Somebody

Part Four : The Decison

[Wednesday: 7th January 2005: 11.15am]

The phone on her desk rang and she jumped, being jolted rudely out of her stupor. “Hello, Grace speaking.” Her voice was dry from all the coffee she drank the night before. It had been an extremely long night.

“Gracie?”

She managed a small smile—it took her a lot of effort to smile these days. She knew who it was. “Hello stranger.”

“Can I take you out for lunch today?”

Grace checked her wristwatch. “Of course. I’ll see you later then.”

After she replaced the receiver, she turned back to her computer and tried to finish the story her editor had demanded she do. To her disgust, all she had typed was endless lines of “Ian”. She leaned back in her chair in an attempt to keep herself together. What was happening to her? Didn’t she promise to get over it already?

Her stomach twisted into a painful knot. I can’t go to the wedding. I’ll never make it out of there.

[Wednesday: 7th January: 1.05pm]

She saw Oliver long before he saw her. It was absurd, but as she stood outside the restaurant looking at him sip his wine, she couldn’t help wishing it was Oliver she was in love with.

Maybe. Just maybe I could.

“Hello handsome.” She mustered a smile as she took the seat opposite Oliver. “Hello yourself.” He laughed as he waved to the waiter. “Quick. Order something to eat. I’m starving.”

After the waiter left with their orders, Oliver reached over and gently took her hands in his.

Her eyes widened with confusion.

“Grace? Will you come with me to Italy?”

[Wednesday: 7th January: 7.05pm]

“But Grace. You don’t know Italian.” Amanda was holding her hands so tight that Grace thought she might break them. “Don’t do this because you want to escape Ian. Please.”

Grace felt herself retreat in denial. “No. I’m not doing this because of Ian.”

Amanda shook her head. She didn’t believe her. Sweet Amanda. She knew her too well.

“I’ll be working there. Reuters has employed me. It’s a huge opportunity for me – to finally persue what I love doing most.” Grace gave her best friend a sad smile. “I need to start doing things for myself.”

She searched Amanda’s face, disappointed that she wasn’t as supportive as she’d hoped she would be. “Aren’t you happy for me?”

She saw Amanda’s eyes shining with tears as she nodded. “But what about me?”

Grace swallowed painfully and hugged her. “You still have Ben. He loves you and you know I’ll always love you.”

“Do you love Oliver?” Amanda was demanding too much honesty from her. Some of it which she was not ready to share. “Enough to know I’ll be happy with him.”

“When are you leaving?”

“End of this week.”

“You’re not going to the wedding.” It was a statement. Not a question, and Grace’s answer confirmed it. “No. I’m not going.”

[Sunday: 11th January: 9.00pm]

Grace let her eyes soak up the visual before her. The pink walls, now stark and cold without her paintings, stared back at her, almost accusingly. It would be a long time before she returned. Maybe never. She had everything packed up in boxes and they crowd her tiny one-room apartment.

She was sitting in the middle of her living room which now looked chillingly aloof without her furniture. Her memories with this place already felt too distant to touch. It’s a good thing, she decided. She didn’t want to take anything with her besides her substantial belongings. Whatever that she had felt her before belongs to the past. She needs to let go and start anew.

She will no longer run from it. She will no longer cry about it.

She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath.

My life all packed up in boxes. She mused as she let her eyes sweep the apartment. How apt.

In another hour, Oliver would be coming to get her. She wasn’t sure what to feel. Anxiety, nervousness, anticipation, sadness, excitement, yearning?

Millions of thoughts were running through her mind. Ian. Amanda. Oliver.…. Ian.

She hated it, but she felt numb. She knew things were going to get better. That was the only thought which was keeping her going right now. Now, if only she believed herself.

[Sunday: 11th January: 11.45pm]

Her fingers felt warm nestled in Oliver’s hands as he led her towards the boarding gate.

She hadn’t expected Ian to come running after her begging her to stay but still, the tinge of disappointment tugged at her. But she was willing to forgive, since he had no idea she was leaving.

Grace felt strangely light as they walked through the gates. At long last, she might just be able to leave Ian behind.

Beside her, Oliver was smiling at her and she couldn’t help but smile back.

Related Entries:
Somebody Part 1
Somebody Part 2
Somebody Part 3

Somebody

Part Three : The Stranger

[Monday: 5th January 2005: 11.50pm]

Amidst her sub consciousness, Grace thought she heard someone calling her name but she was reluctant to acknowledge it. It was a good fifteen minutes later before she pulled herself out of bed and stumbled out into the living room.

“Grace? What the…are you okay?”

“Amanda?”

—

For the next hour, Amanda fussed over her. She made her sit down at the kitchen counter while she made her a mug of hot cocoa, all the while showering her with soothing words.

Grace watched as Amanda moved about the kitchen and realized she had never felt more detached in her life.

“I can take a few days off to accompany you if you want. We could even go on a trip! Or you can always visit your parents in Hong Kong. Take a good, long break. You deserve it. You—“

“Amanda?”

She stopped and turned around, a tender smile on her face. “Hmm?”

“It hurts.”

Amanda swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Carrying the mug of steaming cocoa, she took the seat beside Grace. Then gently, she pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly. “You can cry if you want to. I won’t tell. I promise.”

And she did.

[Tuesday: 6th January 2005: 9.00am]

The second she woke up, Grace could feel the migraine eating into the soft tissues of her temple, immobilizing her momentarily while she waited for the pain to pass. Wincing in pain, she walked into her bathroom and in the mirror, she saw herself—the red, puffy eyes and the parched lips.

She looked like she has just been run over by a truck. Twice.

She stared at herself and felt it all at once: the pity, the pain, the sorrow.

Disgusted with herself, she cleaned and scrubbed herself diligently until she was sure she looked and felt human again before dressing up for work. It was then she saw the note on her headrest that Amanda had written before she left telling her that she’d taken the day off for her.

She smiled mildly. Good old Amanda.

Gratefully, she changed out of her work clothes and headed to the kitchen to make some breakfast. She was determined to get the subject of her distress out of her mind; at least to get through the day before throwing herself back into work in the week to come.

She had just put emptied the last of the coffee powder into the coffee machine when her doorbell rang.

Grace dragged herself to the door and looked through the peephole but something seemed to be obscuring her view. This somebody was obviously intentionally blocking her view. She mentally ran down her list of possible suspects but all she could conclude was that it couldn’t be Ian or Silver.

She threw open the door and was immediately bombarded by a bouquet of daisies and then she was being pulled into a crushing embrace.

She panicked. “Let go of me, you pervert!”

“Is this how you greet an old friend?”

She blinked as the bouquet disappeared and in its place stood a dashing young man named…”Oliver?”

He gave her a beaming lop-sided grin. “Hello Grace.”

“I can’t believe it’s really you!” Grace was slightly taken back by how much Oliver had changed. The last time they met, it was six years ago when he was still a gawky, awkward pimpled-face student. Now he has hair! And he was so much taller and darker!

Thankfully, he still had that captivating smile and those chocolate brown eyes.

Grace took a moment to wonder if he was still as in love with her as he was six years ago.

He grinned. “It’s me alright.” Then shifting his weight, he lamented. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? Or something?”

“Oh!” Grace laughed. “I’m sorry. Please come in.” She opened the door wider for him to step in.

“So how’ve you been, Grace?” He asked as he sat down on the couch and Grace took the space beside him after pouring him and herself each a cup of steaming coffee. “You don’t look too good.” He leaned closer as he inspected her. “You look like you’ve been crying.” His voice had softened evidently.

She avoided his eyes and attempted to change the subject. “So what’re you doing back here? The last time I checked, you were in Italy.” She almost laughed at herself. What was she trying to do? She sure didn’t feel as bright as she sounded.

Oliver gave her a long hard look which Grace felt alarmingly intimate, before going along with her. “I was. I came back to gather some information for a story and then I’m off again.”

Grace nodded. Like her, Oliver was a writer. Only he chose to leave a long time ago to pursue something bigger. Now, he’s working for The Reuters and has the world in his palm. “How long will you be staying?”

Oliver shrugged. “A few days. A week, at most.” Grace felt her heart drop to her feet. “That soon?”

His heart did a little dance as he nodded. He saw her face drop and heard the disappointment in her voice. Anything that was something was a chance that Grace might finally be feeling for him. It marveled him that after all these years, the sight of her still takes his breath away. And him, well, he still feels like a lovesick schoolboy around her.

Suddenly, the phone rang and Grace jumped. She froze as it continued ringing. Before she could respond, Oliver had already answered it.

“It’s for you.” He passed the headset to her, his tone disapproving. “Some guy. Ian.”

Grace shook her head. No, she mouthed. I’m not in. Oliver gave her a questioning look but obligingly did as she asked. “She’s not in. Do you want to leave a message?”

A second later, he passed her the headset again. “He says if you don’t pick up, he’s coming around the house.” He hushed and then mouthed to her, We don’t want that, do we?

Her heartbeat raced and she had to take a deep breath. Warily, she took the phone. “Ian?”

“Grace? Jesus. Where have you been? I’ve been calling all of yesterday. Are you alright?” His words were forceful but his voice, like always, was calm and composed. And he didn’t ask about the man in her house.

Grace couldn’t trust herself to speak but still she did. “I’m…fine.”

“That’s good.” There was relief in his voice and Grace felt the pit of her stomach tightening. Ian had never cared to ask more than once. “Did Silver tell you? About the wedding?”

She felt it again—the painful pang in her guts. “Yes.” She managed.

Grace held her breath as Ian tactlessly continued about the plans of the wedding, completely unaware of her demise. She pulled the headset an inch from her ears and waited for it to end.

Oliver watched as she took the call. Ian. He remembers that name.

The pain on her face was undeniable and it broke his heart. If he had his way, he’ll never want to see that look of sorrow in her eyes again.

Related Entries:
Somebody Part 1
Somebody Part 2
Somebody Part 4

Somebody

Part Two : The Confession

THREE YEARS AGO
[Saturday: 16th March 2002: 7.30pm]

“What?”

Grace wasn’t sure if she could say it a second time. “I’m…in love with…you.” She sputtered. It came out squeaky and slurred—not much improvement from the first time she said it just seconds ago, which might explain the look of confusion on Ian’s face.

She waited. But when a full minute went past and he was still not responding, she decided it was time for her to dig a hole in a ground and then hide in it until next year.

“…What?” Ian’s eyes had widened another inch—if it was even possible.

Not again? She groaned inwardly. This was hardly the response she was anticipating. Her only consolation was that he hadn’t jumped out of his seat and bolted out of the café. Yet. “Please don’t make me say it again.” She pleaded in a whisper, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

“Well…I, well…I don’t know.. why…how?..”

He was stammering. Was it a good sign? Well, screw the signs. She needed a complete sentence, one that she could actually decipher into something that makes sense.

Grace was just attempting to rearrange her face into a look that is more encouraging when Ian stopped. “Aren’t you going to get that?” He said.

Grace frowned. His first complete sentence and she had no idea what he was talking about. This is getting way too warped for her liking.

“Your phone. Aren’t you going to get that?” He repeated politely.

“Oh!” So that awful shrieking melody was her phone! She plunged her hand into her handbag in search for the offensive machine. “Yes?” She snapped.

“Gracie! How’s it going? Did he say yes?” It was a very excited Amanda. Such great timing, as always. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.” She hissed. She heard Amanda gasp. “This is taking awfully long! What are you doing? Making polite conversation? Get to the point already!”

“I need to go. I’ll call you back.”

“Hey Gracie, why don’t you get him to the phone. I’ll speak to him for you.” That was a sweet offer but God, she was relentless!

“No. It’s fine. Look, I’ll call you. I promise.” Grace ended the call before Amanda could protest and diverted her attention back to a very flustered looking Ian.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized and struggled for an explanation. “It’s a friend…asking if I wanted free tickets… to, er…the zoo!”

“I see.” He responded woodenly and apparently not seeing at all. “About what you said just now…”

Grace prayed as her heart started to pound furiously. “I’m sorry.” He finished quietly. Her heart stopped. “You’re sorry?” She echoed. “About what?” An ominous dread had crept into her guts and she already knew what was heading her way before he said it.

“I can’t.”

The absolution of it hit her like a brick and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “Oh.” She managed stiffly. She could literally feel her knees buckle and suddenly, she wanted very badly to leave. Her mind had miraculously turned into a mush and she couldn’t think. She picked up her handbag and stood up, eager to save herself whatever dignity that was left.

He stood up too, anxious. She’d never seen him anxious. “Don’t you want to hear me explain?”

She sat down dejectedly, painfully. “Sure.” She answered softly. “Why not?”

Grace watched as he took a deep breathe before he started. “The easiest way to ruin a relationship is to actually get into one, Grace. I like you very much. But not that way. Besides, how well do you know me? We hardly ever talk. I just think we should remain friends for now.” He gave her a soft look. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

She nodded, painfully aware of the dull ache in her chest.

He reached out and with a finger, gently wiped the lone tear that had escaped from her eye. His touch burned her skin and she flinched. And she knew. He didn’t feel a thing for her.

They didn’t turn into instant friends as most people do after going through awkward situations like this. Instead, they drifted apart, contacting only when absolutely necessary. For Grace, it was painful. But it was also something that she wasn’t willing to let go. To her, he was still the love of her life.

Related Entries:
Somebody Part 1
Somebody Part 3
Somebody Part 4

Somebody

Part One : The News

[Monday: 5th January 2005: 5.20pm]

“We’re getting married.”

“Promise you’ll tell me if you ever get married.”

“Of course.” He turned and gave her a soft smile laced with just a tinge of surprise. “Why wouldn’t I tell you?”

She shrugged and kept her gaze fixated to the dusking sky, having no answer for her own question. Why did she ask such a dumb question? “I don’t know.”

He let out a hearty laugh and reached out, shuffling the top of head affectionately. “You’re so silly.”

“Grace?” Silver’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. “Are you there?”

It took her awhile to collect herself but Silver’s words refused to register. “Married?” She echoed dumbly.

“Yes! Isn’t it great? We’re having the banquet at the English Garden end of this month. You’ll come, wouldn’t you?” The bliss in her voice so assaulting that Grace almost had the impulse to hang up the phone. She struggled to regain her composure and knew she was failing terribly. It felt like someone had just threw a punch into her stomach and the pain was almost physical beyond comprehension.

He’s getting married? At that very moment, Grace witnessed her entire world crumbling to the ground.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.” She lied, sounding shaky even to her ears.

Could Silver hear the devastation in her voice?

“I’ll get Ian to call you about the details then. Ciao!”

He didn’t even call me himself.

—

Grace had been sitting in her own bed for the last hour, her knees drawn up to her chest rocking to the soft rhythm of her broken heart. Beside her, the phone has been ringing non-stop but she hadn’t answered a single call. It was probably Amanda. Or her editor. Or even Ian and Silver—the last two people she want to be hearing from right now.

She had expected this to happen, hadn’t she? Him getting married. After all, everyone gets married. But not this soon. Not now. And especially not to Silver.

She drew in a shaky breathe. She was on the verge of tears but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to cry. All she felt was an overwhelming numbness and that hurt even more because it twisted her insides and made her cold.

She hugged herself, not in an attempt to keep warm, but in a silent attempt to keep herself from falling apart.

She wanted to wail, to scream, to yell. But would it have mattered? Would it change anything? No. She supposed not. Ian would still be getting married. She choked back a sob that had escaped from her throat. It was her own fault. She should have walked away the first chance she got but she chose to stay.

Now she will have to witness him marrying someone else; she wasn’t sure if she could survive that, and the torrid image of Ian and Silver walking hand in hand down the aisle was beginning to materialize into something much too real.

Grace stared at the ringing phone and finally took a wary glance at the caller ID. It was Ian. She replaced the phone on the table without taking the call and crawled under the covers.

He never cared the way she did for him. Now he never will.

Related Entries:
Somebody Part 2
Somebody Part 3
Somebody Part 4

Waiting

He looked up, and there she was, nodding her head towards her coffee cup and he knew instantly what she wanted.

She watched as the young waiter returned to refill her coffee for the third time that night. He tipped the pot over her cup and her eyes followed the thick liquid as it floated from the pot and into her cup, it’s aroma hitting her squarely in the face and she took it all in gratefully. Caffeine has become her best friend these days. The long nights, the tedious waiting. For too long a time, she has done nothing but wait.

“Is there anything else you need?” He asked, bestowing her a small smile before she could thank him. No, she returned his smile, she was fine. He nodded and took his leave, giving her another smile over his shoulders – a sympathetic smile, and she grimaced. He knew she was waiting.

She took in a shaky breath and sank into the plush cushioned seat, sipping slowly from her cup. Outside, it had started to rain and she could hear raindrops gently tapping against the window panes, begging to be let in, only to be denied. A bitter look crossed her exquisite features and her eyes began to sparkle with tears. What was she doing? He was gone. He abandoned her. Why was she still waiting?

It was hard not to remember him on a day like this and despite the fact that he’d been gone for months, she was certain he would return. I’ll come back for you, he’d promised, the last week of December. She took a nervous glance at the antique clock that hung over her head. Today was the last day of December, and it was fast approaching midnight.

Her knuckles were pale from gripping the table edges, but she had not noticed the pain. All that she was conscious of was the gentle ticking of the clock and the voice in her head telling her a little too insistently that it had ended.

A single resented tear escaped from her eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks. How silly, she chided herself, wiping away her tears with the back of her hands angrily. How silly for believing.

Above her, the clock struck midnight, and she knew. This time for sure.

He was not coming.

El Inmortal

ImmortalIm*mor”tal,a.—Not mortal; exempt from liability to die; undying; imperishable; lasting forever; having unlimited or eternal existence.

With trembling hands, Grace lifted the bottle to her lips, tilting the end of the bottle until the last of the gold and frothy remains fall back into her throat. The amber liquid burned mercilessly downwards, all the way into her chest, almost bringing tears to her eyes.

Grace savored the pain for a minute, letting it engulf and numbing her from the memories that never seemed to rest. Setting the empty whiskey bottle back in her lap, she rested her heavy head back onto the leather car seat and closed her eyes. In the muted darkness behind her shut eyelids, she saw Nicholas—the man who had promised her so much; the man whom she loved so dearly. The man who, ultimately, despite all his pledges of eternity, left her.

“Damn you, Nicholas Tse.” She managed in a choked whisper. “Damn you.”

When she opened her eyes again, they were brimming with tears—tears that she had refused to shed for so long. But she could no longer hold them back. For three years, she had drowned in them. But in the solitary of this hushed night, she decided she could let her tears flow.

For a long time, she cried, her body shaking brokenly with each sob until she felt she had nothing more left inside her. But still, the ache in her heart didn’t stop throbbing.

Wiping away the stray tears with the back of her hand, Grace pushed the vehicle door opened and shakily got onto her feet. The cold air outside was a fitting welcome to reality and Grace was secretly grateful for it. She left the door opened and with the empty bottle still in her hands, she staggered to the front of the car then slid down onto the rocky ground facing the roaring ocean.

The ocean had been Nicholas’ eternal grave.

Slowly, Grace brought the empty bottle to her lips and whispered softly into it. “I miss you, Nicholas. Will you come back to me? Please?” The mere words threatened to bring tears to her eyes again, but she held them back, determined not to cry. Who was she kidding? How could Nicholas be coming back? But she wasn’t ready to lower her shield of illusory yet. Soon, but not just yet.

She pushed the cork back into the mouth of the bottle, closing her aching words inside it. Pulling her arm back, she swung the bottle into the sea. She never heard the bottle hit the waves, but she knew it must have reached him. He had taught her that—if he ever left first, she needed only to throw him a bottle, and he’ll hear her.

He loved the ocean, her Nicholas.

Grace’s head rolled back and rested on the bumper, her eyes wide open as she contemplated the star lit sky. Was he up there, looking down at her? For three years and the pain was just as raw. Did he know how much she’s hurting? How each day was passed with agony since he left? But of course he didn’t know. He’d been long gone.

As the cold night dragged on, Grace sat there listening to the ocean whispering to her their own song of broken spirits until dawn finally started to break. She pulled herself up, her head throbbing painfully as she did so. Unsteadily, she walked back to the car and slipped in behind the wheel. She knew she was in no condition to drive, but how else was she going to get home? Home. Where the rest of her life waited patiently.

Maybe it was finally time to start over.

As she descended the long mountain road, her mind raced with a million familiar thoughts of Nicholas and again, her eyes misted with tears. When the bend in the road appeared she pumped the brakes. At first the realization that the car was not responding brought annoyance rather than fear, and she tried again in quick thrusts, each one harder than the one before, but the result was the same. The brakes were gone. It was then that panic kicked in.

The steering wheel slipped beneath her sweaty palms, and she tightened her grip. Her gaze fastened on the road, and she fought the urge to blink. The car swerved and swayed across the road, like a drunk weaving through traffic. More than once it came dangerously close to the edge, gravel from the beam crunching beneath the tires. Each time Grace brought it back. She could feel her heartbeat accelerating in rhythm with the car . . . sixty-seven, sixty-eight, seventy miles per hour.

She knew what lay ahead; she could picture it in her mind as sharp and clear as a photograph—that last tight curve before the road made its final descent to meet the highway. There was simply no way she could negotiate the turn at this speed. Grace felt the tears slide down her cheeks as the curve came into view.
Nicholas’ face suddenly appeared in her head. Was she going to join him now?

Perhaps she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

Again on instinct, her right foot slammed into the brake pedal one last time—

Wrapped in Silver

Just shoot me. Grace thought as she tried her best to make her way through the crowd on the street which was jammed with not just people, but lovey-dovey couples glued to each other’s sides – a sight that disturbed her exceedingly on this day. Grace pressed her bag against her side and continued her strenuous escapade through the crowd, swearing softly as she did.

When she finally reached the bookstore she was looking for, it was almost dark. From the outside, Grace eyed the place with interest. It really was old. Way old. Grace smiled for the first time that day as she stepped through the antique wooden doorway. Once inside, the smell of old books and scented wood hit her full force in the face. It would have bothered most people, but to Grace, this was as near to paradise as she can get.

Within, it was dim. The only source of light comes from lava lamps hanging on every other wall, creating a gentle jamboree of dancing shadows on the wooden shelves that crowded the room. Everything here speaks of voluminous age and history and Grace was immediately bought.

Remembering why she was here, Grace turned a full 180 degrees, quickly scanning the vast room. Is there nobody here?

“Looking for something?”

Startled, Grace spun around and found herself face to face with an old lady dressed in a long flowery green dress.

It took her a moment to gather her wits before she could speak again. “Yes. I’m looking for Rose. Is she here?”

The old lady walked closer to her, the corners of her eyes wrinkled gracefully as she smiled. “I am Rose. And you are…?”

“I’m Grace. I called earlier today. Is my book ready?”

Rose’ smile widened. “Ah yes. Grace. I remember you. Beautiful name.” But as soon as she said that, the smile on her face fell, replaced by a soft, disappointed look. “I’m afraid your book isn’t here yet. Oliver has promised to be here half an hour ago, but apparently, he is late. As usual.”

“When do you think he’ll be here?” Grace swallowed the impatience that has bubbled up her throat. Rose shrugged. “Who knows. He comes and leaves as he wishes most of the time.” Grace nodded. That’s just great. Another wasted trip.

“Would you like to wait? He could be here any moment.”

No, I do not want to wait, dammit. “Well, I don’t know…”

“Is that gentleman outside waiting for you? You can ask him in. It’s alright.” Rose had a knowing smile on her face as she eyed the exit of the bookstore. Grace couldn’t help but followed the old lady’s gaze. There was nobody there. “Oh. No, no. I have something else on, that’s all.” She managed feebly. “I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

Rose nodded, smiling apologetically. “Of course. I’ll be here.”

Grace hurried out of the shop and couldn’t help but stole another glance at the spot where the old lady had let her gaze lingered for so long. And for some strange reason, she couldn’t help feeling that there is indeed someone standing there at this empty corner of the street, smiling at her.

Shrugging away the chill that has started to creep into her bones, Grace pulled her coat tighter around herself and started to head on home.

“A rose for the lady?” Grace looked up to see a young girl holding up a rose to her. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Get a rose.” She urged gently.

For whom? For myself? Shove off. Grace shook her head at the girl and continued walking beside her. “Come on, it’ll only cost you ten dollars. The lady will be thrilled.”

What? Do I look like a man now? “I said no.” Grace finally stopped and told the girl firmly. “I’m here alone. I’m not buying any roses.” The girl took a step back, apologetic and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I thought he was your boyfriend.” Grace frowned and turned around. Again, there was no one there.

Grace heaved a sigh. “It’s ok.” She forced a smile and walked away. What’s with everyone today? She was in a bad mood as it is.

In a distance, Grace saw her favorite pasta restaurant. Nothing like an expensive takeaway meal to make my day. Entering the restaurant, she was once again bombarded by the sight of couples, couples and more couples. God. Spare me. Please. She almost groaned.

Grace headed straight for the counter and ordered a set dinner takeaway. “Would you like to try our Valentine’s special? It comes with free ice-cream and cakes.” The young man at the counter gave her a huge toothy smile. Grace fumed silently. “No.”

“We even have free giveaways and lucky dips. Just for today.” His toothy grin never wavered. Grace shook her head again. “No, thank you.”

The young man eyed the space behind her. “I’m sure the gentleman would…”

“Look, buddy. Just give me the fucking set dinner. I’m in a hurry.” Grace seethed. Why does she feel like somebody up there is playing a huge joke on her? And it isn’t even funny.

“Of course.” The young man looked taken back as he keyed in her order. “I just thought…”

“Don’t think.” Grace rummaged through her purse and slapped the full amount on the counter top. “And make it quick. Please. Thank you.” She added. She might be angry, but she will not forget her manners.

Grace walked out of the restaurant bothered and still seething. This day is starting to look worse by the second – thank God it’s ending in 5 hours. She quickened her step as her apartment building came into view. At least I have my very expensive set pasta to look forward to.

Suddenly, a little boy on a bicycle swerved out of the blue, missing her by inches as he sped past her. Grace, startled, staggered backwards and fell bottom first onto the road she had just crossed. “Ouch. Fuck. Watch where you’re going!” She managed to croak as an acute pain shot up from her ankle. Oh great. I must’ve broken it.

Grace felt hot tears on her cheeks as the pain intensified. Reaching for her ankle. she saw her overturned pasta beside her. There goes my very expensive dinner. Screw this!

Then she heard a horn. Loud, and very seemingly near. She looked up and saw the truck just a short distance away from her. Her head spun in panic as she struggled to pull herself up, but her sprained ankle refused to budge.

I was wrong. This day could get worse. Grace thought as the truck drew nearer. A numb chilliness had settled onto her as she closed her eyes and waited for the horror to end.

Then, she felt a hard tug on her coat, and before she knew it, she was swept up and roughly landed on cold, hard pavement. “Ouch! You’re not as light was I thought you were.” A male voice came from beside her.

Grace opened one eye. The man kneeling beside her was wincing in pain… amd had wings on his back. What the…? Grace, fully alert now, pushed the man away from her. “Get away from me!”

“Mortals do have a strange way of expressing their gratitude.” He smiled, looking thoroughly amused. Grace blinked. No more wings. Did I just hallucinated? I must have hit my head. And…mortals? What the hell is he talking about?

Wait. Am I dead? Oh fuck. I must be. I am so young–

“Here.” He stood up, and held out one hand to her, laughing softly to himself. Still stunned, Grace did not react.

He was tall, and had an unspoken glow about him. His features were so chiseled and flawless that they looked like a sculpture’s honed masterpiece. “You’re not real.” Grace breathed.

He smiled, his perfect lips lifting up into a perfect white smile. “Well, before we get into that, love, let’s get you out of here.” Again, he extended his arm.

“I…I think I broke something.” Grace managed to stumble, her eyes refusing to tear its gaze from his face.

He got down onto his knee beside her. “I’ll have to carry you then. “ He has got the most exquisite eyes. Grace mused wistfully. “We can discuss about my eyes later, sweet. Now, if only I could—“ He had one arm under her shoulders and another one wrapped under her knees and looked like he was struggling very badly to lift her up.

“I don’t think I really am that heavy.” Grace said, suddenly insulted as his reference to her unspoken musing went unnoticed. He looked up, smiling at her. I can drown in that smile forever. Grace thought.

“You’re not. But I think I could’ve hurt my wings trying to break that fall just now.” He looked apologetic.

Grace grimaced as his words. Wings? “What do you mean? Who are you?”

He finally lifted her up, gently balancing her weight in his arms. His smile never wavering, he told her in a soft whisper. “Well, see. I’m your very own personal guardian angel.”

Grace choked. “You’re what…?”

He nodded, and managed a bow as well as he could in his restrained position. “That’s right. An angel. Happy valentine’s day, sweetheart.”

The Whisperers

She lay awake on her bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Outside, the traffic was beginning to slow as the night dragged on. The shadows on her ceiling were dancing to a slow waltz, and she continued to watch, as the thoughts in head did a dance of their own.

She could hear the couple upstairs mumbling in prayer, as they do every night. Straining harder, she could hear the soft, muted munching of crackers and she almost smiled, knowing that old Mister Lee was sneaking biscuits into the house again. Missus Lee would have a fit if she found out.

She reached for the old-fashioned analog clock beside her and saw that the hour hand was fast ticking towards midnight. Replacing the clock on the desk, her gaze shifted to the open windows and noticed the sky for the first time that night; a blanket of darkness littered with stars. A wistful smile found its way to her lips at the memory of her mother telling her once upon a time, that in death, she would turn into a star and watch over her for eternity.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she continued her struggle to fall asleep.

Mentally, without making a sound, she started to count the stars, going in a roundabout fashion. But soon, she was lost. She sighed, disappointed. She was never really good with numbers.

She was starting to feel tired, but sleep refuse to overcome her. Her brain was still startlingly awake, inching with masses of thoughts she couldn’t quite register. There was a strange unsettling feeling in her heart that she could not understand.

She forced a laugh and detached herself from those emotions. She was home now. What could possibly hurt her? Her eyes darted nervously around the room, suddenly feeling threatened by the shadows flitting across her walls. Go away, she whispered. Leave me alone.

But they didn’t, of course.

Slightly frustrated now, she shut her eyes and demanded sleep to come. In slumber, all the nightmares of reality will vanish. When daylight comes, everything will be fine once again. Her knuckles tightened as she grasped the blankets to her chest, afraid to move, afraid to let go and patiently, she waited for sleep to come.

Then she heard the noises. She stiffened. The familiar mutterings, the low voices.

The Whisperers! They were here! Her heart slammed against her ribs and fear, so familiar, she acute she could taste in on her lips. The voices were growing louder, nearer. She held her breath, afraid they might hear her heartbeat pounding. How did they find her? Who told them? How?

No wait. Her therapist had told her that they were not real. So long as she ignored them, they will go away. She squeezed her eyes tighter together, yanked the covers over her head and started singing softly. A song that her mother had once taught her.

“Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it up for rainy days…”

Her chest grew painfully tight with dread as the voices grew louder. She stopped singing, and her mind whirled. Should she run? To hide? To scream for help? But no. She knew what they would do to her if she ran. It was all too familiar. They will hurt her. She felt cold perspiration trailing down the small of her back. Her whole body was now shaking with terror. Don’t let them find me, she prayed. Make them go away.

But the voices grew louder. Until they were so close, she could feel them breathing against her skin. She felt their breaths skimming her ears, her face. “Please…leave me alone.” She whimpered, her eyes still tightly shut, afraid of what she might see.

“No.” The voices snarled beside her. “You left us. You betrayed us. You must be punished.”

“I had no choice.” She was crying now, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. She felt her body shaking with the sobs she could not produce. Nobody must know this. She clasped her hands over her mouth to muffle her cries. “Please. Go away.”

“We revealed our deepest secrets to you, and you fed them to her!” The voices spat. “You cannot be spared.”

“No please.” She could hear her own voice shaking. “I didn’t have a choice. They made me do it.”

At first, she heard the low chuckle, then slowly it morphed into a shrill screech. She covered her ears, her eyes widening with panic. “Stop it!” She screamed. “They’ll hear you!”

But her pleas went ignored as the shrieks instead rose an octave and started to grow louder by the second. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, her wails muffled by the screeching which was splitting her ears. She threw away the covers and sprinted towards the door.

“Dad! Aunt! Help me!” She kept running, but she kept hearing the voices. No matter how hard she ran, they were right beside her, shrieking in her ears.

Suddenly, she was out in the open. The night wind slapped her cheeks mercilessly as she ran, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She knows what will happen if they’ll catch up. She didn’t look back, she didn’t dare to. She knew what she’ll see, but more importantly, she was afraid of what they’ll see. Her fear. They’ll see her fear.

“Run, darling. Run. But we’ll never be far. We’ll catch you. You know we will.” The low voices snarl in her ears. Her legs were killing her, threatening to give way any second, but still she ran…

***

“Honey, are you awake?” He gave the room a quick scan. She was not here. He looked about the room and saw the thrown covers, but besides that, everything else was in place. He walked across the room and drew open the curtains, letting the morning sun spill into the sparsely furnished room. Where could she be so early in the morning?

He combed the house, searching each and every corner but to no avail. Then, the pounding came on his door.

“They found her.” His sister was standing at the doorstep, hair disheveled and panic in her voice.

His grip tightened nervously on the doorknob. “Found who?”

“Your daughter.”

***

He had to keep himself from throwing up at the sight. There she was, lying on the grass, her cotton nightgown thoroughly soaked with blood. There was a deep gash that stretched across her neck, from ear to ear. He could see it was still raw from the blood that was still spilling from the gaping wound. Her eyes were bloodshot, her mouth parted in a scream that was abruptly silenced. Down her arms and legs were carved hundreds of oval-shaped symbols which were foreign to him, each one still trailed with blood trickling from the nicks.

He was aghast by the sight, by the malice that was reflected on his young daughter’s body.

He swallowed painfully. The air was so thick with death that he it took every ounce of his strength to keep himself from running away – away from the sight that he knew will haunt his dreams for the rest of his days.

His hands flew to his mouth as he muffled a sob. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the blood stained symbols carved on her skin. Who could have done this?

“I knew they will find her.”

He spun around. “Excuse me?”

The young girl standing behind him looked ashen, and disturbingly calm at the sight of the dead body. “We made a blood oath to keep their secrets, and she revealed them to that…stranger.” He narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She lifted her eyes and her stony gaze met his. “It was a crime punishable by death. She knew, but still she couldn’t keep her tongue from slipping.” He felt a chill run down his spine. “She deserved it.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Who? Who killed my daughter?”

“You really want to know?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper now. “The Whisperers. Guardians of the Cursed Dead.” He stared at her, stunned by the absurdity of her words. “What are you talking about?”

“Shhh..” She placed a bony finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone…”

A tap on his shoulder shook his attention and he jerked around to face the interrupter. “What?!” His sister was staring at him with teary eyes. “Who’re you talking to?” He stared back at her, confused. “Why, this girl, she was just telling me—“

It was empty. The spot where she was standing just seconds ago was so empty, it was chilling. He stood up shakily. Spooked and heartbroken, his gaze refused to leave the spot.

His sister wiped the tears from her cheeks and gently took his arms. “Let’s go home now.”

Trailing behind, unknown to them both, the little girl was waving her arms and smiling softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell her you both missed her. She’ll be well looked after.” A spark of fire flitted across her dark eyes. “I promise.”

Here is what’s in Cherry’s head

I used to write alot – not anymore. I never lost that passion but I guess it got consumed by other stuff I deemed more important. Also I was never fantastic with it.

But recently, I’ve been so uninspired that it became alittle disturbing. I wanted to do something that makes it all come back again so I thought it might help compiling some of my writings from long ago – some not so long ago – and try and write as and when I get hit by my muse.

So here they are. The stuff in my head.