Saturday, November 26, 2011

The Bloom Of Curse - I



Night. Darkness. Against the blinding backdrop, all I can see, can feel…is cherry blossoms.

Soft, light, fragile…the petals glide in the mild breeze – pale pink clashing with inky black.

Cymbals chime gently. My eyes closed, I cannot see you.

I don’t need to see you. You’re but a step away, your breath tingling on my neck, your musky smell enveloping me.

My hand extends to grasp your shoulder. Did I not give myself in that moment?

The moment when your hand reached out to caress my hand, before plunging straight through my heart.

…I can’t feel anymore.


Her eyes snap open, her body starting from the kneeling position. A moment ago, she was in a deep trance, casting a protection spell, when she was drawn in by the blossoms.

Pale pink…turning to crimson red. Was it a dream? A prophecy, a vision of the future?

She shuddered to recall the face.

She went to her chair, easing into it, relaxing and breathing deeply, as vestiges of the vision play against the landscape of her mind. A moment too late, before she reacts to the indrawn wind, the barely heard footstep; she finds herself locked in a firm embrace, arms sliding against her bare shoulders.

A low, baritone voice hums in her ear. “And you call yourself a psychic.”

She smiles, easing further into the chair against the crook of his neck, murmuring, “I can’t be on guard the entire time. My strength is limited.”

He brushes his cheek against her silken hair. “Even if it cost you your life?”

Her eyes flicker open, levelling upon him calmly. “As if a lapse in judgement would kill me. You should know better.”

He pulls away, walking towards the window. “Destiny,” he sneers, “of course. So much for making your life when a contraption like a bunch of stars has already determined your lifespan.”

She let the comment pass, knowing it wasn’t sceptical. “This coming from someone who swears by his tarot cards.”

In a rare moment, he looks sheepish. “Self-mockery is one of my traits, unfortunately.”

Laughter resounds as she draws up to him, wrapping her arms around him. In the moment of silence that follows, she remains still, merely aware. Aware of the fact that this was the last time she would be held like this.

(To be continued)
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Ah, this is what you get for watching anime like there's no tomorrow (I'm a twelfth grade student; I'm supposed to study) Do you see the influence. The cherry blossoms, the occultism and the like? For the occasional reader well-versed with anime/manga, this is straight out of Tokyo Babylon or even X/1999 (I mean, literally inspired by it), before you accuse me of plagiarism.  Readers, it's meant to be original fiction, so do not desert me! 


3 comments:

  1. Rose,

    Read 2 posts now. Poem shows even love not to be chained like slave. Waiting for next part in this one.

    Take care

    ReplyDelete
  2. Your writing totally matched with the picture you have put up :)
    Post the next part now, will you? :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Jack: Thank you for reading. :)

    Juhi: I'm not in a habit of writing the entire story beforehand. You have readers, I don't. ^^

    ReplyDelete

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