivory blade into Natsuki's exposed neck. For a moment, Natsuki's eyes fluttered open. Never before had life brimmed withing her eyes in such Viridian splendor. Shizuru saw the shock, the confusion, the dreams fading, the fear – all those emotions ran bewildered, lost within the virgin forests that were Natsuki's eyes. Shizuru dragged the blade sideways across the tender flesh. She heard and felt the breath pouring out along with the blood and the veins. She hushed Natsuki to death with another kiss and watched the flicker of life within her eyes grow stiller and stiller.
Wiping the fallen auburn locks off of her face, she recited the short prayer that the book mentioned (in truth she was quick to memorize the instructions the moment she read the book), closed her eyes and opened her own neck with the ivory knife.
The blood was quicker than time. With one eye closed and the other open, she gazed at the wall clock and mocked time with a gurgled chortle. She heaved heavily and painfully and weakly took hold of Natsuki's pale right hand. The death was coming quickly. She could feel it. Would the life come quickly as well? She hoped so. The old woman at shop told her it would. The –
She coughed out a part of herself. She swallowed the pain for dreams, for love, for new life, for Natsuki! Yes, yes. And that one open eye glimmered in delight. She could see Elysium behind the stars and the moons. She could hear the golden fountains pouring out! But perhaps that was just the sound of their gushing blood – gushing, gushing out of their necks and mouths. She coughed some more. She tried to envision what her new life would be like. She had asked for more time – more time for – Oh! But it was coming – the death! The new life! And she could no longer think nor see, nor breath, nor love and there upon that eye, that eye that forever gazed at 11:50, death and the dreamer had become one.
The city had become a silhouette in the eyes of a watching god. The spices consumed the scent of blood, and the darkness slowly devoured the moon, the clouds, the bed, the life, them – the eye.
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Endnotes:
The Haiku that Shizuru recited in the first part came from Kobayashi Yataro.
Batik are south east Asian patterns.
The ritual is purely fictitious, but the references: such as the eagle and the hawk as guides towards the land of the dead, and that humanity is composed of three identities: the kaluluwa (the soul, which in the final plane of existene will become the anito), the ginhawa (the healing properties of the human body and the human soul), and the katawan, are NOT Fictitious. These are elements of Filipino animism. Although of course, the whole suicide for life ritual is FICTITIOUS. Damn, I AM redundant. XD
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BTW: I am not a review whore, but seriously, drop me a review so that I'll continue this story because by reviewing, you signal for me to continue writing. 0 reviews is automatically equated to 0 readers so, yes. Please review. I'm afraid adding it to your alert list/fav list isn't enough.