Out Of My Head, Flowers Bloom

by Lydia Argent

After Sae's story, this is where it begins. An unexpected event pulls on the strings of past and rekindles the fire within the two who should never be. Her first love and his last lover are toys of fate. He falls in love, she wants nothing from it.

OUT OF MY HEAD,
FLOWERS BLOOM

By PekyooleeAR

Prologue

There was a duck in my stomach, it flapped its wings and thwacked against the lining of my stomach. Unable to recall why a duck was there, my thoughts jumbled from one broken pipe to another white string. Suddenly, the duck leapt a quack. Without warning, I realised waste was travelling at high speed to retch itself out of my mouth. Clutching my stomach, I ran a mile in slow motion to the bathroom a few feet away. What started as a one-track run turned into a chaotic uncoordinated course, abundant with carelessly thrown limbs out to grab, push and hit. I managed to somehow sashay across the minefield, aim and shoot the disgusting mix of over-sugared cakes and cheap supermarket liquor like a pro. Shame was (apparently) the first registered feeling I acknowledged today.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, grimacing at the backdrop of pristine tiles and a soiled once-white ceramic bowl. Fierce knocks on the door pulled me away from more self-loathing caused by self-humiliation. Without bothering to move an inch of space, I croaked out an incorrigible groan. I guess, whoever this was, did not understand, the knocking increased. Alongside the bombardment, the room spun. (What I meant to say was) It already started spinning ever since I felt the duck. So, it kept on spinning. Taking no prisoners aside for mercy, the vomit fest heaved for round two.

I couldn't hear the incessant knocks. Out of curious practice, I dragged myself away from the toilet to the door; a half-hearted attempt clicked a lock out of its hold. Something thrashed in. A monkey. It flared its nostrils like a beast possessed and maniacally thumped its chest. Smoke, followed by fire, came out of the monkey's head. Laughter exploded from my mouth, with it, I believe, another repulsive quake of a quack duck.

The events that followed this were that of great absurdity, even I could not explain. It would be better if I just left it alone. However, an ape dragged me by the ear into the bedroom, where three half-assed squatters slept on the floor of my domain. At that moment, I thought they were new additions to furnish my bedroom. Fast forward. Trudging up the steepest hill, (still) a high school girl panting ensued from start to the distant finish line. My mother was the ape and the half-assed squatters were (the closest thing to) friends. Revelations had it made for me: one more whiff of uncommon scents (like the aroma of Monkey Boy's crappy baking skills), I would have to heave in the streets. My image of an innocent high school girl (alongside with other self-images) would be tarnished!

My stomach bending over backwards in the streets or falling into some pervert's arms, was there a choice? Before I could gauge the effects of my body, I threw up at silver car and the place went black.

Today is not my lucky day.