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.

Martha's Party.

Zafa and I were in the music room after school when Martha Jones was looking for me.

“There you are,” she’d said, smiling. She flipped her curly blonde hair back. “Oh, hi Zafa.”

Zafa lifted his hand up as a sign of acknowledgement for Martha as he adjusted the microphone on its stand. “What’s up, Martha?” I asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard but Aaron and I are now a ‘thing’,” the words came out of her mouth as if she was bragging, showing off that she wasn’t single to someone who’d been crushed the day before.

“So what?” I find myself saying, instantly regretting it as I could see that her smile dropped just a bit. I strummed by guitar randomly, averting my eyes from her.

“Aaron and I’ve decided to have a party this weekend at his house-”

“And you want me to be a musician for a night?” I guessed, looking up at her now. She tucked a lock of curly blonde hair behind her ear and walked closer.

“I’ll pay you,” she said.

“Sorry Martha but Muhzim doesn’t sing. I do,” Zafa, who’d apparently learn from his previous experience, told her. Martha thought about this for a few seconds before saying, “Sure. Muhzim, you can bring Zafa and you both can be a band for a night. I’ll text you the details of the party tonight.”

“What kind of music would you like?” I asked before she went off.

“Hmm, some kind of soft music. Like ‘Paris in the Rain’ by Lauv. Alright, I’m off. See you both this weekend!” And she walked off, her high-heels echoing through the hallway. I turn back to Zafa and grin.

“So, I see that you’ve learned from your last experience to get yourself invited to a party by becoming my singer for a night.”

“Oh shut up,” Zafa puts his hand on my face and pushes it. I laugh.

“How much do you think she’ll pay us?” Zafa asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Won’t Aaron pay us too? I mean it’s their party,” I said.

“C’mon Muhzim we both know Aaron only wants Martha for her money,” Zafa deadpans.

“Martha doesn’t know that though.”

“Why don’t you write a song about it then?”

“Aaron will kill us.”

“Aaron’s too stupid to know it’ll be about him,” Zafa scoffed. “The guy maybe the best basketball player in school but he definitely has the worst brain. I’m surprised he isn’t a caveman.”

“Speaking about brains I have to go back now, actually. Swafa needs my help on her science homework about neurones,” I said, groaning.

“I thought you got a ‘C’ for that topic a few years back during the exams,” Zafa said, getting up as I did.

“Ah and so the tradition will continue,” I said, laughing.

…

“Muhzim explain what are neurones again, please?” Swafa asked me for the hundredth time. I could’ve gone mad and end up in an asylum chanting what neurones were.

“Read your text book, it’s in there,” I replied. We were both in her room, her at her study table whereas I was on her bed, playing with my guitar as I tried to play ‘Paris in the Rain’. Zafa knew the song by heart and secretly, I thought he was an amazing singer. Can’t tell him that though; he’ll get full of himself.

“Why don’t you write a song about it?” Swafa suggested the worst idea I’d ever heard.

“Sure, why not I make a song about the seven continents after that?” I deadpanned. Swafa threw her pen to my back and I howled in pain.

“What’re you trying to play anyway?” She asked, getting off her chair and sitting next to me on her bed. I scooched over a bit to let her see my laptop screen that showed what I was trying to play.

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “Whose party is it?”

“Martha Jones,” I said.

“Oh cool, she’s Erna’s cousin.” My ears perked up at this statement and my eyes widened.

“And now I regret talking,” Swafa said after she say my reaction. She got up to continue doing her homework.

“No one leaves right after they say something like that,” I said, getting up from her bed and hovering over her.

“Go awaaaaaaaaay.” Swafa groaned.

“Will she be at the party? What will she wear?” I blurted out, my heart desperate for an answer. Instead, Swafa put on her wireless turquoise headphones and drowned me out by playing ‘All Falls Down’ by Noah Cyrus and Alan Walker.

“Fine, ignore me. Help yourself to neurones and such,” I said, taking my guitar, laptop and myself out the door. I pressed my ear against her bedroom door to hear if she was going to say anything.

“I know you’re there,” her muffled voice said. I groan and walk into my own room, settling on my bed.

Suddenly, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I took it out to find a text from Martha.

Begins at 7, ends at 11, snacks and food will of course be provided, Aaron and I will pay you what you and Zafa deserve. Here are the songs we want you to play.

Just the Way You Are, I Like Me Better, Paris in the Rain… The list went on. I forwarded the list and details of the party to Zafa and he instantly replied with, Hope I get paid a lot. I have to sound like Bruno Mars and Lauv this weekend.

I have to deal with sore fingers for the weekend. You wanna compete?

Touché, my man.

“Better get to strumming,” I murmured to myself. I pick up my guitar and sit on my bed, expressing myself through music.

…

“Muhzim hurry up! Zafa’s been honking outside the house for 10 minutes now,” Mom knocked on my door aggressively. Instantly I opened the door, showing her that I was in a vest with a white t-shrit underneath, wearing jeans to go with my outfit.

“Should I go with a fedora or just let my hair be ‘bad boy’ style?” I asked Mom, showing her my dark blue fedora. Swafa passed by my room with her headphones on. She took them off when she saw me and whistled, saying, “The fedora will make you look like a nerd, Muhzim. Go for the bad boy hair. You’ll make Qizy regret she ever left you.”

I smirked at the thought and gave Mom my most charming bad boy smile. She kissed me on the forehead and that was when Zafa knocked on the door this time, hollering, “Muhzim I will bring a maraca band up the doorstep of your house if I have to. I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of there!”

And that was when Dad answered the door.

“Oh, good evening, sir,” I heard Zafa’s loud voice go meek. Mom, Swafa and I grinned at this and listened to what Dad was about to say.

“You too, Zafa,” Dad replied. “So, what was it you said about a maraca band?”

“Uh…” Zafa’s voice went stale and I scampered down the stairs with my guitar.

“Oh hello Zafa! I didn’t hear you come!” I said in my most cheerful and most charming voice. For a split second I thought I saw him scowl. His tensed face turned jubilantly fake at once and he turned to Dad, saying, “Well sir we better get going. We’ve got a party to attend to. Muhzim’s playing, I’m singing.”

I ran to Zafa’s side and he subtly nudged my back with his elbow, making me wince. “You boys enjoy yourselves. Good bye now,” Dad said before he closed the door in our faces. I turned to look at Zafa to see that he looked deadpan.

“Maraca band,” I snorted out laughing as I got into his mustang, sitting in the shotgun seat.

“Mention that again and you’re walking,” Zafa got in and started the car. I laughed and we drove off.

…

Martha and Aaron’s party was better than Ivy’s I have to admit. Maybe it was because of how much she paid me and Zafa by the end of the night ($80!!) or maybe it was something else. It was a lively one, filled with my guitar skills and Zafa’s attempt to sound like Bruno Mars (which turned out to be pretty good).

But there was no sight of Erna.

By 11, the party died out and people left. Martha and Aaron thanked me and Zafa as we headed out.

“It was our pleasure,” Zafa said, beaming.

“I liked your outfit, by the way,” Martha said, pointing a finger at me. I flipped my hair back and gave her my most charming smile, the one I’d given Mom earlier that evening. I could’ve sworn I saw Aaron glaring at me before he said, “now, off with you two. We’ll see you both at school on Monday.”

As Zafa and I turned away, he asked me in a whisper, “Did Aaron just glare at you?”

I grinned at him and gave him my sexiest smile. “Oh yes he did,” I whispered proudly.

As we approached Zafa’s mustang, I said, “You know what? I’ll walk home.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah I mean, it’s an autumn night, it’ll be cold but hey who cares,” I told him, waving my hands. He nodded sceptically, got into his mustang and before he drove off, he asked me, “We should do this again sometime. You play, I sing. What do you think?”

I smiled and said, “Yeah, I think so too,” without hesitation. Zafa smiled and told me, “Have a good night, Muhzim.”

“You too.”

With that he drove off, leaving dust behind him. I sighed and started my journey back home, letting the autumn night breeze leave me in awe.

On my way, I passed Greenwood Avenue’s public playground. It had to be the biggest (and cleanest) playground for miles from my neighbourhood. The swings and slides shone, reflecting the light from the moon (actually the Sun’s light because… you know what nevermind).

I was admiring the playground when I saw,

Erna.

She was sitting on one of the swings, looking up to the moon. And above all,

She was actually smiling.

I stopped dead in my tracks to admire her smile. It was so aesthetic, so natural, so…

Aaaaaand that’s when she turned to me. And her smile faded.

To be continued in: A Million Stories in a Night.

All the Wrong Steps.

I walked to school alone the next day as Zafa had a basketball tournament whereas Swafa was homesick with a fever (correction to that she just told mom she had a fever as she didn’t want to attend Geography class today).

It was 10 minutes until the bell rang but I couldn’t care less for some reason today. I took my time, enjoying the sing-song tweeting of the neighbourhood birds and autumn wind. I smiled to myself as the wind flips my black hair off my forehead. I felt like a movie-star, heh.

Everything was perfect, my mind was in peace; all until I saw her.

Erna had her long brunette her down, the curls showing. She was walking on the opposite sidewalk, her eyes yet again, downcast.

My heart ached as I asked myself whether I should go and talk to her. Don’t let the moment go to waste, I told myself. With that, I walked over to her, crossing the road.

I wasn’t halfway across the street when she turned, as if she’d always known I was there. Her hazel eyes enlarged and she begin to walk hastily. I groan. “Erna, wait!”

She stopped abruptly and turned back to me. That was when she finally spoke to me. “How do you know my name?”

I plastered my most charming smirk on my face and scamper over to her, expecting her to run off but she didn’t. I glanced up at her for a second to see her face still horrified, as if I was Shrek. I laugh at my nonsense thoughts.

“You’re Swafa’s older brother, aren’t you?” She said, surprising me and killing my happy-go-lucky morning vibe. In an instant I stopped laughing and stared at her. She rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering, “I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have befriended Swafa.”

“Hey,” I said, catching up with her. “How do you know I’m Swafa’s older brother?”

Erna stopped walking and twirled back, her hair flying but landing back on her shoulders gracefully. “Your laugh. It’s just as peculiar as hers.” And with that, she started walking off again, this time faster.

“Peculiar how?” I asked, catching up. I heard her groan to herself and I just grin. Her eyes were downcast once more.

“Are your eyes always downcast?” I find myself asking. She craned her neck to look up at me, her hazel eyes a piercing shade hazel now. “Are they downcast now?” She asked, almost in a whisper. I felt my heart skip a beat. As if she knew, she looked away and started running off now.

“Hey!” I hollered after her. But it was too late, of course.

She was gone with the wind.

…

“So you chased the girl?” Zafa asked me at lunch. I groan and slam my forehead on the table, wincing, instantly regretting my action. Zafa laughed and I wished his laugh would just drown in together with the sea of noisy high-school students.

“It was an idiotic thing to do, I know.” I said to the table. It came out muffled but Zafa understood anyways.

“Swafa’s going to kill you. The girl’s first and last chance to make a friend is now ruined thanks to her obsessed brother.”

“I’m not obsessed!” I said, lifting my head and widening my eyes.

“Call it what you want Muhzim but it’s called obsession,” Zafa told me as he took a bite into his burrito.

“How was the basketball tournament by the way?” I asked, trying to get my mind off Erna and change the subject. My move as obvious but Zafa deliberately ignored the fact, I could see.

“We lost, as usual,” he said, shaking his burrito. “Stupid Tom West shot a goal for the other team.” Zafa muttered, pointing his chin to the well-known Tom West. He was handsome with wavy blonde hair; problem is he was incredibly stupid.

“Anyway,” Zafa said, putting his burrito down and lifting an eyebrow, looking at me. “About Erna-”

“No, no, no,” I said, holding my hands up. “We shan’t talk about her.”

“Why are you running away from the subject?” Zafa laughed at his own stupid pun. I got up and walked away, disgusted with him.

“Hey where are you running off to?” He hollered after me with a laugh.

…

“PLEASE SWAFA GIVE ME THE GIRL’S DAMN NUMBER,” I screeched, Swafa covering her ears from my madness.

“No, Muhzim. YOU’RE OBSESSED AND I WILL NOT FEED YOUR OBSESSION,” She screeched back, pointing a finger at me dramatically. I fall onto the couch as if I’ve been shot and Swafa groans.

“Muhzim you don’t even know who this girl is! What is up with you? I remember you said you were going to take your time with Qizy so that you wouldn’t mess it up a long time ago but look where you are now!” Swafa gave me an earful, reminding me of mom.

“What’s all the ruckus about?” Said a voice. It was dad. He came down the stairs with a coffee mug and in his hands, wearing only shorts and a blue t-shirt.

“Muhzim is obsessed with my best friend Erna,” Swafa deadpanned, her finger once again pointing at me. I sit up on the couch and say, “I am not!”

“You’re asking me for her number, Muhzim. What could that be called then?” Swafa retaliated, raising a sassy eyebrow at me. At that very second I felt like shaving off her eyebrows.

“Obsession isn’t the right word Swafa; love is,” Dad tells her, literally making the situation worst. I plaster my most deadpan look and say in my most deadpan way, “Wow thanks for backing me up, dad.” He lifts his coffee mug and heads for the kitchen.

…

Swafa was busy watching the Simpsons when I got hold of her phone. Stupid kid, she knew I was going to get Erna’s number anyway. Ah, bonus; her phone didn’t have a passcode to unlock.

I scroll through her contacts and find Erna’s name, typing it in my own phone. I put Swafa’s phone back on the coffee table and head up stairs to my room, texting Erna as I went.

Hey, it’s Muhzim. And without thinking twice, I hit send. Erna reads it instantly, giving me the blueticks.

And the next thing I know, she blocked me.

My texts didn’t go through nor could I see whether she was online on whatsapp or not. I groan. ‘Well, better start hacking.’ I tell myself. It was 5 after 10 at night when I got her location and apparently she only lived a few blocks down from my house.

I wrote her a letter that simply said, ‘hi’ and folded it into a square. I get on my pale blue bike and cycle to her house. It’s dark now but I don’t mind.

Her house is literally a graveyard. It’s gloomy and painted with dark colours. Erna was at her doorstep when I arrived and my heart skipped a beat. Her hazel eyes shot me a look when my bike came to a stop and I was afraid now. Afraid that she had a baseball bat with her or a stick to hurt me with.

“What’re you doing here?” She said it ever so softly that I thought I’d imagined it. Her brunette hair was down in curls now and she was in a black nightdress. I hold out a shaky hand with the paper in my grasp. “H-Here you go.” I felt like a coward.

She got up after a while and took the piece of paper out of my hand aggressively. She unfolded it, read it and tore it up right in front of me. I felt my heart shatter to bits.

“Don’t come here. Ever.” And with that she walked back into her house and slammed the door behind her.

I felt dead.

To be continued in: Martha’s Party.

Last Night's Gal.

I hear a car honking outside my house and I see that it’s Zafa in his antic mustang. I grab my bag and as I’m on my way out the door, Swafa runs to block me.

“Ugh, whaaaaat,” I groan as I roll my eyes. Swafa gives me an evil grin and says, “Take me to school on Zafa’s mustang and I won’t tell Miss Jones that you did my homework.”

“Tell Miss Jones that and I tell her that you didn’t even bother to try and that you forced me to,” I retaliated, raising an eyebrow. I push her away and twist the doorknob to get out but Swafa gets hold of my hand.

“Just bring me along, please? My bag’s really heavy today and you know how mom is about posture,” Swafa whines.

“What’s in this deal for me?” I ask, smirking. Swafa glares at me and says, “Give me a ride with Zafa and I won’t ask you about my chemistry homework for a MONTH.”

In an instant I open the door and yell at Zafa, “Swafa’s hitching a ride with us and I don’t care what you have to say!” I glance back at Swafa and see that she’s smiling. Zafa has taken off his sunglasses and is now glaring at me. I ignore this and slap my shoes on and run towards Zafa’s mustang, sitting in the shotgun seat.

“Tell the kid to ride in the trunk,” Zafa tells me with a glare. I laugh as Swafa gets in the back seat, saying, “Thanks, Zafa!”

Zafa grunts and pulls away from our house. I put on my sunglasses and look towards the rising sun.

…

We get to school early and Swafa rushes off to her class, not forgetting to thank Zafa once more. Zafa and I walk to our class together. And I tell him about the girl I met last Saturday night.

“She may be a ghost,” was Zafa’s comment when I told him she’d disappeared when I turned back to look at her after 10 seconds.

Speak of the devil. That very same girl appeared in front of my eyes once more.

She had her backpack on her back and had her brunette hair tied into a messy bun. Her face was freckled and from where I was, her downcast eyes were hazel and had long eyelashes. It was as if she was the only one I could see; as if it were only the two of us in this entire school.

“Is that her?” Zafa asks, apparently noticing my awkward staring towards the girl. I hide my blushed face and manage to choke out, “yeah.”

Zafa whistles and marches over to her and immediately my blood runs cold. “No, no, no, no!” I yell as I tug onto Zafa’s shoulder to stop him. But of course he doesn’t.

The girl is now looking at Zafa and when she sees me, her hazel eyes widen and she trots away. She gets missing in the midst of people and Zafa groans. “What the hell Muhzim; I almost had her!”

“Exactly!” I say, glaring at him. I scamper off to my locker, stuff my books and take out other ones, close my locker and walk to class, not paying any attention to the questions Zafa was terrorizing me with.

As I walk in front of Zafa, I feel his disgusting smirk behind my back. I roll my eyes and turn around to see that I was right. He was smiling smugly and now that I’d turn, I’d given the monkey some entertainment.

“You like her,” he whispered, still smiling smugly. I glare at him and walk towards class.

“She looks too young though,” Zafa says towards my back. I pay no heed to his words instead I trot to class, getting away from him.

“You’ll ever get her, Muhzim!” He hollers.

…

The halls are now empty and quiet. I walk in the lonely hallway and pass by the cafeteria that might as well turn into a warzone by how noisy it is. Its lunchtime and I don’t wish to bump into Zafa.

Or anyone.

I think about the brunette and how her face changed when she saw me. Does she know me? Do I know her? Have I ever done anything to her to make her hate me so much? She turned down my help offer on the night we met. Is there such a thing called ‘hate at first sight’ now??

I sigh and walk towards the football field. It’s a cloudy day. It’s windy too. I look up to the rows of seats and my heart skips a beat when I see who’s sitting down on one of the seats.

It’s her. The brunette. She had her hair still tied into a messy bun and yet again her hazel eyes were downcast. There was a notebook in her lap and she was writing in it. Her bag was next her, leaning on her shoulder. She looked so aesthetic.

As if she was posing for a photograph.

‘It’s now or never,’ my heart says. I inhale and as I begin to walk to where she was, something stops me.

“There you are!” Hollers a voice from behind me. I turn back and see Zafa. I groan.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask, raising my voice. I might as well be enraged.

“That’s what I was about to ask you,” Zafa says as he gives out a nervous laugh. I ignore him and turn back to where the brunette was.

But of course,

She was gone.

…

“You sure you don’t want to hope in?” Zafa asks. School’s over and I’d told him I was going to walk home.

“Pretty sure I don’t,” I say, raising an eyebrow. He sighs and smiles at me anyway. He puts on his sunglasses and drives away.

“Hey, big brother,” I hear a familiar voice say behind me. I turn back and see Swafa walking towards me. “Where’s Zafa?”

“Oh,” I say. “He left without us. We’re walking home today.”

Swafa looks at me in disbelief and I just flash my most handsome smile. I begin to walk and Swafa catches up with me and we both walk in silence.

“You look glum,” she says abruptly. I turn to her and she turns to me, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. The wind untucks it and covers her piercing blue eyes.

“I’m fine,” I mumble. I look down to my shoes and I can feel her eyes on me. I groan.

“Do you know a really cute freckled-face brunette with hazel eyes?” I ask, sounding pathetically desperate.

“Oh you mean Erna?” Swafa answers. I widen my eyes and look at her. “Who?”

Swafa takes out her phone and soon enough she’s showing me a picture of her and the exact same girl I met at the night of Ivy’s party.

“Y-You know her?” I manage to stutter. Swafa laughs and says, “Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been friends since months ago.”

My eyes are now wide and I’m ruffling my hair with my fingers, the usual thing I do whenever I’m in disbelief. Swafa sees this and asks, “Why, what happened between you and Erna?”

And so I tell her everything, from the night of Ivy Wolf’s party and until today at the football field. “Does she have some kind of story to her?” I ask at the end of my story.

“I don’t know. We haven’t been friends for that long to talk about that kind of stuff,” was Swafa’s reply. I nod anyway despite the fact that I’m distressed by this.

Erna… Who are you?

To be continued in: All the Wrong Steps.