Written For This Contest:
The Game is over. Over is the Game. What is this game? What game? I listen attentively. The Game is Over. It must be over. The Game is Over.
Nestled in a heart throb of a moment. Blasted by the dogma of selfishness. It has begun and end as life of a series. Provocative, Warm. Death is Warm - defying stereotypical dogma; and is the placebo for life. The Game maybe placed into the will of lies. Lies create. They can build bones. Houses of fleshed linings. They can be human.
The Game is Over. The Game has to be over. Repetition is unnecessary as it is already in motion. The Grand Circle swallows the universe...
...and the Game is Over...
…”Smile!” I am jostled partially awake by the camera who romances me with light and particles – a sexual Petri-dish sans the actually mixture as this seduces one to know of the saying light and love.
My temples. They are bruised internally. Or, what we commonly called headache – mucuous swells as the life-wrapping, numbing narcotic of the biological savagery that can flip the ecosystem of comfort – Or, what we commonly called cold: I think I was starting to get one.
“ C’mon Abbud…Let us go Androgynius…”
My name. Masculine. Pricilla sweeps away as the leaves of the loyal foliage who are the tailors of the wind: Winded – like dolls – what is happening?
“Pricilla! Pricilla!” my cry is shuddering – no, not fear, - but cold – not internal – stimuli external – summer chill of the memoirs of the rain.
“ Abbud! Abbud!” The cry is shrill like a cat wounded.
“ Pricilla! Pricilla!” what is happeninhg – what is -?
“ Abbud – Abbud…where are we…?”
“ I don’t know…”
“ But, weren’t you planning this trip…?” she grabs me, “ You called me and told me to take us here!” she was crying.
“ I did call…but I didn’t give you these directions…”
“ What do you mean!?” She screams.
Not Badly hurt but the response “AHHHAHHHHHHH!!!!!”
The dead body. Carcass of a female. Pierced between the heart. Lips painted with two shades of lipstick. Blue Top. Red bottom. Face with Kajol and the hair – tied in a bun with a Japanese ornament. Body wearing kimono. Pretty and not Asian. African. Bronze paleness. Life ran. No paint preserves the poetry of the soul.
“ Abbud! Abbud!”
“ Run Pricilla! Run Pricilla!”
We are running now. We are running.
The landscape derelict. Beautifully abandoned. Like those kittens. Adaptable And Loveable. Wild and exquisite. Better than the painted nails of that life-size doll…no…NO WAIT!
“ AHHHHHH!!!!AHHHHHH!!!!!” Pricilla trips and falls as the girl dressed in a costume resembling a bunny – no not the exotic – but like the animal.
I am too shocked to speak. No, wait. It is a boy! Dressed as a girl!
What does this person want…? To change us…? Or to create something…?
Laws are heavy – so is Life – the machineries which manoeuvre has strange tactics to play the friend.
Pricilla screams as another fire hits off onto the ground. The bastard is following and I scream, “ Pricilla! Move now!”
And to the Wilderness we are hurled as one would hurl the stone from the height well suited to see none devoured by the abyss beyond the naked iris.
Tongue throbs with the heart. An illegal channel. Eyes shake – a pirate port to the extremities of dark shrouds.
We huddle close. Arms upon Arms. Face pressed Face. Eyes looking in the way scanners eat microscopic digits.
“Abbud – what’s happening?” Pricilla questions, “ What is going on…?”
“ How am I supposed to know!?” I scream with irritation but she withdraws temporarily then pounces with the defence of:
“ You decided we needed a damn trip! What the hell Abbud! What the hell! Aren’t you thinking of the damn fact that I don’t know anything and that you have literally screwed us over!”
“ I didn’t do anything! You are silly to think I put us in this situation – well, maybe – just maybe I did – but not purely with any intention!”
Pricilla looked, her grip loosened then hardened, “ What do you mean maybe?!”
“We are now in the game…” I instructed, “ Don’t be silly and forfeit because it isn’t like other games. This is a life decision.”
“ Is this a joke?!” she pushed away and stared at me with horror, “ You…you set this up…you bitch…you damn dirty bitch…”
“ Relax…As I stated I did not set this up…”
“Why the hell are you talking in riddles?!”
“ Shut Up Pricilla! Nor else we’ve had it!”
“ You shut up! You set us on some weird sick thing and you want me to shut it!”
“ I said I didn’t set us up – I did say it before to you that I didn’t give you these directions!” I grabbed her and shook her to get her to calm down, “ I said I was somewhat involved because…because of that desire…that desire I told you about remember…”
“ What…what desire…what desire…Abbud…?”
“ That desire – Pricilla…that one I told you when we were children and said that you never wanted me to change – remember that one Pricilla…” I looked at her and her horror realized my expectations, “ Yes, Pricilla…yes…yes…it’s that one dear Pricilla…”
Pricilla slouched and looked at me – then she slapped me: “All this time… You were hiding it…weren’t you…you miserable little…you are such a bad, evil girl…”
“ It’s not like that….Pricilla…” I clutched my face “ You know that our love is good…”
“ I told you never to do this…What can you possibly want more…?”
“ You know that I have had my dissatisfactions – you know that Pris – I can’t do it anymore…”
“ You shut it! You don’t know how much this is hurting me Abbud…”
Her neck craned upwards she acknowledged the night sky – only for a few minutes as the hand of the shadow grabbed her exposed throat and tried to strangulate her – our screams the Morse code to the interloper for our quietude’s destruction.
“ No Pricilla!” I scrambled up but I was kicked down momentarily as our interloper had his great feat of pleasure attempting to asphyxiate my comrade – my best friend – whom I hurt but now I can release at least from this vice grip of the bastard – I returned with a rebound kick to his back angled at a position from the laying stance on the ground as to make my shifting legs make his ears believe I am scrambling due to a bruise.
His grip loosens and he is pushed forward and Pricilla pushes him aside. She scrambles up with a scream and rushes to my arms, who kicked the menace to the ground. Then we both run again. Breaths high. Mind higher. Realm of insecurity and tension.
Not understanding the fates.
Pricilla screams. Another body. This one with eyes whiter than the last. Boy. Dressed as a little cupid. Hands stretched as if welcoming Christ. Body cold from mutability.
Pricilla weeps and clutches at me and I hug with eyes too shocked and tongue limp to speech. Scrawls of breaths are my protests. "What are we to do?...What are we to do…? ….What are we to do…?..."
“I…I don’t know….” I stumble for the tongue, “ I…just don’t know…”
“ Abbud – how did he know us…it is a he right – could it be a she…?”
“ Yes, could…I am scared that thing will catch us if we stop – let’s move…”
We resume running. Last catch of white….white death…no dark Grim reaper but snowy as angel feather…
“Abbud…” we walk, “ Remember when we first met in the kindergarden…?”
“ Oh yes…” I smile, “ I had just recently moved in the country and I was excited but also scared…because I did not know what to do…”
“ That Asian boy, Lee, he really liked you…” Pricilla stuck her tongue out to tease, “ Still does. He is the ruler of the chess frontier and has had a few girlfriends. Since kindergarten to now – geez we have grown older and may study at different universities but it’s obvious he still likes you…”
“ How come…? I mean how do you know this…?”
“ Oh Abbud Lee studies with me at my university and just the other day he came up to me…and he was like ‘Pricilla, you still good friends with Abbud…’ and I was ‘Yeah still the best of friends since we were like those toddlers…’ and he was grinning, you know he’s really cute and I was like, ‘Lee…?” then he popped it, the void bubble not anyone’s you know, ‘Pricilla…’ and I was like ‘Yeah’ and he says ‘ Pricilla please tell Abbud I like her a lot..I always have and I want to…if she wants…ask her out…’ and that was the confession,” Pricilla fell to the ground and I tried to pick her up, “ ..he took your number and everything…” and she was crying, “ I just wanted you know…in case we don’t make it…”
“ Pris stop talking like that and get up!” I demanded from her, her strength, and she realized this and stood up, “ We can’t give up…we have to do this accordingly…”
“ Abbud – this is insane! Let’s just run away!”
“ Let’s see if its possible…” I knew the insanity of it yet madmen like moi cannot resist the attic of vast distortions. Antoinette who unwillingly became Mrs. Rochester and Jane Eyre’s predecessor do not think yourself the only madwoman in those upstairs locked away.
“ Abbud… I trust you but…I’m not going to let you hurt yourself…”
“ Does this mean you’ll kill me if the thing doesn't…?” a wearisome smile to my wearied companion who stares with tears translucent.
“ If it saves you…”
I push her: “ You are a selfish bitch Pris…”
I begin walking without her but I hear the sad line:
“ I know Abbud – I know…”
Moonlight is the paradox. Cursed beauty who we cannot enjoy. Light allows us protection. The Wilderness dark. Night friendly. Cold in Summer chill. Night unfriendly. Paradoxes smile to each other as we travel with strained serenity.
These woods are unknown. Yet progress is but a line approach as we are taught generically. No compass in the cortex. No compass as a designed machine. Only lunar compass. We travel.
“When will we get out of these damn woods…?”
“ I don’t know – we have no option to go back as we don’t know where we are exactly and usually there are roads outside these wilderness parts – we might find someone to help us…”
Pricilla suddenly stopped and sat down. "Pricilla…get up…are you tired…?”
“ I can’t forget those two bodies Abbud – the first girl looked twenty and the boy nineteen…both younger than us by two or three years…why…why did that bastard do that to them…?”
“ I don’t know Pricilla…There were more bodies – did you see them…?”
“ Not as good as those two...Those other bodies…well…some were scattered so…” she looked deadpan – then she vomited.
I held her as she got rid of the nausea though memory is nausea uneasy to regurgitate. It sticks –\deadlier than bile. Only courage can cure it. One can do it with confidence – anyone can for courage knows no selections.
“ I’m sorry…I just those…I-“
“ Don’t think about it…Move on and be strong I know you can do it…”
We moved on. Unsure of what was chasing us.
Sure only of courage.
After a while we came to a clearing. The forest spans of vine and branch lesser and visibility clearer. Thus a danger and a blessing zygotic. We can see so can it.
We opened ourselves to the white – thus paradoxically interfering with death and eloping with life-light. We slowly went on a pace akin to jogging. We must be resolute to escape.
We will never be submissive.
“ About Lee…” Pricilla suddenly whispers, “ Will you date him if we survive – or shall I correctly say if you survive?”
“ Shut it Pricilla!” my hoarse whisper, “ If we survive it’ll be not me alone! …And something tells me you don’t want me to date him…”
She looks away sadly for a moment, “ What does it matter what I want?”
“ It always mattered and you know that but…” I can’t seem to speak it right, “ Listen Pricilla I –“
“ Let’s just keep moving.” She gets up and avoids it.
I feel like punching her but I know well that I can’t…is it my fault?
I had questioned it. At times. Now I feel the vulnerability. More vulnerable than this game. This is a game for the one who chases. I think I should try to play it well. To defeat sadness
“ Oh God, this one’s a girl…” Pricilla cried softly, “ She looks sixteen…” and she was wearing a Victorian gown.
“ Pricilla – these people were missing and now we find them dressed in weird costumes – this murderer why does he do this?”
“ I can’t think of any reason Abbud – except the one he’s a sick bastard!”
“ Here! Here! Girls!” so our attacker is a man.
Abbud and I look around and see him. Tall, dark and screwed – features pale. Hollow eyes. This killer has been killed too. No wonder he doesn’t realize anything.
“ And here I thought why not Abbud and Pricilla – why not Ms. Abbud Zafer and Ms. Pricilla Stevens! – one for the hermaphrodite and one for the blondie!” the murderer knew us! How?! – wait, do I know you from somewhere…?
“ You….look familiar…”
“ Do I Abbud…?” he sneered, “ Good, listen I am in a big bad mood already so why don’t you just stop running!”
“ Like Hell we will!” Pricilla shouted and he growled and I knew him instantly.
“ I know you…you got expelled from high school – you were with us in kindergarten you made dresses and girls loved you and made good suits for guys…then they found you…you had kidnapped a model just so she would look nice in your dress…you drugged her so badly she almost died…it’s you Rick…Rick…it’s you…I haven’t seen you in ages…”
“ Well yeah!” he threw tantrums like a child, “ All these people didn’t want to wear my clothes either – oh, blondie I sent you these directions – you idiot – I printed it and put it on your desk I ripped out Abbud’s original one!”
“ Well Rick can you make me a dress now – listen Rick make me clothes that will make me look like a boy you can do that right…”
“ No Abbud!”
“ Abbud – a masculine name…” I cry, “ My parents hated the fact that I was born a girl so they gave me the name anyway, they thought I was going to be a boy. I am not going to disappoint them anymore…”
“ Abbud – Abbud – wearing clothes won’t change that! You will still be a girl!”
“ No – I won’t – I will go away after this…I just want to pass off as a boy first and Rick can do that…Rick can dress people up so nicely it looks like they are the opposite sex when he aims for it…I can do this…”
“ No wonder you use to act boyish…but I knew this desire of yours, I read your diary in school…” Rick confesses.
“ No – I was always like that now just I’ll be shifting gears…” I smile, “ Do this for me Rick Ok…”
“Yes, Yes, Yes…” Rick states maniacally, “ But first you must die…you must die…you understand right…?”
“ No I won’t…make me something pretty…”
Rick had designed something from before. I wore it. It made me look like a man. I was so happy…I am so happy! I am happy…what’s wrong with me? Pricilla is right – dressing doesn’t change anything then why am I doing this…? Then once I remembered as a child…I dressed as a boy…went out as a boy…played with the boys…made them believe I was a boy…their parents commented to mine that I was a good boy…they said they had no boys…they saw me…remorse…if only I could be like this truly…I thought the clothes were magic…
…I had told Pricilla that if I could find the right clothes…I would keep them…for they would make me a boy…she cried as she loved me the way I was but…why did I so stubbornly cling to this parasite of a childhood fallacy?
I am happy being a girl…
“ There, done…” Rick smiled with glee.
“ Thanks I’ll keep the clothes…though I don’t want to be a boy anymore…”
“ Oh Abbud…” Pricilla cried.
“ And I can’t believe I was ignoring the fact that you are a murderer! I’m gonna take you away!”
“ I knew it! You are like them! They also did this to me! They don’t want to transform the way I transform them!” Rick tried to stab me with a knife I moved away and Pricilla jumped in trying to snake it out of his hands.
He pushed her aside. And – I slipped… a separate knife… into his abdomen… “I’m sorry Rick…but…you can’t transform someone who knows the truth…”
Rick slumped. Cold and Dead.
“ Oh Abbud – I love you!” Pricilla embraced me.
“ I know, listen Pris I’m sorry I can’t love you the way you want me too but I do love you deeply…”
“ I know. I wouldn’t mind loving you as a man but I think you are fine just the way you are. It’s not because I’m lesbian…but it’s just you…”
“ Well, ok – let’s go…”
“ Are you really taking those clothes Abbud?”
“ Yeah – I don’t wanna make mistakes ever again, keeping these around can remind me…”
And The Game Is Over…
…we reached the road…to play better ones I suppose…