Labels: Chris
penned with passion.
She could smell the sweet fragrance of roses.
After all, she did work at a flower shop.
But this was different. The air always seemed to smell sweeter whenever HE was around.
His mere presence augmented the scent from the roses and left the area around him smelling positively divine. Whenever he walked in, the flowers seemed to mimic their guardian’s reaction - blooming vibrantly and exuding admiration. Passer-bys could almost feel the longing and desire permeating through the air.
He always came just before closing time.
Slowly circling the premises, he would stop at intervals to take a whiff of the various species of flora in the shop. She loved the way his gentle fingers caressed the flowers and brought them up to his nose. Often, she would find herself just sitting behind the counter, staring at him.
His angular jaw and delicate features could easily garner descriptions which comprised of synonyms of pretty. With his shoulder-length hair, deep soulful eyes and thin lanky frame, he could have stepped out of an idol drama. He stood apart from the crowd with aloof dignity; but she could often sense warmth emanating from those eyes of his. This served to intrigue her even more.
It is interesting how you can tell that you are in love with someone. The person in question seems to be an ethereal image; everything else simply appears dull when contrasted with him or her. It is as if romance has clouded your judgment (vision as well) and has convinced you that the person epitomizes perfection. This was almost how she felt every time he came. The difference being that it was only about a hundred times more intense…
“Excuse me, any recommendations for a first date?”
The voice jolted her out of her trance-like state.
He was standing opposite the counter, staring at her with those gorgeous eyes of his.
She stared shamelessly at the pretty face in front of her for a few seconds, before realizing how doltish she must have looked. Hurriedly composing herself, she replied,
“Erm… I…I would think a bouquet of forget-me-nots would be quite romantic… it is representative of true love anyway… yeah, just thought you should know…”
“I’m babbling!” she thought to herself.
At the same time, a second thought floated into her head, “Rats, he must already be interested in someone else.”
Absentmindedly wrapping a bundle of forget-me-nots, she felt as if her whole world had come crashing down on her. Every single day for the past six months had been spent pining for and thinking about him. Moonstricken, she had spent many sleepless nights pondering whether or not she should profess her feelings to him.
And now, in a single sentence, he had dashed all of her hopes.
“All right girl, pull yourself together. They’re plenty of guys out there. It’s not the end of the world.” Her subconscious self spoke these words; in reality though, she was not entirely convinced that she would ever find another like him.
She proceeded to hand the flowers over to him, and was just about to state the price, when he spoke.
“Thanks, but you can keep them. They’re for you.”
He stood there, an uncharacteristic air of bashfulness encircling him.
He was blushing.
And suddenly, it all became clear to her.
The sweet fragrance of roses filled the room ever so strongly.
The End
1:54 AM}
Labels: Chris
penned with passion.
Author's note:
The original idea for this story came from Marc. Personally, I feel that i have not been able to do it justice adequately. But anyway, this story is dedicated to Tommy and Ryan. Two very close friends of mine who shall thus forth be immortalised in words.
But alas, without further ado...
All was quiet. Everyone was asleep, save for three individuals. It is after all difficult to be lulled into peaceful slumber when one is being held captive. It is especially difficult when every breath taken could be the last.
The cell, at first glance, did not look all-too-imposing. It was not small enough to invoke any claustrophobic reactions, nor was it expansive enough to be considered comfortable lodging for three. There was no furniture of any kind. It was in essence, an empty room. However, being inside the cell was a totally different experience. Sinister undertones contributed to the bleakness of the cell. An acerbic smell filled the air, and the dull metallic color of the walls only served to accentuate the red stains on the walls. It did not help that there was virtually no ventilation. The air was overbearingly humid and stagnant.
“Do you think they will kill us?” Chris whispered to his comrades, as though afraid that their captors might be eavesdropping. Though they did not reply, the other two men’s thoughts mirrored their friend’s.
Deafening silence followed before a sudden flurry of expletives filled the air.
“Damn it!!! DAMN IT!!!! I am not going to die in this god-forsaken place!!!” One of the men had lost his cool, and was now pounding on the walls with his fists.
“Cool it, Ryan. That’s not going to do us any good. We’re better off trying to think of a means to escape.” A voice echoed from a corner in the room. Tommy, level-headed as ever, remained motionless. His furrowed brows, the only anomaly on his otherwise impeccably calm features indicated that he was deep in thought.
“I guess the severity of our situation has not fully dawned on you; these people mean business. We might be trained, but we have no freaking weapons. We have not eaten in days and I don’t see any way out of this goddamn hell-hole. So excuse me for not meditating and indulging in foolish optimism…” Ryan exclaimed, furious that his friend was failing to grasp the direness of their plight. This stinging retort merely resulted in a slight display of irritation from Tommy. Ryan’s temper simmered a little with this lack of irateness on Tommy’s part. Years of friendship meant that both understood the other almost intimately.
They both knew that Ryan had not meant what he had said.
“Desperation can do that to a person. The lesser attractive sides of human nature tend to surface in times of distress.” Chris thought to himself. It seemed like only yesterday that he and his two friends were still breathing in the wonderful air of freedom.
*
72 hours before
“So… how’s things going with Katrina?” Ryan asked, trying his hardest to keep a straight face, though failing spectacularly.
“Don’t you ever get tired of using that old joke?” Tommy’s deadpan voice rung through the air.
“Can we please concentrate on the mission at hand, and leave the discussion of Tommy’s colorful love life for a more appropriate time in the future?” Chris could not resist adding in a jibe of his own.
Before rappelling off the roof of the building.
Ryan and Tommy promptly clipped on their carabineers and followed suit.
The three men now found themselves in a deserted warehouse. The mission was simple: Locate and capture the leader of the Al-Fatah. Dead or alive.
The butt of Chris’s Steyr-Aug nestled in the soft flesh between his collar bone and shoulder. Its weight gave Chris an odd sense of reassurance. Out in the field, it was the only thing which kept him alive. Besides his other two teammates, that is.
“Section clear.” Ryan muttered into his mouthpiece.
Just as a tranquilizer dart impacted on the side of his neck.
As the drug flowed though his bloodstream, his consciousness ebbed away and the last thing he saw was the sight of his two friends collapsing around him….
*
Unbeknownst to them, Al-Fatah members had already anticipated their arrival. As the three men had panned through the first floor of the warehouse, snipers had already taken their positions all around the warehouse.
They never had a chance.
*
The three men had been childhood friends. They all came from disparate family backgrounds, but a shared passion for computer gaming had brought the three friends together. Tommy, the oldest, was well-built for his age. His icy-cool demeanor hid a soft and caring heart. He came from a relatively well-to-do family but was never really showered upon the tender loving care which his younger brother received. Resentment was not one of his traits though, and though he remained distant from his family, he never once hated them. Ryan, stocky and muscular, never really revealed anything about his past. Fiercely loyal and possessing a wicked sense of humor, he was the paragon of righteousness of the group; though his fiery temper often got the group into many fight over his quest for justice. Chris, the youngest, was immature, mischievous and always ready to have fun. But, he was also the one who would always mediate in fights or arguments.
And so, after school everyday, on clockwork, they would meet at their favorite gaming haunt and indulge in an afternoon of full-blown gaming action. They played almost every game under the sun, but their forte would be the first-person shooter.
It was almost like second nature.
The chemistry between the three of them was unbelievable. They all had eclectic styles of play, but at the end of the day, everything seemed to fall in place perfectly. It was as if their friendship in real life had been transmuted into an energy source, which served to bind them together in the virtual world. They complemented each other flawlessly. Over lunch, the trio would discuss tactics, counter-measures and attack strategies. They were so adept at their craft, that a rare victory over them would have their closest rival, David, screaming over the racket and pandemonium of the cybercafe “Checkmate!!”
Thus, it would only be fitting that all three of them had pursued careers in the army. In their final year of basic military training, they had opted for Special Forces. And thus, nearly a decade after they had met, they were now being confined in a cell, awaiting the verdict on their lives.
*
Present
Time seems to pass in chapters when one is isolated from the rest of the world. One moment dawn turns to dusk in a flash, and the next it seems like eternity before twilight comes. Ryan, Tommy and Chris had lost track of time after the third day. Malnourishment coupled with fear had addled with their minds. Sure, they had undergone psychological and physical torture during their training; but the real world was an entirely different ball game altogether. It certainly did not help that they were relatively new to the game, greenhorns in their own right. Had it not been for a lack of manpower, they would probably never have been assigned to this mission.
There was nothing that they could do, except think.
Memories are like time machines; they can take you back to the past and allow you to relive them. Even if only in the mind. These fragments of our lives can never be entirely gotten rid of. They can only fade, but never will they disappear. As the three friends sat reminiscing happier times, the unpredictability of their impending fate was emphasized even further. It served to exacerbate their feelings of trepidation, loss and helplessness. They were too young to die. They had yet to even savor the full sweetness of life. It was as if fate was deliberately throwing them the short straw.
A sudden clang of metal shook the three friends out of their dreamlike trance. No less than twelve AK-47 rifles were now being pointed at them. Strong gruff hands forced them to their knees. Chris felt the touch of cold metal on his temple; and then a voice.
“Checkmate”
11:55 PM}
Labels: Chris
penned with passion.
Session
“Beep beep beep beep beep…”
The digital clock on the bedside table showed ‘7:00 AM’. Elias Reilly opened his eyes in a jolt. Stifling a yawn, he thus proceeded to draw back his bedroom curtains. Golden sunbeams blinded him momentarily as his pupils constricted to adjust to the sudden influx of light. Looking out his window, he could already see that it was going to be a beautiful day. Shafts of sunlight penetrated the dewy morning air; the leaves on the trees swayed hypnotically with the gentle morning breeze. Pausing only to take a few deep breaths of morning air, Elias went about his usual morning routine. As he brushed his teeth though, he caught sight of the face staring back at him from the mirror. “Im getting old” he thought to himself, before letting out a rare sigh. Thirty minutes later, he was in his Chevrolet, eating a butter bun and on his way to his office.
Elias walked into his office feeling a lot less happy than he had been when he had left his house. The weather for one had decided to go all “Day After Tomorrow” on him. Even as he glanced out of his office window, he could see streaks of lightning in the distance. Dark clouds had blocked the sun and heavy rain was now pouring. It was as if someone had angered the Gods and in return, armageddon had descended upon earth. His mood was not improved when his secretary informed him of his schedule for the day. He had consultations throughout the whole day, leaving him precious little time for any breaks. “Perhaps it isn’t such a good day after all.” Elias thought aloud, earning himself a bemused look from his secretary.
As he sauntered to his table, he passed a certificate hanging on the wall. His Doctorate certificate to be precise. Elias, or Dr Reilly as his patients called him, had graduated from Oxford with a PhD in Psychology. Over the last two decades, he had built up a rather impressive reputation to say the least. His patients included disillusioned movie stars, depressed CEOs, sportsmen suffering from ego issues and many other high-profile clients. These people paid handsomely just for a few sessions with him. Privately though, Elias felt that all he had done was to tell his patients what they wanted to hear and give generic suggestions as to how to solve their problems. Of course, he had never voiced this out to anyone. His clients left feeling less dysfunctional, he left feeling like a million bucks(both metaphorically and literally), and everyone went home happy. Why disrupt the status quo?
So engrossed was he in his thoughts, that Elias failed to notice a figure sitting on the sofa. A faint ‘hem-hem’ brought him spinning around and taking up an instinctive defensive stance. “I’m sorry if im early today doctor. I just couldn’t wait.” An accentless drawl permeated the air. Curiously, the man did not seem to have moved his lips or made any action. Composing himself, Elias relaxed a little. It was only his first patient of the day. “Oh, it’s no problem at all. I just didn’t see you come in.” “Please make yourself comfortable.” he added. And so the first session of the day began.
“So where shall we start today, Pierre?” Sitting across the man, Elias could say that he was definitely an interesting character. Elias did not know much about the man, save for his name (Mr G.A. Pierre) and a few other minor details. He had a pale gaunt face with striking features, which could have made him look extremely handsome, if not for the permanent furrowing of his brows and pursing of his lips. Elias thought he saw sadness and melancholy within those eyes. This was a man who looked like he had weathered through life’s many obstacles.
“I still cant get the feelings of dread and regret to stop.” Pierre answered matter-of-factly. Though his words seemed to be devoid of any emotion, Elias’ trained intuition detected a hint of remorse in Pierre’s voice. “They keep dying and I cant do anything about it.”
“Perhaps if you tried telling yourself that their deaths were not your fault, you would not feel so horrible. Out of curiosity, what makes you feel that you are the cause for the deaths around you?” Elias was careful to adopt a non-threatening tone, to prevent any outbursts from Pierre. It had happened once, and Elias’ office had ended up like a disaster-hit area.
“I work for someone. A tyrant, no, far worst than a tyrant. He forces me to do things.. and these things inadvertently cause people around me to die.” Pierre’s voice was now reduced to a flurry of whispers. “I have no choice, no choice, no choice….”
Elias had seen his fair share of weirdoes, nutjobs and crazy people in his time as a psychiatrist. But this took the cake. He was sure that Pierre was straddling the line between sanity and madness at this very moment. Elias shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Ok, ok, calm down Pierre, tell me who your boss is. Im here to listen, just tell me all your troubles.” Elias put on his most soothing voice, which he had perfected over the years.
It was to no avail.
Pierre stood up abruptly and muttered “Im sorry doctor, but this will probably be the penultimate time that you are going to see me. I appreciate your help; I’ll try and go easy on you when the time comes.” With this ominous statement, Pierre walked swiftly out through the stunned doctor’s door.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jill, Elias’ secretary knocked gently on the door and came in. She found Elias sitting at his desk in deep thought. “Dr Reilly, are you alright? The bank has just called to say that a Mr G.A. Pierre has deposited a cheque for fifty thousand dollars in your account.” “Weird weather today huh? Look, it’s all sunny and bright again.” Jill commented as she left Elias’ office.
Elias now had a pen and paper on his desk. He had always been good at solving puzzles and codes in his youth. As he tried out various permutations of alphabets, he thought to himself: I must be going crazy myself. Suddenly, he saw it.
And promptly fainted.
The scribbled piece of paper in front of Elias’ unconscious body read:
Mr G.A. Pierre
Grim Reaper
6:28 PM}
Labels: Chris
penned with passion.
Soulmate
Love is like a jigsaw of sorts. The pieces need to fall into all the right places. Only then can the whole montage of love be completed. However, many a time the right piece to complete the puzzle is so hard to find yet so easy to lose. How do I know this? Well, let’s just say that ive been through enough.
It always begins with a glance. A moment when eyes meet, followed by a brief fluttering of hearts. The all-too-familiar notion of love at first sight. Very often, lust or physical attraction is often misconstrued with love. However, from the moment my gaze met hers, I knew that nothing in the world would ever stop me from being with her.
Her name was Sarah. The butterflies in my stomach would have their own butterflies at the mere mention of her name. Those two syllables formed my favorite word in the entire world. I was sure of it. She was an arts student, a freshman, who studied in the same university as I did. I would often see her sitting alone in the campus garden, with her sketchbook in front of her. Very soon, whatever she was observing would be transcribed onto her sketchbook; vibrant, detailed and blazing with life-like intensity. Her talent only served to leave me more enamored with her.
In my senior year, I finally plucked up the courage to ask her on a date. She was surprised at first, but my shy demeanor enthralled her. She said yes. And thus began the best six months of my life. We shared a common love for the movies and quiet evenings at the beach. We must have watched hundreds of sunsets during our time together, but each one was always special in its own way. Though having not met before, we seemed to be able to know what the other was thinking. Conversations always ended up with either one of us completing the other’s sentences. Dinners were partaken without having to refer to the menu; we knew each other’s food preferences instinctively. In short, it was as if we had known each other for all our lives. I was truly, madly, deeply in love with her. As she was with me.
Or so I thought.
I will never forget that day. Upon further reminiscence, other events in the day seemed to me like a blur. However, I will always remember that scene in the library. I was doing some research for my final term paper. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement, followed by a laughter which I knew all too well. Curiosity drove me to follow the source of it into the archives section. What I saw behind the ancient teak door shattered my life in an instant. The girl of my dreams, my soulmate, my girlfriend was locked in a tight embrace with another boy. Her lips, which once whispered sweet nothings in my ear, were firmly attached to his. I was stunned, my legs firmly rooted to the ground. I felt as if I had been punched in the gut, and all the air had been driven out of me. My heart hurt as if a knife had been stabbed into it and twisted by the hilt. The effect was so great, that I doubled over, gasping for air as my long-dormant asthma came out of its remission. I fainted there and then.
Hospitals seem to have an aura of death hanging over them. Feelings of dread and loss lurk in every shadow and corner of the wards; beneath the sterile and sanitized exterior, a hospital is not really a place one would enjoy being in. I awoke feeling no different. It was as if my heart had died there and then. “You’re fi..n..ally awake… I wa..s so wo..r..ried for you…” a quavering voice warbled past my ear. I wanted to scream, to chase her away, but deep down, I still loved her. I attempted to put on my best contemptuous face, but only succeeded in looking like a sick puppy. But her next words cut the deepest. “I’m sorry, I just don’t have feelings for you anymore. We should stop seeing each other.” I could see the guilt written all over her face, a face I once adored and worshipped. As she walked out the door, I wept…
And so, my readers, this is my sad tale. I am documenting my story with hopes that my actions will be understood. I just hope that the rest of the world will not vilify me for what ive done.
I put down the pen, and closed my eyes in deep thought. As I sit here, Sarah looks at me through glassy, listless eyes. Her porcelain features are just as beautiful as I remembered them to be. Pity that she is dead. Her hands hang limply by the bedside; those deft fingers which once intertwined with mine now lay lifeless, never to caress my skin ever again. Her pale complexion is only marred by drops of her own crimson blood. The knife which carried out the dark deed is still in my hands. “We were meant to be together, my twin soul, my one and only…” I blabbered, completely lucid, yet mad at the same time. A glint of steel, the piercing of flesh, heartbeat ebbing away and finally, the darkness consuming me….
10:33 PM}
Labels: Chris
penned with passion.
Till Death Do Us Part
The school bell resonated throughout the whole campus, marking the end of the school day. In mere seconds, students streamed out of their classrooms in endless flows, filling the air with incessant chatter and light banter. Teachers attempting to remind their charges about homework and whatnot only succeeded in earning a flutter of half-hearted acknowledgements. It was after all the end of the school semester.
Amidst all the hustle and bustle, though, one soul seemed not to be joining in the end-of-semester euphoria.
Sitting in a deserted classroom, the boy had yet to express any discernable joy at the ending of the school term. His overall appearance would have given any onlooker the impression that he had gone through life’s many trials and tribulations. The way he slouched his shoulders, as if embarrassed about himself. The way his jet-black hair was disheveled and filthy. The way his eyes seemed so forlorn, as if he had witnessed one too many traumatic event. The general ill aura about him was exacerbated by his pallid complexion and permanently unsmiling visage.
“I was not always like this.” Chris thought to himself.
In truth, Chris Munroe had been a different person once. At least before the accident…
It had happened two months ago. The memory was still fresh in his mind. One does not forget something like that. Especially if one’s whole class had perished in a single fateful day.
An excursion to the zoo. “Nothing to be worried about, except maybe an escaped jaguar mauling all of us.” Kenneth, the class joker had said to one of the girls in jest. How ruefully wrong he was. The brakes of the bus had malfunctioned along the highway. The bus had spun out of control and had collided into an oil tanker. The explosion that resulted could be heard from miles away. Or so he was told. The fact was that he had taken ill at the last minute and had not been able to join his class for the excursion. Chris had desperately wanted to go, but his mom had forced him to stay at home.
“A bittersweet decision.” Chris reflected with a sad smile.
By the time the fire brigade had arrived, his classmates, or what was left of them, could only be identified by dna samples. Chris would never forget the image. He had gone to the morgue, insisting to see his friends’ bodies. What he saw would always be replayed in every gruesome detail in his mind. His friends were charred beyond recognition, hair was virtually non-existent and there was not even enough skin to pinch. All that was left was a whole pile of blackened flesh and bones. Chris could not have imagined how much his friends had suffered, clawing at their faces and screaming as they burned.
They were his classmates. They were his friends. He could remember all the little things which they had done to him. Alice, of whom he had a crush on, had once asked him out for a movie date. It was an unforgettable one. Jensen and Samuel, both athletes had invited him for a game of football during the mid-semester holidays. Claire, the smartest girl in class, had offered to give him tuition when Mr Xavier had requested for volunteers. Everyone of his classmates had tried to make a difference in his life before. Kenneth in one of his usual displays of humour, had proclaimed that the class would never ever leave Chris or abandon him. “Till death do us part” he had added, with his trademark lopsided grin.
Perhaps that was why he had murdered them.
It would after all be most fitting that they should part in the face of death itself.
As Chris sat in the classroom, his gaze boring holes in the memorial which had been set up in remembrance of class 3B, he remembered all of those times when his classmates had mistreated him.
Alice with that plastic smile of hers, tricking him into going on a date with her. When he had confronted her about her failure to show up, she had subjected him to public humiliation by denying vehemently, in front of a whole corridor of students, that she was ever interested in him.
Jensen and Samuel with those well-toned muscles of theirs, which had the sole purpose of inflicting pain on him. The football game had turned out to be a kickabout for Jensen, Samuel and their group of friends. The ball: Chris.
And Claire, probably the worst of the lot. Her form of torture was not of the physical type. No, this girl was the devil in human form; subjecting him to mental and psychological torture. “Tuition” often turned into self-aggrandizing sessions. She was always going on and on about her own academic achievements. She always spoke to him in a condescending tone and often made barbed comments about his lack of grey matter.
The rest of the class had it in for him too. Perhaps he was deemed to be the outcast, the social misfit; or perhaps they just saw weakness within him. Nonetheless, he had been subjected to insufferable bullying and ill treatment for the past 3 years.
And so, he had had enough. A simple cut in the brake fluid tubing did the trick. He had simply hoped for a mere car crash., nothing grand or anything. The actual accident though had left him speechless. Not with shock, but with happiness and ecstasy. He could not have hoped for a better finale to his simple, yet well-orchestrated plan. Many a night, he would lie on his bed and imagine his classmates writhing in pain as their lives were literally being burned away from them. Ahhh, such a wonderful image….
The crescendo of the school bell interrupted his thoughts once again. Mr Xavier opened the door gently and smiled sympathetically at Chris. “Im sorry to disturb you, Chris, but you really should be heading home now.”
“Yes, Mr Xavier, I’ll do just that.” Chris put on his best pitiful face. “I was just thinking about all the good times which I shared with them. I still can’t believe that they’re gone.” And with a barely audible whisper and the ghost of a smile, he added, “Though I do know why they’re gone…”
11:43 PM}