Talecraft January 2009 Website Contest
Contemporary Fantasy, Ingenue, Fan
Lovebird
Miguel Martin D. Sarmenta - Winner
"Eat me!"
The cake was taunting her, daring her to eat just one more bite. It wouldn't hurt. Just when she was about to resist, the chocolate drizzle seemed to move on its own, lusciously making its way down the white chocolate shavings and chocolate top, over the edge, finally screaming a maliciously playful "Help me!" as it went over the edge, falling to its doom. "Save me!" it called, pointing to the alleged nobility of the deed which should be able to shadow its gluttony.
"All right. If only to save you, my darling!"
She fell right into it.
She scooped the drizzle, and along with it, a seemingly harmless chunk of the cake. "Oh! But who could have just one bite of this?" she thought. So she ended up having another. And another. "Poor chocolate drizzle darlings and fudgie wudgies!" Before she could say "chocolate overload," guilt slammed into her face.
She cursed herself. "I keep falling for that. Why can't I stop at just one bite? Why do I even have to begin?"
Belinda didn't like that she ate too much. She didn't like that although she was beautiful, smart, witty, fun and talented, the bubble of her confidence kept getting popped by her weight. She didn't like that she kept eating the wrong things, that she kept promising to diet but kept breaking it, that she even had to diet in the first place. She didn't like that she was a damsel in disarray, a damsel with an eating disorder.
It didn't help that she was an assistant associate editor of a fashion magazine. Sure, she kept up with trends, knew her Vera Wangs, Valentinos and Vuittons, but it was a tantalizing ordeal. She could write and edit libraries of articles on them, but she would never be able to wear them like the models do.
Cameras would flash, jewelry would glitter, and those sexy bodies would taunt her like the chocolate overload. She knew that she was working for a culture that celebrated only certain body types and glorified a certain way of being in the world from which she was excluded, but it paid well. Too well for her conscience. They would probably never make her a full-fledged editor, but they needed her excellent command of grammar and writing style. So she stayed hidden between the lines.
She stood up from her cubicle to return what was left of the treacherous cake. On her way, she kept cursing all the things she didn't like about life, her work and herself. Then she remembered the only one in the world she did like: Rico.
She would wait for Rico like Rapunzel for her rescuer: with eager anticipation and excruciating agony. Her heart would leap for joy whenever the photo shoot for the next issue would draw near. No, Rico was not one of their models. Belinda had no interest in them. Rico was one of their favorite photographers.
She liked him precisely because he enjoyed it behind the scenes, much like she did, far away from prying, judging eyes who would weigh you each chance they had.
Today was no different. She had waited for the moment ever since they chose his studio again for this issue. Of course, Rico did not know of her ardent admiration. Women like her were not allowed those luxuries or bravado. She settled for those fleeting moments when Rico's gaze met hers, when they would make small conversation during breaks, when he would ask her if the shot was okay, and all the times he could have needled her because of her weight but apparently chose not to.
He was like his masterful photographs: beautifully appearing in nature, carefully put together by lights and shadows in a divine dark room, and the rest of the world is allowed a glimpse. And of all the times he could have teased her, he didn't. Maybe he knew a bit of how it was to be judged, of how it is to stay behind those who were pretty enough to be adored by the rest of the world, of how it was to be on the other side of the pretty white fence.
Here she was, waiting for him madly again. Less than an hour until he arrives, Belinda did her prop and set check with Menita, their Production Designer.
Menita seemed like a relic from the Spanish occupation. She would shout her "Que Barbaridads" and recite several saints in alphabetical order when her staff was sloppy. She always got on Belinda's nerve, but the magazine had no choice for this particular issue. They were doing a full spread on a Maria Clara collection by Tesoro. The designs were of course, a fusion of the near-ancient and the now, but no one knew the 1890s like a relic from the times.
So Belinda was stuck with Menita's stories of Binondo magicians and of forbidden love trysts at the old Manila Post Office. While Menita ranted on, and in between looking at the clock waiting for Rico, a particular prop caught Belinda's eyes: a Spanish fan.
Its ribs, boleta and fuente were all drenched in darkness. Its rivet, the outermost edge, was laced crimson, making the fan look as though it were dipped in blood. In its leaf, the area for the design, fully spread, was the image of two lovebirds, painted in gold. On the other side of the fan, there was only one golden lovebird left, and its head was downcast.
"It was the fan of Doña Corazon," Menita began. This time, Belinda listened to her.
"It was a forbidden love. She and her lover fought hard for their relationship, but in the end, they failed. And the poor man was jailed by the guardia civil. From two lovebirds happily enjoying their romance, it happened that Corazon became that lone, downcast lovebird. The fan was passed down through generations, and it became a legend: in one movement, it can either be one's bliss, or one's downfall."
Belinda suddenly dropped the fan.
"The legend goes that if you desires someone else's love, you must think of him, then you must hold the fan, fully spread. Then in one swift motion, shut it. And with your eyes closed, you must twist the shut fan three times in your hand. Finally, you must open the fan one last time. If the side with the two golden lovebirds are facing you, you will have your man."
Belinda reached for the fan again.
"But... if it is the side with the lonely lovebird that faces you, then your heart is doomed."
The whole studio became silent. "But of course, it is all legend - Nada mas!" Menita said, and then broke out cackling as she went to the restroom.
Belinda grabbed the fan. What did she have to lose? Her entire life had been one of golden loneliness, anyway - all that talent and amazing personality, but always passed over. Now that she had this chance to gain Rico's love, what's to stop her? If the legend were true, and she could have his love, then this was the ultimate chance.
What did she have to lose? What was one more heartache, one more silly boy lost, one more chance at happiness lost, one more wonderfully idiotic effort of the world to harass her?
She opened the fan, thought of Rico - beautiful, gifted, talented, humble, Rico - then shut it tight. She felt an invisible chain pull her hand away from the fan, but there was no turning back now. She twisted it once, twice, thrice.
The door to the studio suddenly opened. The photographer was here.
But it was not Rico.
"Hi, I'm Joey Cua. I've been assigned to substitute for Rico for this project." He reached out a hand. Belinda shook it coldly.
"W-What?"
"There was a very sudden change of assignment. There's a shoot in Argentina, and we had to send our best, which was of course, Rico. But you'll find that my credentials can take care of this project."
Menita came out of the toilet finally. "Ah! Joey! Como estas?" It turned out she knew him from a past project. She took him through the entire set-up, seeing that Belinda had been rendered motionless.
Not a word. Not an SMS message. Not a note. Nothing. Did she even mean anything to him?
And now, not even a chance to see him, not even for one brief moment. For just one photo shoot, just to make her feel that she was okay. Would the universe deny even this? She thought she wouldn't care, and she was now angry she did. She suddenly felt the taste of the chocolate from a few hours ago. All the sweetness now bitter and sickly.
She realized she was still holding the fan. She opened the side facing her.
It was the lonely golden lovebird.
The Brisé Mystique
Diana Jean Ibay
"Never lose me, and I will grant you your heart's desire."
The line was stitched on my Brisé fan in pink-and-gold thread, and upon reading it, I wasn't able to stop a chuckle from coming out of my lips.
"Yeah, right!" I snorted, rolling my eyes, "That's what I need now - a magical fan - who would've thought?!"
"Why not, then?!"
I jumped up from my Indian sitting position, as soon as I heard the familiar masculine voice speaking up behind me.
I turned around, and after confirming my suspicions, veiled my surprise with a nonchalant inquiry, "Ah, what brings you out here, dear cousin-of-my-bestfriend?!"
"Followed at your heels when I caught you making your great escape from the shindig back there!" he grinned, adding with mock-seriousness, "As well as escaping the hordes of young women your bestfriend Jenny has been desperately trying to match with me!" then, he inclined his head towards me, "You?"
"Fresh air, mostly. God, the air inside nearly got me high from breathing the massive puffs of smoke of all the cigarette brands known to man coming from all direction!" I admitted laughingly, "And, as you know, this is my favorite place inside this exclusive enclave."
He nodded understandingly, "Of course."
With no other words exchanged between the two of us, we proceeded to remove our shoes, fold the hems of our respective outfits, and dangle our legs mid-level into the pristine turquoise waters of the pool.
"There's just something calming and peace-of-mind-restoring when you look at clean water - something purifying and enlightening..." he grinned once more, gazing subtly at me, "Like you, this is my favorite place here."
I returned the smile, and nodded, opting to keep silent since I had nothing new to add.
We remained that way for quite some time - bliss in silence, with only the cascading waters of the infinity pool breaking the delightful lull.
===~===
I found myself resting my aching head on his strong shoulders, our feet still in the water.
He was speaking about his plans for his immediate future - like pursuing Graduate Studies as he review and prepare for his Librarianship Licensure Exam, and become an assitant-cum-apprentice of the Director of the National Library.
I smiled, wishing that I could have as much foresight and vision as he evidently does, and...
...That somehow I could have a bigger part in his life.
Pathetic, isn't it?!
For him, I will always be his beautiful cousin's bestfriend - nothing more.
And, the most painful of all, I can't help but agree.
For I never went out of my way to make myself larger than life in his eyes, so damn it if I expected something more from him.
This is why I never liked attending parties such as this... It just makes it harder for me to remove such distractions from my system.
Sighing inwardly, I once again eyed my pretty Brisé fan, which seemed to be sparkling with life.
I raised it up, inspecting it closely, and to my surprise, two new words appeared on it.
"Unfold me"
He noticed my sudden apprehension, prodding him to inquire, "What is it?"
I pointed the two words on the fan, shaking my head slowly, "Those weren't here when I looked at it earlier..."
He looked at me as if he found it hard to believe what I just said, yet he was torn by the fact he has known for a long time: I'm not an inverterate liar, and I don't lie just for kicks.
"Do it, then."
The recherché fan throbbed slightly, as my eyes widened and my lips ajar in shock, a melange of thrill and fear pulsing through my veins.
"Should I?"
"You will never know until you do it."
He closed the miniscule gap between us, then turned towards me, and ended up clasping my fan-holding hand with his own, murmuring, "Let's do it together, then."
His eyes never left my face, as his hand prodded mine to do the inevitable.
Slowly, the fan unraveled gloriously on our hands.
Then, there was light...
===~===
"Mommy! Mommy! Wake up! We're going to be late! Auntie Jenny's already here! She's brought Becca and Laurie with her, too! C'mon, Mommy, wake up!" young and excited voices filled the air.
I sat up, and wiped the remnants of my interrupted slumber off my eyes, which I drowsily closed again.
Little hands poked at me, as I stretched and yawned groggily, grumbling, "Didn't dawn just break a few moments ago?! I think it's too early to get out of bed just yet..."
"MOMMY!!!"
"Alright, alright!" I immediately waved the white flag, as I covered my deafened ears, "I get your point! Mommy's on the move now, see?"
My sons cheered joyously, as I stood up, and hurriedly left the room - most probably to tell my best friend and her children that I was awake at last.
Before I got off from my side of the bed, I nudged at my husband, and murmured, "Honey, time to get up now..."
I heard a groan and shuffling of bed linens before I saw any remote hint of a face -
"Lucas..."
===~===
I let go of the fan, as I uttered shakily, "That... That's not possible!"
I tried to break away, but he caught hold of my waist, "Why is it not possible, then?"
I laughed mirthlessly, "Oh, c'mon! Do you really have to ask that?!" I shook my head in disdain, "You ask me that question, when we both know the answer to that!"
"Why then?" he repeated, as I recoiled from his slight embrace.
"Why?!" I echoed, bristling at the mere thought, "Why?!"
He never made a move to change his query, so I thundered, "You don't even know I exist beyond my capacity as your cousin's bestfriend, Lucas!"
Lucas winced, confirming my worst suspicions.
Indeed, I was only his cousin's closest confidant, partner-in-crime, right-hand-woman (take your pick) in his eyes - nothing more.
I looked away, pain etching itself on my breaking heart.
This is why some people believe Ignorance is bliss.
It is far better not knowing sometimes...
I got on my feet, dusted non-existent filth off my gown's skirt, and made a move to leave, but Lucas stopped me, catching hold of my hand once more.
"Don't leave until you hear me out... please?"
I steeled myself for the apology I didn't want to hear - simply because it will not be the words I yearned for him to tell me for so long.
"Lia, I..." he paused, as if he couldn't muster enough courage to say whatever it was he wanted me to hear, "I... I like you - a lot."
Alright, that was certainly not what I expected to hear from him at all.
"What?!" I cried out in shock, then I looked around frantically, "Oh, God! Am I hearing things, or what...?!"
"No, you heard right!" Lucas cried out, tightening his hold on my hand, "I really do like you a lot, Lia! And, when I say a lot, I really do mean-!"
Then, he made a wide circling gesture, like what we do when we emphasize a point about the entire world, and he grinned, "A lot like that, Lia!"
My heartbeat quickened, as I realized the significance of his words, "You... like me?! Like this?" then, I cheekily made a heart gesture with my two hands, eliciting a chuckle and an emphatic nod from him, as well as a brighter smile.
I pulled him closer, and whispered, "No matter how cliché this may sound, but goodness me, I've been waiting for this moment to happen for so long..."
The clock tower beside the colossal tree that has been carrying the massive treehouse (where I used to play with his cousin) since time in memoriam, struck the hour of midnight.
He chuckled softly, and gently tilted my face towards his, as I secretly held my breath in anticipation.
Slowly, his lips descended upon mine, and cliché or not, it really felt as if dazzling fireworks were popping and exploding around the two of us, as we shared our first kiss together.
"I could get used to this..." he murmured lovingly, as I gazed at him, my eyes sparkling with delight, and bantered affectionately in return, "You better!"
We kissed again, then catching sight of the unfolded fan knotted securely on my wrist...
"Lia + Lucas"
Life couldn't get much better than this!
EsFANage
Gerese Axalan
She strode up the stone steps leading to the grand Blackwood Mansion, careful not to trip over her ankle-strapped stilettos. If things were any worse, she was also garbed in a skin-tight, bold red, Chinese-collared dress with a dangerous slit that rode up to one side of her thigh. It was not her usual choice of clothing but she had no other options.
She scanned the grounds at peripheral vision and noticed men in polished suits roaming around. They will be dealt later.
There was a mission waiting.
#
“Your name, Mademoiselle?”
She unclasped her slim, black satin clutch and handed over her invitation.
The man glanced at her name and verified it on the list before him. “Ah, Miss Angelique,” he intoned pleasantly, “Dr. Blackwood is delighted to have your presence. Do enjoy your evening.”
She nodded to him coolly and entered the front door.
Phase one was completed.
#
A string quartet playing Brahms and a few dancing couples greeted Angelique at the grand ballroom. Designer-clad women clung to their partners with sheer possession as if one glance from her would steal their men away. Smoldering gazes crept behind her exposed neck and she heard their thoughts; all of them too mean, insecure and plain nonsense. Angelique resigned towards the refreshment table and whipped out a delicate Chinese fan from her clutch. Light breeze calmed her thoughts, enabling her to focus and observe people around.
“Champagne, miss?”
Angelique closed the fan in one flick and decided that she needed a drink. She was about to reach for a flute when a hand snaked upon the curve of her waist and held it there—provocatively. “Shall we toast for success this early?”
Angelique recognized the voice immediately. And the whiff of aftershave trailing it. “Sorry to keep you waiting, dearest,” he murmured at her neck, “had company before making it here.”
She whirled, only to meet Max’s teasing dark eyes that feasted over her body. He blew a curt whistle. “I did not know that our dearest angel possessed such sinful assets.” Clearly, he did not get her cue and still laid his hand at her waist, as if enjoying it. “As you may have read in the briefing thoroughly,” he stressed at his last word, “we are engaged lovebirds who met at Monaco.”
She would have loved to twist his wrist, maim him and bring agony to his handsome face had it only been appropriate at the moment. But the least that they needed was a scandal to blow both their covers. One careless move jeopardized them…and the mission. Her eyes dropped to his hand that remained loyal at her side. He was dedicated in keeping his cover intact.
Max threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. “God, if only you could speak.”
But being mute was not that a great disadvantage for Angelique. Rather, it proved very useful for her to blend in quietly, undetected in a crowd. Time was not wasted in idle chitchat. Her gift of intuition was also riveting, enabling her to detect people’s intentions from their nonverbal cues. It worked as an extended sensory organ for her that compensated her inability to speak. Combined, these were her aces that efficiently matched what her job required and demanded: precision, stamina and total anonymity.
Then came the signal. “Do indulge me for a dance, will you?”
#
For the next eight minutes, Max filled her with the mansion’s blueprint: rooms, hallways to possible escape routes. He had been infiltrating Dr. Blackwood’s ‘Mad Lab’ for a year already, taking in the guise of a shrewd geneticist.
The ‘Mad Lab’ tested all the limits of sanity, its specialty including sadistic experiments on animals and humans. Top information revealed that the lab recently extracted a primitive gene to be sold to the highest bidder. If possessed by wrong hands, it could promote a nasty return to archaic living.
Max twirled her around then slowly gathered her back, their bodies closer now. “Please be careful,” he told her, “I’ve seen how they torture the spies they’ve caught—not even your innocent, angelic face would save you from their diabolical means.” The piece was coming to an end and Max brought his lips near her ear. “I’ll be at your back.”
The ‘Mad Lab’ proved nothing like its name. It was a well-lit, spacious underground laboratory that Blackwood kept inside his mansion.
Angelique spotted what Max described as the ‘El Monstruo,’ or the monster, a massive machine that controlled all of Mad Lab’s active experiments. Countless switches lined up its surface, each designated to an experiment. Lights blinked in succession while others remained steady. This was the heart of Blackwood’s madness.
Angelique uncapped her fan’s bottom end, revealing a mini flash drive. She found a port and installed a program to override all ongoing experiments. El Monstruo’s rhythmic hum began to choke on the interception.
An alarm sounded off, and soon, footsteps rushed inside the Mad Lab. Angelique was about to escape when a hand yanked her hair hard that chopsticks adorning it tumbled down to the floor. “Looking for your boyfriend, angel-face?” he asked, resting a gun at her temple. “Or must I say, colleague?” He steered her away from El Monstruo and Angelique saw a heavyset man holding Max by the arm.
“She can’t answer you, Blackwood,” Max said, “she’s mute.”
Blackwood smirked at the revelation. “Can’t your office afford a more able choice?” He spun to Max theatrically. “Now, why don’t we perform a little experiment on you?” Blackwood filled a syringe with his sinister liquid and lifted it up for all to see. “Say farewell to your worldly, debonair ways, Maxwell, for before the minute is up, you will be reduced to a Neanderthal for life.”
“No, Blackwood! Don’t do this!” Max pleaded, struggling from his captor’s grip. Sweat glistened at his temples.
“You know I have no patience with traitors. Think of this as your greatest contribution in the name of science.”
“Blackwoo—“
Angelique scooped a chopstick and poked Blackwood’s eye. Blackwood hollered but managed to sink the syringe down Max’s arm. Angelique could only stare in shock.
Max’s eyes glazed over and bent his head down. Then he began to beat his chest, gorilla-style, knocking down test tubes that his hand came at close contact. Shards of glass shot at every direction that Angelique yelped and shielded her face with her hands.
“My creation,” Blackwood declared, diabolical pride ringing in his voice, “the first of its kind.”
Max punched the man restraining him and beat his chest in triumph. He looked behind him and saw Angelique. A lopsided grin formed on his face as he grabbed her waist and swung her towards El Monstruo in a maddened fashion. Her instincts kicked in and Angelique realized that he was staging a diversion. She yanked the fan from the port and slammed its bottom towards Blackwood’s cheek.
“Yeow!” Dr. Blackwood cried, his eyes rolling out in shock. He writhed and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
“A stun gun within a lovely fan. Very clever.” Max muttered, getting Blackwood’s gun. He looked at Angelique. “Come on, we have a ride to catch.”
#
Max dragged her across the ballroom, waving Blackwood’s gun like a maniac and hollering unintelligible words. It also helped that he had Angelique hauled over his shoulder for added effect. King Kong was on the rampage. Blackwood’s guests screamed, stampeded and scrambled off to flee. “’Fraid I’m taking this Neanderthal role seriously, darling,” he said, darting towards the mansion’s back exit. As the heavy door swung open, four uniformed men were waiting. “Oops,” he said, settling Angelique down at her feet, “We have company.”
Angelique stepped calmly in front of him, twirled her fan like a baton and flung it wide open. Tiny tracker darts speed their way to the tuxedoed men’s direction. They dropped to the ground in drowsy slumber.
Max was impressed. “You never miss.”
She nodded smugly and blew the embroidered top of her secret weapon, which was still emitting smoke.
“Show off,” Max grumbled.
Angelique raised an eyebrow at his words and raised her fan at him.
Max blanched. “Oh no, you will not do what you’ve done to those bad guys with me—unless, you would want to walk all the way to your hotel in those torturous heels.”
She swatted him playfully with her fan.
A loud explosion thundered inside the house, shaking the very ground they stood upon. Max stared at Angelique, dumbfounded. “Don’t tell me that your little toy over there also detonated a bomb.”
Angelique shrugged her shoulders and feigned innocence. She fanned herself as if to imply that such a simple accessory was harmless.
Max threw his hands up in defeat. No wonder the quarters wanted her in this assignment.
By now, the ‘Mad Lab’ and its meaningless contents ceased to exist. Mankind will slumber soundly each night and wake up with their modern lifestyle and sanity intact.
Mission completed.
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