Stories : Ateneo High School Fair Contest
Dark Fantasy, Tragic Hero, Apple
Of Equines and Evil
John Batalla - Winner
"HE'S HERE!"
I looked around madly, desperate to find him, but only found the dark of night and shadows of trees. All around me, the men searched vigorously, soldiers ruffling past bushes, the natives gripping their bolos and torches as they raced past undergrowth.
"Where?!" cried Captain Guererro, lifting his lantern high. Guererro looked awfully tense. I could understand. When what you disbelieve turns out to be grim reality, you tend to break down.
"HE'S NEAR THE ORCHARD! DON LUCIO'S ORCHARD!" called the searcher in the distance. His bellowing awakened the entire forest, and unnerved birds scattered in the moonlit sky.
Equally perturbed by the noise, I took the captain aside. This was the moment we had been waiting for, the hour of vengeance…the moment of truth. "Captain, you remember what I have told you?"
Guererro wiped the sweat off his face as he nodded, panting. He drew a flintlock pistol from his holster and loaded it, the mechanisms clicking formidably. "This isn't a man we're dealing with," he affirmed. "It's the Devil."
I gave him a stern glare as I straightened my dirtied cassock. "Do not take my words lightly. This is not a Dutch pirate, not an indio filibuster, not an animist fanatic. This is the Devil. And you will shoot down the Devil, and burn his corpse and damn him to hell for his sins. Understood?"
"Si, I understand, Padre Salvador." He nodded, and we were off, guided by a dying lamp, running through the jungle trail towards the estate of Don Lucio Figueroa.
Though I felt my demeanor bristled with confidence, I did all I could to hide the fear that so assailed me. At first I believed this 'Devil' to be one of those mad Babaylanes, eager to disrupt the Church's grip of these islands and return animist sovereignty. The corpse of Padre Domingo shattered that illusion. No man is capable of doing the bestial savagery that befell Domingo. Not even these barbarous indios were capable of that inhuman malice.
After Domingo, the succeeding parish priests were all slain in the same bizarre, terrifying manner that remains too brutal to describe. It is said that to be assigned parish priest to this town of Macahoy was courting death. None had lasted a month.
I wouldn't have accepted the job.
Not that I had a choice.
So I place a robed indio outside the guard barracks. And the Devil takes the bait.
Now it's he that's hunted.
"Padre!" Guererro stopped. We had arrived. The iron, vine-laden gates of the Figueroa estate were open, the moon illuminating the sinister creepers. But something was wrong.
It was strangely quiet.
Twenty men were out tonight, yet only Guererro and I were here. Just a moment ago the woods boomed with activity. Now, a deafening hush, and my heart trembled.
Then, a scream. Male, tormented.
Guererro took a deep breath. "A trap," he aphorized grimly, before entering in the hacienda. Legs shaking, I followed the orchard trail.
How swiftly bravery leaves man.
The buildings were hollow, empty. I knew that Don Figueroa was away in Manila, yet even the caretaker was absent. Glass windows reflected moonbeams, bolos lay on the ground, farming implements… all a menacing omen.
I heard Guererro gasp. There was the apple orchard, situated on a cliff overlooking the valley. And under the trees were corpses: dead bodies of soldiers, mestizos, indios, strewn about in messy portions.
From beneath the tallest apple tree, a huge figure lumbered.
Towards us.
"Contra nequitiam et in sidius diaboli esto praesidium…"
"Courage, Padre."
I could not do anything but say the oration. I was going to die. I knew it.
The moonbeams revealed my killer: six feet tall, the body of a muscled man…and the head of an Andalusian horse. It was the Ticbalan, who made travelers stray from their paths.
And its teeth were bloodied, strands of God-knows-what jutting between its jaws.
Definitely not here to lose me in my path, but end my journey as well.
What can I expect?
It was the Devil.
"Captain, don't shoot," I ordered Guererro to lower his pistol.
But before I knew it-
"ARRRRGGGGHHH!"
It had lunged, demonic agility-
"THE GUN! GIVE ME THE GUN!"
It was neighing madly-
"CATCH!"
Yellow eyes filled with madness and fury-
"Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos-"
The captain was pinned-
"FIRE! IN GOD'S NAME FIRE!"
Blood dripping on his face-
"PADRE! PADRE!"
Fingers trembling I aimed-
"NO! PLEASE, NO!"
Click of a trigger, a bang-
"ARRRRGGGHHHH!"
Silence.
The Ticbalan fell to the earth, and Guererro, slowly, lifted himself up. The moon continued to shine, rays caressing the beast. A strange, surreal transformation was happening. Its muscles were softening, the horse head was regaining human features. By the end of the strange metamorphosis, an indio lay before us, dying under the shade of an apple tree.
Guererro reloaded. I held his gun down and looked at the young man.
"Why?"
It was all I could ask.
"Priest," he chuckled, coughs racking his lungs. "Do you know this place? I met love here."
Of course. The affair of an indio, the son of an old Babaylan, and Maria Figueroa, old Lucio's daughter. Infamous occurrence.
"And your kind destroyed it, Padre."
It was a forbidden union. No indio, especially not the son of a heretic, could marry a wealthy Spanish girl. Maria fought, and what did they do?
"Death sentence. For alleged heresy. Burned alive."
The suitor was never seen since.
The youth coughed some more. "My father believed in many things. Love, justice…vengeance. This enchantment…is a manifestation of those beliefs."
Guererro was pale. "Shall I?" I shook my head.
"I ate the hearts of clerics, your brothers, to imbibe their cruelty and be equally harsh." Madness gleamed in his eyes as he stared at the waning moon. With a last glance at us, he murmured, "And I realized…always, man is harsher."
He gave a final laugh, then Guererro fired.
"Babbling nonsense, indio."
Who was the true Devil?
He…or us?
Hounds of God
Rupert Bustamante IV
The blood pouring, not only from the fresh cuts on my forehead and slashes on my legs, but also from my lack-luster blue eyes, seemed thicker than usual. Maybe it’s because of who I am that I was left here in the dirt and crying over how my life shot me with its silver bullets and left me there to rot in the dirt. But who could blame them. . . I am an entity of another dimension. I don’t belong here. And I can’t even get back to where I came from. . . I can’t even get back to heaven.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few days ago, we were called by the great St Michael. My friend Thiess and I entered the nothingness. There was but the silent beating of drums echoing through that hollow room. Then, a powerful voice spoke, “Angels, you have been chosen by the Master to fight for the glory of His kingdom.” Shocked, we listened on to the voice that came from nowhere. “Soon, you shall descend from heaven and enter hell to fight that Evil and his witches. You might not have the strength to destroy them. So here.” Suddenly, at the center of the room, a bright light revealed an altar with a single apple on it. The voice cried, “This is the apple from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. God shall lend His might and wisdom to you through this apple. After eating it, you could shapeshift into any creature you wish,” and everyone [except for myself] began to cheer, “But be warned. In eating this, you shall learn about tyranny, lust, lies, curses, and ultimately, the Evil himself.” My assumption was right, this won’t turn out well. “But go forth, for His greater glory!” the voice boomed!
Then and there, I knew something would eventually go wrong. It was too simple. But it was too late. I was chosen by my Master. And so I ate the apple. Almost instantly did some energy gush forth from my lips and tongue to the rest of my body. It was truly a sensational feeling; ecstatic and magical in a way. It was as if I knew everything, and that all that I was had been multiplied hundredfold. And in my personal bliss, something at the back of my head cracked which would ultimately lead me to where I am now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One by one, we descended from the skies. We went down god-like, with the rays of the sun just shining on. We were all proud then. Every single one of us thought that we couldn’t be stopped. We were wrong.
Just as soon as we got to the first level of hell, half our battalion was massacred. The witches cast their hexes and few could do anything to stop them. Luckily, there was Thiess and I. He chose the form of a bat, and with his shrill cries, he left the enemies stunned. I chose the wolf and I bit and gnashed through the crowd of demonic beings while they were stupefied. Thiess and I were a great duo, and we were able to go through the 4 circles of hell. But by the 5th circle, I had completely cracked. My beliefs were shattered into simple fading ideals. I thought that I was god! I no longer believed that He was good enough to have my loyalty. I thought I was better and believed that this fight would not do me any good. I abandoned my friends at the battlefield.
Thiess knew what had happened. He chased me up and tried to convince me to turn back before it was too late. But my mind was set. I could see clearly how his eyes were turning into a deep crimson due to my stubbornness, but my pride was still too large.
I was still rising when all of a sudden, he transformed into a wolf himself and slashed me with his sharp claws. I fell down to some unknown place and he went down to aid me. He said his apologies but I would not forgive him. I struck him at the side. And before our battle begun, he whispered to me, “Bane, you are a great friend of mine. But you have lost yourself in the madness.”
We fought for hours, one claw and fang after the other. But we were both quick and unyielding. I slashed, then he would try to bite my head off. Then he’d kick, but I would hastily dodge and kick back.
But this is where it all ended. I ran left, and faked a right turn. He tried to follow suit, but he probably didn’t see that coming and he hit a tree. His left leg was possibly broken. I saw my chance. With rage clouding my judgment, I pounced. That was my mistake. He had faked the injury. He simply stepped back, and waited for me. Dazed, I froze in horror. He jumped and slashed me on my forehead. The cut went so deep that I immediately tuned back into my original form, an angel. But I was no longer magnificent or great. My wings were scathed and my robe was torn and muddy. I had turned into a fallen angel in my madness.
I thought it was my end, but I saw compassion in his eyes. He wept and so did I.
He heard footsteps coming. He hid me somewhere and transformed into an angel. But it was too late. “You,” shouted one of the men, “You are a werewolf! Get him and bring him to court! Evil cretin, you shall pay!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William stood there, face to face with the monstrosity that had ruined his life, and he stared down the beast. And as he locked eyes with the monster, all the horrible things that the monster had done raced through his mind.? The destruction of his home and the death of his wife, Elizabeth all seemed to flash before his eyes. And in that moment, he knew what he had to do. William unsheathed his sword and as he roared with the ferocity of a thousand lions...
...he stabbed himself.
But maybe it would be best to cut to the beginning.
It was a joyful summer day in the town of Rockwell.? Music sounded everywhere. The Tavern roared with drunken laughter. School was closed for the day and children celebrated everywhere.? And all this joy in the town of Rockwell could be attributed to one event, the marriage of their beloved resident, William, and the beautiful Elizabeth.
Almost everyone in the town agreed that the union of William and Elizabeth was simply perfect. William was a great man, handsome, intelligent and most of all, a great friend to everyone. And Elizabeth was a charming woman, outspoken, witty and outstandingly beautiful. It was a match made in heaven. And everyone thought that these two would live happily ever after.
But sadly enough, they were mistaken.
A couple months into their marriage, Elizabeth fell ill. No one could explain why or how she had gotten sick and no one could come up with a cure. And her condition only worsened over the coming weeks. And throughout the entire ordeal, William stayed at his wife’s side, praying that she would get better. But his prayers were never answered as Elizabeth’s condition only worsened throughout the course of the year. The couple began to give up.
But just when it seemed like their situation was hopeless, something, not necessarily helpful, came up. It wasn’t a cure; it wasn’t even an explanation to Elizabeth’s illness. It was a rumour, a rumour about a magical object in the forest of Eastwood that had unimaginable power. And as soon as William received the news about this rumour, he set out to find the object.
The forest of Eastwood was not one people ventured into frequently, and for good reason too. The woods held unspeakable terrors within them. Werewolves, a coven of vampires, evil spirits and so many more. It was once said that the forest of Eastwood held insanity in it. But William didn’t care about any of these terrors, just so long as there was a chance of saving Elizabeth and he ventured forth.
At first things didn’t seem too bad in the forest. William had been walking through for about 2 hours and nothing went wrong. The only problem he had was that he did not know where to find the object, or what it even looked like. But he continued, inching closer and closer to the heart of the forest where true horrors awaited him.
William slashed through the foliage, creating his own path through the forest. Fatigue was starting to take its toll on him as his movements began to slow and weaken. He stopped to rest and his mind began to wonder of to his love, Elizabeth. He cringed at the thought of her alone and in pain. He even began to consider going back seeing as how he was making virtually no progress at all. He was completely lost. He didn’t know where the object was, hell he didn’t even know how to make his way back home if ever he decided to quit. But then he began to hear voices.
The voices told him to push on, to continue searching for the object, for he was so close. And William, feeling a surge of adrenaline, began to hack through the bushes again. He slashed like a man possessed, he just pushed on and on even though the thorns of the bushes he hacked cut him back. And after many hours he reached a monumental tree. It was enormous, and hanging on one of the higher branches of the tree was a solitary apple, glowing, radiating with power.
The voices screamed in his mind. They commanded him to obtain the apple and William, with his wife in mind, had no objection to it. He began to climb the monumental tree. Inching closer and closer to that apple he so desperately needed. But just as the apple was within his reach, he heard a gut wrenching scream. He turned his head and looked over his shoulder. And as he saw what was in the distance, his face turned ghastly pale.
The coven of vampires had taken flight and they were flying directly towards him. Fear took control of William. He froze his hand merely inches away from the apple and the coven within dangerous proximity of him. The voices again began to scream, the once calming and reassuring voices now sounded like monstrous banshees. The chaos was maddening, and he tried to reach for the apple but the apple was still too far away from him. The coven was dangerously close; he already began to see the soulless eyes of the vampires flying towards him. He knew he was done for, and with one last desperate move, he jumped for the apple.
He got it! The glowing apple he so madly sought was finally in his fist. But he was plummeting towards the ground and the coven began to swoop, possibly to catch him mid fall. He held on to the apple tightly, trying to manipulate its power but nothing happened.? And as his last ditch efforts at survival failed, hate began to fill him, hatred towards the false apple, towards the circumstance of his wife, hatred towards himself for being so naive and useless. And as the hate took control, so did the voices. The banshee screams again began to echo in William’s mind, and he began to lose consciousness.
William awoke several days later at the foot of the tree. And to his great surprise, the coven of vampires formed a mutilated ring around him. They were all dead. William stared in awe at the gore that lay around him and he remembered the apple that was lying safely in his palm. It was glowing, emanating an eerie power.? And William, ecstatic at the power of the apple, set of for home.
He arrived in the town and the people received him with great joy. Their hometown hero had done the impossible, he had survived the forest of Eastwood. But William shrugged of all the praise and he immediately asked where his wife was.
But no one answered him.
During the time that William was gone, the Elizabeth’s condition worsened still so they sent her of to a local doctor, hoping he could help her. They never expected William to come home safely so it seemed to be the most logical thing for? them to do. And when William heard the people’s explanation, hate began to fill him again. The voices took control once more, and William began to lose consciousness. The last thing he heard was a terrible roar coming from the direction of the forest and the last thing he saw was the terrified? expression on the faces of the townspeople.
William awoke several hours later to the mutilated bodies of his friends. He froze with fear.? He remembered the terrible roar that came from the forest and he snapped back to reality as soon as he realized what could have slaughtered the town.? A monster must have followed him from the forest!
William began to panic. He looked around, fearing that the monster might still be in the town. But when he saw that he was alone, his thoughts immediately went to his wife Elizabeth. He realized then that it might not be too late to save her so he set of to the doctor.
He arrived there several hours later, glad to see that the monster had not yet reached her and that he could still save her. He went to Elizabeth’s side and held her hand. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “ We’re going to be okay.”
He held the apple in his other hand and he, with every ounce of his being, tried to channel the apple’s power to cure his wife but again nothing happened. He stood there dumbfounded, why was the apple’s power not working? And as he stood, he felt his consciousness leave him as the banshee like laughter began to sound in his ear.
He awoke several hours later, his wife’s lifeless body by his side and his hands covered in blood.? He began to cry, everything he had worked for, gone and there was nothing he could do about it. He held his dead wife in his arms and he stared in her eyes, and he saw his reflection in her lifeless eyes.
William stood there, face to face with the monstrosity that had ruined his life, and he stared down the beast. And as he locked eyes with the monster, all the horrible things that the monster had done raced through his mind.? The destruction of his home and the death of his wife, Elizabeth all seemed to flash before his eyes. And in that moment, he knew what he had to do. William unsheathed his sword and as he roared with the ferocity of a thousand lions...
...he stabbed himself.
Symphony of the Night
Joseph Benjamin A. Pacia
A damned soul, forgiveness forbade
Fallen wings covered in blood
High on hills of stained red
Steel falls, yet devil’s wrath stands
All stem from the apple’s seed
As the sky darkens, the man starts to see hisdestination, a tree perched atop a hill. He appears asa strapping young man, a knight based on his armor.Short brown hair, an intense look on his face, and adistinct aura of anger can be said of him. He movesforward with his mind set, and his reasons clear,clear as the shine of his sword.
As he climbs the steps, a figure emerges from thedarkness of the shade cast by the great tree. Then,the moment he starts to recognize the figure, a softmelody is heard. Apparently the sound he hears iscoming from the figure. The figure seemed to beholding a violin, playing it with a grace that couldmove mountains. Then, abruptly, the music stops. Thefigure faces the knight, and a bloody smile comes toview.
The figure starts to speak in a posh English accent.He says, “Ah, so you have come. I wasn’t expecting youto actually face me in person, but no matter. Ibelieve there is business you’d like to attend to withme?” The knight readies his blade, the moon’s lightbeing reflected as the sharp steel rises. The figurethen chuckles as he starts to come into view. Theknight becomes more agitated from the presence the manemanates. A tall and lean man with long silver hair, ablack suit, violin tossed to the ground, and grin thatcould send shivers through the spines of the toughestof men is seen. The tall man then says, “Ready are we?Well then, let’s dance.”
As the last word came through the tall man’s lips,the darkness of the shade suddenly moved and shapeditself to creatures yet dark and with piercing redeyes. The creatures of the night charge and the knightcharges forward as well. A fight ensues.
The creatures don’t stand a chance against theknight, but they continue to spawn from the darknessof the shade. The knight could certainly defeat them,but their numbers were too much. Yet, he keptfighting, fighting to his last sliver of strength. Thetall man just watched as he continued to spawn moremonsters.
At one point, the man just burst out laughing,ceasing the endless array of creatures. Leonard wasbreathing heavily, when the man started to talk againafter calming himself from laughter. He said “Ah, whata pitiful human you are. You come here, seeking tokill me, ME of all things, and expect to win? Ha! Whata laugh. Well, I can understand how you feel, weak andhelpless, like all humans. After all, I was once ahuman. Since you’re so ready to die, I believe I couldtell you a little tale.”
The tall man starts to tell the tale. “It was a quietevening,” he begins, “and all was still. The communesleeps yet a boy stays awake. He did not know why, buthe had a feeling that something was to happen thatevening. And something did happen. A raid of demonshad taken the village, murdering all the innocentpeople. The men did try to fight back, but the mightof the demons was too great. The boy hid under hisbed, frightened by the sight that he could see throughhis small window. As his fear overtook him, he fellunconscious. True enough, when he awoke, all but himseemed dead, including his family. He cried, andcried, and cried. He cried long enough to be found bya passerby. The passerby saw him, and immediately, hetook him and headed home. Turns out, the kindness theman showed was a mask of his real intentions. The manwas a merchant, particularly apples, and he needed aslave, a worker to do his bidding. And so the boy didas he was told. Through the long years that went on,the boy loathed his life. He felt like the saddestperson on the planet. One day, he decided to end it.He took a knife from the kitchen and pointed it to hisheart. The man saw this and yelled at the boy. Then,as quickly as the man came, the boy stabbed him. Theboy picked up an apple as food, then ran away.”
The knight was dumbfounded by this tale. Why did theman tell him this? But, as the tall man raised hishead after telling the story, he stabbed the knightwith a bloody knife. A grin swept his face.
The knight struggled with the pain, and tried to takehis sword. The man just kept laughing and laughing.Not noticing the knight retrieving his sword, heshouts,”And so another warrior falls! Haha! No one canstrike me down!” Then, the moment he said that, ablade swept through the wind and pierced the man.
The man then just stood, the sword sticking out ofhis chest. He faced the moons, colored a dark crimsonred. He smiles and stays one last thing. He says,”Tell me knight. Do you like apples?” .The knight thenrealizes his time has come, only remembering hisinjury. The knight then says, “Heh, no.” He thenfalls, blood pouring from his wound like water.
The tall man chuckles, and then says, “Is that so? Idon’t like then as well.” And with that, the tall manpicks up the knife, and walks away from the apple treein the bloodstained hill. A tune is heard, a tune froma violin.
A damned soul, forgiveness forbade
Fallen wings covered in blood
High in hills of stained red
Steel falls, yet devil’s wrath stands
All stem from the apple seed
The Cure of Dr. Baron
Carlo Regalado
Adventius Baron was my best student. He always stood out in my class. He was planning to be a doctor, one who would know how to cure any disease. He was 17 years old back then, being one of my youngest students. He became a doctor at the age of 22, which was a pretty young age for a certified cardiologist. I felt very lucky and honored being the teacher of the one who now is the world's most renowned doctor.
But now, I am old and weary. I believe I have done the best I can to share my knowledge with my pupils. Man has never learned to take care of himself, so they will be the new generation of doctors to heal all the diseases mankind has brought on itself.
The coming of my elderly age brought something else with it. I was suddenly under cardiac arrest, a disease where there is a sudden termination of normal blood circulation. I was treated immediately by none other than my old pupil Adventius who knew exactly what he was dealing with.
After a successful operation, he started telling me about his recent past.
He told me he was able to cure all the patients he encountered, even those who didn't have cardiac diseases. Some of them even came from other countries and continents. He felt good to help his patients out, but he also felt he wasn't able to use his skills and abilities to their full potential.
His patients kept on coming, and in a few years, he grew tired of this. The title of "World's Most Renowned Cardiologist," given to him by his patients and some of his colleagues, just wasn't satisfying enough. He then decided to do one of the strangest things a doctor could do. He started harming people, but he never killed them.
He did the most damage he could do without taking the life of his victim. He shot a tranquilizing agent at his victim's throat and waited for the body to lay still. He then chooses a body part to injure. He tested his knowledge of the human anatomy by treating the body part that he chose to damage. He did this with success and no one dared to report the doctor's procedures to the authorities, since this will cost them their lives.
But still he wasn't satisfied with this bloodshed. He was still looking for the perfect victim to test his abilities.
Then, on a dark, freezing night, he was ready to harm another victim. This time, he was about to test his knowledge in his field of expertise, which was cardiology. He snuck into the house of his victim with perfect silence. He waited for the right moment to strike.
When his victim faced away from him, he knew he had the perfect vantage point. He crept up to him silently yet swiftly, without making so much of a sound. Even his breathing couldn't be heard, since he was able to control it after much practice and experience.
He shot the tranquilizer, waited for his victim to lie still, and then stabbed his victim directly in his heart. He immediately performed the required procedure for such a wound. But he was shocked when after he performed the procedure, his victim wouldn't stop bleeding.
He gave out a little smile. He had just found his perfect victim.
He then started performing all sorts of procedures, applying all his knowledge of the human anatomy, the structure of the heart, and everything I taught him back then. Yet none of them worked. His victim needed more blood but he wasn't able to give him sufficient amounts. His victim lost consciousness more quickly than his other patients. His victim's heart rate slowed down in a shorter time span. He couldn't find out what was wrong.
He went over his whole structure. When he finally checked the inside of the victim's mouth, he saw the enlarged canines that he had. The tips of the pointed canines were as sharp as a scalpel that could easily rip through flesh. It also had tiny incisions on the tip in which there were small traces of blood.
It was only in the end that he found out that his victim was a vampire. His victim wasn't human at all.
Slowly, the vampire died in Adventius' arms. This was the only victim he wasn't able to heal. He became a murderer, and I was the first one to know.
After his narration, he then continued, "I am going to pursue all the vampires in this town and find a way to cure them. Even if it takes me a lifetime, I will stop at nothing! I'll cut up all the vampires and find a way to cure them in the end! I restored your health so that you'll see how well you taught me!"
"Are you mad, Adventius?" I cried. "It seems I haven't taught you well enough. A doctor's job is to cure people, not harm them!"?
The room suddenly fell silent. I stared at him intently, waiting for what he would say next.
He remained quiet as small beads of sweat dropped along his face.
After the brief stillness, I finally uttered, "Do you remember that old adage that goes "An apple a day keeps the doctor away"? My time here is short and I want to get cured quickly, so get me an apple from that bowl. I want you to peel it and cut it up into small pieces, small enough so I could chew them well."?
He got the ripest apple in the bowl. He picked up a knife and tried to peel it. But suddenly, his hands started shaking. It seemed he couldn't get on with peeling it. He dropped the knife the same way he did when the vampire died.
"What's wrong with you Adventius?" I asked.
"I-I forgot how to take th-the skin off of th-this fruit,"? he stuttered.
"What happened to you Adventius? I had expected better from my best pupil."
"Im so sorry, sir. It seems my abilities weren't good enough in the first place."
I took the apple from him and slowly peeled the skin off of it. It took me a long time to do so, but at least I still know how to do it. Adventius ran out of the room without even looking at me. It took him a long time to escape the room, since it seemed he even forgot how to turn the door knob.
Untitled
Alexander Ryan Ong Cuaycong
Damned... Damned...
All because of him... yes... him... Richard Aiken. He damned me. He killed me.
For fifteen years, we were friends, allies, partners, buddies. We stood by each other; we swore to defend and uphold the virtues of the Almighty One: truth, honesty, justice, equality.
Yet, on that day, he killed me.
For what? A woman. My woman. My wife, my sweet, my life. He destroyed me that day he stole her from me. He smote my heart with his reckless disregard and disgraced my honor with his perversion. So, now, I take my revenge.
I have sought him, his blood, his soul, vigilantly, without fail. A wrong can never be righted; as such, this wrong must be dealt upon with a better revenge.
Yes. My vengeance is at hand. It'll be sweet, slow, thrilling... Golden...
I draw ever close, the silent glint of my knife glowing steadily in the dark. I inhale, and, as the rhythm of my breathing steadies, so too does the warm eagerness of my broken heart repress itself.
Their house looms before me, a quiet figure beneath the midnight star. He is rich, powerful, corrupt. My wife? Was she part of this? No, she is a victim. Not an accomplice, not my darling, my angel. And for that he does not deserve to live, not after what he has done.
The walkway is cool, and my accursed legs leave footprints on the hard marble. I had not realized how draining it is to finish the hunt. My hunt for a wild, raving beast draws near its end. Yes, Aiken, I am here.
I kick the door open, the sound of splintering wood echoing in the large, furnished room I entered. A sofa, comfortable with luscious fur, beckons me to sleep; a pillow, soft and inviting, calls me to rest, but, now is not the time.
The house is huge indeed. I have everywhere and nowhere to start. Stairs in front. Doors to the left and right.
Kitchens, pantries, tables, chairs. Everything he has, I had never had.
It dawns on me, what she saw. It was not the man he was, but the woman she could become: wealthy, powerful. I am poor, broke, and weightless. He is hefty, large, and comforted with pastries and cakes of chocolate and butter. Damn. Damn him.
I know she never loved him. She loves me still, awaits for me, begs for me. I need to rescue her from this swine. I will free her from her chains and love her as I once did, as I still do.
I've scoured the ground floor, leaving only the second floor to be searched. I've found not a soul, yet, I know I am close. I can smell his sins.
The stairs do not creek, they remain quiet, still, as if wanting to help me in my quest. The rails are wooden and firm, and the smell of human sweat enters my senses. They've been here.
A single door materializes, the frame engraved with sharp designs and emblems. Swirls, twists and turns. Expensive.
With a rush, I charge, opening the door with an unknown force. My opponent, that stinking devil, is already awake. My wife is nowhere to be found.
He cries in alarm, reaching for a shotgun framed over his bed. He scrambles up, evading my desperate blow, and grabs the weapon. I grab him, letting go of my weapon. A silent stab in the dark would've sufficed, yet, now, in the heat of the moment, I charge at him, grabbing his neck with my bare hands.
I glare at him, my eyes boring holes into his own. He attacks, the butt of his shotgun impacting with my skull. I let go, the throbbing pain receding quickly.
He aims, the barrel of his gun pointed directly at my head. He smiles, momentarily, and I strike, lashing out with my feet, hitting him squarely in the chest. He fires into the roof, the shells tearing a hole into the roof. He pleads, begs... yet, I dare not listen. A snake he is, and he will worm his way from this hole into safety if I let him...
With a smile, I pick up my knife, and plunge it deep into his chest. He stops to groan and the light fades from his eyes. Blessed silence, peace, enters my mind at last...
I can rest.
But wait. What is that noise? That sound? Could it be?
Grabbing my knife, I run from the bedroom, and there she is. My darling, my love, my sweet wife... She stands there, smiling, knowing... Forgiving...
I draw near her. I whisper words of love into her ear.
She holds her hand over my mouth, and, with a quick gesture, grabs the knife from my hand, and stabs me in my heart. I cannot resist. I hear a thud on the floor, and know that I'm dying.
The last I hear are her words whispering, "All according to plan, my sweet naive one."
Shattered Diamonds
Ivan Edward D. Brana
It was a cold November evening, I recalled, when I was to be wed to the girl of my life. Though she was an ingénue, she was uplifting and made me feel happy, perhaps she was the only one in the world that made me feel that way. Our lips met, joining us together for life. The wedding was arranged, but we both desired to have each other so it went well. It was arranged by her family, the political leaders of the town, and my family, who were in charge of the town’s security. There and then, I was already thinking of another “Happily Ever After” story and that I would live in peace and happiness with my love. I was a foolish boy. Little did I know that whatever happiness I had would shatter in such bittersweet memories…
Almost immediately afterwards, the town’s alarms were raised. The witches and Satanist mages were up to no good once more. Savage creatures of mythological proportions made their way through the town. Though the town resisted, forty assault rifles, two hundred shotguns, a thousand handguns and tens of thousands of balisongs were simply no match for the tens of millions of foul assailants. The townspeople were losing, not only the battle, but also their hope and morale. This disheartened state seemed to make the creatures grow however only causing more misery and disheartenments.
Then, as if realizing a vision, the priest then fell to his knees talking about the Apocalypse and the end of the world. My wife and I came to him and asked what was wrong and what we could do to help. He then spoke of an artifact of demons, the Apple of Eva, known to Catholics as the Source of Sin. He said that if we were to destroy it, we would be able to render the black magic of the witches useless and the world would be reverted to peace. However, he added, nobody that has died, and nothing that has been destroyed can be brought back.
The creatures then got to the door of the small chapel, fighting hard to get to their meals within. My family made a formidable barricade, we being the town guardians, yet it would not last long for the enemies were many, and the bullets were few. My wife and I, being the upstart youth that we were told our families that we would seek out this demonic artifact and destroy it. They tried to stop me, but I explained to them that as the future leaders and guardians of this town, it is the duty of my wife and I to cleanse this land. With hesitation they let us go.
My wife and I then set off, taking a shotgun and two balisongs and were on our way. We snuck past most of the demons and confronted those that needed to be confronted. With luck, we got to the Forest of Doubt, where the witches and black magicians were supposedly hiding. I took a look back at the chapel and saw it in flames and I knew that there was no turning back now. Then, a creature much larger and stronger than the rest blocked our path and we fought. Though a whole box of 15 shells were shot at it, it still stood strong. I then rushed to it and hacked it with my balisong yet it was futile. It’s arm became wedge-like and slashed back at me. I was able to evade most of it but when it hit, the blows were really strong. I was beginning to lose hope, but my wife helped me up and told me to believe, and to have faith. She reminded me of all the people we were fighting for and the fire within me was rekindled.
With my growing faith, the balisong in my hand seemed to grow as well in length and strength. And it seemed to have been forged in the fire my love had ignited, forging the steel balisong into a diamond blade that was said to appear before those destined to save the village. It was the Sword of Adamant Faith and with it, I slew the beast and we went on to track the witches. Eventually we found them.
Typically, these witches use cauldrons and standard spell books to summon familiars or petty demons, but it seems that they made a full scale transmutation circle. Transmutation is a method of alchemy wherein they would sacrifice something in order to obtain something else. They were going to summon a demigod demon and apparently,they were trading it for the Apple of Eva. If they succeed, the demon would emerge and it would be strengthened by the demonic artifact. We knew that we had to stop this.
On my signal, I charged towards the summoners and slashed away. My partner even downed a few summoners as she slowly pressed forward as well. However it seemed too late, the circle started glowing, the creature was to emerge. A creature, apparently a towering golem imbued with the flames of Hell had made it’s way through the circle. This was the Apple of Eva, I though as the two of us charged to strike it. It took a flurry of slashes and shots but it downed much easier than the last demon which made us wonder what was going on. However we chose not to mind it as we looked for the Apple of Eva which had to be somewhere.
Then we saw it, the point of our mission, the way to restore peace in the village. We walked slowly towards it almost the same way we walked on the aisle of the chapel as husband and wife. Once we were in front of the artifact, I raised the sword ready to strike. Then I realized that we were in the middle of the transmutation circle once it glowed once more, much brighter than it did a while ago. Now, it was no longer just the Apple of Eva they were going to offer, they were now also going to offer the hope of humanity and the youth who were supposed to save it.
Two years I’d been locked away inside the Tondo prison.
Not a day went by when I had not prayed to God.
The thing is, God only had time for those who deserved it.
I just didn’t qualify.
Everyday, I would rack my brains and try to remember who I was but it
seemed that there was a rope around my head and that it was tied up tight. The only clue I had to who I really was where the tattoos. Looking at them you’d think I was a nasty piece of work.
But one day, all of that changed. I had a visitor he said his name was Damian, he said he ran this contest. I told him to run before I broke his freaking neck. That was when he threw the apple at me, the same apple that matched the one tattooed on my chest. Then he showed me a picture of myself in a suit, looking all neat and presentable. That surprised me and made me change my mind. I asked him what the terms where. 2 fights to the death was what he said. The prize, anything my heart desired. For me, this was to remember who I truly was. How could I refuse?
The next day I was freed from the prison. It felt too damn good. Damian led me to an old forest. He told me that the first fight would be held here. He gave me a piece of bamboo and told me to sharpen it. He also said, with a gleam in his eye that he was rooting for me to win, so it was okay if he gave me an advantage. Then he gave me a beeper which would tell me where to go next. I began to sharpen the stick with ease; it came naturally to me which surprised me a lot.
That night, I was attacked by a tikbalang which interestingly enough had a flaming head that refused to stop burning. He told me that he was going to wish for a way to end his flaming head curse. I told him to get out of my way before I gave him a fist full of bamboo stick. That got the psycho mad; he came at me like a bull pumped with steroids. Surprisingly my body reacted quickly and I quickly sidestepped out of the way. He charged at me again but this time I tripped him ad he fell on the ground. Quick as lightning, I grabbed my bamboo stick and beheaded him. It was just like sleepy hollow, I thought. But this time instead of a headless horseman it was a headless horse.
I passed out immediately after the fight.
I began to remember who I really was. I was part of a cult called Eden’s garden which had ties to the Mafia. We believed that ending the world would bring humanity back to the Garden of Eden and eventually to paradise. First we were small time, doing nothing but beatings and murders. It turns out that I was a pretty good killer myself.
Then came the bomb, we planned to set it off in a hospital where they were inventing a cure for an unknown virus. Doing that would unleash the virus upon the world and soon the world would end because of that. The flashback ended when me and my gang were escaping from the hospital. Then I woke up.
The beeper rung, it told me to go to an abandoned warehouse.
When I got there, I saw Damian himself standing on top of a wrecked car. He told me the final match would be against a man named Black. Damian tossed me a small knife .Moments later, Black came through the door behind me wearing a tight black snowcap and even tighter black overalls, and he even carried a freaking chainsaw. He told me he was here to kill Damian for all the bad things he had done. I didn’t care; I needed to remember who I was. Black was big and strong but not fast, his first chainsaw lunge missed, my slash didn’t. I killed him like I remembered killing any other man.
I told Damian to tell me who I was. He threw an Id at me. It showed me being a member of the FBI. I wasn’t really a cultist! I had been deep undercover for months. When they had set the bomb in the hospital I had ran back in, and threw it out the window. I was a hero.
Damian said that I had gotten my prize. He also said that the Mafia had a huge reward for my head and that running his contest was not cheap He shot me through the eye.
As I lay down dying I remembered one last thing.
I had a family.
He could remember cresting the hill at a gallop, having sighted the smoke tearing the horizon right down the middle. He could remember the gigantic, overblown campfire that had become of the grove. The grove that held all that was sacred to him as a Druid, and held the one who was sacred to him as a man.
He could remember his frenzied flight down the hill, across the snowy plains and fields. He could remember falling rather than dismounting in his hurry and hysteria. He could remember the scent of pines turning to cinders, the music of their fatal crackling, bandits fleeing the fiery grave.
He could remember the archers pelting his home, his grove, with their shafts tipped with steel and fire. He could remember the man who stood at the head of the ironclad formation. The Housekarl, glorious and sickening, stood, his face stone-cold, as a foil to the inferno of life and death.
Fionn could remember the apology offered without sincerity, garnished with excuses and justifications. The cherry on top had been the corpse of his wife...
The fifteen men-of-council sat around the table, a round affair carved from an ancient oak. It had been given to then Karl-heir Ranault on his fifteenth birthday by a positively obese father, to be received by a son whose pompous smile could have matched his father's waistline in width. For many, it was a symbol of the young Housekarl's power. For Fionn Aengus, it was grand affront.
Presently, the Housekarl Ranault rose, and the fourteen others did likewise. The Bard read out a summary of their discussion: crops, resources, farms, surrounding landscape... Talking like they know a
wit... Wastrels, the lot of them...
Then the Housekarl nodded, adjourning the meeting. The councilors filed out, bowing, or nodding to the Housekarl as they left. Fionn himself nodded grimly as he exited, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
"Fionn," Ranault said. "You'll be attending the festival as normal, I assume?"
How can it be normal, swine? My wife is DEAD! "...Of course."
Ranault nodded. "I look forward to it. You're continued cooperation... friendship, has been a great help to me."
I'm sure it has, for all the attention you pay me. "It's nothing," Fionn replied flatly.
"Are you sure you're alright, Fionn? I know it's been hard, ever since..."
"We all grieved when she died, Ranault; that's passed... We have more on our hands."
Ranault nodded. "Alright then; I'll see you on the festival." With that he left.
A lot on our hands... your blood will be on mine...
The festival day came with a little rain, and a lot of fanfare. The advisors and councilors stood near the square in their finest coats, the Karl's guards behind them; the Bard had taken his position right next to the newly-built dais, leaning against it while his apprentices tuned their instruments. The Housekarl himself stood upon the dais in extremely prodigal wedding robes.
Far fromthe square, down the full length of the town's main avenue, Fionn oversaw preparations for the procession and offering.
A cart, pulled by two oxen, dug into the mud of the main avenue as townsmen piled it high with fruits, vegetables, herbs and various others. Fionn wouldoccasionally comment on the arrangement of the offerings, and sometimes arrange them himself.
"Fionn!" called a voice from behind the addressee.
Not even my student respects my title... "What, boy?"
The boy, Alaois, started slightly, a bit put off by Fionn's cold reception. He went on, though tentatively.
"I brought that thing you wanted."
"...Let's see them."
Alaois reached into a satchel at his waist and paused. "There was only one."
Fionn's eyes narrowed. "Are you quite sure of this?"
His apprentice nodded, and then produced a single apple. "This was all I found on that tree."
Fionn took the apple. It was really an unremarkable apple. It was a pale kind of red, splotched with yellow-green, and only somewhat shiny; it had that feeling of being more natural than simply all-natural.
The Druid sighed. "Are you quite sure there wasn't a second one?"
Alaois nodded. "Might have been eaten by an animal, or something..."
Oh, but you would have been able to tell, kid. "Has anyone visited the Grove between when we left yesterday and when you went today?"
"How wouldI know?"
"Footprints, boy," Fionn snapped. "Tracks or something. Nothing?"
Alaois shook his head.
"Alright then, this will have to do. Well, get ready, boy, the procession's starting."
Fionn took his position in front of the cart while Alaois left to join the crowd.
The Druid's steps were like notes in crescendo, each the punctuation of a sentence of hate
in a final, vengeful essay. His hand reached in his pocket for what was to be his clincher, his final word. As the dais came into view, the bells began to sound; their noise concealed by their travesty of music.
Fionn was only aware of the world in the vaguest sense; all he longed for was his cue to release the built up well of hate. Then it came.
"... Druid Fionn, with his offering for the Housekarl and his Lady." Clapping. Up the steps. Pocket...
Fionn bowed low, and, rising, extended his arm, displaying the completely unremarkable apple.
Ranault looked at it, and smiled at Fionn, though his eyes displayed more than a hint of irritation. "A most... interesting... fruit... great Druid."
Eat it, you wastrel. Fionn smiled lopsidedly and nodded.
"Try it, my dear," Ranault said to his bride.
Fionn's mouth tightened in shock, but as the bride took it and bit, he burst into laughter.
Fionn stumbled roughly into the prison cell.
Ranault looked down at him with bloodshot eyes. "I'm sorry it had to end this way, Fionn... I never meant for your wife's death. The bandits came and there was nothing I could do... except to kill them in defense of my people."
"You couldn't defend the one that mattered."
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