Huwebes, Enero 8, 2015

H.P (Bloody) Lovecraft: A Brief look on the works and life of the "Master of Horror"

Heres to a brand new year! I hope some of you know this man but well if you really didnt know him, then read on!


Howard Phillips Lovecraft


It’s unnatural to note that people have this hunger for fear inducing literature and movies. Monstrous creature, paranormal events, unspeakable devilry and even plunging into the world of madness and terror caught our utmost attention from the early conception of stories until it reach its current state today. Strangely enough, instead of averting these damnable stories, we fell in love to this like it is an amorous lover...well, a lover with fangs, claws and probably ghastly face that only his mother will love.

All our utmost love for horror and dark fictions tales often times connected to brilliant minds of literature. These are the classic stories by the master story teller Stephen King whose creation makes the horror genre escalate into a new level. And of course, no one can totally argue how Edgar Allan Poe put a strong foundation for thriller and blood chilling tales who made him acquired the title “Master of Macabre”.



Nyarlhotep
And yet, to my dismay it seems the fandom of horror genre of today didn’t even have the opportunity to recognize this one author whose works may not went to mainstream audiences like King’s Carrie or any contemporary writers yet certainly his propensity and strange imagination makes him the only writer who become the greatest name in supernatural fiction after Poe.  His name might be fanciful for horror but be warned: Howard Phillip Lovecraft’s tales are not for the feeble hearts and most importantly in mind.

On August 20, 1890 at Providence, Rhode Island, H.P Lovecraft was born in a very unlikely environment. Both of his parents are diagnosed of psychological ailments and after some years, the couple who bore him will meet their final curtain because of this. Though parentless, Lovecraft childhood is still become magical because of his grandfather whose story telling arouses his dormant zeal towards stories and tales. Like most of the brilliant minds, he is never been a popular kid but he possess intelligence regarding history, linguistic, inorganic chemistry and even astronomy. His adeptness to these areas will later on manifest to his creative pursuit as a writer.
At the young age of 8, he begins writing short horror stories yet his style is still puerile but the gleaming promise is absolutely present there.

During his adulthood, Lovecraft continues his reclusive lifestyle. He finally found a circle of friends through the clubs that he joined and yet his peculiar way of life as a jobless and non-existing romance to the opposite sex never wavers. At 31, his stories finally made into circulation and for the first time his works begun to be published in professional magazines. By the time that he is already 34, he became a full pledge contributor to a now defunct magazine called Weird Tales that publish various science and strange fictions. Even though he is now living his dream as a writer, H.P Lovecraft never had the self confidence to further promote his work and therefore it never reached its commercial fame unlike his contemporary.

Although Lovecraft died at the age of 43 without hitting any glamorous moment and acknowledgement to his works (count the fact that his earning from being a writer and editor is hardly enough to support himself), his tales however begun to bloom in an instant after his death and become one of the most memorable tales that will shook the foundation of sci-fi/horror genre.

Cthulhu
Lovecraft’s claimed to fame work comes in the form of a pseudo – myth tales that remarkably doesn’t just stick to hideous creatures of doom; he also pushes the story towards a psycho/fantasy hybrid tales like no other. The short story entitled “Call of Ctulhu” engross the readers and grab the attention of the critics with the grotesque narration of how a slumbering monster  who is actually one of the eldest being in the universe will be awaken only to bring the doom and horror to mankind. Often times, Lovecraft kept the description of his masterpiece monster in a nearly non-descript fashion for the mere sight of it is quite enough to drive the protagonist into inhuman madness.

However, the names of this “beyond words” monstrosity such as the terrifying Yog Sothoth, Nyarlhotep the Dark man and the mother monster of horror literature Cthulhu  strike such amalgam of horror and wonder  to those devotedly admired the works of Lovecraft thus making a huge cult like following among the fan of the genre.

These stories continue to pile up its series until it becomes a compilation which will be lately known as the “Cthulhu Mythos”, a collection of an immensely creative mythological origin of the infamous Ctulhu, a gigantic anthropomorphic god (known for its aquatic and squid like appearanceCosmic Horror that only Lovecraft gave justice and attention.
)  and his acolyte that planning to wake up its slumber to terrorized and defile mankind. This kind of tales that always put man in a inescapable supernatural horror gave birth to a philosophical like genre called


Yog Sothot
Notable in every Lovecraft tales are the vast realms of the ancient world and civilization colliding with supernatural world of Far Realm, an imaginary universe that beyond the walls of the universe. It also incorporates the rich flavors of odd science (which is the backbone of his dark tales like Re-Animator and Cool Air). He also wrote some the best far flung horror stories about the murkiest and unknown realms of the dream world (Beyond the Walls of Sleep and The Dreams in the Witch House). With prolific imagination on his disposal, he even created the infamous “Necronomicon” in his stories which foretold a damnable fictional book that amasses otherworldly chants to summon an apocalypse by calling forth Elder gods from the far realm.

Later on, some of his opus magnus will make their way into the silver screen during the early days of 70’s and 80’s and some of them become cult classic like the Herbert West: Re-Animator, a cruel and insanity inducing tales that entice the avid fans of Frankenstein. Also, some of his story also gain their first TV treatment through Rod Sterling’s Night Gallery, a weekly program that considered to be the precursor of the most popular horror/sci-fi  TV series The Twilight Zone.


H.P Lovecraft might not lived for a bit longer for him to witness how his works grew into a classic yet not totally best seller level but the legacy he made to scare, thrill and struck us in awe is already enough for him to be acknowledge as one of the least known but nevertheless the greatest pen that make us all fall in love all over again to the grotesque beauty of horror genres.





Lunes, Disyembre 15, 2014

Naga



Before the year ends, let me first share this short story i made fro you folks. Sadly, it ain't have that joyful ending but who knows maybe these half serpent ladies are not really into anthrophagy:-) Merry Christmas everyone!!!!


“I am so glad that you’re here again” her voice is always soothing like a murmur of the gentle wind that calms the forest during the last days of the spring. I smile at her as I gaze upon her face; an epitome of beauty that surpass even my wildest dream. Her eyes shine bright like a luscious emerald gem. 

These eyes are sharp, yet this sharpness entice me more every time she look at me…her looks that penetrate deep down in me as if she is looking into my soul. Her nose is high and her lips though not smeared by any cosmetics or beauty agents is always the most appealing and lustful object of my desire for its reddish flesh are so succulent and fresh.
The moon gazed upon us as we lay down in the middle of the forest that night. It was the 12th full moon of the year. We have this habit to meet in this abandoned forest in the far north of the town where I grew up when the sky is clear and the whole place is filled with mysterious yet alluring presence of wind from the east. I never ask this woman her name nor where did she live. All I know is that the first time I cast my eyes on her was also the night after the death of my mother.

My mother is the only one who took care of me by making a living as a cashier in a convenience store. I never have the chance to be carried by the strong arms of my father and his is face also a mere speculation to me. Father, as told my mom when I was seven died due to unknown reason. He is a healthy man with a charm that admittedly my mom fell in love with. They were so young when they both decided to tie the knot and unprepared when they found out that after a month, I will complete the circle of our family.

When I was still a baby, my father who was a loving and doting man before suddenly change. He becomes aloof and cold, almost dreamy as if he is always engross with unknown fantasies. Strange it may seems, my mother can’t help it but to shrugged it off all the paranoia that creeps into her mind due to the strange behavior of my father. She can’t let it affect her knowing that me, their baby, needs a lot of care and attention.

But the toughness she demonstrates was blown away to dust when the news came to her that my father’s bloodied skeleton is found in the forest.  Just like any other sensible women, she needs to confirm first anything before jumping to conclusion. So she went to the forest, found the still freshly slaughtered body of my father.

Body is totally an understatement for what only remains in him is debris of flesh and his complete set of 206 bones. Not shattered nor broken but smeared with viscous fluid of blood and something like a clear and gooey substance.  Mother burst into wails and screams when she looks at the torn clothes that hanging awkwardly in the skeleton: a ripped apart orange shirt where a statement “I LOVE HER” is printed in black. That’s already a clear confirmation that she didn’t wanted to know yet fate is cruel when it comes to truths.

As I grew up, my curiosity begun to piqued as to what is the real cause of my father’s demise. But every time I asked my mother, she just gave me that look of emptiness and tears always came out of his left eye…it’s always in her left eyes that her tears pour down gently. So in the end, I didn’t dare to ask her the same question again.

Years passed by and because of repressed grief amplified by fatigue and stress, mother becomes weaker and weaker. She refused to re-marry again after father’s demise for she believes having another husband will complicate things instead of making our lives easier.  Rearing and raising a child all alone took a toll on mother’s health until she acquired severe diseases.  The physician in the town diagnosed her with multiple cancers: breast, lungs, and colon. 

After a week, she turned into a wilted vegetable, lying helpless in bed. Before the end of the July, I’m all alone sitting in front of her empty funeral. Those nights beside her enclosed coffin didn’t even make my eyes wet, I just sit there with eyes staring at her. Not moving or sleeping, like a mannequin who didn't posses a heart that will not give neither a sob for a loss.

She is a decent and hardworking woman.  She gave me life and taught me things I needed to take seriously for me to grow as a good man. Yet I don’t understand why I can’t a shed a single drop of tear for her. Just a single tear…even if it is cause by the strain of my eyes from too much staring in her coffin.

Then as the time of the burial is looming, suddenly it hit me and remember that thing she said to me before she drew her last breath. Her words are nothing but warnings yet instead of fear, I realized that even in her final seconds, she still keeps on caring for me even if it seems in not too loving to her. 

She said to me these words between deep and collapsing breath:
“Beware of snake…you’re father died because of it…beware my son.”

At last, all tears that never came out begun to blur my vision until I feel this kind of burning sadness as I threw the last flower in her tomb. I don’t want to be alone in this world. I don’t’ want her to leave me nor everybody else. But she is the only person I left and now she is descending under the ground while I, just standing still, crying like a boy who found himself lost. I never see myself as a man; I will never be a man if no one will care for me. It can’t be like that, it’s too unfair. It’s too cruel even for a 30 years old individual like me. It’s impossible.

After the burial, I walk alone in the forest with thoughts of suicide and death swim freely in my consciousness. This life is useless if there is no one who will be there for me so why end up living here? Before I finalized my plan to take either a noose or gun (choosing what’s practical and less painful) an unexpected sight change the demonic course of my mind; I saw her, the girl who is now with me. She becomes the saving grace of this life, the single reason why I shun the idea of death and wanted to live longer.

I fumble across the river that time and I saw this woman bathing all alone in the cold stream of water. Although I don’t have any perverse intention or motives that time, I can’t help myself to fall in awe as I cast my eyes upon her shiny white tresses that flow down along her flawless and sparkling skin like the cosmic dust of stars shimmers within her body; giving her that aura that arouse my desire in unknown scale. It intensifies so much that my fingers begun to shake as my mind flash a dreamy vision that I’m touching every inch of her heavenly made body.

As I completely mesmerized by what I saw, I forget that I’m totally looking a naked woman in front of me which gives me a tug of guilt inside of me…but it’s too late to resist this sweet temptation for she already realized that I’m watching her cleansing her body. She quickly turns around and it caught me by surprised as our eyes met. I nearly explode with all the redness and embarrassment I felt as I saw her. I just don’t know if I’ll be glad or be saddened that I didn’t take a good notice of her chest which is partially covered by her silky and glistening hair.

“I-I am sorry” I stammer idiotically as I turn around swiftly and walk away to give her an impression that I just accidentally saw her bathing in the river for I am lost yet I know in my mind it’s a lousy and implausible act.

“W-wait”. Her voice as it hit my ears gave a thrill and shiver in my spine. No, it’s not fear but an intense and wild joy of hearing sweet and hypnotic voice like its coming from an innocent girl that begs for an attention with her charm reverberates a music you can’t resist. It’s like a spider web that you will enjoy that you are trapped in because of its softness and lightness.

I am stunned at the moment her voices linger in my ears like its keeps on playing on and on again. With just a second, my feet automatically turn around in her direction and for the first time in my life, I saw a face that will sink not just ships but the whole world and its continent.

She might be just an apparition or a product of my mind as a way to keep my sanity intact after what happened in my life. But I don’t care that time whether I’m dealing with a plain illusion, all I know that after day, I’m a completely different person whose life is now dedicated for her. Nothing will exist except her. She is the only dream and reality where I will dwell.

My complete devotion, faith, life and even death are in her hands now. She gave a new life to me and for her all I can give is nothing but my whole self…and if she wanted to, even my soul will be her possession too.


“Do you love me?” She said with the most heavenly tune coming from her desirable lips that once started to open, heightens my passion to place my mouth to hers and play with our tongue; licking every inch of our lips like a hungry kid licking a melting vanilla ice cream with much gusto.  We comfortably lie in a cold slate of huge rock in the river that runs through the midst of the forest.
She is lying beside me while half of her body is submerged in the cool water of the river. The moon hangs in the sky like a lone lamp that lightens the ceiling of our paradise tonight and only the chirping cicadas and hoot of the white owl gave a symphonic melody which both give life and a hint of sorrow in this seemingly dark forest.

I look at her face and touch it softly with my hand. With all the love I can put into words though I felt it’s not enough to contain it in letters and phrases, I answer her back without blinking.

“I love you more than anything in this world. I love you more than my life and even this world alone.”

After I said those words, she gave me the smile that surpasses even the Mona Lisa’s secret smile. The warmth and brightness it sends is as comparable to the beauty of Apollo’s sun and Artemis’s moon. With her grace and quick move, she come closer to me and kisses my lips. What a tender lips that she have! My heart skip a beat as her kiss becomes more intense and hungry.

The burning starts to course in me. A fire that keeps on getting higher and higher in an exhilarating manner. She opens up my shirt, giggling with her childish laughter as her long candle like fingers unbutton it. After exposing my body in her eyes, she playful runs my fingers into it and then she begun to lean towards it and lick my skin starting from my neck down to my chest.

“You taste like him” she said as her face stop briefly in my navel with her voice that never loses its softness and embellish with a touch of excitement.

“Who?” I murmur silently but my mind is already in the other world, possibly the effect of her playing with my body like a kid. Nothing cab top this feeling, I feel I’m going to explode if she continue it until she reach it.

She leans closer to my body. She on top of me and I’m totally under her command now to do what she wanted to do with me. Yet instead of feeling her smooth and creamy thighs brushing to my body, I only felt a rough friction in my nearly naked body. It seems alright at first but the euphoria suddenly halts and cancelled the impending climax as uneasiness begun to creep inside of me.

A tightening in my legs begun and then to my whole body.  After a minute, a slender serpentine like object as thick as a trunk of a tree coil around my whole body; wrapping it completely  with black and yellow spots and streaks of scales that causes abrasion to my skin until it bleeds.

I wanted to utter a word, just a single word yet her lips are sealing my mouth with all its moist and hot touch. Her eyes just staring at my own, not with passion and love but with lust…a lustful hunger that I feel hopeless to fight.

“You taste like him…” a late spark triggers my mind to finally realize what she was telling. I open my eyes and see in her eyes the figure of my father screaming at the top his lungs while half of his body is already gone…gone except its skeletons. And before I can make my last exhale, I witness how my beloved goddess transform and show her beauty…the real beauty of monstrosity she have. 

Her mouth now is equipped with talon like fangs and her tongue protrudes as it punctured my neck until a stream of crimson mix with the steel cold water around us, slowly flowing until the last drop.
Yet instead of fear and horror that this nightmare should bring before my end, the nirvana that paused just a while ago starts to get closer to me.

 Instead of cry of anguish and terror, the last sound I utter was a uncontainable plead for more…more pleasure, more love and more care. She gave it to me though and the price I pay is still not enough to grasp how beautiful she is…my life is still not enough for that beauty alone.


Miyerkules, Oktubre 29, 2014

Once upon a Death (and a discourse on Light and Darkness by Dr. Sterling)



(its a halloween and finally i finished this story just before that day...)





March 15 at exactly 7:00 PM. This day and time in an unknown year, I found myself lying 6 feet underground in an old, wretched cemetery were all dead are nothing but menace of society or plain individuals in our city that are forgotten by either the people or time. Most of the tombstones here are smeared with the filth of the past. Some are broken to pieces courtesy of all the drunks and punks who having a good time smashing things, believing and convincing themselves that destruction and chaos is a part of their way of life. That’s how they have fun. Others who are more artistic and have a knack in word play opted to vandalized baroque style mausoleum with statement like “Rot in Hell”, “Rest in Peace with the Pigs” or they will just draw human reproductive system with all the puerile hands of a 3 years old kid. Seriously, I’ll be glad if only these good for nothing let loose of their damnable shenanigans on their own private way and not making this supposedly peaceful place to be their play ground.

But this folks aren’t just contented with the dead. Most or definitely in a frequent basis, do their tomfoolery with the living ones like me. And do you think drunks and punks are the only one who can do that kind “Happy Time”? No, you’re entirely wrong. Take it from me, nearly everyone in our city are but plain damnable and far more worthy to rot in hell or rest in peace with the pigs.
That’s why I envy the dead so bad. They already in paradise with Jesus or if they are not Christians possibly they are still in paradise with Buddha (of course I’m not really interested to those who are unlucky to be thrown in the fires of hell. Believe me, I’ve seen hell in every place so I’m really not interested at all) while me is here stuck in the middle of mindless, heartless, depressing people that either break you or break you harder. I will be totally grateful sometimes if somebody just pull a trigger and shoot me than I continue living in this city where practically everyone has many options to kill you in a slow and silent yet painful way. The horrid school place that houses the awful and ill-mannered students and phony teachers. The park and malls that consist of materialist dogs and disgusting love birds. The church that I love before where all the pretentious can pray all they want and be proud of their new stinking perfumes and branded but lousy clothes and even our home that turns out to be a cold, mechanical clockwork place now. Everything and everywhere, they all kill me slowly inside.
But they won’t kill me the last of me now. I’m here now, lying in a cold coffin with a blanket of darkness covering my eyes. Just a couple of minutes and I will leave now this place and at last I escaped the curse of being alive. But things sometimes really won’t work the way we always wanted to be. I never thought dying isn’t as easy as walk in the park nor as fast as the train going east especially if you realized that playing dead can be the damndest thing you will ever done in your entire existence. Take it from me, I’ve seen more than a living nor dead wanted to see.

Seven in the morning.

Another day that will last like years or century. Seeing my clock ringing like there’s no tomorrow signals me to wake up and start the day right even though I already lost the meaning of that word since day one. It is still pretty dark and outside due to the over cast grey clouds hanging in the sky.  

Good mourning people.
 I descended to the stairs without taking any glance in the mirror to look at myself or wipe some drool hanging in my lips. Our house is quite big enough for the three us. It’s a two – storey well designed dwelling place that exudes modernity like no other. It’s pretty comfortable, it really should be. Perhaps our sweet velvet couch will be more a couch if somebody will sit it every day. Our Plasma TV will be more entertaining if all of us in our family will watch some shows every night. And our kitchen, our very sophisticated dinning place that is good for 10 people with an enormous ref that never lose any foods inside of it will be the happiest place in this house. Unfortunately, I don’t need all of these things because they just remind how empty and lonely our house is. Like for instance now, I’ll be eating another box of cereal together with nothing but my companion silence and emptiness. Have you ever experience eating in long table with only empty seats besides you every day of your entire life? It’s freaking hard. Sometimes I really have to swallow hard just to stop myself from sobbing even my mouth is filled with cereals. I don’t want to cry like this, without my father who is always in far places and digging and exploring nice places and my mom is always as busy as hell as a government researcher. I only see her once in a month while my father only shows during Christmas where he will just greet us, eat with us, give us some gifts and then walk into the front door and vanished. Most of the time I don’t see them in our house, not even a shadow. I am independent and some kids envy it but I don’t. I would rather have a dozens of brothers and sisters and a mother whom I can see her face every day and a father where I can talk to all night and share my weird stories about school life. I will trade my life for it but that won’t happen. It’s just a wishful thinking that always kills me.

But this is only the appetizer of the day. The real is suffering usually start in our school. Sir Albert Cunning High, that’s my school and all hell spawn live there. I can almost visualize what is written on its gate: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. As if I have no choice but to enter it even if I’m already running out of hope.

Sir Albert Cunning High or Sir Al High is your typical private secular school boasting with lots of facilities. It has 30 rooms, one gigantic sports gym and another humongous auditorium that is made for school presentations and shows. The library is equally huge and houses thousands collection of books and even antique tomes. It’s the perfect school for all your academic needs due to its enormous size. But the fact is its spaciousness just shows how lonely this is school for a guy like me. It’s big but nonetheless everything else is virtually empty and useless.
“Hey Douche!” It’s the notorious bully in Sir Al High, Jefferson the big guy wearing a black XL shirt with the word STFU printed in acid yellow. He never runs out of partners in crime and today he has his army of bullies that look goblins and imps with their pock marked faces and snarling laughters.  I automatically give him my wallet which is by the way packed with bucks which is good for 3 months if you are not too excessive in spending.
Quite shock, Jefferson looks at me cautiously and takes my wallet. Then he smiles with his crooked teeth in metal. “Generous, very generous but I won’t leave you without giving you my complimentary greeting”. Suddenly his thugs surrounded me and start to grab my arm and my legs. Oh shoot, it’s the first blood of my day.

I can still feel the throbbing pain in my jaw after Jefferson give a well aimed right swing in my face. After they leave me lying with a metallic taste in my mouth, I pick up my wallet which is perpetually empty and go straight to the corridor where the scenes is so disgusting that I wanted to spit. Along the corridors you can see the jocks of the school with their varsity jackets, pinning down a helpless kid while they forcing him to eat something gooey and black like I will care what is it. In the shadowy area, a couple is having a steamy morning while they are necking each other. A professor who passed by saw it with a wide eye excitement while licking his lips like a madman. When he saw me staring at him he just take a quick nervous glance towards his way like, probably embarrass with his voyeurism. Then there’s the Goths and punks who only stare at you intently and then chuckle at your back like they sharing an inside joke about your face. Those nerds are also the same, talking gibberish thrash to let them know you that you’re an idiot and lastly the girls. Since my early years in school, I have this belief that most of the girls in the school are nothing but beautiful faces and probably have a little inclination towards academic things. The only thing that matters to them is to look beautiful by making their faces so white and chalky and spraying themselves with pungent perfumes. As if it will make their stink go away, their character always stinks. They only talk about boys and all and when they see you looking at them there is only two things you should know: if you’re handsome they will smile to you with their most pretentious sweetest grin or if you’re a nobody they will just glare at you with their cold eyes with all the disgust and curses written around their faces.
This is the real face of Sir Al High and every day is always like this. Every day is exactly the same. Every day is a painful reminder that I’m alive, everyday is another day to feel that I’m alive but dead.

“Ok class, will you please behave like a civilized kid living in a civilized world.” Though the statement is clearly a rhetoric sign of anger and annoyance, you can never sense any of it if the one who is yelling this is no other than Dr. Mycroft Sterling. Dr. Sterling is our professor in History class and he is certified the most patient guy in this school, or possibly in the whole world. This 5 feet brown eyed award winning historian can withstand the most noisiest and chaotic section in the entire Sir Al High, and that’s us the seniors. He can discuss anything about Napoleon up to life of the Greeks during the ancient age without being distracted at all with all the unruly and disrespectful antics of my classmates which should never have the rights to attend any class after all. High flying spit balls, boisterous laughing and chatting, douche bags watching R – 18 movies in full volume, chumps who are listening to their mp3 or reading comics and magazines like there is nobody in front of us teaching us some worthy lessons far more useless than their lives. Dr. Sterling just keeps the ball rolling and continues to give his discussion without reading any book. Who needs books if it’s all in your mind? No wonder all the America named his as the “Next Herodotus” after the father of history. He is the leading historian and mythologist of our generation and by all means a certified genius.
However, I still pity the guy for despite the fact that he is great and famous, he is here standing in front of us like he is a nobody, like he never exist. Just like me.
After saying a couple of introduction to our new lesson and seeing that nobody giving him the attention that he needed, he grab his SONY boom box speaker and played a classical and haunting symphony of Franz List made for a tribute for Dante Alighieri. Suddenly the chaos begun to cease and after some groans of disgust and anger and all the curses are being whispered, everybody’s mouths are zipped. Seriously? That’s all what it takes to make them stop?
“I see now that you have my full attention” Dr. Sterling gives us his innocent but sarcastic smile. “So I was saying a while ago” Clearing his throat for a moment as he begun to discuss our lesson. “Burial rites in every part of the globe might be diverse due to the culture and religion that makes all society different. However, death is and always be the same no matter how different the ceremony or the rites we conduct. These rites are not just a way of putting the love ones of our forefathers in their proper resting place. Burial rites is more than just placing or covering the whole body of the dead with linen like in Egypt or burn them in boats like what the Viking has taught us. It’s a process of making an initial step in securing that the soul of dead ones will be safe in its journey to the unknown world of the unspeakable nature.”
“What an old boring geezer” somebody just chuckle in the back. Random laughters are heard inside our room but Dr. Sterling just continue explaining a lot of stuff about the history of burial rites and how it varies and differs around the world and yet it still the same theme of safe journey towards the world of the dead. I found myself glued with the topic as I learn that being dead is not as dumb as what the horror movie portrays us. It’s particularly fun and exciting.

 I learned that being dead is just like travelling from place to place until you reach the last stop of your journey. In addition to this, it’s not just a typical long and boring high way drives. It is more like an adventure or some gauntlet that will make a shame out of Dungeons and Dragons. As Dr. Sterling continues, I begun to realized a growing yearning to take that journey which technically requires me to leave this life of mine. Before our class end, I discovered a slight interest of being dead. I know this is sound suicidal but I think I wanted to see for myself how it’s like to die. ASAP.
“So class, who wants to experience what it feels like inside a coffin?” Dr. Sterling give a casual smile that somehow trying to make a dare out of us. It sounds silly but I’m quite excited about it so I raised my hand not knowing I’ve fallen into my classmate’s idiotic trap. “Hey look, there’s someone who wants to be buried alive!” a no sense remark from the Football team captain echoes within the room. Laughters that sounded like a whole flock of noisy crows feasting a carrion which turns out to be me. “So you wanna die now dude? Is that how miserable your life is?” the laughter goes louder and louder. I begun to feel a surging tension inside me that I needed to control for showing that I’m offended or insulted would spell defeat against this morons. “If you want to I can kill you now man!” a rough looking rascal in leather jacket blurted out while playing his Swiss knife in his arms. Then the laughter begun to take another form, these hopeless beings began to chant “Kill, Kill, Kill” all over again.

Dr. Sterling seems rattled by the barbaric chants by the look on his face. But before he can speak any word which I believe starts with the word “stop”, I made a move that I think no sane individual should ever do. I approach that knife wielding rascal and stare at him like I’m going to hurt him in a multitude way. He then stared back at me as if challenging to come closer to taste his stainless steel blade. Without any thoughts inside my head, I grabbed his arm where he holding his knife. I slash my wrist with his knife and blood begun spurt in his face. Horrified by my macabre act he shoved me away with his trembling hands and distorted facial expression of fear.
“My God! You’re insane!” he says with stammering voice. The whole classes stop their monotonous chanting as they saw bright red blood flowing down in my arms. All girls begun to shriek while the boys are terribly scared with what they saw. It’s their first time I guess.
I stare at them with my eyes and made a short litany that I don’t think that is coming from me that time: “So you think I’m scared to die? Let me tell you a secret then: I’m already dead before I slashed this wrist of mine. I no longer feel alive at all. I died since the day I realized that I’m living in a world full of people like all you. Happy now?”
The ring of the bell is the only thing that brings my senses back again. My classmates without any further adieu begun to rampage into the door of our room. At first I still can’t comprehend what happens that time. Then it sinks in to me: I scared the hell out of them. I begun to laugh like it’s the first time that I did it in my entire life. I’m so happy to see their faces with terror written on it. But nonetheless I’m happy that for the first time in my life, I feel like the elusive stream of life begun sprinkle some of its droplets in my soul. I want to capture that moment for a life time. I want to hold on to this and never let time ruin it. I wish it will stay forever but a voice inside our classroom begun to shake off the dust of my fantasy.
“My boy, I think we need to see the doctor now”. Dr. Sterling voice is infused with dread and concern. He looked at me with those eyes that I wish my father and mother or everybody else would look at me: the looked of someone who care. I glance at my wrist in which a visible slit mark appears with over flowing blood that makes the skin of my arm to look like a mutated crimson arm. I’m losing a bucket of blood and that’s something I never really thought before taking that knife. After a second my vision begun to wobble until everything begun to fade. The chairs, the black board, that white painted door and even Dr. Sterling begun to fade away while he is running towards me. So this is how it feels like to die. Everything you know just fade away like they are made by sand and blown by an unknown wind that you can’t feel its gust. I fancy seeing a light that will appear above me but I guess that’s only for good guys after all. Then my whole body begun to fade too and soon my death wish will be granted by someone.


They say that when you died, all your senses will cease to function. Like if somebody click the power button of an appliances and unplug it from an outlet, the body they say lose its usefulness. But of course, were not machines so when our power switch turns off and we are unplugged in the outlet of life, it will be permanent and irrevocable. Perhaps that is the reason why as long as we have life, we have to do what we really wanted to do and make every second of our everyday counts. Our days are numbered and every wasted day will non-changeable and unlike mix tapes, we can’t play it all over again in our own leisure. I guess life becomes more meaningful when you realized those things. When you finally learn that someday, somehow you’ll be dead and gone in the face of the earth; chances are you will enjoy living your very short and temporary lives. Unfortunately I didn’t understand those lessons very much before I found myself inside this coffin. After all, I’m more concerned to be dead than to live. I don’t regret the fact that I slit my wrist out of impulse and make a very terrifying finale before the last curtain fall. I’m not ashamed that I might put the name of our school or even my family in disgrace knowing that I committed a “suicide” (which is questionable because I don’t have any thoughts about during the time I made that act) and as far as I know the whole neighborhood starts spreading rumors that I’m a psychotic anti-social kid who wanted to be noticed and seek some attentions. Maybe that’s true or maybe they are the ones who needed the attention to knock their senses out. But that doesn’t matter; the living didn’t care at all so why wouldn’t I?
But to tell you honestly, I’m wondering what my mom and dad feels after they discovered that I killed myself inside our classroom. I wonder if they cried or get angry with what I’ve done. Did they finally found out that they there are one of the main reasons why my life becomes useless? Did they feel guilty or sorry about it? Did they feel ashamed of themselves for the fact that they are incapable of giving love and care to their one and only son? Will they miss me? Will my whole classmate miss me? Or will someone miss?
It sound pathetic but at that moment, I sort of miss the world I used to belong. I feel a different kind of loneliness, the loneliness when you felt when you’re leaving someone or something. That kind of loneliness that isn’t hard to understand since everyone knew what that is. I know it’s strange I really don’t owe anything to them but damn it, for a brief moment I wish I could just say a proper farewell to them even though they make me feel dead and empty. The life of a living individual made me sick but nevertheless I’m once belong to their ranks. I’m once a living being and after realizing it, it reminds me more that it kills me more than anything else.
Just then, after the endless darkness of staying inside this coffin (which I didn’t know if it’s hot or cold inside of it) a bright light begun to blind my sight (and I wonder how that is possible since I’m probably decomposing now). Then suddenly I remember the discussion of Dr. Sterling in the last academic lesson of my life. This could be the beginning of my journey as a dead man. I have to seek the place where soul rest in peace in a perpetually eternal state. Will it be like going into the gates of Hades and accosted by Cerberus? Or the boat adventure in the Nile River like the god Ra did? How about descending to Hell then to Purgatory and lastly to Paradise just like the Italian poet Dante?
But before I start to recall all the places that I can go in afterlife, I suddenly found myself floating in a dead space. Yes, I can totally sense my body once more although I feel so light like a loose balloon that time. Where am I?
Everything is so dark. Darker than the blackest thing I’ve ever seen when I was still alive. It’s the kind of darkness that when your eyes stare at it for a long time it will be blind in a painless way. At first I feel disappointed that my supposed grand journey in the realm of dead is nothing but a tireless and boring trip to oblivion where I will be forever floating in total darkness. But after a few seconds, the void where I am suspended began to conjure miniscule spots of lights around me. They look like sparkling dust which sends off soft and unworldly lights. One by one they glow and scattered from every corners. Until I finally understand where am I. I’m in outer space! And I’m freaking floating in the midst of stars!
So my journey in the land of dead starts in an intergalactic adventure. I never expect that Death is also fond of science fiction themes when you’re visiting his abode. I always thought it will be more like ancient and magical. But in space? It’s either I’m lost or something like a special treatment is coming up for a poor soul like me.
Then things become more strange and cruel. The beautiful stars that surround me become hazy and their colors begun to shift in different colors. They look like giant Christmas lights in one dark winter. Its colorful but in due time they begun to induce fear inside of me. The shift of their colors starts from slow pulsating movements then to rapid flicker of lights that makes my head throbbing in the same manner that their colors change. How can I possibly still feel pain though I’m already dead? This is ridiculous, but I feel like my head will going to explode. The fast blinking of all the stars terrified me so much that I think I’m also flickering. And it really does! My whole body starts to flicker madly; I turned to red, yellow, blue, green and so many colors that I’ve never seen in the rainbow. I don’t know what’s happening and I wish this will end. Within a minute the stars stop blinking and they begun to radiate a searing light that brightens the whole area where I am floating. One by one they began to send of bright and fiery rays that burns not just my eyes but my whole body. Is this a bright version of hell? The whole void is filled with light like millions of suns begun to rise and cover the sky. The harsh light swallows the whole space. Slowly I fade once again but this time; all the particles in my body are being tear pieces by pieces in my own naked eye. I don’t any feel pain at all but it scares me to see myself seeing being ripped apart until what’s left is nothing but dust and unrecognizable particles.
You think it was all over? No, not yet. That is just the appetizer I believe. After being trapped in darkness and light I am now in the most bizarre place in the whole world. Or perhaps in the whole universe. Exaggerated? Cliché? No, no, no. I know what I’ve seen and what I’ve experience. If the fact that I’m lost in space all alone is not enough, then what will happened next to me will clearly defined what is fear all about and perhaps lead me to regret why in the first I ask for death without knowing what is really behind its hollow eyes. I found myself once again in an empty void floating endlessly. But instead of stars that I hope I won’t see again and perpetual darkness, the void is now bathed in swirling colors. Its hell’s version of psychedelic that instead of making me high and euphoric, it assault my mind (if dead people still have it) with hallucinations of some sort that push me further into the edge of my sanity. The swirling mass of colors that surrounds me created bizarre and unusual patterns in the most erratic fashion. Its dizzying effect puts a toll in my brain that makes me see twisted faces of agonizing pain; moaning and screaming in fear of something that is unseen. They are countless and they are all closing against me. Why on earth I feel suffocated if I’m tad dead now! With a feeble effort I start swinging my arms to shove off those harrowing faces. Cold sweat makes me sluggish but I managed to hit one those faces. But to my horror, instead of relief, I just make things to become worse. Yes, I did hit a certain face but it begun to melt like a wax in my hands. Slowly it oozes until it covers my whole arms and without a blink it shrouded my whole body. I scream but my voice is a mere whisper compare to the wailings and spine shivering screams of these unidentified nightmare. It devours me until I become one of them; a face without an identity lost in this kind of void and unfortunately lost outside the universe and to everything that exist.
I though that’s the final stop in this nightmare of the dead but to my dismay, I’ve only seen the surface. The cause of this journey that more gruesome than hell will be unveiled ultimately after the oblivious incident in the colored inferno.






Darkness then Light. And after that, total chaos. I don’t know but those patterns somehow make sense as I quite remember that day when Dr. Sterling discuss about the myths and tales about the creation of the universe which he always fancy to name it as the “Cosmos”. There are so many stories that tells about how did all things started but one of the most interesting (or probably the only story I remembered completely because my classmates as always puts a great time ruining the whole discussion. It’s their talent that I wish they just keep for themselves instead of sharing it like a plague) is that unknown myth where it says that the creation occurs when two opposing forces; darkness and light begun to fuse together. Dr. Sterling says that even though these two bore outstanding differences, the force or energy that the combination of the two will produce is so great and powerful because the contrasting power of light and darkness is omnipotent. Think about nuclear fission wherein the splitting of atoms can accumulate huge power that can blast off an entire nation or to make it simple, think about the positive and negative poles of magnet that emits a powerful bonding force. That’s what the fusion of light and darkness can make; a power so great that it can create or destroy everything.
“Most of us tend to choose between good and evil, darkness and light, positive or negative but the mystics and old world philosopher see those two differently. They regard both light and darkness with high importance in our lives as well for they believed that without any of these, the world will never be born. The Chinese people made a beautiful representation of the co-mingling of these two primary forces through the image of Ying-Yang. These symbols show us that light and darkness can be transcended. We need not to choose between each of them, we only need to embrace both of them for we are also a creation made from light and darkness. We possess both the qualities of this contrasting element, that’s why the human soul is no doubt a very interesting object for it holds both the qualities to destroy and create. But it depends on who acknowledge that power and what will he choose: to create, to destroy or both”
“Both?”
I asked Dr. Sterling after our class since I found his last statement a bit odd and impossible. I’ve always been taught to think in a linear way like most of the people in this world but what Dr. Sterling told me that day made me think about that life is big mystery that neither Sherlock can crack. No, reason and intellect alone is not enough but maybe something greater than those things will.
“I see. Maybe you’re confused why I said both but to be honest, there’s nothing really surprising with that idea” Dr. Sterling smile as he put all those thick leather bounded books in the shelves. We are in the library that second time I step my foot on that place, I’m fond of learning new stuff but I rarely touch a book especially the thick and no image books. It gives me a terrible head ache.
“But why and how is that possible?”
“Before creation, there should be destruction. Just like how life begins after death. It’s a cycle my boy, and it keeps on turning and turning because it makes the whole cosmos in harmony. Remember this: The contrasting forces of this world are important. They are created not for the sole purposes to indicate something about our morality or way of living; they are greater and mysterious than we already know about them. Want to have a good example?”
“Sure sir”
“Well, let’s no go further. Let’s make you an example. You have a great longing for death isn’t it?”
“W-well…don’t get me wrong sir but I’m not a suicidal kid. I just have some issues…by the way how did you know that?”
Dr. Sterling laughs with like a grandfather who is amused with his grandson that time. It’s a bit awkward but I found it nice.
“Because before, I was like you too. I long for death more than ever…but then I realized a something that I wanted you to know. The more you long for death, the more you also seek for life and vice versa. Strange isn’t it?”
I found myself in awed as I listen to all those words from this old genius. Perhaps reading a lot of old and dusty books can change how you perceive things and transform your beliefs. Or maybe it is something to do with his personal way of life. But who knows maybe it because of the wisdom acquired from being old. Yet again, I feel something more than that to Dr. Sterling as if he knew something more than what a normal person should know.
“Since you are my first student to show an interest in our discussion, let me tell a secret then.”
I look at him with much curiosity and a slight anticipation.
 “Does it involve the secret on how you silence the class with that haunting music of yours?”
“No. Your classmate isn’t just accustom to the sound of hell, unlike you and me.” He winked at me as if I get that both of us like the sound of hell.
“Do you know who is the one that wager between the forces of light and darkness in this world?”
“Hmm…no sir.”
He suddenly leans closer to me and whisper the answer in my ear. That time we are both facing a glass screen in the book shelves so I perfectly saw the face of Dr. Sterling. I wonder if it’s a mere illusion of light or I’m just getting paranoid that time but what I saw with my own eyes horrifies me that time. The face of the kind and patient of Dr. Sterling suddenly shift into a face that nearly pinned me down for I clearly recognized that face: a skull with hollow eye sockets and wide grin with black flames dancing along the edges of its teeth. But what makes me froze in terror is the voice that gave the answer to the question of the doctor. No, both the voice and the answer literally send shiver not just in my spine but also to heart and soul.
They are the reapers.”




Out of nowhere I woke with all the sweat and tears flowing in my face. My hands are trembling and my whole body is twitching madly because of the insurmountable terror that creeps all over me. I can’t comprehend what happens that time but I’m glad it’s all over now, albeit as stand up and grope in the darkness, I suddenly remember what happens to me just before I woke up. I quickly glance at my wrist and my fear goes in a scale so high I might not contain it no more. There is still the slit that I made but there’s no blood coming from it. I cast my eyes in my surrounding and I found myself in the old and abandon cemetery with all tombs stone and crows that filling up my whole senses. I look down and I saw instead of my bed, I’m sitting in my own coffin. Dread is consuming me now; I shouldn’t really wish that before, now I’m reaping what I sow before: the seed of fear and death.
Just then out of nowhere a figure appears in front of me like a malicious apparition. I thought it was a ghost but as I saw the clothes it wear: long sleeve polo shirt with a black vest and tie, I felt relieved that I finally saw a living after that terrible journey. But to my dismay, I curse and wish that I would rather spend in that oozing psychedelic place rather than seeing this familiar face again, so familiar that it makes never brings contempt but horror that no one can escape.
I should remember that clothes, those are the clothes of Dr. Sterling and now he is staring at me with without his eyes but with a wide grin where all the black flames of hell play.
“Too bad you can’t long for another life now.” he said as he approach me and reach his bony arms toward me. Fearing what will happens next; I close my eyes and just waited for my next demise. Unfortunately after a few seconds, I feel a strange sensation in mouth. I open my eyes and I saw the face of Dr. Sterling. Not the skinless and eyeless face but the old and sagacious face of my professor in history.
“It’s now your turn my boy, to waged between darkness and light” he said as I feel the fires of hell begun to rise in my hollow eyes and mouth.


Huwebes, Setyembre 25, 2014

Untold Affairs of love and Death

It takes me about two months to write a new short story. Not bad i guess and i definitely love this story i made which i found to be weird. Have you ever imagined Love and Death having a relationship before? Could it be possible? And what will be the fruit of the unlikely affair between the two oldest being of the universe? Here is what i think will happen dear brothers and sisters....


In a strange land where the world is still a newborn child. When the sea is still as blue as the sky and the land is still covered with colossal trees like skyscrapers and every corner are bursting with the aroma of flowers of all shapes and sizes. In a place where mankind  still not exist among rocks and stones and a world where primitive and simplicity of life is spoke of eternal antiquity that makes everything a part of nature and no one is regarded as the supreme steward of the world…a little bird is just an inch towards its final seconds of existence.
The animals of her kind as the well as the beast of the land and behemoth of the sea couldn’t fathom what is happening. With just a second they saw the bird tumbling and falling from the top of a jagged edge cliff. They are trying to express their amazement and fear in groans and screams that no one can comprehend at all as they witness the bird soar in the sky and fall with just a split second in pointed rocks at the bottom of the cliff. They spotted its motionless body, still warm and breathing yet covered in thick crimson fluid. A deer try to taste the viscous liquid for it’s their first time to see what blood looks like. They didn’t like the taste of it, and so does the sight of the little bird who is gasping for her life.
In the midst of the commotion that grows between the animals, they didn’t feel nor see that beside the bird, a woman dress in ripped black dress is kneeling beside her. The beautiful yet dreadful lady in black has a deep sorrowful set of eyes that has two colors: on her left is red while the other is purple. Her skin is as pale as the sickening moon light and her hair is braided with skulls but despite her awful appearance, the expression in her face is filled with an overwhelming sadness and confusion. Like those animals that  though can’t express neither emotion yet you can feel that they wanted to convey something, the lady in black is definitely feel lost and it seems she didn’t understand what she should with the little bird.
“What are you waiting for, go and take her with you now” a gentle yet strong voice suddenly arouse the pale lady from wallowing in sadness and confusion. A young man of such vigor and beauty emerge from nowhere. He radiates a bright yet invigorating aura like the sun rising after the endless darkness of the night. His skin is almost like gold in complexion while his robe is the color of purity and passion. The young man is flawless; there is no hint of impurity or grotesque stain of matter life. Such beauty is as strong as any spear, sword or gun in our life today. His beauty is something that can overthrow once kingdom or built it to last for eternity.
“You have to do it, it’s your job after all to take the life of others” the young man speaks as he approached the lady. Although her appearance is fearsome and her presence is composed of unwanted sensations, the lady in black only manages to utter meekly two words while looking down on the ground:
“I Can’t”
“But why? You’re Death! You’re in charge of making the lives of men come to an end. Without you doing you role, this world will never progress. No changes will occur and life will not begun”
Tears start to fall in the eyes of Death. It her first time actually to reap a soul. At first she thought her job is as easy as hitting switches when a certain times come up. When she was created, all she remembers was that she is only made for one thing all alone: to reap the souls and put an end to what is living when the right time came. But now as she stares at the broken body of the little bird, she can’t resist sympathizing and doubts cloud her mind if she should take the bird’s soul and let it die. She felt that she is not the one who have to this for her heart speak of pain and not of duty.
“It’s too young, too young to left this world…it didn’t even have the chance to it her life to the fullest, how am I supposed to take its life if I feel that she didn’t deserve  to die” Death sob as she speak in a sorrowful tone.
“I know, I know but think about it, taking away that bird’s life now will not make her suffer more and her family. Look, there is her mother and father, they are already crying” the beautiful young man says as he pointed two large birds who give a shrilling cried that deafens the whole forest but neither sadness is seen in their fa
ces, they just look at the body of the little bird and make sound.
“If you really care for the little bird, then you shouldn’t let her suffer this long. After all, end is inevitable and you are the sole envoy of this. This is your duty” said the beautiful young man as he makes a broad grin without any traces of lament in the situation.
Death, although still hesitant as she heard the man’s word timidly, wipes her tears and look at the man with her hollow eyes and ask: “Am not sure about it but are you really Love?”
The young man who is actually raised his brow and starts laughing with his soft and mellow voice.
“That’s really funny madam Death”
“No. I’m serious. Are you really Love? The envoy of compassion and care?”
Love stop laughing and as he realized that Death is not making fun of him.
“What makes you ask about it?”
“Well, I though Love always move and act from his heart. But it seems you act and move through mind and reasons alone, not with emotions and even feelings alone”
The young man which is actually Love fell silent as Lady Death touch the bird and with an instant the bird who by now is already lifeless and already knocking the gates to her grave begun to cough hard and begun to mumble and meekly cried like a new born baby something like it is begging for something yet it didn’t know how she will plead for it since no words can be uttered by her useless beak.
Lady Death scoops the blood of the bird in her hand and l pours it into its open beak. The little bird cough as it spit the blood the filled its beak. It quickly get up and soars up into the skies like there is nothing really happened to it. The whole crowd of animal begun to make a crazy uproar though within the back of their minds, they never realized that they witness the second and third miracle that happens in the after the creation of all cosmos: somebody died. And it came back to life.
Watching the whole scenario, Love can’t believe what he just saw with his own eyes. The envoy of end and change, Death give back the life of somebody who is supposedly and should be dead by now. He didn’t understand why this pale woman is opposing her nature as the personification of death and life. And how on heavens did she knows more about love and compassion than him? From the time that he was conceived from the egg laid by the sable being called Chaos, the first to exist before anything or anybody that crawls or floats, he already understood that he is the only one capable of planting to seed of compassion and care in this world. The nutritious need that will be nourish by two or even many creature that will gave meaning to all the things in the vast and complex circuitry of life.
And yet that moment he didn’t understand why instead of his heart, her mind dominate him and speak with sheer pragmatic and rational thoughts that create a delayed shock in his soul for Death’s word is by no doubt the truth. He act like he is not the envoy love. Death could be more capable he thinks to himself. Would that mean he is more suited for the works of taking ones soul? Or could that mean he is a malfunctioned creation of their creator? What a shame! He sigh out loud as he lost his thoughts to too many queries
Dazzled and ultimately confuse, Love go away and then he flew with his broad and robust wings towards the sky. Death only gazes at him with her cold yet lonely eyes. In her heart, she felt a little bliss that the little girl is saved but it can’t be helped that in her mind, she also felt confused. It makes him happy to save souls and yet her duty is to take them…and that is the right thing to do.
As the two make their own separate ways, little did they know The Elder also witness what happened. A look of impending worry is drawn in every crease of her faces.  Perhaps he realized that there is something wrong between the creation he made which is the persona of Death and Love. Something is not quite right, and he needs to do something about it. Or else, the infant world might not make his way through his maturity and end up in chaos and void again before even man is created.
That’s it! Creation. Genesis.
The Great Elder, who’s beard is as white as snow and clad in flowing robe made of star dust and cosmic threads begun to make a move that will put this seemingly innocuous yet perilous dilemma in correction; to fix the flaws the that might cause strife and disorder despite it’s simple yet trivial appearance.
Calling out his messenger which is an avian with wide wings as wide as the length of a young tree, the Elder command it with an amalgam of calm and strong tone.  
“Summoned in my presence both Love and Death”
The messenger split into two smaller version of itself: one is a winged creature in ebony feathers while the other one is an elegant avian in clean ivory shade of color. The two magnificent creatures flew in synchronized moment as they descend down from the abode of the creatures to find the two unlikely beings.
After for a couple of sand has been poured from the sandglass and the sun move an inch toward the place where sky and the ocean meet, Love and Death  found themselves in front of the The Elder. Basking the whole vastness of the sky with bright and dreamy light from the setting sun, the whole realm of heaven where The Elder resides shone like a blazing gold and fire and yet the calm and pure aura of benevolence makes you feel awed and tremble with beauty together with the masses of clouds that playfully creates all sorts of figures that even dreams can’t exhume.
Love and Death. Both have their own personal thought on why they are called by The Elder for they already know that nothing can escape the all seeing eye of the Great Elder, and obviously he already knows the driving force regarding the doings of Death and the display of too much rationality by Love.
“Now my children” The Elder spoke with his voice of all fatherly love as both Death and Love bow their head in reverence to their makers. “I wanted you to know that I’m not angry or disappointed with the two of you. In fact, you just make me proud with what you have shown lately.” A wide smile of childish nature intertwined with a proud tone from the Elder shocked both Death and Love. These two had already concluded that they will taste hurtful words or worse the full wrath of The Elder but hearing his words right now, it seems that they got it all wrong for their creator’s thoughts are utterly untraceable and undeniably too hard to comprehend.
“Love, my young envoy of passion and care. Behind the beauty I lay upon you, you also possess a firm obedience with the natural way of the world. It’s unnatural for Love sometimes defies even the natural way of things. That is what I saw however with Lady Death.” The Elder glance at Death who is quickly averts her eyes to The Elder out of shyness.
“Her acts of compassion regarding the little bird is a tell tale sign that sometimes, even the right thing to do should be push aside because of much greater things like love. And yet again, like Love, you show actions contrary to what you should be”
“The two of you possess great qualities that I’m glad manifested within the two of you. But what bothers me is that I think these qualities are not complementing to the nature that I laid upon the two of you…that means, I have to redo it all again”
Everything fell silent as The Elder gives a hint of slight troubled expression. The silence seems to send off an unknown uncertainty that even the clouds turn quite black as they somehow perceived the building of silence at the throne of the Elder.
But before the silence continue to become a sightless burden, The Great Elder begun to notice the split form of the flying messenger. They bore different and contrasting colors but when the truth is, they are just the same and one. Suddenly the Great Elder smile and finally the clouds begun to spread out, revealing a glorious ray of sun before night took it place.
“Love and Death, you need to be one once again”
Just after The Elder said this, both the eyes of Death and Love meet. In the midst of their superbly different appearance and astronomically dissimilar nature, that moment, both Love and Death felt a gradually unknown growing attraction towards one another. A subtle yet real force link a mystical chain that binds the two of them. Could it be the works of The Elder? But the Omni-creator is gone now from his throne. Only Love and Death remains  standing in front of the enormous throne made of unknown gems that is unearthly in their glow but suits the unknown force that slowly yet surely made Love and Death gets closer to one another…and in instant, another miracle just happened once more that time: Both sun and moon appears in the twilight sky. Closer and closer there circles joined and become one and eternal…so does the lips and body of the lady in black and the man in white touch each other. Soul to soul, Death and Love become one.
No one knows that time why two beings of spectacular sight lies among the clouds naked and their bodies are wrapped around each of their arms. No one could have though that this act, where two souls of undeniable contrast have reached the zenith of harmony and unity as their bodies are like puzzle pieces that fits one another perfectly. Like they are made for nothing but for each other to become whole and one. That is the act that signifies that each of us, no matter how different we are from every aspect, are one and the same and meant for one another.
The act last for unknown period of time but after Death and Love finally break the chains of their bond (for the time of being unified is finally done and time to split apart is about to start), the age of man take its first dawn. Though unaware of the identity of their first progenitors, man portrays qualities that no doubt belongs Death and Love. Those who inherit compassion and emotion of such purity and will to defy anything out of sympathy and care and a beauty that can end even the sturdiest metal and melt even the toughest gold, this being are called women and their mother is Love. On the other hand, the pragmatic and logical individuals who do what is just without any hint of reluctance, those who are driven by rationale as firm and as cold as ice yet behind is the their heart that only do what is right, this being are called men, the begotten son of Death.
Love and Death is now different from their past appearance now. The young men of vigor and radiance become the most beautiful being that the world has ever known with her long tresses, soft and delicate figure and soothing yet loving voice that always melt the heart of everyone and strengthen the spirit of the weak and powerful alike. And the lady in black whose eyes are the scion of somber and twin of lament is now covered himself in a robe more darker than the shadow of netherworld and his face is always veiled and nobody even remember now how he looks like now for everybody begun to fear his scythe. But despite of it all, many knew how important Death is and without him, life could never be justified.
It’s been a lifetime or longer since the Death and Love become one, but judging our world marching into the monarch of chaos and confusion now, the moment of their second unification will begun for the last grain of the sand is about to take its last fall, but only The Elder knows when will it be.