petals

She fingered the black rose delicately, unsure. The small note lay on the small wooden table beside her, the scarlet words repeating themselves in her thoughts.

Oh how she was confused; and she was not supposed to be. She who had the power of both Dark and Light, a trait considered rare amongst all those who practice the Craft. She had the power to have glimpses of both Past and Future, yet she was here now, lost in the Present. After all, there was a warlock that she told herself she loved, and her heart was torn.

Sandra stood up and went to the pot that was left over a fire that had burnt itself out. Emptying its contents outside, she went to a nearby spring with just the light of the full moon as her guide, and filled the pot nearly to the brim with water. Relighting the fire with just a whisper and some firewood, she put the water to a boil, and got the black rose.

One by one she plucked the petals off and threw them into the pot, the water slowly turning ebony. Next came the letter, torn into pieces, the ink bleeding into the ebony mixture. Last came a strand of her own hair, another sealing pact, yet lesser than her blood.

She asked the Goddess for a sign.

She got an answer.

choices

I gaze out of my window at the now quieted tempest, the complete opposite of my own thoughts. Another soundtrack accompanies this moodswing that I'm hopelessly stuck in, yet relishing it, and I want a sign. I still haven't chosen a path yet and it will probably take some time for me to choose one. Or is the answer so evident already and I'm just in a state of denial, forcing myself to believe that my love for one is greater than my love for another?

I don't know, and I seek a sign.

wicca

Sandra watched from her shack's sole window as the form of the vampire disappeared into the woods. There was no need to put up her defenses; she was not afraid of them. Only against warlocks and fellow witches does she put her guard up.

For she had been bitten once before, and for reasons she still does not understand, she did not change.

Long she had asked why didn't she change. All her books gave no answer, all her years of experience in witchcraft gave no clue. A visit to her master, though, from whom she learnt the Craft, revealed the most likely reason.

"You have, by far, the most tempestuous will of all those that I have taught," her master had said. "Your will changes faster than the flapping of the hummingbird's wings sometimes, and I once feared that you may not be able to control your power because of that. That is why you were not affected by the curse in any way, for only those who are considered strong-willed are usually the first to fall."

Yet still she wondered over the seeming contradiction. She had always watched the vampires of the Manor from afar, and knew all that had happened. She was quite fascinated with the pure-blood as well; and had come to admire him more because of the sense of honor he still held even as a vampire.

Pushing aside all thoughts, she put out the cauldron flames and got her scrying shard from her shelf. Going outside, she stopped at the edge of the woods, and bent down to trace a pentagram on the soil.

And standing in the center of the star, she chanted:

Invoking the Light
Shinest upon thee now!
None shall harm thee,
For I am the Defender
And I am your Shield!

She felt her power slowly drain into the earth, and wished for his safety. The world is hostile to their kind, and greatly she feared for his safety.

With one swift swipe, she cut her palm with the scyring shard and let the blood drip at each point of the pentagram.

Through my blood
Let this spell be bound
To the Rules and Oaths of the Goddess!

She closed her eyes, and let her power empty to the earth. Wherever he may be now, the Goddess will protect him, by the oath bound by the blood of a witch.

That was the only thing that she could give him now, aside from her answer.

conversation

Fiction again, sadly.

Talk to me.

It doesn't matter if it's about what. As long as I hear you, it's good enough for me. Over cups of coffee or not even face to face, doesn't matter--it's you and your thoughts that matter.

All I want is just to listen; to taste your words and twirl them with my tongue, feeling every shape of each syllable as I imitate your speech like a baby learning her first words. New yet familiar, I sink into a state of jamais vu as your voice drops to a whisper when you reach the end and reason of all that has been said and done.

Succintly summarized in three words that I can barely say.

paths

I am actually dumbfounded as accolades, some uninvited, are laid at my feet. I never believed much in myself anyway--there will and was always someone better or lousier than I am/was, and I'll always be just a little above average. Call me cynical but that's the way it is. I was never fully sure about any of my paths as well, and I feel I'm losing the spark.

Maybe because I'm currently torn between two paths and about something I used to be so sure about.

Then again, it was only society that said I can't take both. And I've almost always disregarded those constructs anyway.

-_-;;

This is one of those pretty annoying days where everything seems to go out of hand.

Was supposed to go with Kat to watch some movie, but since she had a group meeting with her classmates for some school project, it got moved to next week. It was already late when I found out that her group project thing didn't push through. The UAAP game in Araneta made malling in Gateway impossible, so even if she was free, I was hesitant.

Since the movie thing was postponed, I instead went with mom to Megamall. We went to a pre-Christmas bazaar, where I saw this cute but horribly expensive silver ring--let's just say that half of my week's allowance would be wiped out if I bought that, and I'm not willing to starve for a ring. Pretty disappointed at that; so I bought a simple bag instead to replace the pink fish one that the cat chewed on. After that mom went to have a full body massage, so I went to the few internet cafes there to look for a place where I could play PW. Sadly, there was none--Netopia only had 2 PCs with PW, and both were currently being used. I for the life of can't understand why only two PCs had the game installed, so I asked for a refund (had to deposit 100 bucks at login).

I went across to Timezone instead to try my luck, but the place was too full. All games had some people waiting to play (except for those luck, spin-the-wheel type of games where winning is near-impossible). I roamed around the mall then for a bit before finally getting bored and so I ended up at the small Pacific Internet internet cafe where they didn't have any games as well. Mom fetched me there after her massage.

So we had a late lunch at Yoshinoya--the only highlight probably for the day aside from the bag. Yum. Bought some mini-donuts from Country Style and we went home; I expecting that I'd get a chance to play once I arrive here.

Turns out the connection was intermittent again, and just to access some webpages I had to refresh several times. I didn't even dare play anymore because of the fear that I'd only end up with a dead Yu Ling in my hands. While waiting for a webpage to load, I pushed back the chair, and a chair leg came off. Good thing I didn't fall.

Now I'm typing while standing up, and I need to get a new chair (it's beyond repair already). So much for playing with relative ease at home.

Oh well. I hope dinner will be better; smells nice from up here.

five things i want to do before i die

1. Learn to ride a motorbike and cruise near top speed along a deserted highway
2. Volunteer for some cause even for a short while
3. Submit an entry for either the English poetry or short story category of the Palanca awards
4. Move out of the house and live in a place I own (or even rent)
5. Graduate from college

monotony

Another day passing into the covers of night, only to resurface the next, like nothing has changed. Or more like, nothing will. As Last Dance plays endlessly again on the PC, I will dream, or I try to.

And I find myself leering away from my daily routine (both curricular and extra-curricular). Not that I'm not enjoying it anymore, it's just me with all other things--I easliy get bored. Then again I remind myself that events/special occasions are special because they happen so few and far between; if they happen everyday then they'd become normal and ordinary too. I don't want that.

I wish for a spark that would make me look forward to every sunrise.

propheteering

Empty pages.

An apparent nonsense
unraveled
now meaningful.

Like prophets denounced
insane, madmen.
Yet when the earth dissolves into
these empty pages

why don't these prophets just buy
or build
their own bomb shelters
save themselves?

Or that save everyone shit
is just a meek ploy
to get someone
to act insane
as well.

stripped

I let you
undress me
shedding off all my disguises and lies
pulling them all off
and letting them fall to the floor in a mangled heap.

For in your embrace
there is no need for illusion,
I am tired of this endless role-play.

And only when unmasked
one can see a smile
curling up at the corners of my lips.

despair

It's another one of those days where I find myself just drifting between words and worlds, somehow a bit exhausted. Obligations pile up in front of me, but I don't give a goddamn and somehow I'll just worry about it later. Maybe I'm just tired and all, or maybe it's the weather, but whatever the reason, its still crazy me half-restrained/constrained and just letting myself empty like a tin can being drifted by the current down the dead dirty river of humanity.

The rain now lashes against the windows and I close them to prevent my notes from getting wet. Yet there's this side of me that wants to go out and dance in this impromptu storm like it's the best darned thing that has happened in a long time, singing a rainsong and heralding the end of the drought.

And I end up asking myself, why do I prevent myself from this release that I am after? Not just the dance in the rain, but in everything else, from saying those clichéd three words and just losing myself and my pride in the process.

self-righteousness

Sometimes I doubt my reasons.

I swore to defend my people, the only reason I took on this job. But as useless, bureaucracy gets in the way. The solution was so darned easy, yet for the life of me I wonder why they won't fix it. They could've easily fixed that if they wanted to, but then again, it's not in their ballpark anymore.

And such a thousand implications of just a name. That's why I have many names--like a thousand selves, when one is forbidden, I would simply change.

This is one of the days that sometimes what people define as wrong and right aren't clear. And I wish that next time I'll find the courage to stand up and say or do what I see as the only white in a sea of grey.