Society and Ignorance

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Society is complex. It is everything everything a society should strive not to be – it is patriarchal and misogynistic in nature.

Beings who “feel” the most; the ones who think; the ones who are sensitive; the ones who cry; the ones who feel; the ones who laugh out loud; we are all under siege by a society that never fails to taunt, shun and discriminate us. It may not be about race or skin colour anymore in certain parts of the world, but, our very essence of being a “human” is being waged a war against.

We require countless declaration forms for the mentally ill or physically handicapped. Just because they tick all the “all okay” boxes, does not make them superior to us. They may be the majority, but, we all know that there are so many life-changers in society who have contributed much and played significant roles, despite their mental challenges or handicaps. I cannot, for the life of me, think of anyone at the moment, but, we all know, at some point of our lives, of someone so magnificent whom we cannot do anything, but, admire, awestruck, wondering just how they managed to succeed.

Depression is a killer, if life does not kill you first. Some are diagnosed with so-called high-functioningdisorders, in a category that some of us may fall under. They look, they stare, they wonder what it is like. Some start taking out their religious objects and start praying in fear of being “infected” by our negativity. I do not dwell in negativity. It is just a frame of mind. All these “look at the bright side” stories are just getting on my nerves. They treat us as though what we have is wrong. The worst occasions are when they start correcting us and say things like, “You have to change your character first, to make it in life.

My character?! Perhaps it is you, ignoramus, who needs to be put under therapy for your blatant ignorance! Now, now, no one is getting all defensive. I am merely stating a fact here. What has my character possibly have to do anything with whatever that is making me feel all melancholic, hopeless and in despair, most of the time?

In their defense, rationally speaking, I would say that they have mistaken “character” with “mind-set“. There is absolutely nothing wrong with my character. You are hitting under the belt by saying that I have a shitty personality? Who gave you that right?!

Society, at large, is filled with such ignoramuses. Live and let live. But, the next being from the masses, to open their mouth and spew such words like “character” or “personality” is going to get a mouthful from me. That is for sure. It is not our character, it is something that we cannot cure… but over time, learn how to recognise possible recurring symptoms and prevent the severity of the waves of sadness and melancholy.

Character, they say… *pfft*.

 

Greed

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Without a second thought, Lenny picked up a shard of broken glass – one of the many smithereens – from the marble-tiled floor. “Ouch!” she uttered as the sharp edges of the shard pierced her palm, drawing out little maroon droplets along the line of the cut. Lenny dropped the glass and licked them away with a sweep of her tongue.

It is over. The charade of a marriage is over. People were actually starting to believe that the wonderful union was true. Alas, it all fell apart just like the countless pieces of glass lying on the floor of Lenny’s bedroom. So much for an everlasting union. Their wedded bliss had only lasted two centuries. Yes, that is around the period of time before the male partner starts cheating on his wife.

All was going as they had planned. Logan and Nikki were having the time of their lives, spending every available moment with each other. In fact, just two nights ago, they went out to grab a bite -or two – at the local V Bar down the block, with Lenny. However, when Lenny proposed that they go for a movie, Logan and Nikki turned her down saying they had to be at other places. Lenny believed them and returned home with her partner after which he left, with a goodbye kiss on her forehead.

Waking up the following afternoon with a throbbing headache, as beings like her kind do, Lenny say that Logan was not in bed beside her. Slowly, she reached for her cell and dialed Nikki’s number. After a couple of short rings, she was connected to Nikki. Lenny asked if she knew where Logan was. Nikki said no and told Lenny that she was going to sleep in more.

“Call me if you see him!” Lenny exclaimed just before Nikki hung up the phone.

Nikki and Lenny have been best friends for three centuries. They were turned by the same Sire and that meant that they were related. Blood is thicker than water, as the old saying goes… Or not.

Logan left a trail of soft kisses down her neck. “Oof, you big oaf!” Nikki said as she playfully swatted his face away. “I think you should go,” she said, more firmly.

“Babe, you know we simply cannot keep up with this sneaking around. I wish we could spend more time together,” he said, pulling a sad face, making Nikki giggle.

“I know… but…” she trailed off, a distant look in her eyes.

That got his attention. Logan got up sideways, his left arm supporting the weight of his body. “But what?” he asked, his interest piqued.

“Would you ever drink the blood of another woman? We all know that females can only drink the blood of another female and the same applies to male vampires. You’re married to Lenny and that happened because you drank her blood. But now, you’re drinking mine,” she said, twirling the ends of her hair around her index finger. “Does that mean we’re married, since you’re feeding off me?”

“Nikki… Er… Why do you have to complicate things. I love you… and… Lenny..” Now it was his turn to have a distant look in his eyes.

“No, Logan, you love me. That’s why you keep coming back to me,” Nikki said.

Logan abruptly stood up from the bed and pulled his t-shirt over his body. “I have to go,” he continued as he passed Nikki’s dress to her, “You know Lenny comes before you… I have vowed to spend eternity with her… But I feed from you, too. Please, Nikki, give me some time.”

“Wait, Logan! Please come back to me! You can always stop living with her!” Nikki shouted as she tripped over her own dress, pursuing him.

“See you, Nikki,” he replied.

Logan drove into the front porch of my his house several minutes later. He took the keys out of the ignition, closed the door and walked up the stairs to see Lenny.

Lenny was surprised to see him, “Where did you go?” she questioned him. “You weren’t anywhere!”

Logan walked towards his wife and went to hug her. Startled by this show of affection, she laughed slightly and hugged him back. Her laughter was snatched away from her.

“Why is there… I must be mistaken… But no, I’m sure I’m not… Logan, why is there blood on your t-shirt?!” she screeched, “Tell me, where were you? Tell me this instant!”

“Sweetheart, I was no where…” he replied, trying to calm her down.

“Liar!” she screamed. She grabbed him by his arm and went closer. She licked the blood from his t-shirt and announced, incredulously, “Nikki?!”

Logan knew it was too late.

Lenny seized the closest thing she could get ahold of and hurled it at her husband. Logan dodged the glass and shielded his face with his arms.

Another glass flew, the aim getting sharper and sharper. There was a cut on his left cheek, but Logan was in no condition to feel the pain.

He ran out his house with his wife hot on his heels. Fumbling for a moment in his right trouser pocket for his car keys, he managed to get it out and opened the car door.

Stepping on the accelerator, Logan drove out of his house knowing that he’d never be forgiven. Greed had cost him his life.

 

Forbidden Love

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Torrie let out a sigh as she slowly opened her eyes, eyelids fluttering like the dusty wings of a butterfly. Sunlight creeped into her room through the translucent green curtains of the room, reaching her as she pushed away the comforter of her bed, standing up.

Strong arms reached out from behind her and pulled her back into bed. “Tristan! You should go,” she said calmly as he caressed her shoulders, kissing her ears, gently running his teeth over her sensitive skin. She shivered with anticipation, but did nothing to stop him. “Stop!” she whispered loudly as he began to leave a trail of kisses down her back.

Hungrily, Torrie turned around and kissed him fiercely, wanting to devour him alive. She could feel the rhythmic beating of his heart against her own.They well aware that what they were doing was wrong. She was engaged to his best friend, David, with the wedding scheduled in just slightly over a week from now. It was very wrong.

His mouth swallowed her words, “Stop.”

He then wrapped his arms around her body as she trembled, turning into putty in his warm embrace.

“Tristan,” she began.

“Don’t, sweetheart,” He gently bit her full lower lip, drawing a bead of blood. He sucked her lip, drawing another shiver from her as she melted completely in his arms. Her eyes closed in sheer ecstasy, but her mind was divided between right and wrong.

“I need you!” she exclaimed softly into his hungry mouth. Torrie’s mind was still caught in its own war, but her body went weak and surrendered to his possessive hands. It was magic. He had cast a spell on her; that was why her will was caving in. “David…” her conscience said, but she pushed that thought aside.

“You’re mine now,” his tongue licked the pulsating vein in her neck.

His demanding hands pulled her dress up and away from her body. Tristan was filled with so much passion, but what made their scandalous union special was that there was so much love in it. “I love you,” she said as she shuddered against his strong body. It was beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved her and she, in return, loved him.

Their kiss grew hungry and powerful and they could not fight this any longer. Tristan pulled away so he could look deeply into her eyes. Then his mouth was on hers again, and this time there was no turning back. He lowered himself against her, entering her swiftly, as his fangs pierced her neck, without any hesitation. She let out a scream and shuddered violently, wrapping her hands around his neck. He shook with need, his mouth on her neck. Recovering, he swept his tongue across the punctures and gently licked the broken skin, leaving no mark.

After a few minutes of them just lying on the bed, intertwined, relishing their union, Torrie started crying, pushing her lover away. Tristan reluctantly stopped what he was doing and pulled his t-shirt from underneath his pillow and pulled it down across his broad, tanned shoulders. He shot her a look of undeniable love as he stood up, unfurling himself till he stood in all his glor. He had warm eyes and a wicked dimple showed itself as he gave her a smile. “I should go. You’re right,” he conceded, already dressed now, walking out the bedroom door.

Torrie got up, covering her vulnerable body with the comforter, opposite from where he was, on the other side of the bed, desire, longing and tears in her eyes. “Guilt. You have to put an end to this,” her mind admonished her, “this is so very wrong!”

How can something so wrong feel so good? “I’m too weak,” she muttered to herself. With that she turned towards the windows and watched as her forbidden lover drive away from her house.

 

Christie

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I am not depressed; I tell myself that I am merely going through a phase in my life. One thing I knew for certain is the fact that I am not normal, in every sense of the word. Why do I have to go through so much heartbreak and pain when I all I ever wanted was to be happy? He was my happiness, my pleasure and my joy. Simply put, he was the love of my life. Where did we go so terribly wrong?

My name is Christie and this is my story.

I have always harboured these thoughts for a long time and I do not know when they will stop, so I am thinking that why I am spilling my gut out here is because I just want to get this off my chest to make me feel that somewhere, someone who reads my story would sympathise with me as to what I am going through before I completely fade into oblivion.

The house that I live in is shrouded in darkness, just like how an infectious disease consumes the lungs of a chain smoker. I tremble in fright, my mind focused on the one thing I was seeking all the while – the reason why I am creeping about in my own house, in the middle of the night. I gently walk into the kitchen and I headed for the drawers located in the far eastern side of the kitchen. I reach out for the drawer and it creaks as I pulled it open.

Gently, without further ado, I grasped the tough handle of the knife and take it out of its place. My fingers gently ran over the edge of the steel blade. Even though it was a gentle touch, little beads of blood dripped from my middle finger. I sigh with pleasure. The familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through my very being and a slight chuckle escape my mouth. I stare at the knife in my left hand for a few seconds and slowly make my return through the kitchen, towards my bedroom.

I cringe as I hear a creak from a couple of feet before me and I furiously looked up and down, my vision cutting through the darkness that shrouded the house. I must have awoken my parents. Seeing no one in front of me, I continue forward, my nocturnal senses on overdrive, aware of every move I make. Shivers run down my spine, and my heart was pounding within my ribcage. I was more afraid of how the thumping of my heart would awake everyone in the house than the noises I was making, while tip-toeing around the house. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on ends.

Once in my room, I safely dropped the knife onto my bed and pushed my middle finger into my mouth, sucking the blood that was seeping out of the cut I had deliberately made in the kitchen, just a while ago. I closed my door without a sound, and taking the knife back in my left hand, I made my way to the bathroom. The tap turned on with a slight squeak and I run my fingers under the running water.

I quickly undressed and turned on the water of the bathtub I was getting into. Grievous thoughts of self-harm streaked through my mind. “Calen, why did you leave me?!” my heart screamed, “All I ever wanted was to be happy by your side, but, no, you had to dump me for a woman that you met in college! Someone who knew absolutely nothing about your favourite colour, food, music, or your bad habits. Someone whom you had known for only two weeks!”

Reality settling in, I wondered madly how I was going to rewrite my destiny after this break-up. How could anyone be so cruel? Holding the knife in the right hand, I cried. By now, the bathtub was filled and I stepped into it, gradually submerging myself into the water. The swirls of smoke from the hot water rose up, and gently teased my nose. A wistful smile escaped my lips at the pleasure of the hot water, gently enveloping my body.

My body was an old book. The words were my scars and the pages were my skin. I am smart. I only write these words in places that were hidden from the prying eyes of the world. I then read through the words on the pages. Some pages were old, some words were new. Love was found on my wrists.

Now that Calen has left me, there is no reason why I should stop writing this page. I brushed the sharp blade over my skin. Small trickles of blood seeped through the shallow cut, staining the water of the bathtub. I sob uncontrollably etching the words ‘pain’ into my right wrist. I start to see Calen with every cut, blood weeping, just like my heart.

Ten, eleven, twelve… the minutes of the clock ticked by. My vision blurs as I lay there breathless. “Chrissy?” I heard. “Chrissy, are you alright? What on earth are you doing?” the frantic words uttered. It was a familiar voice. “Ca… len? Is… tha… you?” I muttered softly, unbelieving what was going on around me.

“Yes,” he said loudly and pulled me out of the bathtub. I may be delirious from all the blood lost, but I certainly knew it as that voice belonged to the love of my life. I felt strong hands, working frantically, wrapping my body in a towel, and memories of being carried out of my house, in the arms of an Angel.

The whispers of the Angel telling me it is okay, the voice to tell me that I should not die; the whispers telling me to stay conscious.

“Chrissy!” Calen said, shaking me awake as I felt the comfort of the dark consuming me. I must stay awake. I felt a blissful thought enter my mind…

I have my Guardian Angel.

 

Interaction

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Here I am, lying in bed, after spending an entire evening getting things sorted out and up and running on WordPress. It has been fun, working on my creative and tech-savvy abilities. I am not sure if I will be remaining active on here.

I must say this, though. I am not one to follow the crowd; unless, it is a crowd I belong in. I will not be flocking to the rich and popular. I have my own reasons for being here; chiefly, to take this up as a project; to stimulate my creative juices – so, interaction will be quite minimal – but, hey, if you enjoy the dark, drop me a line. We shall go for an online cuppa and chit-chat.

Keep in touch!

Wasted

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Feel these words that run through my veins
No one wants to heal this broken heart
From a heavy heart these words flow
So many things I have kept inside
So many things I have forgotten
Forgotten faces forgotten times
Let time heal my wounds
Words that do not mean anything to anyone
I do not care if these words rhyme
Damn if they do
Damn if they do not
Here I am lying on my bed
Wondering if a momentous moment has passed
Which I will never get a chance to change
Things I have missed
Things I wish I had missed
This is the way life plays out
Full of wasted words
Full of wasted years.

 

Dear Soldier

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As the fight drains
Out of my shattered body
A grenade is all I need
To complete my day
Countless have fallen in this life
I am just awaiting my roll call
My soul may be shattered
Yet the Spirit in me continues
To rage on forward
A never-ending war rages on
In my head and heart
Would you like to exchange roles?
The life I once knew
Has been blown away
By the bombs
Dropped across enemy lines
Tell me why
I have to fight on alone
I want to see the light
I know I was put here
For the harder stuff
Life is an uphill endeavour
Where I have had
My fair share of bruises and scars
The Hope that was once ripped away
Has returned to plant its seed
Once again in my soul
Another dawn I see
Another nightfall I experience
I just want to feel the sun
As I make my way
Through foreign territory
My heart urges me on
My mind is all but dead
Carry on, dear soldier
You were made
For the harder stuff
Blood and grime
Obscure my vision
Tell me, dear soldier
When will all this end?