BUGBEAR
Our confidence died before midnight. the sounds of the twinkling stars sent me into a trance as I watched the night sky dance. Suddenly the voices sync, and start to play as a choir within my head. I feel a little dizzy.
Please stop singing.
The faint voices start to get closer. louder. There’s a eerie sound overlapping onto the choir, as if I’ve been thrown into a room of screams...but then it all starts to fade away.
Without warning, the choir returns, this time with a guitar. It’s heavy, startling and loud. The bass is thick and the chords are overwhelming. It hurts my ear drums, and I can feel the blood drip from my ears.
Please stop playing.
A deep, maniacal laugh comes from the long tall grass in front of me. A pairs of red eyes light up from within it, looking at me. My nerves can’t take it, so I start to flee back into the village. I somehow make it home. I don’t know how long I’ve been running for, but the presence of that beast has vanished.
As I clean my face, I look up to notice bruises under my eyes. They’re darker then my eye bags, and I start to examine more of my face. Deep, small cuts start to appear on my forehead, on my cheeks and under my chin. Suddenly a cut opens in my neck. I can’t breathe.
Please help me.
I grasp my neck, trying to close the gaps as more appear. The blood is flooding out of me like leaks of a boat, and my vision starts to give in. My eyes are slowly shutting, but I can see the dark figure reappear, standing above over me. It's maniacal laugh plays through my head. My tears are flowing down my mangled face, stinging the cuts. As I feel the numbness of death sink into my eyes, I ask with my last breath.
Please don’t go.
III:THE DEEP
JUNE 6TH, 2021
Chatter filled up his head, thoughts yelling at the top of their lungs screaming for the suffering to end.
Beach night. When the moon looked like the sun, shining bright over the dark waters. The wind kept the night quiet and felt as if you were sitting in stillness.
Almost as if the world let him be truly alone for just a moment. But that moment turned sour.
The obtrusive notions within his skull gave him a migraine. He thought to himself, that even in a moment like this, they invaded his peace. He felt like a wild dog.
He wanted them gone. Nothing he had tried before helped. Whether it was toxic bender’s or endless cries in the night, the thoughts never gave him a moment of peace. He begged for peace, and would do anything for it right now. But he knew nothing was honest in his life, and the vile memories had turned him wicked, with no light shining on any of his days.
But now he was fed up with it. He didn’t want this. Not tonight. No, especially not tonight.
Suddenly the waves roar in the distance, calling out to him. He looks over to the dark waters and tries to focus on the sounds of the sea, searching for the voices. He tries to even control them, but they’re out of his reach. He’s weak, and instead of becoming their master he surrenders to them. They call out, seeking his presence.
He doesn’t remember how his clothes got off. or how he goes so far from shore. He’s cold now. His legs and lower body freeze in the black liquid as he walks away from shore, looking for the voices. But they keep getting further.
He can’t see the shore now. He doesn’t remember where he is. But the voices seem closer.
He knows,deep down, no one will save him. Not even himself. His head finally submerges, and not a sound of struggle from him.
Then, a sudden swiftness.
Everything is quiet. and nothing more.
IV: SUNFLOWER
MAY 8TH, 2021
I just want to be one of the greats. I would like to sit down with them and have a drink. and talk about anything. I’d like for them to ask me “How are you today?" And I would answer, and we would talk. And from time to time, I'd make a portrait of one of them as a gift. They would accept it maybe, and keep it somewhere. And a man would smile at me and ask, “What are you reading today?” In which I would tell them “Shakespeare”.
The yellow house was vibrant during the summer-tide. Your father built it years ago for your mother, and as they grew older, they gifted it to you. I adored every bit of it. Whether it was the creaks of the floor or the verdant green doors. I considered it my home.
Our home.
Sitting out on that patio facing the fields, I feel the howls of wind cool me down in this humid weather. You were out there with me, writing your book as I sketched the abundant sunflowers. They were electric, flowing through the never-ending fields like waves of the sun.
I took a glance at you. You were smiling while you jotted down your novel, which intrigued me to ask,
“What’s so funny?”
You looked at me with that same smile and let out a little laugh.
“I’m writing about when I met you."
“Back in Zundert?”
“Yes, when I accidentally bumped into your brother. I remember him reeking of the old mill. We talked about writing and art. He mentioned your paintings, and how they were mostly of withering flowers”
“I remember those drawing. Feels like ages ago.”
“Why don’t you do them anymore?”
“Because life got better. I began to witness more beauty in it, and thought that its beauty should last forever.”
“And when did you come to this realization?”
“The first night we were together. When you took me up to that hill to see the stars."
I remember you looked into my eyes and told me,
"When facing a flat landscape I see nothing but eternity. Am I only the one bearing the ability to see it?".
That’s when I was reminded of the beauty in my life, and all around me. That it’s not hidden by all the horribleness of the world. As I recall our memories, I felt a rush of love from within.
I knew then that this moment was eternity’s gate. That we would never achieve heaven, but as long as we’re together it'll always feel like it.
V: The Island Lullaby (Epilogue)
APRIL 25TH, 2021
On that island in my youth, streetlights mingled with lighthouses, painting the night sky in hues of illumination. The scent of dark rum rode the wind, intertwined with the aroma of burning tobacco from countless lighters.
And as always, the moon cast her light over our lamp lit town.
That summer was memorable. It was a season of simple pleasures, where your grandmother kindled the stove's pilot light to prepare breakfast, and we welcomed Ms. Anna, the widow, for lunch. I'd sit beside her, captivated by tales of her home in Cuba. A soft radiance from the kitchen door lent her face as she spoke. She wold tell stories of sleeping under the sun’s unshielded gaze, her skin bronzed by the relentless sun. She would flee into the night, with the Moon guiding her path home. From her, I learned the moon's light is not her own; it's a gift from her radiant brother, Seoul.
When we left the house, I would only wear an undershirt and shorts, as the night breeze kept me cool, holding my temperature with her caressing hands.
On our strolls, I dared to dream of moonlit nights with you, somewhere far from the confines of our reality, where time would waltz with us until our last days. Our childhood affection matured into a profound bond, kindling a love that fueled our growth and mutual respect. You knew I had love for you whenever I looked into your eyes. But I didn’t know of your love for me then.
I knocked on your door and you answered in your underwear and bra. I teased you about being so comfortable with me to the point of never getting a formal welcoming. After our dinner, we fell asleep on the couch, and woke up late that Saturday afternoon. When the sun was standing high I went home to change and you went to work.
After I cleaned up and showered, I visited you at that little bookshop you worked oh so tirelessly at. I waited for your shift to end, and as I sat in my car, the incandescent bulbs of the night named my skin different colors. We left to the local drive-in, showing “City Lights”, and stared off onto that silver screen.
Nothing we would do or say would ever move us into the world I wanted to live in. Nor would I ever attempt to change this life we live, seeing it suits you more than me. I knew that we wouldn't exist to see the end, and this time we're given is limited. To be reminded that any desperate acts to be forever will bring me one step closer to the inevitable climax of this story. But that didn't matter now.
The world wouldn’t shine light on our situations, but just for two hours, it felt like it was ours.
