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Sa Kumbento ni PadrePio

Abandon sanity, all ye who enter.

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murder

Murdered by Cliche

TUESDAY. 1:20PM. That particular Manila afternoon was killing me. The rainy season was supposed to have begun a few weeks ago but there I was, sweltering in my room and cursing for all I was worth because the damn freaking weather wasn’t helping me write something. The heat was unbearable and it was eating up what little stored energy I had. It didn’t help that my PC was also having one of its seizures — restarting itself even if I was in the middle of a program.

Banging the mouse forcefully on the table, I got up, strode to where the airconditioning unit was installed, and turned it to full blast. I decided to discard my t-shirt, free-throwing it to the corner where the laundry basket was placed. I missed my mark, the sweat-stained shirt ending up lying rumpled on the floor. I would have wanted to take off my blue jersey shorts too but thought it awkward and downright disturbing to be writing with nothing but my briefs on. Continue reading “Murdered by Cliche”

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The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter II

The Man Without a Face
Montpellier
April 1067

The man without a face couldn’t find the right word. And it made him uglier. His withered face, remnant of a once handsome face ravaged by the plague, was twisted into concentration.

Querabin?

He couldn’t find the right word that he knew succinctly described the beautiful creature frolicking naked by the river. Those infernal priests and their Latin! He cursed. The creature was a boy child of about eight summers or so. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful. Golden locks which were naturally curled on their ends. Skin almost as pure as snow. And the eyes. They were the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

Serubin? Continue reading “The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter II”

The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter I

Raengarde Galen
Chateau Comtal, Carcassonne
February 1067

The sleepy little castle town of Carcassonne awakened early. From nearby villages came donkey carts laden with produce. In the air were sounds of wooden wheels; of bleating goats and braying donkeys trotting into market. By the time the church bells began ringing for the morning Angelus, merchants emerged like insects and commenced shouting their wares. At once, the soft hubbub of noises turned into an almost deafening cacophony of sounds. Another uneventful day in Carcassonne has begun.

Raengarde Galen, now 51 and plump as a fattened pig, pushed herself up in bed, her ears assaulted by the familiar noise. Continue reading “The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter I”

The Curse of the Trencavels – Prologue

Ermengarde de Foix
Chateau Comtal, Carcassonne
December 1066

 

She will kill herself today, she has decided. She made that decision while Uncle Raymond was still spurting his foul seed inside her, his eyes closed in blissful orgasm.

With just a few more thrusts, her daily descent to hell was over. Sex with Uncle Raymond was always a speedy affair; one of the very few things in life she’s still thankful for.

“You’re the only woman who can make my limbs tremble with so much pleasure, my dear.” Count Raymond-Bernard Trencavel, now standing beside the wooden bed and fully-clothed, smiled softly, the hint of suppressed lust still hovering over his quivering lips. Continue reading “The Curse of the Trencavels – Prologue”

The Silent Stranger Watching in the Crowd

The silent stranger watching in the crowd—

there one moment and gone the next

A shadowy figure outside her window—

there one moment and gone the next

The stealthy footfall of sockless feet—

there one moment and gone the next

A faint grating of the squeaky stairs—

there one moment and gone the next Continue reading “The Silent Stranger Watching in the Crowd”

Crimson – a Fibonacci poem

A Fibonacci poem (or Fib) is a multiple-line verse based on the Fibonacci sequence so that the number of syllables in each line equals the total number of syllables in the preceding two lines.

She

Lies

Serene —

A beauty

Bathed in crimson deep

On my white, marbled bathroom floor

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