Hello, my friends. You’ve been great to me. I’ve enjoyed our time together, and so i must leave now.

I need to go whilst things are still rosy and good. I can be brave to go someplace new because i know i’m coming from someplace good.

And maybe, deep down, i’m afraid that if i stick around for too long, i’ll get used to you. That the magic will dissipate, and there won’t be anymore sparks. Maybe i’m overthinking, but you lot are magic to me, and i’d like it to always remain that way.

So… i’ll go but not say goodbye. Because i’ll come back, as a slightly different person.

And it’ll be nice to see everyone again, but it’ll be a little sad because i can only watch from outside and not be a part of the show.

Then as the days and weeks past, we might slowly drift apart, as it usually happens. Till one day we don’t see each other anymore, and then a year later i’d look back and my heart will well up with sadness. Longing for the good old days, missing your company and the good times we had.

Do you know what?

If i weren’t afraid, i wouldn’t leave. Yes, that’s it.

It’s all fear. I’m afraid our friendship will lose its sheen. I’m afraid we’d have drama and things might get ugly.

And most of all, i’m afraid that i won’t have the courage and discipline to push myself to be something more. Because God knows i have hopes and dreams, and a million plans but not the drive.

Is this how it normally is? Because i was not expecting to dive this deep.

So i’ll just end here and say that i love all of you, and i miss you already. You, and all my kurasumetsu, and all my friends from across the years.

I love you all SO MUCH, with all my heart. Thank you for your friendship.

We’ll probably see each other around someday… it’s a small world.



She had brown hair, black eyes of a deep intensity, and eyebrows that arched beautifully. She walked in with poise and confidence and not one head did not follow her around.

She stopped by the soaps and was picking them up, studying them, and finally she decided to give a few of them a smell. So she opened her mask.

And revealed ugly, thick, greedy lips, surrounding a wide mouth with crooked teeth and a wet tongue that darted every now and then.

I kept telling myself that maybe she was a beautiful person but I still had to look away.



I stepped into the room, my footsteps and breathing the only noises above the quiet sniffles from the few around me.

There she lay on the bed, and there came that sense of familiarity. Countless times I’d walked into the room to find her asleep, and again that was all I saw.

But… It wasn’t really the look of being asleep, was it? I’ve seen people sleep, it shouldn’t look quite like this

And then I realized. It wasn’t that she looked like she was sleeping.

Rather, all along, she’d look like a dead person lying in bed, and it was only the gentle rise and fall of her belly that had told me she was asleep.

She had always looked like a corpse, and I’d never once realized.



The pumpkin soup was fragrant and ready for serving. A lone woodwicked candle crackled on the dining table, casting flickering shadows about. The aroma of dinner filled the house. I opened the breadbox and took out a fresh loaf. The heavy plate sat empty, waiting. Big and round, like the moon.

Then there was a knock on the door… no, three, but slowly. The food was inviting, i was hungry, but manners overcame.

I opened the door a crack, and squinted in the bright moonlight. My eyes adjusted, and i was surprised. There he was, in the same suit he wore months ago. Gaunt, grey and dusty. He stood there with a vacant look in his eyes, uttering not a sound.

No words came to my mouth either. I just stared. A mix of emotions washed through me, spinning and churning. Different voices called for my attention, telling me what to say and do. Finally i chose, and spoke.

“It’s nice to see you, but you shouldn’t be here. You need to go. I love you, you know that. Please. You must go back to your grave.”

If he had tears he would have cried, if he had air in his lungs he would’ve said something. But he looked down, and disappointment weighed upon his shoulders. Then he looked up into the night sky, at the blue moon.

The blue moon.

He looked at me, at my neck and everywhere else but my eyes. Then he dragged his gaze away as he turned heavily and plodded into the distance. Slowly, sadly, shoulders still slumped. I, too, had to turn away. I looked up at the blue moon once more. The blue moon.

The door closed and i went to my bed. I forgot all about dinner and instead wept and wept.

I buried my head in my pillow and fell asleep after too much crying.



Its birth was difficult, though not her first
It drank in excess, an undying thirst
And when it was supposed to crawl
It chose instead to wail and bawl

The doctors ran the tests the could
The family did what families should
Despite the efforts of all these souls
It spat at, kicked down all their goals

It did what it was told to leave
And daily made its parents grieve
The neighbours, friends and family had
Never seen a child like that

No one knew just what was wrong
Its brain and body seemed so strong
But every time there came a test
It found a way to not impress

The years were slow and painful much
And family soon became its crutch
Unable or unwilling to do those things
That were normal for us human beings

And yet the doctors shook their heads
For not one value was in the red
That child was just a lump of bad
The parents wished they never had

It had a face that seemed too flat
A voice that screeched much like a rat’s
But worst of all, they all would say
Was how it seemed, as clear as day

That all this nonsense it displayed
Was caused not by some chance nor fate
But an act of ugly, purposeful hate
Of the good that people celebrate

Oh! How could you love a child like that?



The doors open, a breeze blows in
It is the sweet smell of white tea and clean
My eyes are open but I’m trandport d elsewhere,
I see that other place
And for a brief moment my heart jumps
A wave of ecstacy rides through me

I am there;

All my senses believe it
And you can tell from my vacuous stare

Then I’m back,
But I’m glad.

Because now I have something to look forward to
A journey in the future
A drawn out pilgrimage
The anticipation of, probably more delightful than its completion

We like liking things,
Maybe more so than finally having them



I stand before an abyss
My hands chained and swollen
There is a row of people I don’t see
But I feel them there
Their heads bow, and they leave
Disappointed is palpable in the air and it constricts my breathing
Those are my teachers
And they are disappointed in me

I look down again and make out the sun
Then the world spins and I realize where I am

Upside down, in a hole,
That I dug with my own hands
The earth is still under my nails
In my nose, in my throat

But I can’t cry, and I won’t struggle
Because I don’t want to fight anymore

Not that I ever did much of that.



There was someone outside. I opened the door; it was a man I’d never met, and he looked evil. He muttered something and my first instinct was to look at the gate handle. I noticed it wasn’t lock.

So did he. He gave a cruel smile and tried the handle. The gate swung open and I fled. I ran hard, intending to get help. That’s what I think.

She wasn’t long gone. But when she got back, she fell to her knees in horror at what she beheld. Draped across the statues flanking the grand staircase were the intestines of her mother and grandmother. The mess of organs led to the foot of the stairs where their skinned and dead bodies lay.

She let out a scream of agony that started from the pits of her soul and shredded her throat. He was too fast.

Or was she too slow?

The camera zooms out, the black and dark manor shrinks as it retreats into the inky sky. It is pouring, and there is a silent flash of lightning.



If you’re tired then

Go home and sleep



It’s been weeks, maybe months.

The bloodstain had faded, then eventually disappeared altogether from the road. It was only a few days after the accident that children went out to play along that driveway again.

Neighbours forgot, and life went on.

But on some nights, she still couldn’t sleep. She could still see the remarkably white bone showing. Hear the cries of alarmed people, and her own heavy breathing. Smell the beautiful night air, and wonder how the scene in front of her could be real.

It would be some time yet before the turbulence in her mind settled.

But she always smiled, and so no one suspected that deep down, she was still in remarkable pain.

“She’s always so cheerful!”