The Count's Tale VII: Tears and Shadows

NOTE TO THE READER: If you're new, read this from the beginning. For the others, read in chronological order, okay? It wouldn't do both of us any good if you spoil yourself.

The Count couldn't help the smile forming on his lips. If his surroundings followed his mood, they would be in paradise, not in a gloomy dungeon cell, where their shadows played across the wall.

"If that was so, then why have you been avoiding me? Why hide what you feel?" the Count asked, still smiling.

The hunter ignored him. He seemed to have forgotten he was locked in the cell with the Count.

The Count was confused. "Hey, are you there?"

"I didn't want it to be any harder for you, Vincent. I... I do like you, but..."

The Count's paradise seemed to be melting suddenly into... into a gloomy dungeon cell.

"But what?" the Count prompted, dreading the reply.

"But our worlds are too different."

A blinding pain seemed to have burst within the Count's mind. In his heart. In his soul, if he has any left. He momentarily forgot about their current situation. It always comes to this! Always!!

"You mean..." the Count struggled to say. Speaking suddenly became a very difficult task. "You mean my being a vampire...?"

The hunter simply looked away once more.

"But..." the Count tried to say. But being a vampire means nothing! It wasn't my choice, Lukas. It wasn't! I... I am so tired of this...It always comes to this in the end. But he wasn't able to say anything more.

Sobs were suddenly ripped from the Count's chest. One. Two. Three sobs. Faster. And still faster. He wasn't able to stop them from coming. He didn't want to show this in front of the hunter, but he cannot do anything. He was... he was being ripped... apart.

"You know what," he choked through his sobs. "What's harder than you not... not loving me back?" The Count paused, and he cried some more. "What's harder is that... is that... I can't even show you how much I love you!" And he totally broke down.

There was so much more the Count wanted to say to the hunter. So much more. He thought of how he would explain himself once the time came, but now, when the time really came, he found that it was all useless. It was like trying to see the sun one last time when he knew it was already his last night on earth.

He continued to sob more, uncaring whether the hunter saw him. Let him see, he thought. Let him see how much... how much pain he causes me.

He was surprised to feel something... someone... hugging him. "I'm sorry," a soft voice whispered. "I'm sorry..."

The Count held the hunter's arms and released everything. Released all the pain he was brewing up inside. Released the hopes he was secretly nourishing inside him despite the drought of love, despite the sunless friendship, the rainless affection. Nothing's left. Nothing but coldness. Numbing coldness.

---

A voice was singing. The hunter's voice. "There are places I remember..." the hunter sang. "All my life, though some have changed... All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall..."

The Count let the song wash over him. He let it wash away his hurt emotions. There is a proper time for mourning, and this is not it, he thought. He waited for the hunter to finish his song though. He realized that he was now lying on the floor, his head on the hunter's lap. He would never be this close to the hunter again, he realized. He would never again listen to him sing. Never again. Still, this is not the time to be emotional, he reprimanded himself.

"I have a plan," the Count said without introduction.

The hunter jerked. "I didn't know you were awake," he changed his face. "So, a... a plan you said? Let's hear it."

And the Count told the hunter of his plan. As he was telling it, he never took his eyes away from the hunter's. He wanted to know how the hunter would take it. When the Count was done, the hunter's eyes were tight.

"Will you do it?" the Count asked carefully.

The hunter took his time to reply. Finally, he said, "Each step we take has its own consequences whether we are aware of it or not. You wouldn't have met the princess if not for me. She wouldn't have died this early, if she did not associate herself with you. You wouldn't have come back to me if she did not die. You wouldn't have gone on a killing frenzy if you did not see me with him. I wouldn't be here if I did not come to see you. But I chose to visit you. I chose to be included here. And I choose to escape so I will do what there is to be done."

Despite the hunter's speech, the Count knew it wasn't easy for the hunter to come to that decision. Their plan was risky. Very risky. If they fail, there will be no turning back. They could not start again. If their assumptions were wrong... well, they would both die.

The Count let the hunter to himself for a while. As for him, he calculated how long it would take for him to travel from the castle to the witch's dwelling. And most of all, he hoped that things would turn out okay. That they will both come out of there alive. They have nothing else to hold on to but hope.

The Count's Tale VI: An Arrow Through the Heart

The hunter gave the Count a look of pure venom.

"Are you alright?" the Count asked tentatively.

"This is all your fault! Because of you, they're going to kill me too! What are you..."

"Calm down! I'll think of..."

"You monster! You're not satisfied with killing them, are you? Yu always have to get me involved!"

"Shut up, Lukas, you're babbling. What we should do is..."

"Shut up yourself!"

"If you want to escape, we need to coordinate. We need to..."

"I don't care about escaping! Do you think I can escape? You're the vampire, dammit! You've got the powers! Why don't you just go save your own skin and leave me dead?!"

The hunter stopped his tirade, panting. To his surprise, he found the Count panting, too.

"Do you think this is easy for me?" the Count almost shouted at the hunter. "Fuck it, Lukas! The princess..."

Something seemed to have snapped within the Count. He suddenly slumped down on the floor and sat, covering his face with his hands, rocking slightly to and fro.

The hunter was unaware of how the princess died. Nobody else in town knew yet. The princess was practically banished by the castle since she left. All he knew was that she died while she was with the Count. Perhaps the Count himself killed her. He sat down opposite the Count, lost in his own scared thoughts.

After a while, the Count took deep calming breaths, secretly wiping his tears with his sleeves. This is not the time to show weakness, he thought. He needed to get the hunter out of this alive, if that's the last thing he'll do. He's ready for death but the hunter isn't.

The Count shifted his position on the floor and looked at the hunter opposite him. When the hunter noticed the Count looking at him, the hunter blushed and looked away.

"Sorry..." the hunter said gruffly. "It's just... you couldn't expect me to take this easily." His eyes took in everything within the dungeon cell.

The Count looked at him for a longer while before replying. "I understand. Nothing to apologize for. Don't worry, I'll get you out of here. There's got to be a way. You can trust me."

"Yeah," the hunter replied, but the Count knew the hunter didn't mean what he said. Already, he can see strains appearing on the hunter's face. The possibility of death was slowly dawning upon him. Upon them both.

The Count knew the extent of his magical powers. He drew it within him, and found a very small trickle left. The poison in the arrows which hit him has leached him of them. He flexed his muscles instead, and found that the poison left him with no physical strength either. Suddenly, with him in that state, the image of the hunter dead before him became stronger. More vivid. More real. He could almost...

No, he thought furiously. There is a way. There is a way! And I'll find it out soon.

While looking at the hunter, he noticed that a rather large red bump was slowly growing on the hunter's forehead. That probably came when he was shoved inside, he thought. He judged that, with the small power left in him, he could at least heal that bump, since he cannot find anything else to use that small power for. His own wounds from the arrows were too serious.

"Let me heal that," the Count finally said.

The hunter looked at him, puzzled. "This?" the hunter said, pointing at his forehead. The Count gave a nod, and the hunter gave another in reply.

The Count slowly approached the hunter, placing his hands over the hunter's forehead. The Count closed his eyes. Of all times! The Count felt guilty about touching the hunter. If the hunter was more knowledgeable, he would have known that trembling hands or blushing were not part of the healing process. The Count also took a longer time in healing it because he was having difficulty focusing his thoughts. This is the hunter, that's why, he thought.

When it was done, the Count sat beside the hunter. The hunter said nothing. After feeling his forehead and finding the bump healed, he smiled.

Luck, the Count thought. Countless times, he has asked for a moment with the hunter. And finally, it was granted to him. He wouldn't have minded them being locked up together, but they were being locked up together to die. Still, in times like these, he thought, you relish the happiness you can find.

The hunter felt uneasy about the way the Count was looking at him.

"Don't look at me that way," he told the Count.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the Count replied. He tried to look at the hunter less intently though. He failed. And he did not bother trying again.

"Why did you come here?" the Count asked suddenly.

"I wanted to see you," was the hunter's ready reply.

"Why?"

"Because they were about to kill you."

"You didn't use to care for me that much..."

"You were about to die!"

"Even so. From our previous encounters, you didn't care about what happens to me one whit."

The hunter gave no reply.

"You're hiding something, aren't you?" the Count asked.

"Let's rather not talk about this."

"What's wrong with trying to find out why you came here?"

"Don't jump into conclusions again!"

The Count was momentarily dumbfounded by this answer. "I see..." he said slowly. "Is that what you think of me? Always jumping to conclusions? And 'again'?"

The hunter said nothing.

"That man you were with in your house. Is he your...?"

"Shut up!"

"Lukas, there's nothing wrong with that! It's..."

"It isn't that..."

"Then what?"

"It's you!"

Again, the Count was stunned by this answer. "Me?" he asked the hunter confusedly. "How...?"

"I don't want to hurt you more. That's why I asked for a clean cut..."

The hunter's replies were not making much sense but if he put this and that together, then...

The Count took a deep breath and inclined himself toward the hunter. "Lukas..." he said slowly. "Do you.... like me, too?"

Silence.

"It was just a simple question," the Count added.

"Whatever gave you the idea."

"Nowhere..."

"You're jumping into conclusions again, are you?" the hunter said, shaking his head.

"Yes," the Count replied. "But am I right this time?"

The hunter closed his eyes for a second and looked down. His hands trembled. "Yes," he said, and he gave out a long breath and covered his face with his hands, just like what the Count did earlier.

The cell was so quiet the Count could hear the hunter breathing.

The Count's Tale V: The Prisoners

A distant light...

He was in the town square. An apparatus for hanging criminals waiting for him. People were cheering for his death. Screaming for his blood.

He was ascending the platform when a big brown bear roared and pushed through the crowd. The people panicked. The soldiers, taken by surprise, were useless against him. Arrows magically bouncing off his thick fur. With a roar, he jumped and crashed onto the platform. The bear looked into the Count's eyes. Those eyes, the Count thought, they are his.

The bear calmly rested its paws on the Count's shoulder. They were heavy hands, the Count thought. Then, as fast as lightning, it put out its claws and slashed the Count's neck.

Blood bubbled through the Count's mouth. "You... you..." Darkness closed in on him.

A distant light.

"Wake up, Vampire!" A thud on his ribs. Thoughts were slow in forming.

A few seconds of silence. Then...

"Wake up!" A splash of cold water woke him from his stupor.

He was weak, feverish. A metallic aftertaste in his mouth. He struggled to sit up with his hands tied behind him. His legs were shaking.

"Stand up!" a soldier, he now saw, ordered. He obeyed with difficulty. "Pay your respects to the Prince!"

He was in the dungeons, he realized. No hope for escaping as a crow... He will probably... No!

The Prince came in through the huge wooden door, resplendent in beautiful robes of crimson and gold. But his face was ugly. His hair was ugly. His build was ugly. The Count almost laughed.

"So..." the Prince announced. He was always pompous, this Prince. Always so confident, when, in the Count's opinion, he has nothing to be confident about. I'm better than you are.

"So here is our dreaded little Count, captured..." He stopped listening. Nothing the Prince would say would turn out to be helpful. The Count just watched his ugly lips move. He just watched green spittle slowly slide down his hairy chin. Disgusting. Strange... what you notice in times like these.

He had only the vaguest sense that a soldier to his left moved, then, he was on the floor, the left side of his head aching. "You don't pay attention, do you? Perhaps the poison has started eating up your brain..."

The Prince contemplated him for a few seconds, and then said. I have a surprise for you... you thief. You've caused me so much pain, you know that? You destroyed my life and now that you're in my hands, I'm going to relish every second of utterly destroying yours. I'd live every moment of causing you pain until you are dead. By my very own hands, it goes without saying."

The Prince left. He was shoved into a dark and dirty cell. The only light came from torches on the main corridor. There was no window. No company. Darkness was his only solace. And his thoughts.

He was not afraid of death. He can die anytime. He can die. The Princess is dead. The hunter is with someone else. What is there to live for? He thought. I can go, nobody would miss me. Except perhaps the witch... and the bats. IS living for them enough?

But he wouldn't die without a struggle, he knew that. He wouldn't give up his life easily. I'll make them bleed too. I'll take as many of them as I can. I'm not a Count for nothing.

It was the Prince who locked up the Princess. Locked her up in a tower because he got jealous of their friendship. Jealous. Well, because he was insecure of their relationship. He turned into an Ogre. And it was him, the Count, who rescued the Princess from captivity. Since then, they lived together.

And so, can the Prince's claim of accusing him as a thief valid? In his opinion, yes. But he doesn't give a damn about the Prince. If he caused him pain, well then, sorry, but I live my life this way. Don't get in my way, I'm the Count.

He was thinking of the supposed potion the witch gave the Princess and the Prince that transformed their lives when he heard sounds of the main door being unlocked. Shouts and protests filled the room. There was a new prisoner, escorted by two guards. The Prince himself, was there leading the procession.

"Put him here," he ordered, indicating the same cell the Count was in. The soldiers pushed the new prisoner in with him, and the prisoner, his head covered with a sack, bumped into a wall before settling down to the floor.

"So, Count, because you have angered me enough by your arrogance in our previous interview... I give you this small present. A sacrifice, I might say. Someone to test whether the ropes are strong enough to hang that big head of yours." The Prince waited for him to give a reply, but The Count won't give him that luxury.

"I know about you. And him. And I'm going to kill him first. Kill the one you love in front of you. In front of everyone. Oh, how I know you'll suffer..." He laughed, and the soldiers imitated him.

The prisoner lifted the sack from his head. His eyes darting to and fro, taking in the darkness, torture instruments hanging on the far wall outside. "Why am I in here?" he demanded. "I said I just wanted to see him."

"Well, there he is," the Prince replied, as if explaining why water was wet. "I've granted you more than you've asked for? Aren't I generous? Now, not only can you see him, you can also touch him!" And he laughed more.

The hunter looked from the Prince to the Count. He was terribly afraid.

"You have one whole day to spend together in this smelly dungeon room. Do what you want to do, fags, since after that, you, my dear traitorous hunter will be dead, and the Count will follow shortly after."

"No..." the hunter uttered. "Yes!" the Prince said. "I'll leave you two to cry... and ummm... cuddle each other. Guards, I suggest you shouldn't go within sight of this unholy cell. You don't want to see some... indecent behavior, especially from these two."

"Wait," the Count said as the Prince and his escorts turned. "How... how...?"

"How did I know?" the Prince haughtily replied. His eyes glittered as they locked into the Counts. "Let's just say that I have friends, too. Motherly friends who live somewhere high up there." And he laughed. His laughter echoing throughout the dark dungeon where the Count and the Hunter were going to spend the last of their living hours together.

No. Never.

He was there. He was here. The music was loud, groovy. My feet were moving in time with the beat. And he was here, beside me.

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked.

"Yeah, " he smiled. "Come on, let's dance."

Our dance together was... exhilirating.

"So..." he said, as we sat down back to our seats exhausted. "How does it feel having me as your boyfriend?"

Speechless. Well, it's like a dream. I couldn't ask for more. And I know this is a dream you fuckhead, Bryan, wake up!

Stop hoping! Stop it! Stop before you fall too deep.

I can't! I'm uncontrollable. I'm too strong. I'm jumping into the cliff again one more time. I want to fall again. I want to talk to him. Just that. Just that!

Fool!!

"Really?" he said, smiling back at me.

"It's really... weird. I mean, I didn't know we'd ever cross worlds again. Fate brought us back together."

"Yeah..." he said thoughtfully, looking down on his glass. He was blushing.

"I am so happy," I said, holding his hands. Tears in my eyes.

"I am... too."

PUTANG-INA MO BRY, ANG TANGA MO!

Our heads moved closer. I can see him close. Too close... and then there was nothing. Just me typing here on this keyboard. Just me, with the blinking mouse. Me in front of the screen. Just me. No him. Never him. So will you stop making a fool of yourself, Bry? You're embarrassing.

No. Never.

B-Men

I've just watched X-Men 3: The Last Stand with Chiyo, and unlike most movies, that one got me into thinking. In there, the humans have discovered a cure for the mutant gene - something which can suppress its expression. The movie wasn't very clear on how (in fact, it didn't even explain). Too bad for me since I might have understood bits and pieces of the mechanism...

The point is the mutants were divided - some voluntarily went and took the cure. Others formed a picket line in front of the building where the cure was available - protesting that there was nothing to cure. That's the part which got me thinking. What if bisexuality can be cured? Will I take it or will I be holding a placard instead? A placard declaring that there is nothing to cure. (Well, I know I'm no X-Men... call me B-Men if you want.)

It is a difficult decision, honestly. Well, you cannot negate me since you do not have the same condition as I do. All my life, I've said, I wanted to be normal. But there is something with bisexuality that makes this person you know really me. It is already a part of my package. I may be given wit, a funny personality, creativity, but I have my insecurities, too, including my sexuality. I have accepted it as a part of me. It even makes my life interesting. Imagine, if I wasn't a bisexual, what would I write in here? I don't even know whether I'll turn to writing at all as my outlet. The bottomline - I will be less interesting. I will learn less about my life. I wouldn't be me. The me that I am now.

I have accepted my life as it is. Especially now when I am exploring the other side. I realize that it isn't that bad after all. I once believed that a normal man would marry, have children, etc. But now, it seems like I've begun to live in a different world. A world where your rules do not apply. A world wherein what matters is that you love each other, even if you're of the same sex. Where what matters isn't starting a family, it's just being with each other.

And so, if ever a cure for bisexuality was indeed found, I wouldn't take it. There is really nothing to cure.

The Count's Tale IV: A Black Feather

His legs were already becoming numb. He has been sitting (and hiding) behind this bush for a long while. He was observing the hunter's house. Looking for signs of people. Of activity. But so far, within the last half hour, there was none. It appeared that the house was uninhabited at present. He had a feeling it wasn't. He had a feeling that the hunter was inside. Whether alone or not is another question.

That question did not come to his mind before. It has been a week since they last talked, and he knew and felt that the hunter was his. His alone. Selfish, true, and foolish doubtlessly, but he had that feeling still. There wouldn't have been any reason why he needed to lookout for the hunter tonight. No reason except that a bat (he can talk to them) told him that he saw the hunter talking to someone near the market area in the village. It said the two were talking enthusiastically, and they were too close to each other. When he asked the bat to desribe who the hunter was talking to (because it may only be a child, or a grandmother...), the bat said that the hunter was talking to a tall, broad-shouldered, good-looking, masculine human.

A vein burst in his head right then. Cheater! So you go with the same kind after all! Why all this hiding? Why all this pretense? What does he have that I don't?! I'll show you where you truly belong, I'll show you...

And that was why he found himself waiting outside the hunter's house (after destroying half of his possesions in his dwelling). Waiting for signs of "Mr. Masculine" and of hunter. Waiting for them to fuck each other senseless.

I'm going to come in, he said to himself. I'll catch them red-handed. I'll catch him cheating and see whether he'll feel any remorse. So I can really find out what he feels for me. But the fact that he's seeing other men... doesn't that ring a bell already? Isn't that already a sign that the hunter doesn't like him?

Time and again, he kept returning to this position. He kept hoping. He kept finding signs of love where there was not even recognition. When there was not even friendship left. Time and again. And he can't take it anymore this time. he can't take it anymore now that he knew he goes with his own kind, too. Now that he knew that he didn't accept him not because he cannot go with the likes of him, but because he simply does not like him.

He rushed towards the front door, large quantities of moonlight he did not need spreading on the lawn before the hunter's house. He landed on the main hallway, his steps light despite their speed. He knew where the hunter's bedroom lay, and he found it. Candles were lighted in there. He even glimpsed the hunter, sitting on his bed, smiling, as he ran towards the other side where the hunter wouldn't see him. And as he came close, he heard a noise he dreaded the most to hear coming from his room. Another voice. A masculine voice.

"...it spilled so much blood on my pants, I had to take them off," the other voice was saying, and they laughed.

"I was wondering why you had to help me," the hunter said. "You have your own work to do and that was a messy job I could do on my own. You don't need to do that, that's what I mean."

"Well," Mr. Masculine replied. "Let's just say that spending time with you is time worth spending. Time worth spending even if I did go hungry." They both laughed.

"By the way, how you come you didn't mention..."

"Hey, do you have a pet here?" Mr. Masculine asked. "I heard a weird puking sound just outside..." He stood to close the door.

"No, stay. I'll close it later myself. Must be your imagination. I can see the hallway very clearly from here and there's nothing there but darkness."

"As I was saying," Mr. Masculine continued. "I... I really don't know how to begin. I mean, I was just hanging out with you, hunting with you, and then, I felt this... this... inside. I felt good just watching you move that long spear of yours. I liked watching you observe the trail with your pretty eyes. I like the way how your lips snarl whenever an animal escapes. I just like doing those things. Just being near you. I know it's inappropriate but... I think I like you."

There was a long silence.

The hunter cleared his throat. "Umm... you know... I actually feel..."

CRASH! A sound of broken glass. Everything happened so fast. Wind came in. The candles went out. Complete darkness. An eerie whistling sound filling the room. "Ouch!" and a sharp intake of breath. That was not the hunter. "No!" That was the hunter's voice.

Another crash then... sudden silence. Calm. The hunter finally got enough nerve to light the candle again. He was expecting his room turned into a mess or a visitation by a violent spirit. But there was nothing, just a few pieces of broken glass from his window.

"I'm bleeding," Mr. Masculine told him. There was a rather shallow gash on his cheeks. It will heal, but it will leave a mark. A scar. The Count taught him how to make a potion which can remove scars, but he has forgotten. He has forgotten those days. "You'll be fine. There's some clean cloth inside the drawer."

He went for a closer inspection of the window. Whatever hit it and broke it, it came from the inside. Most of the broken glass fell outside. He picked up a candle and brought it nearer. There were blood stains on some of the glass shards.

What could it have been, he thought? But his question was immediately answered by something falling. Falling in front of his face. He caught it, and opened his palm. His face went pale.

Alarmed, the hunter's companion went to him. "What is it?" he asked. He got no answer. He opened the hunter's hands and saw a black feather, now crushed from the hunter's grip. "What does it mean?" he asked.

He got an unreadable face and teary eyes for a reply.

---

Screams and dying groans filled the village that night. The Count was on the loose again! This time, he was more vehement than ever. More cunning. There was no mercy. Before, the Count was satisfied with killing one in a night. But now, he seems to be killing everyone in the village.

He was alone. He was in pain. And he will take it on the others. Everytime he killed, he imagined "Mr. Masculine's" face on them, although he really wasn't able to take a look at his face. There were tens of Mr. Masculine's. Hundreds. He'll kill them all. Because he loves the hunter. He loves him!!!

The moon climbed higher on the sky, as if it wanted to get a better view of the once placid town now looking like a scene from a nightmare. And in the middle of it all was a vampire, the Count of the Enchanted Forest.

It isn't over yet, he thought, as he let his last victim lie bloodless (and lifeless) on the ground. But deep inside, he knew his hope was gone. Or if it was not, it was imaginary. "I love you. Why don't you love me back? WHY?!!"

And he ran and attacked. Causing more pain and misery to the villagers. Hurting those who have seen him cry.

But if that is what you want, he thought, I'd let you be. If you're happy with him, what can I do? I love you... and I want you to be happy. He was so lost in his thoughts as he was stalking on the main street that he didn't notice the arrow sticking through his arm. Pain rushed on him and he winced. He tried to remove the thing but it was barbed. He noticed that it's end was coated with a green-colored paste. Another arrow hit his right leg. "Poison," his last thought was, as he slumped down on the pavement unconscious, blood still dripping from his open mouth.

The Count's Tale III: The Count and the Hunter

Struggling through the thick undergrowth, the hunter shaded his eyes from the noonday sun above. He scanned the skies for signs of clouds to shield his bare back from the heat. There was no speck of a cloud that hot summer day. There was a crow, though. It looked sick because it seemed not to know where it was headed. And it was flying too high for a crow. Things are strange today, he thought nervously, scanning the enchanted forest to his right.

He continued searching the trail for tracks of animals. A wild boar would be best. It would last me several days, he thought. It would go well with the vegetables I've just found on the other side of the clearing. A loud cawing sound made him look back up at the sky to search for the crow. Crows have always been bad omens. They reap decay and celebrate disaster. The crow was gone.

He wiped the sweat on his brows with his forearm and continued to hunt. He was silently cursing the hot summer sun when a rustling sound made him look back quickly, his spear at the ready.

A black-cloaked man was striding towards him. His black garments emphasizing his starkly white skin. The gaunt cheeks, bloodless lips, long black hair. He was thin, and he walks like he had an accident before. He limped a bit. A small smile formed unwillingly on his lips as he realized who it was.

The Count stopped just a few inches from him. Regardless of the proper distance they should have maintained. He was too close that he could see the quirking of his lips. Too close to see the tear stains on his cheeks. But what surprised him was that he never thought that the Count had such lovely eyes. His eyes were too alive for the rest of his body. And they were intent on him. On all of him, he realized with a tensing of his stomach.

"She's dead. The princess is dead. Just this morning," the Count said. So that explained the tears, he thought. He tried hard to keep a straight face. That was wondrous news but he shouldn't let the Count know that. "I'm sorry," he replied instead, giving him his best smile.

The Count's eyes flashed. And his eyes moved down. The hunter stood taller and asked, "Why are you here?"

No one knows that something happened between them. He has always wanted the Count. He admired him. He was different, quiet, and intelligent. He has a good sense of humor, everything he wants. He is very interesting. But the Count should never know about how he feels. The Count might lose interest in him, once he realized that the feeling was mutual. And besides, the hunter has not given up on his dream of ending up normal. He has the same dreams the Count had given up on. Falling for someone of his own kind is taboo. Unacceptable. Unorthodox.

"I saw you so I came," was the simple reply from the Count. He was tensing, the hunter realized. "Why do I still...?" he said in a rush, as if the words were being ripped from his mouth. "These things I did, these past weeks, it's because of you. I missed you." He held the hunter's arms. A strong grip. A lover's grip. The hunter, alarmed, pried the Count's hands away.

Once, on a hunting trip, he got bitten by a poisonous snake. He was too far from the town to go back. He was alone, and he was about to die. He ran to the nearest dwelling, which looked abandoned. But knock on the door he did. Fear for his life overcoming his fear for what could be inside. The Count appeared on the door in time to catch him as he fell unconscious.

He had to stay for a few weeks to recover from the poison. The Count has prepared the antidote just in time to save him, and he also taught him a lot about potions and alchemy. And the hunter was avid to learn. Slowly, he got to admire the Count. He fought the emotion. Fought as hard as he could. This is taboo. Unacceptable. I am a man! He knew the Count felt the same way, and that made it doubly hard. He did not care whether the Count was a vampire. The Count told him that he wouldn't injure someone he has just helped live. And besides, the hunter has his own secrets...

But he isn't the only one being warmed by the Count's affection. There was the princess, this slip of a girl from the castle. He hated her! And planned to kill her but he was unsuccessful because of the interference of the Count himself. But without that attempt, the princess wouldn't have met the Count and became friends with him. In wanting to kill the Count's love for the princess, he achieved the opposite.

"What do you want?" the hunter demanded in a rasping voice. He was having difficulty speaking since all his concentration is being bent on keeping a straight face. The Count did not know how this was making him suffer, but he can't accept it. Taboo. Unacceptable. Unorthodox.

One night, the Count visited him in his forest hut. He confessed his love for him. The hunter was angry. Inside, he wanted to cry weakly into the Count's shoulder. You stayed with her. You chose her. You built me up then you let me down. I love you! But what he said in his coldest voice was, "I feel bad and disappointed. Leave me. Forget me because I want to leave everything behind." The Count was stricken by his alarming decision. After hopeless attempts of pleading, he walked limping back to his house, crying bitterly on the way. As for him, once he closed the door, he sank down on the floor and wept. Wept for his own blindness.

The Count's eyes were shining now. Shining with emotion. His could-have-been handsome face contorted with suppressed feelings. With a swish of his cloak, he suddenly transformed into a crow and flew towards the forest, raining him with black feathers.

Steady, my Count, he said to the wind as he looked at the retreating crow. Hold on. I'll find the strength one day. I'll have the courage to confess. Steady, my Count. If we're meant to be, you will wait for me.

Tears dropped on his chest. With a roar, he transformed into a bear, the same one who attempted to kill the princess, and came running towards the valley. I love you, too. But as long as I keep this to myself. As long as I am in denial, we would stay this way. That is my decision.

On the far side of the enchanted forest where the crow, flapping his wings without vigor, was flying, a loud guttural growl of anguish was heard. A cry of longing, pain, and frustration. A cry too harsh that it surpasses human emotion.

The Count's Tale II: The Flight of the Crow

Higher and higher, the Count, as a crow, flew above the vast enchanted forest. He flew past the Mountains of Madness. Past the River of Regret. He soared above the Lakes of Lamentation, looking at his reflection on the calm surface of the water. He seemed so small then. So insignificant.

He landed on a clearing near the mountainside, and retransformed into a vampire before showing himself to the witch. She was naturally suspicious of intruders, so it was best that he show his true form. He walked towards the hut.

"I sense a soul in search of answers," she said suddenly out of nowhere. She appeared beside him. Materialized rather, since he didn't notice her approach him. Unlike most, the witch somehow liked him. Perhaps it's because of their common darkness. She can also transfigure herself into an animal - a raven. Birds of the same feather flock together...

"You've reached a decision the same time as you reached me," she said, her hand held his arm so he cannot walk further. Her eyes bored into his, filled with sympathy and understanding. She could have been his blood-mother, the way she looked.

"Death cannot be healed," he replied. "Your magic can revive her, but it cannot revive me. It is hard, but sometimes, we just have to accept who we really are. I was born a vampire, and should follow the same fate. I was born not to associate myself from princesses nor any other humans. I was born to live a dark life, filled with uncertainty. A life, which most people will disapprove of, but is destined to be mine." He spoke as if he was simply speaking his thoughts aloud.

The Count looked away, onto the splendid view the mountain side offered. All his life, he wished to fit in with humans. He wished he could do the same things as they can do. He imagined himself a human father, with a blushing wife and a noisy little kid. He has pictured himself coming home after a long day of work. Coming home to the arms of his loving wife. A kiss and a simple question she would ask, "How was your day?" His little kid (a son, he has always wanted a son) would come toddling to him, and he would lift his child up and sway and hug him. And they would laugh. Oh how they would laugh.

But now the princess, his only chance of fulfilling that dream, was dead. Dead because he as good as killed her. In any case, whatever the cause might have been, he was the cause of her death. And now, he didn't want her back anymore. He had marked himself, with this decision, as an outcast of society. He has given up on his dream of living a normal life. His life is different. And unlike in fairy tales where your wishes come true, real life offers no pity. No miracle. Not even hope.

But I have to be at peace with myself first before I can have relationships, he thought. He'd rather be alone and complete, than be with someone with a question constantly nagging his mind. And besides, he knew he wouldn't be able to love fully unless he learns to love himself first.

"You're pretending," the witch said. "That you are not affected. It will crash on you one day. One fateful day. But you've got your friends to lean to. And this decision that you just did has just changed your future. It is clearer now, true. I cannot say if it was the best outcome as others will look at it. But for you, it is. This I Foretold."

The Count was silent. He was thinking about his future. He was thinking about how difficult it would be. But deep inside, he was anticipating how it would feel to be just himself. And akin to humans, following what their instincts tell them.

I will kill humans and drink their blood, he thought. That is how I was meant to be. And for once, I will treat myself rightly. I will give myself the respect I deserved a long time ago. Vampires are not to be looked down upon nor pitied upon. We are beings, the same as humans, and although we have differences, we are similar in the sense that both of us are looking for something. To be appreciated. Be accepted. Be loved.

My potions always work wonders, the witch thought as she gently left the Count alone as he contemplated the view of the forest. The proper combination of encouragement, sympathy, words, and silence are the best ingredients of a potion meant for his condition.

At first, she thought that the Count would ask for the spell to bring back the dead. Little did he know that that spell was just a lie. Time and again, beings have asked for the incantation of that spell, but in the end, after some time of thinking, they decide to leave the dead alone. Things happen for a reason, and that, although unclear, should be accepted and not changed nor questioned. Death cannot be healed.

The really powerful spells are not those with the loudest bangs and brightest lights. Nor is it those which can control the strongest mind or weaken the bravest heart. In her opinion, it is those spells which, like this, are nonexistent yet can produce the same effects as if they were indeed cast.

The Count, again as a crow, flew away from the witch's dwelling. To where, he did not know. All he knew was that he was free. Free to be himself. Free to look for the real one waiting out there for him. But some things, like the princess' touch, her singing voice, the feel of her body close, the endless talks late at night. Some things like the imagined home, the blushing bride, the acceptance of society, the laughing child in his arms are no more. They will come no more.

He was free from those things, too.

And he flew away. HIgher than he has ever flown. Unthinking of where he would end at.

Some things are just no more. Just... no more.

The Count's Tale I: The Last Flower

A cool breeze blew as he laid his last flower over her grave. The smell of freshly-dug earth filled his nostrils. The colors of the enchanted forest became alive as the sun slowly peeked above the horizon. Digging the grave, in any other circumstance, would have been impossible to do because of his slowly weakening condition. But he has just fed... he had just drank her blood. In a goblet, perhaps, but still, it was hers.

He was cold-blooded, he knew. But why wasn't he mourning her loss? If he was any other person, he would be gnashing his teeth, tearing his hair. He would be shouting at the top of his lungs. He would be shouting for her back, and cursing the Creator why he had to take away the only one who loved him. But he was not. And he thought why he was not so.

I am a vampire, he said. Simple as that. I am not meant to be loved by people like her. If she was in her right mind, she shouldn't have associated herself with vampires like him. If she wasn't willing, he thought, I wouldn't have brought myself closer to her.

He can still recall that day when he met the princess. A high-pitched shrieking sound awakened him from his diurnal slumber. Naturally curious, he went out of his dwelling to investigate. It was then that he first laid eyes on the princess. She wasn't at her most beautiful then. Eyes wide with horror, a gaping quivering mouth, dust on his cheeks. Her hair and dress in wild disarray. Acting on his instincts, he saved the princess from the bear. This wouldn't hurt, he thought. I was simply being friendly. And she doesn't look like she could kill me. She must be afraid of me.

But they became good friends and she started visiting him in his dwelling which was of course, understandable, given that he saved her life. But she has to do it in secret. Because the likes of her, or any other common villager, shouldn't associate themselves with a blood-drinking monster like him.

Slowly, the friendship grew into something else.

Sometimes, while listening to her sing or play the violin, he thought of how she was risking herself by visiting him nightly. She understood very well that he was a vampire, and that his instincts was to rip her neck with his teeth and kill her. And yet... he did not act as he thought he would. Perhaps the princess' affection for him prevented him from doing that. Perhaps he loved her back. But I am a vampire, he thought. And I am cold-blooded. I go with my own kind, not with human princesses... Who am I fooling?

And so, whatever the reason, he stopped being himself. He stopped thinking of drinking human blood. It was wickedly dreadful, stopping what makes him alive. The urges were so strong, especially when they were dancing and she was exposing her graceful neck to him. So defenseless and clueless that he could do it without her knowing. But for the princess, he would avert his thoughts away from killing her. He would stop being himself as long as he could.

The days went on. His nights spent with the princess were wondrous. Never have he been so loved and appreciated. But he was doing that at the price of his own self. He was weakening, he knew. Day by day his strength that he used to be so proud of, was leaking away. Try as he might, his basal instincts will take over, he knew. That day will come, and disaster would follow.

I believed, he thought. I believed I can do it, but believing seemed not to be enough. The princess noticed the change in him, how he was becoming thinner and paler. She soon discovered the reason on her own, and because she loved him, offered her own blood as a sacrifice. Her blood to keep him alive and strong.

It was a horrible ending for such a sweet tale. It should have ended with - Eventually, the vampire became a man. A real man, and with his love for the princess, he has put away all his past. Put his desire for killing people away because that is what love can do. But, in real life, that seldom happens...

The wind swayed the branches of the tall fire trees above, showering him with fiery orange petals. This was his favorite spot in the enchanted forest. A rippling brook was nearby, and the evergreen grass here was dotted with wild roses. The sun's rays were dazzling. It was already broad daylight and he should have been fast asleep in his coffin by now. But she deserves my time. She deserves to be buried in this special place. She deserves my tears. My pain. He has to give her that, at least.

His eye landed on the flower he has laid upon the mound - a crimson rose. The reddest flower he could find. It was as red as her love. As red as her blood, selflessly offered, which he greedily devoured. It was the first flower he ever gave her... and he gave it when she was already dead.

Chirping birds and insects woke him from his reverie. The forest was awakening. Animals passed by him, looking for their breakfast. Of course, he thought, the forest wouldn't stop its daily routine even for the death of a princess. Even for a princess who died for him. To the forest, her death meant absolutely nothing.

There was a way to bring her back, he thought. The witch knew a powerful spell which can awaken the dead, but it isn't as easy as that. The caster must want the dead back wholly and with pure love, otherwise, the caster will die in return, and will not be able to cast the spell.

In a bird's eye view, he pictured the witch's solitary hut near the mountains. It was just a few minutes flight from where he was, and yet he remained rooted to that spot. Undecided whether to go or not.

Death, he said, is as light as a feather. In any case, they are both dead.

The wind blew again. There is a way, it whispered. But a way for what, he asked aloud. A way to bring her back or a way for my freedom? Aren't I waiting for this? He shouted, shattering the noisy but calm peace of the forest. Isn't this what I want? Why couldn't I have both her and my freedom? I just want to be whole...

Once, as a crow, he was captured by a pretty girl and put into a cage as a pet. It didn't go well with him. He was admired, he was fed, he was loved, but what he wanted was freedom. He didn't want to be prevented from doing things he wanted to do. And so, once, while pretending to be asleep, he escaped as the girl opened the cage to put in his food. The princess has put him in another kind of cage. A cage where what makes him who he was cannot escape. A cage stronger in its own way than bars of iron. He was caged in her heart.

I just want to be free, he thought, as he turned into a crow and flew away from the forest. Free from what? The wind asked him. And for that, he wasn't able to give an answer. For one, he couldn't speak since he was a crow. And for another, he didn't know the answer to the question himself.

TO BE CONTINUED

Holding On

Chiyo, I'm sorry. I am just this way. Believe me. I am trying my best to change. It is hard, but I've gone a long way from who I used to be. One day, I hope to meet you there. I hope.

I'm not really failing yet. I can hold on, Chiyo, but... sometimes I think of you, and whether you are satisfied with me. I get scared. Because you can just easily go out there and find somebody else in a snap. You can find in them what you can't find in me.

I'm sad, Chiyo. Because I really want us to be happy. But for us, it is going to be more difficult. We have to run faster than most couples. We have to work harder than them. Often, I think of you. I think of how you selflessly went with me in this. How you chose a losing side, and went with struggle and uncertainty rather than with peace and clarity.

But Chiyo, despite this, I can't help but see how we really love each other. You chose me over him, against a lot of ill feelings from his side. You stick with me, despite how many times I've let you down and left you. You held on despite knowing that I am a bisexual and that at that time, I was eyeing someone else. You stayed. You believed in our relationship.

What about me? Well, nobody might see it, but I'm fighting for our love internally. Despite my failures, I try to keep a straight face and be brave for tomorrow. I'm holding on, even if it seems fate itself is unclasping my fingers from my grip. I'm fighting the devil. Even God knows I am bleeding inside but I hold on to you Chiyo. Because you love me. You were there for me. We've spent a lot of time together. We even live together now. Even if I don't show it by giving you roses or chocolates, or if I prove the contrary by teasing you or ignoring you, you matter to me. You know that. I may often be cold and tactless but when I am sweet and warm, you know that that is genuine.

Chiyo, I love you. Couples are not always in love. We go uphill and downhill often, but now when I truly feel it, I am wasting no time in saying that I love you. For everything.

A Significunt Entry

I don't like monthsaries very much. I like the feeling that, hey, we've been this how many months together, but for me, it's like... it's like a ticking bomb. It's like you're always anticipating that soon, everything will blow up.

Chiyo got quite mad at me. It has just turned 12 midnight, and she greeted me a Happy Monthsary. I was lying in bed, already half-asleep and I thought of mumbling a reply but I was just too tired. That was selfish of me but that is who I am. Anyway, it's just a date. It's nice and all that but it isn't nice enough for me to do something with it. Like I've said, it's a ticking bomb for me.

I wonder what will be the effect of what I'm doing to my psychology. Having a girlfriend is one of the best things that happened to me. But with that comes restrictions and responsibilities. She doesn't tell me not to look at men or even think about men, but I try not to. And sometimes, it suffocates me. Like you're stopping yourself from being who you are. It is not her fault. As I've said I imposed that restriction on me, because I think that it is one way to make our relationship last longer.

It makes my head ache at times. All this mind control that I'm doing. Like I see this guy, and I think he's good-looking, then I have to reprimand myself for thinking such a thing, because I have a girlfriend, because liking men is wrong, because men won't like me anyway. It makes my head ache! But it's different for girls, though. Like when I think this student is pretty, I don't scold myself. I say... Hmmm, I think she looks nice, well, that's normal, and I have no problems with that.

I really want to make it last with Chiyo. I won't find anyone else like her. No one will love me more than she loves me - that's the truth and I know it. It is always me who has the issues, always me who has to fall. I am always the one to be understood. And that irks me, because I don't always want to be the source of our problems. I want us to last. I want to please her, but sometimes it doesn't work. I cannot pretend to feel warm when I feel cold. I cannot force myself to be sweet when I feel bitter. If I could only siphon away all this feminity inside me and throw them to his damn face, I would gladly do it. For Chiyo.

I don't know, God. This dilemma you are putting me through. Perhaps it would have been better if I had the chance to have a boyfriend before Chiyo came so I wouldn't have all these thoughts inside me anymore. Perhaps, then, I would be in a more decided state than I am now. And that thoughts about men (or women) might have been stacked at the far reaches of my brain.

Chiyo is good enough for me. Well, she allows me to fool around with her in bed, so who wouldn't be satisfied with that? <Wink!> However, I am scared for us having an unplanned baby. One of us might get careless. One night, when we were doing you-know-what, I asked her, "Are you fertile?", and then she thought for a while, and said, "Yes, but never mind. Keep going," or something of the sort. I did go on for a while, but I thought (it's harder to think then) that if I blew this, we might have a baby! So I stopped and lay beside her, laughing and panting. "You should be concerned about whether you are fertile or not. You can't say 'Bahala na', then after nine months you have a baby!"

I would have liked to talk more about the "wonders" of you-know-what. Wait, why do I have to be so prudish? SEX! I'm talking about SEX! If you're underage, bust out of this blog. I have control here. Wait, I have students here who read my blog. Will it be proper, knowing that your teacher privately talks about sex? Of course, it is. I'm not like most teachers who are virgins and squares! And besides, I don't talk about this in my classes. I hint perhaps, or I gloss over. But I don't say 'cunt' or 'dick' out right. I don't even refer to those things! There was a time, however, in my Chem 16 summer class when I accidentally said "significunt figures." They didn't catch that though, I think.

Well, after this long talk, do you really think I would talk about my sex life? Not all, of course. I just had to share this two funny moments! One, when I had a lockjaw while (report user!) and two, when she was (report user!) me and (report user!) went into her (report user!), even if she swore she wouldn't do it! It was funny because she (report user!) at the same time my (reprt user!) was (report user!) Hahaha!

This is one queer entry. Started with talking about how difficult it was for my mind, the control thingy, and ended with how easy it was for my (report user!). Why do I have to say report user for? Why can't I just write what I want to write right out? Well, aren't blogs meant for these? For freedom of expression. Is there seomeone who checks people's blogs and reports those who are talking about malicious stuff? Like a blog police? Can you "report user" me?

No. This isn't just about this. Because there is one such thing as "privacy" that I am slowly and deliberately shedding. Perhaps "we", but hers is in a lesser extent. It's this celebrity fever we've got. We're stars here in the blogging world, in the real world even because we are being talked about. Can you imagine the once nerdy and square Bryan break someone else's relationship, place himself in, and screw her up? Can you imagine the once nerdy and square Bryan, come out and tell everything, tell a guy that he loves him, be brave enough (unlike so many others out there, come on third sex people, come OUT!) to confess?

NO! I will blog what I want to blog because in this way, like when I teach, I am able to impose upon the world my influence. In this way, I can somehow change the world. Through broadcasting my thoughts in the web, I can say that, "Hey this is me. This is how I live my life. How about you? Are you getting the most out of it? Are you being enclosed by now failingand defunct  social structures? Come out and be yourself! In the end, you'll find that you do not really care what they will say. They're just jealous, narrow-minded, and dim!"

Music Update: "Lovely" Lineup Finalized

08 May 2006, Manila
The much-awaited 2005-2006 Greatest Hits album from Electrique, "Lovely", finally has a complete lineup. Music compilation guru, Mr. Bryan Christian de la Isla, announced today in a public conference updates about his summer album. The album, as has been hinted, contains selected tracks form his latest three albums: "Eleven", "Back For More", and "Time Of My Life". "The final lineup is phenomenal," he says. "Once you listen to it, you'll play it until the end and it will leave you in a musical euphoria. It is, without doubt, the best album I have ever made."
Fans were intrigued about which songs from the previous albums made it to the final list. "You have to wait for the album to come out," Mr. de la Isla replied. "But I can safely disclose that I included 3 songs from "Eleven", and 4 songs each from the other two albums. There are 18 songs all in all, 7 of them new."
Like his previous albums, a lot of changes has been made before closing the lineup. "I have almost broken the rule that an artist couldn't have more than one entry." he adds. "In the end, like in other albums, the songs just magically fell into place."
Speculation about the number of songs included - 18 - brought on talk about the length of the included songs. Mr. de la Isla has been known to include as much songs per album, maxing it out up to 19 or 20 songs (with the sole exception, "Eleven" with just 11 tracks). When asked about this, the music guru replied, "Yes, the songs here are quite longer than in the other albums. I actually wanted it to have 19 songs but they wouldn't fit... I even planned it to be a double-CD collection because I had a hard time singling out songs from the past albums. However, I thought about the additional cost of producing such an album. And anyway, I didn't want it to be too long for the message I want to give to be lost to the listener."
""Lovely" is quite on a different plane, comparing it with the others," he continues. "If you like pop much, you might be disappointed. This is my most alternative-sounding compilation. Almost all the songs are guitar and strings led. "Lovely" is more musically-solid than "Eleven", livelier than "Back For More", and more synchronized than "Time Of My Life", The songs here are, indeed, the best of the best songs, both aesthetically and lyrically. It's really really good, I can't have enough of it," he shares amidst wild and manic cheering from the people present.
When asked about the feel of the album, he replies, "I used the tried-and-tested formula here. I followed slow tracks with faster ones, so listeners won't be bogged down by emotion. Unfortunately for the previous albums, that wasn't applicable, so I haven't used it before. The technique just produced perfect results for this one. It starts with a song from my favorite band and ends with... no, it would be a giveaway if I told you that," he laughs. "It's balanced and easy to listen to. Enough talk, guys. I have plans to make and funds to raise," he ends, with a tumultuous uproar from the press people.
Electrique reports that the album's target release date is this May, before the end of the summer classes, if enough funds are available. A special edition of "Time Of My Life" is also being planned to be released at the same time due to insistent demand from fans who were not able to obtain a copy of the album. A different cover for "Time Of My Life - Special Edition" may also be used. Electrique confirms that the layout for "Lovely" is not yet finished, but should be so this weekend. (RIOTERS)

My Last Night at the Rooftop

Past 12 - my typical waking time on a workless weekend. Chiyo was already awake. Ready to take a bath after putting her things in boxes to be shipped to our new home. My head ached as I rose from her bed. Still got the cold.

Wasn't in the mood to eat much so we just ordered a footlong sandwich and gulped it down with some softdrinks. I bought some small cardboard boxes on our way back. They were for my things to be shipped to our new home.

Ate MeAnn, the owner of the sari-sari store if front of the boarding house stopped me as I passed by. She said, "Lilipat na kayo 'no?", with a sadness that went through me. I simply replied, "Yes...", with downcast eyes. I did not really want to leave yet, but we are being forced out. I had a feeling she knew why we had to leave.

At about 2:30pm my Chem 16 students came, an hour before Chiyo went home to Laguna. There were five of them - Elo V, Elo B, Housemate Deann, Lee, and Diann. Before we could start though, Ate Carmen, the landlady, summoned me. We talked about my rent. Actually, we argued. She wanted me to pay rent for May but since it will be the last month of my stay there, I decided to use my deposit. She told me that I have already used my deposit to pay for my July rent last year, and that, consequently, I need to pay my May rent. I insisted that I have already paid my July rent, and I even showed her my receipt. My hands were shaking all the while though, bacause she kept on reiterating about the "katarantaduhan" that I've been doing in our room. She kept on comparing me to Tin (who I'm already starting to earnestly hate) who payed her rent on time.

It was good that I kept my temper all the while. Otherwise, I may have been put out of the house right then. I was proud though because she gave up eventually, saying that I don't need to pay the rent. She was relieved that we will be leaving tomorrow. I talked to her like an equal, which is really the truth, and I kept on waiting for her to burst with anger while we were arguing. But she didn't.

When I went back to our room, I was still a bit shaken. They were all able to hear our voices. It wasn't nice that they heard us, but at least, they know the truth now about relationships in the boarding house.

Then, me and my students went to business. It was a good review session all in all. They were not really clueless about the lessons, and I simply had to emphasize a few things here and there and guide them through some drills. When we were done, I asked them to join me at the rooftop to talk and have some smokes.

They kept on insisting for me to make kuwento about my love life. And so I did after a while. I told them everything, even my bisexuality. They were cool with that. And I poured on them how hard it was sometimes. How hard it was to be in the middle. How hard it gets for me just to live. They gave me advice. They told me I was still young (people keep on telling me that) and that I do not have to think about the future too much. Live for the moment, they said.

It was already dark when we finished talking. It was a moment. They've really become my friends back then. A bond has been formed - a long bond, Elo V said, but I reminded her that that was a weak bond, and insisted on us forming a triple bond instead.

After they went home, I ate dinner alone and went on packing my things. I only had very few things to pack and so I was done after five minutes. I left the rest for tomorrow. It was then that I felt this sadness. I was being disattached from a place where a lot has happened. Where I grew up, where I fell, where I loved, where I revealed myself, where I lived with happiness and acceptance, where I almost killed myself, where I became a man... at least for a while.

Even if I don't think about it, it gets to me. I get easily attached to places too.

Tonight will be my last night at the rooftop. My last night staring at the searchlights, the moon, the stars, the buildings, the mountains, the trees. My last night listening to muffled shouts, loud music from afar, the occasional sounds of dogs, cats, and roosters. My last night feeling the coldness of the wind as I smoke and think back and think ahead.

I'm not sure if I can cry for a place but I know that I will surely miss it. I will miss climbing the stairs in the dark, hearing Taffy bark sometimes. How I look up first to check if there were other people in there. How I sit on the ledge, how I pace back and forth, how I cry alone if there was something I need to let out. I will miss the times when I go up there with my cigs and a mug of cola and lately with my discman. How I listen to the songs as I stare at the surroundings which suit my mood. I will miss going up there with Chiyo, talking, kissing, hugging. Just wallowing in each other's presence. Just being with each other.

Thinking back, it was the boarding house which made it possible for us to be together. And despite the ugly ending of our (the house's) relationship, I still will be grateful for its white fortress-like sunlit walls, for its wooden double-deck beds, for the smell of paint, for Ate MeAnn, for the big mirror just outside the door, perhaps even for Arnie, and most of all, I'm grateful for the rooftop.

Goodbye to my boarding house. I can cry for an inanimate object after all.

Prey

I was looking through the window, gazing at a scene from a nightmare. The sun shone brightly on naked ruins. On toppled buildings, skeletons of foundations. In one small fenced off area, surrounded by blocks of stone and iron, the devil was pacing back and forth upon an altar.

He scared me. How he looked, how he walked. Deliberately. Each step eating ground quickly. Never tiring. Confident with the knowledge that sooner or later, the walls fencing him in will falter. He was sure that he will come out eventually and he can't wait for it to happen. He scared me. And few things scare me these days. What will happen if he gets loose?

Despite that, there was something within me which challenged him to get loose. Dared him to. There was something within his evil which made me want to stare at him. Made me want to catch his eye and have a staring match.

The next thing I knew he was looking at me. Stared at me without blinking. His expressionless face fixed on me. Terrified, I made crosses with my fingers, with my arms to ward him off. No effect! I was caught in his stare. Helpless. Paralyzed. Prey.

The dream left me there. But the dread the devil left me did not. I know the devil too well. Too well to know his guises. He weakens me each day, but each night, when he's absent, I recharge myself. It's war the devil wants, and it's war I will give him. Needless to say, fighting him gets unbearable at times. But I will fight him, even if it costs me blood. God, please, give me strength. Just help me.

I'm a hunter from hell. Not the prey.

Wamuffet

This is the original poem I wrote to Chiyo last year. Back when she was back with her other one. Funny how it seems.. reading it now. It's like this was from a long long time ago. "It's written in our boarding house. It's written near the door..."


We've had our share of letters
So I'll try to write a poem
Although I think its better
If I go and write a song
But since we know I cannot play
An instrument or two
I think I should just contact Hale
To make a song for you


I'm writing this while listening
To that song we both like
It's really quite amusing
Since I don't know how to write
How can I tell you everything
When words are limited?
How can I show this feeling
When I'm lying in my bed?


I don't know where I want to start
I write what comes to mind
Now that we are both apart
I don't know what is right
When you're not here I'm missing you
When you are sad, I'm sad
I know you have no room for two
You stayed with who you've had


When I see him with you I hide
This envy in my heart
Whenever you are by my side
I'm trying not to fall apart
It's hard not to do the things
You dearly want to do
I think it has become quite clear
That I'm not over you


I know we've said that we'll be friends
It's wrong to tell you this
If this is where our friendship ends
You will be solely his
I don't know what is wrong with me
This feeling should have ended
But then this would hardly matter since
It's you who has decided


I cannot change just how things are
I cannot turn back time
All I can do is give my heart
Knowing nothing's fine
I hope this poem can never change
Our current situation
I'm just a fool who's trying to make
The most of his small station


I'm sorry I keep hurting you
I'm sorry this is me
I can't control I can't keep cool
It is a part of me
I'm not expecting anything
I just want you to know
That there resides in my heart still
A place for us to grow


But you may think it's out of place
For me to tell you this
When “he” was in my thoughts for days
Is he the one I miss?
The first night I contacted him
Was a night he brought you home
To keep my vision getting dim
I picked up my phone


I used him to distract myself
From you and him and me
I used him to drown myself
In foolish misery
I used him to forget
That night in my bed
I used him to forget
The tears that we both shed


I know I cannot have you R***
I know we cannot be
I really wish I still can pray
So you can be with me
If things are fixed the way they are
There'll still be no regrets
I'd still love you the way you are
I wish you all the best