Blackbird

Suitcases line the wall adjacent to the front door. Her first thought is to wonder how she'll carry these all on her own. She almost suffocates at the thought of having to lug these around Heathrow alone, imagining the awkwardness of a less than 5 foot girl with 6 suitcases surrounding her feet as she tumbles into them and loses her footing. She can almost feel her knees scraping the cold floor of the airport. Almost any thought suffocates her these days. 

And yet. A little ball of light glows in her chest at the messiness of her imagination. Dragging 6 suitcases. Falling over. Getting a cab to her new home, at least for a few years. Her mouth draws into a thin line, unsmiling but not frowning either. She's at an impasse, as she's been the last couple of weeks. 

"Nasrin! Where are you?" She hears her mother call. It's her birthday today. 19. When she was 14 she was almost sure she'd die before she got to this age. The morbid thoughts of a pubescent teen. 

At the dining table, her father lights candles on her birthday jelly. She'd claimed to have had enough of cake. Now as she stands before the ruby red thing, she wishes she'd kept it traditional for old time's sake. Who knew when she'd celebrate her birthday at this table with her family again. 

Her mother looks her up and down amusedly. "What are you wearing?" She gestures to the ratty jacket and sweatpants she has on. 

"The rest of my clothes have been packed up," Nasrin says with a shrug. 

"I'm surprised you have any clothes left in this house," her brother chimes. "6 suitcases and still some clothes still hang in your closet." 

She grins. I'll miss this, she thinks. I'll miss this I'll miss this. 

They start to sing Happy Birthday, and her heart warms at this tradition. In the flicker of the candles, she can almost see every birthday she's had before, in different houses up until now, the house they moved into when she was 9. She wishes her brain to become a recorder, to record her family's chorus of singing and to be able to play it to herself whenever she feels alone, whenever she feels too far away from home. She closes her eyes, willing it to happen. 

They stop singing, the final key still ringing in the air. Her eyes still closed, she blows on the candles, feels the heat vanish from her cheeks. 

Behind closed eyes, a short clip like a trailer from a movie plays. She sees a brown eyed man with a thousand watt smile laughing on the beach, and in another scene she sees her and him running in the isle of a supermarket, a store, somewhere. They are on a street, wearing coats, and snow is falling, and this man smiles and smiles and smiles as his breath vapourizes in the cold. They jump in a pile of dried leaves. His skin is the colour of honey, freckled at the cheeks. His hair is a mess, red and brown leaves sticking up in the curls. She opens her eyes and she is back in her home with her family, and the beautiful man vanishes. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is a week later. The airport is busy, noisy with people singing and cheering. It is the season for young people to leave the nest. She sees other people around her age walking around the airport, and she is comforted at the sight of their fear and confusion that matches hers. The beauty in the messiness of one's 20s. 

She tries not to think of her family as she waits to board her plane, lest she start to cry uncontrollably. She sees planes leaving and arriving the strip of land in front of her, tires landing and taking off the tarmac. In an attempt to distract herself, she turns the movement of the planes into a pattern, tries to find a rhythm. When that proves futile, she cracks open the book she's been reading for a month, her first classical read - Sense and Sensibility. 

She's 10 pages in when a stranger takes up the seat next to her. Nasrin shifts to leave more arm space for the man next to her. A quick glance tells her he's a student, too. He's staring out the window she was minutes ago, arms crossed against his chest, the earbuds plugged into his phone loose on his lap instead of in his ears. 

He glances at her, and Nasrin looks away, almost blushing, wondering if this man saw her analyzing him. She feels his stare on her. 

"Which one are you?" He asks. 

Her neck snaps towards him, eyes wide. "What?"

His eyes are brown. His skin is honey. She thinks he recognizes him. He puts a finger on the page she's on, tapping on it. "Are you sense or sensibility?"

"Oh," she says, clearing her throat. "I like to think that I could be both." 

He smiles, only his upper teeth showing. She realizes he has a bit of an overbite. "I think I'm sense," he says. 

"Oh," she replies, trying to find something else to follow with. 

"You going to London?" She asks instead. She tries to hide the wince her face involuntarily contorts. Of course he's going to London - we're waiting for the same plane.

But he shakes his head. "I am, but only as a transit flight. I'm going to Cardiff." 

"Great school there I heard."

"Great views too," he says dreamily before turning to her. "Seaside town and all."

Nasrin's heart flutters at the mention of the sea. She wants to grab him by the collar, tell him about her visions. If he calls security, if she ends up in a nuthouse, so be it. She's sure it is him. Those freckles under his eyes are unmistakable. 

A flurry of people pass them, and she realizes they've called their flight. She watches him take his bag, packing his earbuds in his pocket. "That's us," he says. 

"Yeah," she says, standing up with him. She should tell him her name, she thinks. They should exchange numbers, Instagram accounts, keep in touch. 

"Goodluck with everything," he says with a smile, saluting her lazily, and she lets him walk away instead. 

"You too," she replies. She lets this beautiful stranger walk away with his backpack only half strapped on one shoulder, the other strap hanging loosely by his back. "Don't be a stranger!" She calls after him. He turns back at her to smile back. "You too!" He shouts. He joins the rapidly forming line at the end of the gate. 

She lets out a sigh. And yet. She smiles. They will surely cross paths again. 

Not So Little Anymore!!

 Guess who's baaaaackkkkk.

Tried reopening a new blog and the vibe just didn't hit the same. So I'm back!! Hoping I still have some of my old fandom awaiting my return. Here's to writing like there's no tomorrow, with all our hearts and all the determination and passion in the world, with no regrets and excessive confidence. 

Mr Night Night Loves Old Toys

 Hey, kid

I know you can hear me

You're shivering like a leaf under that blanket

I can see you

Come with me, kid

Come with me

Comecomecomecomecome

Moving On to a New Blog.

Morning, folks. It's your writer here ;) 

Anyway, I've moved onto a new blog because I finally made my own blogger account (all this while I've been using my father's account because I was too young to make my own google account for a blogger account >_>) 

 Catch me if you can (meaning try your best to find me ;) ) Thanks for reading this blog! 

File 1.

The sunlight shone brightly through my thin curtains. I woke up with Thunder on my lap, purring softly. I sit up in my bed and stroke its fur.

“You must’ve ran away last night, huh?” I asked it. I gave it a good stroke behind its ears and it woke up, opening its pale blue eyes that shone in the sunlight. It meowed as it hopped off my legs and walked out of my room. From where I was, it looked like a walking grey ball. I smiled at my own thoughts.

I looked around my room, still sitting in bed, as if my room were new to me. That’s when I saw it. The white acer laptop.

‘And I thought it was all a dream,’ I thought to myself, the sight of the laptop irritating me for some reason.

The note was still attached to it. Reading it was as if the laptop was challenging me.

‘Am I ready?’ I asked myself. I shook my head. I got out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom that was across the corridor of the second floor.

I peered over the banister as I made my way to the toilet. I groaned when I saw that the living room was still a mess, as if I expected it to be clean magically by morning.

“Thunder? What do you say you help me out later in cleaning the living room, huh?” I called out to Thunder who was sitting on the couch that seemed to have an orange stain (which was most probably orange juice). Thunder meowed.

“You can lick the food scraps on the floor,” I said with a grin. Thunder hopped off the couch and walked away.

“So this is how being lonely feels like,” I said to myself under my breath. I made my way to the bathroom.

…

I got a roll of black plastic bag, a rag, a bottle of soap and a vacuum all from the kitchen and went back into the living room. Thunder was now on the carpet, cleaning itself.

I started cleaning from the couch, cleaning the stains with the rag and soap and vacuuming crumbs off the couch seats. Thunder watched me quietly, blinking its eyes every now and then. All was quiet and peaceful.

…until a brick came flying through the window.

Of course the window smashed and Thunder ran behind me, hiding behind my legs, its ears perked up and breathing a little ragged. My breathing was a little ragged too and I felt my blood run cold.

“You okay, baby?” I asked Thunder as I picked it up with shivering hands. I carried him and walked over to the smashed window to see if anyone was out there. But of course, nothing but children on their bicycles were outside. I turned back to look into my house and the shards of glass, the result of the smashed window. I looked down at Thunder who was still in my arms and saw that he was already looking at me.

‘This is quite a mess,’ it seemed to say. I sighed.

The brick landed not so far from the window. I put Thunder down gently and picked up the brittle brown brick, turned it over and saw that there was a note attached to it.

“Open File 1.” The note said.

My blood ran cold and I knew that whoever was doing all this, had something to tell me. I put down all my cleaning material and ascended the stairs and into my bedroom. The acer laptop was still there, untouched and my room was just as I’d left it (no smashed windows there, phew).

I sat in front of the laptop and took a deep breath. I touched the space bar lightly and the monitor came on, showing the desktop. In the desktop was a Recycle Bin and a file named ‘File 1’. I clicked on it.

Inside it was a Microsoft Word document entitle with only a dot. I clicked on it and it opened.

“When the lights go off at midnight, stay in one place and take your most beloved item with you.”

I folded my arms and sat back in my chair, exhaling a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. I reread the line and scrolled down to see if there was anything else. There was nothing.

As I drifted deep into thought…

“Meow.”

I jumped in my chair and felt my heart beating like a drum. I turned back violently to see Thunder sitting (sitting?) innocently at my slightly ajar door, its head tilted to one side and eyes looking at me, as if full of thought.

“Keep an eye out, Thunder,” I told it. “Something’s coming tonight. And we better get ready.”

To be continued in: When the Clock Strikes 12.

Beware, Jake.

The room felt so humid and the loud music was making me feel much more nauseous. I got out of the house, gasping for air. I saw my friend Tobin on the porch, smoking a cigar.

“Why aren’t you in the house?” I asked him, trying not to make it seem obvious that I was desperate for air. I folded my arms to make my act look more natural but of course, nothing got passed Tobin.

His blue plaid t-shirt was untucked from his jeans and his sleeves had come undone. He scanned me before answering, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You are the host after all.”

Ignoring his statement, I walked up next to him and leaned on with him. He offered me a cigar and I said no. “I told you before, I don’t smoke. That’s like suicide.”

“Living in this cruel hell we call world is already suicide,” He told me, giving a shot at being poetic. “Might as well I fulfil this world’s cruel wish.”

“How did it go with Angel tonight?” I asked, changing the subject. He ruffled his brown hair and groaned. “She can burn in a hole for all I care,” he answered coldly, smoke coming out from his lips.

“Did it really go that bad?” I asked. Tobin shot me a look with his piercing emerald eyes and that was all that had to be said.

“Why are you out here?” I tried again. Tobin sighed.

“Be careful Jake,” He told me instead, his voice ominous. “Someone’s planning something to hurt you and the ones you love most. You gotta be smart and outsmart that fool, whoever he is.”

The air goes crisp and I look at Tobin, dumbfounded. He gives me the most deadpan look he can give me and gets off the porch, walking down the steps, his weight making the wood creak.

“Where ya going?” I asked him.

“Home,” he replied without turning back. He threw his cigar onto the pavement and stepped on it. He turned back to me, his face still looking dead as ever. “Beware, Jake. Don’t fall into his trap.”

And with that, he walked away, out of sight, leaving me with a million questions.

‘Probably had too much to drink,’ I thought as I walked back into my house.

…

It was 1 AM when the crowd finally went home. The last of them included Cherry, Ren and Sasha. The three of them were hanging drunkenly around the porch.

“Thank goodness mom and dad are out of town and I’m the only child they have,” I muttered to myself when I saw the three drunkies on the porch.

“Hey! Get off my porch and go home, will ya?” I hollered out to the three of them from inside the house.

“It’s still early Jake,” I heard Ren slur without lifting his head. “The party’s just getting started.”

Cherry and Sasha ‘whoo-ed’ with him. I got out of the house and just as I was about to tell them off, Aaron came in his SUV, looking unexpectedly fresh. He was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and white jeans.

He got out of his car and sighed. “Forgive them, Jake. Ren’s mother sent me here to get Ren. She was worried because it was getting late and he wasn’t home yet. Same goes to Cherry and Sasha’s mother,” Aaron apologized humbly as he took drunk Ren by the arm.

“Got a date tonight?” I asked, folding my arms as I gave him a smile. He smiled back.

“I did have a date tonight. The girl ditched me at the restaurant for some reason,” he sighed at the end of his sentence but smiled anyway. I helped Aaron get Cherry and Sasha into the backseat of his SUV.

“Good night, Jake,” Aaron said before getting into the river seat of his SUV. He closed the door as soon as he got in and, right before he drove off, he rolled down his window and said, “hey Jake?”

“Yeah?” I answered, looking at him in the eye. He bit his lip nervously and said something very random.

“Be safe. Outsmart your enemies, aye?” And with that, his window went back up and he sped off, leaving dust behind. Suddenly, I begin to feel uneasy. Tobin had told me almost the same thing. Now Aaron.

What was going on?

I walked back into my house, still pondering about what both Tobin and Aaron had said to me. I took one glance at the living room and that one glance was enough to tell me that the living room might as well be a dump.

‘Should’ve asked Aaron to help me out a bit with the living room,’ I thought as my nose wrinkled. The living room was still humid and I had to get out of the living room. I ascended the stairs and walked drowsily towards my room.

I opened the door to my room and peered inside. It was still neat. But there was something alien on my study table.

It was a laptop. A white Acer laptop.

I walked carefully into my room and looked at it. It was plugged into its charger and the battery was full (the battery bar was glowing blue). It was either new or was fixed to look new. The monitor was black but the open, sitting straight up. I looked down at the keyboard and saw that a note was stuck to it.

“Open when you’re ready” it said. It wasn’t and handwritten though. Whoever put the laptop here typed this note and printed it out.

I paced in front of my study table, wondering whether to open the laptop tonight or wait until tomorrow. I was curious and scared to see what the laptop contained. My blood ran cold just thinking about it.

‘Maybe tomorrow,’ I thought to myself.

I turned off my lights and climbed into bed.

To be continued in: File 1.

A Million Stories in a Night.

We both stared at each other, our eyes wild. Her brown hair flowed in the wind, making her seem much more intimidating.

“What’re you doing here? How long have you been here?” Her voice was soft but threatening. I felt my heart skip a beat.

“I-I was just walking back home from Martha Jones’s party,” I said, sounding like a child who’d been caught stealing.

“Was it fun?” I didn’t expect her to ask such a thing.

“Yeah, I guess,” I stepped closer, looking at her to see if she’d ask me to go away. She saw me walking towards her. I half expected her to shout at me but she didn’t. Instead, she patted on the swing next to her.

I sat on the swing next to her and looked up to the moon. I glanced at her and saw that she was doing the same. We both sat next to each other quietly, staring up to the moon. We were both so close yet so far away.

“I actually like you, Muhzim,” she said this flatly and I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My heart palpitated and I stared at her, my palms beginning to sweat. She glanced up at me for a seconds before down-casting her head, hiding a little smile.

“Why d’you keep running away from me then?” I asked in a whisper. The atmosphere between us tensioned as she craned her neck to look at me. “I don’t know,” she whispered back.

“But don’t bother asking me to be yours,” she whispered. “I’m not what I seem to be.”

“What do you mean?”

Erna’s hazel eyes met mine as she said, “I’m not human.”

I laughed. “Ha-ha very funny Erna. And I’m the son of Dracula.”

She didn’t respond. “I’m older than you. I don’t know what I am though. I’ve lived for over centuries, I’ve met various people and of course I’ve fallen in love before. It was terrible and therefore, I’ve learned my lesson; I’m never having any ties again.”

“Erna, stop this is getting creepy.”

“I’m not playing with you. How do you think I vanish in an instant?” I froze at this thought and Erna sensed it. She looked back up to the moon and sighed.

“It all started centuries ago,” she begun. “I was cursed at the age of 17 for stealing a witch’s jewel. ‘You will suffer the evolution of mankind, for you will live for eternity. You will be immortal. Mankind will evolve into something cruel, I foresee.’ I remember the witch told me. With a wave of her stick, I was cursed.”

I’m silenced at this and I felt myself blanch. “Who knows how long I’ve lived?” She continued with a smile.

I turned to her and saw that she was already looking back at me, staring into my soul. I try my best not to shudder. She put her hand on mine and smiled. “Bye, Muhzim.” And with that, she vanished, leaving a white rose on the swing.

And that, was the last time I ever saw her.

-End.