Storytime with MisaTange

Deadly Fortune Chapter 3

The night of Rena’s bloodied face wielded a horrible dream. It went on like this: I was in a forest, red-blood from killings. Red was everywhere… in the trees, up in the sky. Then, suddenly, a pair of red eyes came out. I looked into its pupils. Then, suddenly, the trees were covered with red eyes, a pair each tree. I screamed. The dream didn’t stop there, however. A large, red monster, teeth covered in blood, came. My vision blurred, but I was in the monster’s grasp. I heard a crunch, then woke.

I woke into my bedroom, the monster’s touch still creeping me. I looked around. Nothing weird here. I touched my face to see if it was bloody. It felt fine. As soon as I saw that I was fairly normal, I sighed with relief. However, I was still troubled. I prepared myself, walked outside, but on the way outside, I realized that the monster in my dream haunted me. It was there, but not there at the same time… I saw the monster in the dream as I looked into my reflection, but when I looked behind me, there was nothing. I felt… violated.

I went into the old fortuneteller’s tent.

“Excuse me, Myst?” I asked.

She came out. According to her expression of calmness, nothing much really happened in the last day. Unlike Rena and I… Myst looked expectant.

“Ummm…” I tried to explain. “What’s the meaning of this? Rena has a bloody face now. And now… a monster from my dreams seem to be haunting me.”

“A stroke of deadly fortune,” Myst answered in a smile. “All people who come here to get their fortune told always happen to get that.” Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared.

With a few texts, I managed to find out Rena was fine. I breathed a sigh of relief. I must find out about this… deadly fortune.

Deadly Fortune Chapter 2

Day two arrived, ever since… that time deadly fortune arrived. Rena texted me.

The text read, “Myst talks true.”

Curiously, I went to Rena’s house. I screamed as she opened the door to welcome me in. Her white, pale face was covered in blood.

I dared not to ask. But I asked, “Er… how did …that… happen?”

“I happened to wake up that way…” Rena murmured. “Myst talks true…”

Silence.

Finally, I spoke. “Wash your face, Rena. We’re going to the movies, just as planned.”

“I did. I tried,” Rena replied. “But it just won’t come off..”

I sighed. Certainly Myst didn’t plan to make our two weeks the worst weeks anybody has planned. Certainly not her… or did she really?

Deadly Fortune Chapter 1

A dream. Is it all a dream?

What am I talking about? Well, it happened after my first date with Rena.

What? You still don’t know what I’m talking about? Hold on, I’m not finished yet! After my first date, we just went off to see a fortuneteller, just to see what our love holds. Just for fun. Known as Myst, she held out a pack of cards. Seven cards for me, six cards for my girlfriend, Rena. She spoke in a calm tone.

“Thirteen days you have,” Myst said, “until your last blissful days come to an end.”

Those words slithered up my back as if it was a slimy snake. And then, words from Rena.

“W…what do you mean?” Rena asked Myst. Silence.

Finally, the fortuneteller spoke. “Exactly as I said,” Myst explained, still in that calm and slow tone.

Rena and I ran outside of the old fortuneteller’s hut. Nervousness still climbed my back as I walked home. This was going to be a crazy thirteen days.

Lost

A cold whisper of the night turns colder and colder as time flows by like a peaceful river. Trembling bushes seem to call out for help, but it is unable to be heard. A fire in among the green bush is seen and two other people, a man and a woman. They are holding nothing, except for the torn clothes on their back.

The man, looking in his twenties, almost moves his lips to comment on something, but didn’t since he is almost too weak to even speak. The woman, also looking in her twenties, notices this and sighs.

The forest is usually packed with resources, but it is the time of cold. Animals sleep, waters freeze, and the American Indians are hiding because they know that the time of cold is dangerous, especially at night. The ‘game’ of survival is happening between some animals, and any person that wander in the forest might get killed in the middle of the ‘game’.

The night eventually passes after many wolf howls and attempts to hunt…

Farmer’s Boy Review

After an hour of deciding and pulling out the coupon book, we came upon Farmer’s Boys. Something different!

We stepped inside, got our orders, (I got a Bacon Cheeseburger without pickles and onions) and sat down to wait. As we waited, I felt the warm homely feeling of the place.

It took a little bit long, but our orders came. I munched on it, feeling really average about the hamburger (the bacon was a little too crunchy). I have a slight dislike to cheese (compared to my strong dislike back then – thanks diner food), but I was feeling something with a little bit of cheese. Thankfully, the cheeseburger’s cheese didn’t taste like cheese, like it blended with the flavors of the meat. Our dinner came with fries, overpeppered it like usual, and felt like the fries were average.

All in all, the food is pretty average. The cashier was kind to us and the tables clean when we first entered here, so the service is alright.

Let’s Play

“Ring around the rosy
Pocketful of posies
Ashes
Ashes
They all
Fall down!”

I remember visiting a small village. I think it was located in Arkansas or some state with people with country accents. I remember the village’s name was Teai or something like that, but a weird thing was, when I asked for a tour of the place to get my bearings, the citizens there automatically directed me to an adoption center.

Well, I never thought it was weird until I got there. I was entranced by blind people saying, “Hello, foreigner!” It’s like they knew I was there, they knew I was a tourist. They all looked normal.

A large woman with brown hair and dark eyes entered. “Sorry, they haven’t seen a foreigner before,” she apologized. My eyes widened, but, as if she didn’t notice my expression, continued, “They’re blind children waiting to be adopted. We’re at an adoption center, you see. By the way, did the villagers sent you here by chance?”

I nodded. Soon, her regretful expression turned into sadness. “Dear me, not again,” she murmured.

Again? What did she mean by ‘again’? Did she do this before?

After a while of sulking, she spoke. “Well, while you’re still here, why don’t you get to see the adoption center? It’ll be a great experience.”

I nodded cautiously. I was afraid she was going to lead me to a torture chamber or something. But human curiosity shook my bones and followed her in what seems to be a playroom. It was open in the right side. The right side had archways. It looked like a hallway, and it looked richer from the other rooms.

A cry of laughter from a group of children that made a circle rang out, singing a familiar song. “Ring around the rosy! Pocketful of posies! Ashes, ashes, they all fall down!” they laughed. I smiled with them.

“This is what I call the playroom,” she introduced with a great grin. Crying was soon heard. Curiosity once again took over me and I followed the noise.

What I saw was horrid. A tower of dead bodies that looked like it got burned to pieces until flesh was seen. They were lifeless and had a frown on their face. A new body was soon decaying. It smelt horrible.

Like death.

One of the living blind children surprised me. “Oh, foreigner? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Everything…” I managed after a pause.

I heard that familiar song play. My eyes widened in surprise, feeling my bones and muscles chilled from it.

I felt like I was being pushed, and I soon fell into the decaying tower of corpses. While I was falling, I heard the song being sung again.

“Ring around the rosy!
Pocketful of posies!
Ashes, ashes!
They all fall down!”

My first love experience

I met him on Omegle

He talked about his problems

And I listened

He gave his Skype username

And I gave mine

And I await him

To connect

Every single day

When he does

He keeps on talking 

About his problems

And I listen

As we connected and chatted

I felt a little spark

a click inside my mind

I noticed that little click

and noted it

One day

He asked me to play

One of his favorite games

And I did

He taught

And I learned

A few months passed

He connected as usual

And said, 

“I need to be loved.”

I felt for him

And once again

He spilled his problems onto me

I promised him love

And he smiled

With a ‘false’ sense of hope

But with me believing

That I will be

Stuck with him

Forever

Then, one day

He did not connect

He was invisible,

unable to be found.

I waited.

Then it dug in.

He was dead.

I cried and cried,

but still waiting for him

as if he was still alive,

regretting what I could have said.

Regrets, guilt, aside,

with small, little, unnoticeable bouts of crying,

I get over him

never forgetting his love

never forgetting my attraction

hoping that I will transfer that love

to the next one on the list.

The Art of War

Daylight. The sound of bullets, explosions everywhere line the sky. Everywhere, blood covers the land and still more is coming out. Nighttime. Still more of these almost intimidating sights are heard. But this odd sight is not peculiar to the men fighting on the battlefield. They see this everyday… as long as the war keeps continuing.

Back at home, their relatives are at unease. As each moment passes without a sound, they do not know if their little fighter is dead or not. Each day escapes like this… at least until they return. Anxiety swells up inside of their heart as they wait.

They finally return. Their eyes are bloodshot from fighting everyday, but they are met with hugs and kisses from their relatives. Finally, they hear, “How was the war?” Flashbacks of the war hit them like they got hit in the head. Pictures of people dying and the sadistic smiles of their enemies pass through their brain quickly.

“No!” they suddenly yell. “No! Don’t take his life!” A shiver passes through their bodies. Their relatives decides that he needs rest and guides him into his bedroom.

The Art of Swordplay

Proficiency in swordplay means power. At least, that’s what Teacher taught me. Teacher was wrong. In an age filled to the brim with gunmen, mastering the art of swordplay meant nothing. You were good at swords, so what? Gunmen would just shoot your butt off and you’d die a bloody death.

But Teacher was right all along. In this age, gunmen were crazed. They would shoot everything in sight. But how can you shoot someone when you can’t see them? That’s the art of surprise right there. An amazing technique Teacher taught me.

 I used my newly found technique on a few gunmen, just some criminals. Didn’t shoot a single bullet like they were morons or something. Sliced them right down. Indeed, the sword is a beautiful weapon to kill with. Given the right master, of course.

listen to the call

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