Life's Affliction

What is this if not a torment?

An obsession, a cures and

an endless longing, a face

that appears in all my dreams.

The object that is all my joy,

even in the saddest times,

The thought of you rejuvenates

my soul and caresses my heart.

The maker of all my dreams knows,

and can count the countless visions

of you.  I'm cursed by my truth.

Do you know me? I ask myself.

Do I know you? I wonder if you know

that everyday I'm near you,

my heart feels like an open window,

Grant me recovery from life's affliction. 

The Beast That Did Me Harm

I killed the beast that did me harm,

I smiled and fooled it with my charm,

I slit its throat and drank its blood,

With all the passion I once loved,

It took from me... I cannot say,

Thus I schemed every day,

My hatred grew with every sun,

ceased my happiness and my fun,

Now I walk with my head held high,

knowing justice was done but then why

do people stair as though they fear me,

as though the beast did walk beside me?

I killed the beast without distress,

And in return I took its place...

Where I Will Find You Part 2

He woke up in room filled with light. He had no memory of how he got there. He remembered a sharp pain in his chest, a dark figure stood before him, he remembered her, weeping over his corpse. He remembered fading into darkness, then from the distance there was a voice which reminded him of all he would lose, and who he would leave behind should he die. Then her face stood before him, covered in blood, she whispered, “Don’t leave me.” over and over again. Then he heard an unfamiliar voice. “Sir…Sir, are you alright?”

He was woken by a man who stood next to his bed. He had never before seen this man, “Am I dead?” he asked, not sure what the reply would be. The man, who looked as though he was the doctor, was short, and quick, he had short grey hair, and a white coat, that had clearly seen plenty laundry days. The doctor seemed startled by his question, but eventually found a reply, “You’re fine, not a scratch on you actually, the lady who brought you here said you took a bad fall. Young men, always trying to impress the ladies by doing stupid things.” He was surprised at the doctor’s comment, he had no memory of who he was, or how he got there, let alone of this ‘lady’. “I'm sorry where am I?” he asked. The doctor studied him for a while, and then leaned on his bed, “You’re at the hospital, you were trying to build a tree house for the neighbours children, then you fell out of a tree, hit your head pretty bad, but the scanner shows, that you are going to be fine.” “I don’t remember any of that.” He said rubbing his head. The doctor had a worried look on his face, “What do you remember?” He asked. “I remember a forest and a woman…she was covered in…” There was a knock at the door, a tall woman, with deep dark hair, and a weary look about her walked in. “I'm sorry to interrupt, the nurses said that I could come in?”

The doctor stood up to greet the strange woman, “Ah you must be Mrs L, your husband is doing fine”. The woman shook the doctor’s hand and looked at the man on the bed, she looked at him as though she knew him, but he didn't recognise her. He tried to remember, but her face was not the one he saw. “Honey, I told you that one of these days you would hurt yourself in that tree, what were you doing anyway?” She moved to his bedside and leaned in to kiss him. The moment her lips touched his face, he was suddenly in a somewhat familiar room, he was packing.

…

He saw his so cold wife, but not as she was now, her face was the same but different somehow. She stormed into the room, she was angry at him, “Why are you doing this to me, I gave everything to you!” He didn't reply, he just continued to pack. “You will never be happy with her. I will make sure of it!” He lifted his head to look her in the eyes and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She laughed franticly like a mad woman, “You think I don’t know, soon everyone will know.” She continued, “I will never let you go, I will never let you be free.” She stared at him for a while, then she began to cry, “Don’t leave, I am the only person in this world who will ever understand you.” He was done packing, he picked up his bag and headed for the door. She jumped him and tried to kiss him, he pushed her away, harder than he had intended to. She landed on the wooded floor, was lying there in pain not just of the physical kind. He looked back at her worryingly, she looked up at him enraged, resentment and a deep sadness. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her, but he knew he could not give her what she wanted. They shared one final look then he walked out the door, never looking back. She got on her feet and stood at the door, watching him as his white shirt disappeared into the forest. She said with burning hatred, “I will never let you go. I will never let her have you. I promise you that.”

…

He was back in the hospital bed, but now it was dark, there was no one there. He was dazed, and the world was spinning. He didn't know what was real, the shadows seemed to cream and laugh at him. He wanted to call out, but he was afraid that he would not remember who ever walked in. He stumbled out of bed, almost falling over, eventually he reached the door. He opened the door there was nothing but darkness, the hall was so dark he couldn't even see the floor beneath him. Eventually he found a light at the end of the hall. He heard a voice, but unlike the others this one he remembered. It was a woman, he knew her voice, and he knew her. He slowly walked towards the lit room. When he reached it he saw her. There she was, exactly as he remembered her. She was speaking to a nurse, “I just want to know if he is alright, it’s all my fault, I knew but I couldn't stay away. Just tell me if he is alright.” She saw him standing in the door way, and fell silent, there was a numbing feeling between the two of them.

For a moment their eyes met, it was as though he was frozen, his mind jumped to different places at once. He saw her face covered in blood, he saw her body mutilated on the river bank, then he saw her again lying in the hospital, her heart stopped. All these terrible images they were all of her, she was dead a hundred times over. He saw himself weeping over her body all those times, the crushing feeling he would have. He felt the pain, over and over again.

It all hit him at once, he couldn't take it, he fell to his knees, exhausted, and broken. She rushed to his side, and when she touched him more memories returned. It was her again, they were in a field of yellow flowers, he was so happy, and the sun had never shone brighter. They were beneath a tree. She was naked, only covered by light velvet blue sheet, that might have been his shirt. He was naked too, and they were together, he ran his fingers up and down her leg. She stared up at the sky, the cloud reflecting in her eyes, he wondered what she was thinking, but didn't dare to ask. He knew what she was thinking, “If only this moment could last, forever.” He said. She turned to him and said, “Forever is too long to hold happiness.” She smiled at him, her smile was beautiful, genuine, and just enough to fade reality. If he could keep it forever he would have.

All these images flashed back as though they were going to consume him, images of their life together, they seemed to go on forever. She was different in all of them, yet she was the same. He screamed in agony, she knelt by his side, she didn't know what to do, she knew what he was feeling, she knew full well she was responsible. She wished she had never come to see him. No matter how hard she tried she could never stay away from him. The moment he saw her, she knew she had made a mistake. He froze and fell out of the tree, as though he had been paralysed. Now this was all because of her. The nurses came and pushed her away, then they carried him of to his room. She was left on the floor in tears; she buried her head in her palms and cried out, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Mirrors

Mirrors, mirrors everywhere

More than ever I can’t help but stair,

In my room, or over there,

a thousand mirrors here and there,

Years ago I didn't care,

But growing seems to be unfair,

That even a single imperfect hair,

Will with me its torments share,

Fiddle, and fondle until you swear,

For imperfections you so fear,

That which cannot be fixed, disappear!

Or hidden behind the mask you wear,

Hair that runs down like a stream,

Not knowing that its but a dream.

Making beauty but a lie,

Letting its true form wither and die.

What Is Fantasy

This page is for those who love, to write, not just to write but to write fantasy. You may ask yourself what exactly is fantasy.Fantasy is a genre of fiction that commonly uses magic and other supernatural phenomena as a primary plot element, theme, or setting. Many works within the genre take place in imaginary worlds where magic and magical creatures are common. (Wikipedia). 

Todorov's Fantastic

Fantasy in the field of literary study is most popularised by Tzvetan Todorov, in his work of The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre in 1973. In this text Todorv defines that fantastic as "...that hesitation experienced by a person who knows only the laws of nature, confronting an apparently supernatural event (p. 25)." he sets up a criteria of how to recognise the fantastic. 

"The fantastic requires the fulfilment of three conditions. First, the text must oblige the reader to consider the world of the characters as a world of living persons and to hesitate between a natural or supernatural explanation of the events described. Second, this hesitation may also be experienced by a character; thus the reader's role is so to speak entrusted to a character, and at the same time the hesitation is represented, it becomes one of the themes of the work -- in the case of naive reading, the actual reader identifies himself with the character. Third, the reader must adopt a certain attitude with regard to the text: he will reject allegorical as well as "poetic" interpretations."

"The fantastic, we have seen, lasts only as long as a certain hesitation: a hesitation common to reader and character, who must decide whether or not what hey perceive derives from "reality" as it exists in the common opinion. At the story'end, the reader makes a decision even if the character does not; he opts for one solution or the other, and thereby emerges from the fantastic. If he decides that the laws of reality remain intact and permit an explanation of the phenomena described, we say that the work belongs to another genre: the uncanny. If, on the contrary, he decides that new laws of nature must be entertained to account for the phenomena, we enter the genre of the marvelous."

Genres of Fantastic 

Todorov distinguishes the fantastic from two other genres, these are the uncanny, and the marvelous. The uncanny is often a logically presented story, with extraordinary, shocking, or unexpected events that can be explained by the laws of logic in the end. The uncanny however, the events that occur can only be explained by the acceptance of the supernatural. The marvelous is described as being the closest to fantastic as illustrated in the diagram below:

uncanny(lo extraño)

fantastic- uncanny(lo fantástico-extraño)

fantastic- marvelous(lo fantástico-maravilloso)

marvelous(lo maravilloso)

The line between the sub-genres fantastic-uncanny and fantastic marvelous represents the pure state of fantastic, as in the line between two realms. The fantastic-uncanny deals with events that appear to be supernatural to both the character in the story and the reader, yet have a natural explanation in the end, is in the character was having a dream, or they are mentally insane e.t.c

The other sub-genre of fantastic-marvelous deals with the narratives in which the character and the reader decide that there is no rational explanation to the events in the story, thus except the interference and existence of supernatural characters.

Then there is just ans uncanny exists in its purest form marvelouse also exists in its purest form. In these stories there is no outrage, or surprise within the character about the existence of the supernatural. Thus it is not the attitude towards the events that characterises the marvelouse, but the nature of the vents themselves. 

In order to delimit the marvelous in the pure state, it is convenient to isolate it from several types of narrative in which the supernatural is somewhat justified.

1. We may speak first of all hyperbolic marvelous. In it, phenomena are supernatural only by virtue of their dimensions, which are superior to those that are familiar to us.

2. Quite close to this first ttype of the marvelous is the exotic marvelous. In this type, supernatural events are reported without being presented as such. The implicit reader is supposed to be ignorant of the regions where the events take place, and consequently he has no reason for calling them into question.

3. A third type of the marvelous might be called the instrumental marvelous. Here we find the gadgets, technological developments unrealized in the period described but, after all, quite possible.

4. The "instrumental marvelous" brings us very close to what in nineteenth-century France was called the scientific marvelous, which today we call science fiction. Here the supernatural is explained in a rational manner, but according to laws which contemporary science does not acknowledge.

Where I Will Find You Part 1

The sky had transformed from a life filled blue to a dime peach colour, then before he knew it, the sun was gone.

The night was impossible to avoid, “No one can avoid it.” he thought. He stared blindly into the night, no matter how dark it was it could not compare to the darkness in his heart.

He turned from the window back into the room, it looked almost empty in the dark. He could only see the small wardrobe in the far left corner of the room, next to the door. To the far right there was a small table where the small lamp stood. With the table, was a single bed covered in white sheets. The maid had made sure that the sheets were clean; she had always said “White is prettiest when it’s pure”. There was his wife lying in the bed, her face pail and almost life less. The sweet ran down her face, and soaked the sheets. In her eyes, he saw almost nothing.

He had this feeling, as though he had been there before, felt that very hollow feeling before, watched her die before. The memory seemed to jump into his head for but a moment, then it was gone. “It must be my imagination.” He thought...

She was running hastily through the forest. If you were there it would have seemed like a flicker of white cloth, blown by the wind across your  line of sight. Her feet were, scraped and bleeding, there was no time to put on shoes. The air was cold, but there was no time for a coat. The moment she received the news, the bolted out of the house and headed straight for him. It was morning, the sun had not yet risen, yet its light was just enough to make the world as though it were grey. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, which didn’t seem fast enough. Then finally she reached the clearing, she could see their white shirts in the distance she was so close, she was going to make it. All of a sudden there was bang. The birds scattered from the trees, the noise seemed so loud it was only equalled by the deafening silence thereafter. She paused for a moment, then the realisation sank in, and harden her chest, she could barely breath. She continued to run faster than before, stumbling, and at times falling to her knees. She had scrapes all over her feet and legs.

She finally reached them, he stood there as though he was an angel of death sent to destroy her, he lifted the gun towards the men kneeling on the ground, bleeding from his mouth, and nose. She screamed, “No, stop!” The man turned towards her, almost surprised to see her, he gave her a cold look, then turned towards the man on his knees again. His gun steady, and ready to deliver the final shot. Without thinking she jumped in front of the gun, “Please, please stop, I beg you please. No more, no more of this.” His gun was to her face, but she was not afraid, not of dying any way.

The angle of death stared at her square in the face, his eyes lifeless, and filled with nothing but rage, yet in his cold stare, a light flickered, brought on by the woman before him. He could not kill her, there would be no point, besides his mission that morning had been completed, the vermin would soon be dead. He slowly lowered his gun, and walked back into the gloomy woods, after he was out of her sight, there was yet another bang… the angel had returned from once he came…

She knelt in front of him, and he collapsed in her arms. She held on to him for dear life, the wound in his chest bleed furiously, each minute the life leaked out of him. She wanted to save him, but she could not, “Hold on my love, please don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me.” She could not hold back her tears, they wormed her cold face. He looked into her eyes, he didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to see her cry, he used the only energy he had left to wipe her tears away. He couldn’t breathe anymore, his body grew heavy, his chest grew heavy, life seemed too difficult, he wanted to fade away and end his pain–end her pain…

She watched the life fade away in his eyes, “No, no, come back, please. Somebody help me, help me please.” Suddenly there was a large flash of fire in front of her, a fire the likes of which she had never seen before. Its heat was not of this world, the flames, moved in an unnatural sinister way, as though they could read every corner of her heart, as though they were alive. She suddenly grew very cold.

From within the flames, came a meek, and pale looking woman. She looked small, as though she hadn’t eaten in days. She stood before, the dying man, and stared straight at the woman covered in blood. “You want him to live? I can make him live.” She said in a cold, yet surprisingly powerful voice. The grieving woman stared into her eyes and almost instantly knew who she was, her eyes were filled with an eternal darkness, but there was no light, and there will never be light there. She replied in a shivering voice, “Yes, I want him to live.” She knew that the price she would have to pay was great, but she did it anyway. The old lady, leaned down, she reeked of burned flesh, and something else, something foul like a rotten corpse. She brought her face down to the man, and blew next to his face.

Almost instantly the man’s pale face grew brighter, and he took one deep breath, the wound in his chest disappeared, the life returned to his eyes. He looked at his love, then fell into a deep sleep. The woman stared up at the old lady, she was grateful, yet there was this uncontrollable fear. She knew that there would be a price. “What do you want?” She asked almost losing her voice. The old lady replied, “Nothing, you have already given me what I want.” Then the she laughed loudly, her laughter echoed from every corner, in almost a blink she was gone. There fire had also disappeared as though it was never there.

Black

Black is not a colour, it is a divergence of colours,
It is a night of nights, where stars shine the brightest.
A darkness so profound a feeble light finds its glory.
A skin colour so detested, it rules my life.
And yet black is my favourite colour…

Black is not just a colour, it stands out from the rest,
It is the lip of a child, who yearns for attention.
The depth of a heart which seeks retribution,
The emblem of a fear so ancient it runs as deep as blood.
And yet it is my favourite colour?

Black is day filled with mourning,
Black is hatred with no ending.
Black is the love replaced by obsessing,
Black is a plague –a light that's blinding,
Black is death – no use resisting
it, black is my favourite colour.

The heart

A throbbing pain intensifies in my chest,

Numb yet wholly felt, an everlasting beat.

Cold, shivering veins blasting warmly with velvet blood,

spreading poisonous life through my being.

Every breath slowly suffocates my soul,

filling it up with hollow thoughts, steadily

taking delight. Death be merciful, take the air away,

let the beating sing with easing silence!

Blood will wash away the pain, cleaning all

taunting memories. Steadily beating blood by blood,

moving my chest to and fro. Tears steadily moulding a time,

when my heart beats for you no more.

Centre of my world

Centre of my world, life in my blood.

Why have you betrayed me so?

You stood by me through the wicked

night, and carried me above the fray.

My flesh is but a vessel of truths,

That the mind and heart fill with lies.

If I could but exist with neither,

My soul would be free forever.

I thought you would lead me to the light.

Like a vicious lion creeping in the night,

I didn't detect till I was covered in my blood.

And I fear that if I could, I would choose the same.

Centre of my world, life in my blood

Why do you cloud my judgement so?

My thoughts are not my own, my heart

is not my own, yet I falsely claim my life.

The Vase

Being in love is a very, dangerous thing, as Lisa was about to learn. Davis passed her by the hall way and with a few simple words ruined her day. All he said in harsh low voice was, “We need to talk, meet me in the gallery at two”. Just like that Lisa’s torment began. 

The hours seem to leisurely move by, but it was time. She wasn’t sure what he was going to say but she knew it couldn’t be good. The past few months have been difficult for them. Davis had stopped talking to her, he had stopped kissing her, then eventually he stopped greeting her all together. She had suspected an affair, but if there was one she had no evidence of it. 

He drifted further and further away despite her constant battle to rekindle their relationship. He used to be so warm towards her, their relationship happened so fast, with such intense heat and passion. Before she knew it they were living together and planning an eternity together. An eternity seems to long now, to spend next to a cold man. 

Despite it all she loved him deeply, and madly, to the brink of insanity. The days he would spend away at his parents where the longest for her. She contemplated poisoning him and keeping him in a deep sleep forever so that he could be hers and only hers. 

Thoughts of keeping him locked up crossed her mind often too. These feelings would be intensified if he were  to speak to another woman, she would burn with rage at the thought of other women being with her man. He was far too friendly and trusting. She thought, people or rather women always had a motive. She often kept these jealous fits to herself, but on one occasion he had gone too far…

A few weeks back she came home early one afternoon and found things unusual. The door was unlocked and there was someone in their shared apartment, to top it off she heard a woman giggle. At first she was frightened, but then she heard Davis’ voice. 

She walked in to find a most beautiful and tall woman... like adding vinegar to an open wound. She set comfortably draped out on her green and black couch. The woman was dressed formally in a white blouse barely buttoned to cover her pillows and a tight black skirt, which emphasized the length of her very straight, very long legs. Her hair ran down her back with the front hair tide back, held there with a floral hair clip. 

The smoothness of her skin was so ridiculous it stung her heart; she was truly a magnificent creature. The more Lisa took in the more outraged she became that this woman, this creature was in her apartment with her boyfriend. 

She tried her best to keep her composure, but before civility could register, she spoke in most surprisingly harsh voice. “Who are you?” Davis had noticed her outraged look and quickly tried to neutralise the situation. “Sweetheart, your home early, this is Maranda from work, she is the new sales associate.” 

Lisa instantly replied, “What happened to Donald, and why is she here?”. “Now Lisa, you know that Donald took a job in SA, Maranda and I were going through the agenda for tomorrow’s meeting. She’s new and I’m just showing her the rails.” “Well, I’m glad that as always you are the ever so loyal employee.” 

Maranda noticing the tension in the room mistakenly attempts an exit, not knowing that the situation was far worse then any could imagine. “Maranda Stevens.” (Holding out her hand). Lisa scanned her from head to toe, and by god the woman was even more beautiful when she smiled, the dimples in her face, the curves on her mouth, and most infuriating her gorgeous brown eyes. Even the hand she held out made Lisa over flow with rage. Lisa reached for the vase with a single sunflower in it. She gently lifted the sun flower from the vase and placed it on the little glass desk. Davis was in utter shock at what happened next…

With a swift yet deadly swing, Maranda was covered in water, she let out a screech and attempted to avoid the vase thrown at her, but she failed. The vase hit her square in the face; the large thump was followed by the cracking of the vase when it hit the floor. Davis could not believe his eyes, he looked down at Maranda’s unconscious body and when he looked up at Lisa he did not recognize the monster that stood before him.

Maranda now gaining consciousness attempted to gain her footing, but fell and hit her head on the table, sending squirts of blood across the living room. Davis now dazed by fear and outrage reaches for the orange table cloth and attempts to stem the bleeding, but the blood flows out in a steady stream which no man could stop. 

“My God, Lisa call the ambulance she’s going to die” Lisa looked down at Davis and Maranda all she could see was Maranda’s body, and how the water had made her blouse translucent. 

“How could you do this to me. I gave you everything!” Davis looks up at her in disbelief, “What! can't you see that Maranda is losing a lot of blood, what’s wrong with you?” “I know that you’re sleeping with her, I could see it on your faces, I can see it on you now.” “ Lisa you have gone completely insane!” Davis focuses on trying to stop the bleeding. 

Lisa moves toward the table with the phone and notices the porcelain vase twice as big as the other. She gently lifts it and admires it closely, the power it wielded. She turned towards Davis and smashed it on his head. He didn't go down as quickly as Maranda, he stumbled back and forth, and tried to scream, the blood spat out of his head faster then Maranda who was now lying in a pool of her own blood, gasping for her last breath. 

Davis soon is on the ground the blood squirts in Lisa’s direction, staining her black shiny shoes…

Lisa, Lisa, Lisa! Are you okay?” Davis and Maranda where looking at Lisa as though she had gone insane. She had stood there for almost a minute not saying anything. Maranda, now worried  grabs her jacket from the chair, and is preparing to leave, "Well I think I should leave." Davis attempts to stop her, "No, you don't have to leave." Maranda makes for the door. Davis gives a brief glance at Lisa, one that spoke clearly "Why do you have to be such a freak?". He follows Maranda out the door.

Lisa is left standing in the middle of the room unable to speak, or move. She could hear them outside whispering to each other. Though she could not make out their exact words, she only needed to hear one. Davis says "I love you", and Maranda replies "I know, lets just clean up this mess first"

Lisa slowly sits down on the couch, knowing what was about to happen, unable to swallow it. She turns to the porcelain vase, admiring its beauty. "What is beauty when you have power" she thought to herself, and the world turned red...