The Zug Zwang..

ZUG ZWANG is a term used in a chess game where in one of the players realizes that he will be inevitably be check mated by his opponent and he will be given the choice to just give up or play it till the bitter end..

Right at this moment is my zug zwang.. A pitch fork in my road..

Am I already defeated or will the wheels turn eventually?

I guess I will never know..

ZUG ZWANG..

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Voids…

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I know they’ll find this. They always do. Even here, knowing and loving your
neighbor is a thing only I remember. The police won’t come until the ‘person next
door’ complains about the stench. Then they’ll come to the pretty house. Across
the pretty lawn. Through the pretty white privacy fence.

The moon is bright. The grass is smooth, cool underfoot. I need this family. I need
them to open their eyes. See how they’ve been trapped. I am the messenger, a
force created by their cocoon. I will be their re-birth. Their light of knowledge in this
society of darkness and loneliness. Of hate. I’ll cure them of their hate.

I will help them. Others will hear.. what I did for their sake.

The door is locked. It is things like this that draw me. Door should be open,without fear. Without hate of the world outside their silken prisons. The locks turnfor me. They acknowledge the message. They know what needs to be done. For the good.For the people. Those poor people inside.

There are no pets. No scent of canine, no moonlit eyes of bast. The interior of the
house is sterile and white. The moon reflects off polished chrome and mirrors.Gleaming marble counter tops and smooth tile. My hand touches the cold
surface. The chill is my own. The lack of the human touch. The emptiness of the window. I will fill it. Fill their lives. Give it warmth. I pass. The room is emptied of even it’s chill sterile light. It has no place in my presence. It cannot exist where I tread.

These people are empty.

I step in their living room. The carpet is short, course under my feet. It fits into their lives like
the end table, and the CD case, housing a ‘tasteful selection of cultural music’.
These words are echoes of their voids. The dust on the glass case a reflection of their
place in this life I must change. They fill themselves not with feelings, but with
things. They are consumers of the void.

I feel pity. I must help. I must do something

I come to the stairs. Into the second floor. To the sleeping areas. The halls are
adorned with trinkets. Classical and Modern art. But this is wrong. They are
here to be noticed, not because they are wanted. More pieces into their puzzle. More of
the void where there should be life. There are two empty bedrooms. I know this because

I hear no hearts.

I hear no breathing.

Empty rooms.

Empty lives.

The female of this house had her ‘tubes tied’. I pick this from her thoughts as I approach their room.These rooms will never be filled with life.A show of status.A void within the void.

Her life should never be tainted by ‘complications’ children would bring.These losses are why these cities are dying. Why the world is so cold.

Blood is running down my cheeks. Staining my collar.

The door slides inward. There is no whisper of wind. There is no creak of life
to it. Perfectly oiled. Perfectly made for this perfect, empty house.

I hear their hearts. One has a murmur. The male. The slosh of blood through the

faulty organ is almost deafening. How one so obsessed with perfection and sterility
can be cursed with such an imperfection dries my tears. There is humor, even in
the death of the world. To their bed I walk. Whisper soft across the piled carpet. The
echoes of the life, the life that should be in this room. I hear nothing. This is
merely a room they rest in. Sleep in. They married for. For. The woman’s wedding
band is on her right hand. I brush my finger over the cool gold. For tax reasons.

They need me.

They will not be empty.

I will give them life.

I will give them the peak of their existence.

Something to fill that void, for I am the harbinger, the messenger. I will bring them reality.Fear, terror. Helplessness. I will break their illusion of control. I will give them reality. They will witness what is outside their cocoon. They will know what the world is. Why they cannot hide, and why there is no escaping.

I am the messenger.

Both of them writhe under the pillows. The woman’s fingers claw at the fabric, at
the flesh of my skin. She hasn’t the strength to tear my marble flesh.

I feel their horror.

Their shock.

Their reality is mine. Mine is theirs.

I feel happy for them.

My tears are now smiles. I am glad. They will taste reality. They will face it now,with my help.

With the last beating of their hearts, as they catch their final breathe..

 

They will be free..

 

Free from the void created by humanity.

Rhythm of the Rain…

Rhythm of the rain

The chilling wind now whistling a different hymn..

Loud thunder rumbling around every crevices of the earth..

The crackling lightning casts a few seconds of glow in cloudy sky..

Then those little sounds pouring on the roof top slowly starts a tinkling melody..

Moments later,a sudden coldness touches my parched body..

A quick glance outside offers me the view of the horizon getting ready for the dawn of a new season..

With a little smile playing on my lips. I inhaled the sweet scent of the world around me..

Rainy days… is finally here..

Here to wash away the blisters left by the scorching heat of the previous summer..

So let’s dance under the rain.. And feel the rhythm of the new beginning.. 🙂

COALS

I have been deemed as a sinner most of
the time..
They often say no angels will appear in a
costume as sleek as mine…
They’re all known for judging by what
their eyes see
And not for what is really worthy of thee..

I have long abandoned the attempts to
justify my personality
For all efforts will be futile in the midst of
their scrutiny..
They all think they know my story by heart
But try to ask them to narrate and they won’t even know where to start

I once offered them to walk in my shoes
Not even one of them accepted the truce
In that instance I caught a glimpse of their soul
Those fools hiding behind gold when
they’re one of the blackest coal

Just one message to all of you dearie
Never tell the world your assumption of who I am supposed to be
‘Cause those insults that you’re hurling endlessly..
Defines you.. Not me…

 Picture 376_phixr

MISINTERPRETATION

Girl  please don’t flatter yourself..

Maybe I was just..

A little curious..

A little intrigued..

A little puzzled..

A little confused..

A little sympathetic..

By how much you gave to him..

By how much you loved him..

By how much you let him invade your world..

By how much you ache.. (so you say)

By how you much you tried to move on..

And failed to do so for a long time..

Don’t get me wrong, I am genuinely happy that you are finally seeing the new dawn in your horizon..

But please know that the sun does not rise and set only for you..

Keep in mind that even if the only tool you have is a hammer.. Never go and treat as if everything around you is a nail..

And I am also  sorry to disappoint you, but you are not my favorite person..

Though, excuse me for being blunt, you are the perfect example of who I shouldn’t become..

And yes I can assure you, my intention is pure and good..

I happen to think that you’re a great writer..

That’s all there is..

I really hope that one day you will see things the way they really were and not the way you think or want them to be..

I also don’t think ‘following around‘ is the appropriate term..

If  you happen to find someone at every corner of where you are going, that is not following around my dear.. Let’s just say I happen to stumble upon you, like, everywhere…

Weird and unreal as it may sound but I pray that the happiness you deserve eventually finds you..

God Speed Miss..

La Ultionem Petere

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She shut off the car but left it in gear, letting it coast with it’s lights off. She
checked the slip of paper with the address, looking around at the street signs and
house numbers as the car slowed to a standstill. She stuffed the paper back in her
pocket, nodding to herself as she identified the house she sought, the only one on
the street with lights on at this hour.

Slipping out of the car, she crossed the
street at a fast trot, disappearing into the shadows cast across the front lawn by
the tall, unkempt trees that lined the lot. She paused at the foot of the porch
stairs and smirked at the sloppily painted Greek letters scrawled across the front
door with the university football banner stapled below them.

Jocks.

She shrugged out of her jacket, laying it beside the porch steps, pulling her gun
and knife out of the pockets as she laid it down. She tucked the gun in the back of
her belt and slipped the knife into the pocket of her leather pants. She smirked as
she straightened her lace bra and adjusted her gloves, knowing the effect her
appearance would have, almost pitying their stupidity if it worked.

She paused for another moment, concentrating as she called upon the power of her
blood, feeling strength and speed flow into her limbs. A few quick steps and she was
in front of the door, bringing her booted foot up squarely in the center of that
football banner. She didn’t kick hard enough to break the door, it only shuddered
heavily from the blow. She cracked her knuckles and waited as the sounds of movement
erupted inside in response to her ‘knock’.

The door flew open, accompanied by a curse from the young, heavily muscled man that
opened it. His eyes hardly took in her face before going straight to her barely
covered chest and she almost laughed as she lifted her foot and drove it down into
his knee with all her strength. The joint exploded backward with a ripping crunch
and the young jock screamed, collapsing in the doorway and clutching at his
grotesquely maimed limb.

She could hear the others moving in the house – one on this floor, one above – as
she stepped over the redhead she had just maimed, turning and crouching beside him
with a wicked smile curving her burgundy lips.

“Oh… I bet that hurts, don’t it, hun?Well stay tuned, ’cause this party’s just gettin’ started.”

She heard the lumbering tread on the stairs behind her, and had to smile at the
threats spouted by the huge blonde linebacker that was thundering down them towards
her. She spun as she stood, seeing him rushing forward the last few steps, a
sawed-off pool cue raised over his head like a club. He seemed to be in slow motion
to her accelerated senses, and she caught him easily, absorbing his momentum and
wrenching the pool cue from his fingers. With a flex of her legs and arms, she
pushed him backwards onto the stairs, bringing the makeshift club down across his
chest in a bone-shattering blow. He curled into a choking ball instantly, his breath
gone and many of his ribs cracked or broken by the single strike. She patted his
hair gently, smiling down at him as she heard the third jock enter the hallway and
pause, struck by the sight of his two friends down and hurt so quickly.

“Stay put,hun.”

Turning to the third man, she gestured with both hands, wiggling her fingers in a
‘come here’ gesture, an evil smile playing at her lips beneath her wild amber eyes.

“Bring it on, hun… let’s play.”

He hesitated, his slightly bloodshot eyes flicking from his friend in the doorway,
to the one on the stairs, and back to her. He bounced on his toes as he thought it
over, disbelief, fear, and ego fighting a war in his marginally evolved mind. She
cocked a hip and shifted her grip on the pool cue, pulling her shoulders back and
accentuating her scantily clad chest. She saw disbelief and ego win the fight in his
eyes, and he rushed her with a nearly inarticulate growl.

She didn’t bother trying to avoid the charge, instead bracing herself with her free
hand on the man’s face, letting his momentum carry them backwards as she drove the
pool cue like a blade straight into his shoulder joint with all her strength. His
growl became a shocked bleat as he felt the joint separate and smash, the pool cue
exploding out his back through his shattered scapula. She rolled onto her back and
took his weight on her knees, kicking hard and throwing him off of her.
Rolling to her feet, she grabbed the redhead by the collar of his football practice
jersey and dragged him out of the doorway. His whimpering made her sneer as she
dropped him and stepped over him to close the front door quietly. Turning around,
she put her hands on her hips and smiled at the three sprawled in front of her.

“Time t’ kick it up a notch, guys.”

A few moments later she stood back from the three of them, smirking at the cute pile
they made, huddled on their living room floor. She had closed the blinds on the
windows and pushed all the furniture back out of the way, dragging each of them from
the hall to the center of the room. She crouched and lifted the head of the huge
blonde by a grip in his hair, slapping him lightly and shocking him back to
awareness.
“No passin’ out on me, big guy. We’re not done yet.”

She turned her head at the pained muttering of the brunette with the pool cue in his
shoulder, tilting her head and grinning at his slurred question and cursing at her.

“Yup, I’m a bitch, hun. Why? Why am I doin’ this? I’m glad you asked that.”

Straightening up, she stepped away from them and turned, looking at the trophies and
pictures on the walls and shelves, adopting an almost congenial tone as she turned
back to them. Spreading her hands, she tilted her head and began talking.

“I have a friend that talks a lot about fish. Little fish, big fish, all kinds.”

She flicked a strand of hair out of her face and tilted her head, almost seeming to be gently
explaining a lesson to children.

“But the strange thing about fish is, almost all of them are predators, no matter what size they are. Shut up and listen, hun. Little
fish get eaten by bigger fish, and they get eaten by bigger fish, and they get eaten
by sharks, and so on.”

She paused and smiled, shaking her finger at them as if about
to reveal the punchline of a great joke.

“Now see, that’s where you guys made your mistake. You went and got delusional ’bout thinkin’ you were sharks, and you bit a
friend of mine thinking she was a little fish. I won’t drop the name but paint you the picture. You and a friend had a real party all over her a few nights
ago, fuckin’ near killed her. You don’t know her? Too bad, ’cause then yer never gonna understand.”

She raked her fingers back through her hair, tucking it behind her ears as she crouched again,
adopting an intimate and gentle tone.

“But see… you aren’t sharks at all, guys…you’re just medium-sized fish. An’ that little fish y’ thought y’
bit… well, that’s really a baby shark. In time she’s gonna be able to swallow fuckheads like you boys
whole an’ not even burp. Me? Who am I? What’ve I got t’ do with all this?”

She stood up and smiled, extending her fangs as she showed her teeth in a wide grin.

“Why hun, I expected even morons like you t’ guess. I’m a shark… an’ it’s feedin’
time.”

She left the house a few hours later, collecting her jacket from beside the porch
and glancing up at the deep blue sky and fading stars. Putting her gun and knife
back in their usual places, she pulled the heavy bottle from inside the jacket and
twisted off the cap, wrinkling her nose at the gasoline smell from the open mouth.

Raising the bottle to the stars in a toast, she whispered,

“For you, Athena”

And turned, hurling the bottle against the front door, jumping back slightly as broken
glass and gasoline sprayed across the porch. Shrugging into her jacket, she stepped
back another pace and fished a cheap zippo from her pocket, bought just for this
occasion. Flicking the wheel, she lifted the lighter and stared at the flame for a
moment, feeling herself cringe even at that small tongue of fire as it lapped at the
air. She whispered to the flame, feeling her conscience struggling against the
weight of reality and truth.

“It was the best of times… it was the worst of times.. Justice for those who lost a million worth of dimes..”

Tossing the lighter, she turned her back and ran for the car as the front of the
house erupted into flame.

The Salem Siege

 

salem

The wind whistled as it passed over the top of Dominion Towers, causing Leah’s eyes
to beg for moisture she would not give them. She cast her gaze out over the city,
only slightly affected by the sting of the cold gusts. She watched the headlights of
cars on the main avenue below. So tiny from this height – it looked as though
someone slowly pulled along a string of white
Christmas lights. She envied those
cars – or more accurately, their drivers. Ignorant. Ignorant of the world she lived
in. Ignorant of the danger, of the lure, of all of it.

Perhaps ignorance is truly bliss.

The thought made her laugh out loud. If only her sire could hear her now, a Tremere
who thought ignorance was bliss. He would have punished her for a week… if he were
alive.

She folded her arms across her against the chill wind that had settled on her city,
or perhaps in resignation. Her long, open-backed evening gown whipped in time with
the whistle that filled her ears.

My city.

At one time, the thought had been comforting; thrilling, even. Now it hung on her
like a yolk. She thought that if she still had breath, the weight of that thought
might crush it from her lungs.

I failed you, Xavier. But then, we have all failed, haven’t we?

In truth, her sire would have been proud
if he could see her, and the irony of a
Tremere as the Prince of Salem would amuse him for nights on end. Here, where so
many witches and warlocks had met their end at Bacon’s pyres, a practitioner of the
Blood Arts ruled the night. But then he had chosen her because she was ambitious and
clever.

Ambition expires. Cleverness accomplishes only so much.

She wondered what the rest of the directorate was doing now. Bickering, no doubt,
about who should have the seat on the Primogen’s council. They could bicker all they
wanted. By dawn it would be of no consequence.

She uncrossed her arms as she heard the glass door slide open, wiping the troubled
expression from her face as Uriah scurried to stand next to her on the precipice.

Better not to alarm him.

She smiled as he tried to offer her a cloak against the icy air but did not take it,
refraining with a small shake of her head. Why did she insist on
such petty self
torture?

Because that which does not kill us makes us stronger. Fates know I’ll need my
strength tonight.

“But your skin is so cold, Mistress…” Uriah’s brow furrowed in honest concern.

“As it has been for two hundred years, Uri… and no garment can change that.” She
smiled at him, warmly and genuinely.

He almost frowned, but he knew she was right. The cold that bit in to his exposed
face would be little more than an annoyance to her. He folded the cloak over his
arm, and looked out over the city as well before speaking.

“They will siege the city tonight…” He paused, and when she made no sound, added,
“What will you do?”

Her answer was a long time coming – so long he began to wonder if she would answer
at all, or if he had offended her. But finally, her voice broke the sound of the
whistling wind.

“I will let them have it.”

Her answer took him by
surprise, and he could find no words though every part of him
puzzled.

Poor Uri. You betrayed me – all of us – and you don’t even know it. And yet… you
have freed me.

She looked down the sixty stories to the garden house roof, watching the moon’s
reflection appear briefly from behind the clouds. She thought of the citizens of her
Court. Some had received a warning – short, simple, incomplete.

“Take that which is important to you, and be gone from my city by the stroke of
midnight.”

Would they listen? She could no longer concern herself. Ten, perhaps twenty had been
told to leave. The rest would meet their judgment tonight.

They will expect me to save them. As if anything really could.

Uriah finally found his voice, though it shook – perhaps out of fear, or confusion,
or perhaps it was only the chill. Leah tried not to think about it. “Where will we
go, Mistress?”

Leah considered
her answer carefully. “I think I will go to Europe. I have never
seen it, but my grandmother was born in Bristol. Perhaps I shall go there for a
while.”

He only nodded and looked back out into the dark night. She let several moments
pass, then turned her head to him. “What do you serve, Uri?”

He cast a puzzled look to her. “I serve only you, my Mistress.”

She afforded him a smile. He spoke the truth. “And what do I serve, Uri?”

He puzzled further. “You serve the kindred of this city, and the Council of Seven in
Vienna.” He paused, worried.

She afforded another smile, full of forgiveness this time and accompanied by a slow
shake of her head. “No, I serve only myself. For two centuries, I have served only
myself and those like me.”

And in self-service lies the path to madness. Or worse.

He frowned and stepped to her, shaking his head. “Oh no, Mistress – you mustn’t say
such things…”
He wanted to add more, but didn’t know what to say. He didn’t truly
understand what she meant, only that her self-chastizing tone saddened him.

She smiled softly, accepting his arm. “You would make me a saint, Uri, even when you
know I am a devil.”

He frowned. She tried not to.

They stood there for several moments, both lost in their own thoughts until the
grandfather clock in the parlor began to sound the arrival of midnight. She lifted
her head and watched the horizon for the first signs. Only minutes passed before she
saw it. On the far edge of the city, the Klarion building leapt alive in flames. She
turned to look at her ghoul’s face, become white as paste.

So you see your craftsmanship now, and still you do not know it is yours.

“They have begun attacking the city… shall I alert the elders?”

Faithful, steadfast Uri – You still think I have told them about the siege.

She smiled a
little sadly. “No.”

He looked to her, confusion etched into his features.

My poor Uriah – you don’t even know what they’ve done to you. They watch me through
your tear-filled eyes.

She smiled one last, sorrowful smile to him before she pushed him from the ledge.

When the shattered glass of the atrium settled, she watched the crimson teardrop
that fell to meet him.

Better to break your neck than your heart. I will miss you.

A moment later she leapt across to the next rooftop, slipping quickly down into the
parkade. The attendant met her with a smile. “Will you be requiring your car, Miss
Hague?”

She tried her best to smile. “Yes, please.”

She looked out the rose tinted glass as she waited. Would the rest of the chantry
house hear the shattering of the glass? Would they rush to see what had made the
sound? They would keep Uri alive with their blood and incantations to question
him,
and not even give a thought to his agony.

I won’t let them, Uri. This much I promise. You will have the rest that should have
been yours long ago.

She closed her eyes, her lips whispering words whose origins were forgotten by most.
When she opened them again, Uri’s body began the fire that would consume the
building before the night was passed.

She turned her head as she heard the hum of an engine approaching, whispering her
last good-byes aloud. “May your soul find peace, my dearest friend.”

She smiled to the attendant as she slipped behind the wheel of her Lexus, it’s
darkened interior consoling her little.

As she drove out of the city, she stopped to look back at the fires that now took
several of the towering buildings.

They will blame it on the siege.

She frowned at herself.

And I will let them.

The young girl smiled as she produced the plane tickets, despite
the older woman’s
grim expression. “One way to London, ma’am, layovers as you requested. Are you sure
you want all these redeye flights?”

Leah nodded, looking over the itenerary. “Yes, thank you.”

“Any baggage?”

The question made Leah smile.

Yes… about two hundred years worth.

“No, just a carry-on.”

The girl straightened and smiled again. “All checked in – you had better hurry,
ma’am – the 411 takes off in twenty minutes”

Leah quietly thanked her and quickly made her way to the gates, stopping to pick up
a newspaper on the way. When she finally settled into her seat, she was glad she’d
bought out the entire row. She opened the paper to view the headlines.

“Salem Burns Again”

She closed the paper and laid it on the seat next to her with a quiet sigh. As the
plane took off into the night sky, she closed her eyes and wondered at the state of
her city.

No, not my city anymore…

Maybe it never really was…

Capital K Daw

Kanina ko lang naalala
May post akong nabasa
Ika labing siyam pa ng Abril nalathala
Sa kapatid ng dating mong nobya nagmula

Ako daw ay isang kaladkarin
Capital K pa nga tila sadyang binigyang diin
Napaingos ako sa kanilang saloobin
Akala mo kasi kung mga sino kung makapanakit ng damdamin

Tanong ko’y bakit ganon ang sabi nila?
Dahil ba sa aking mga tattoo,o eyeliner o sa mascarra?
O marahil sadyang mapanghusga kanilang mga dila at mata
Sapagkat hindi naman nila ako kilala

Kaya sana hinay hinay sa pagsasalita..
Dahil hindi lahat tayo’y pinagpapala
Lalo na yung maraming komento hinggil sa bali balita
At kung makapagparungit tila sila lamang ang nasa tama..

Nawa sa susunod na sila’y manghusga
Limiin muna nila kung ano ang mahalaga
Ang mayurakan ang dangal ng taong pinagpapasyahan nila
O ang tindi ng balik ng karma sa kanila..

Bato bato sa langit 😀

And they all thought we have an EASY JOB.. (pleaseeeeeeeee)

“How many more times will I be able to look into this abyss.. How many times before I won’t ever recover the pieces of myself that this job takes? Sometimes there are no words, no clever quotes to neatly sum up what’s really happening in a job as frustrating as this.. Some people often thought this is an ideal job.. What they don’t know is that at the end of the day whatever they pay us is not nearly enough to cover the stress we’re under going.. And most of the time whether we want it or not.. everything is taking its toll on us.. And our salary does not cover whatever aches we get at the end of the day…”