fragments, scatter # 2 : death isn't enough to separate us

The wheel of fate is turning.

A few droplet of tears met a piece of paper that spells the name Klanfal Oademe. The liquid ate its way throughout the paper within Rag's hand like condensed hydrochloric acid. But it didn't do any harm to the wretched fingers that belonged to the Grim. Several seconds ago, the very same Klanfal Oademe that the paper meant was waiting on his motorcycle for the traffic light in front of his office to turn green. An efficient employee himself, he was always punctual. Sadly, the truck driver from the left junction didnt share his punctuality. Trying to keep his job, the trucker made a high speed corner to save himself some two minutes because he was already five minutes late. However, his vehicle went out of ccntrol. The container dislocated and rammed through poor Klanfal Oademe's head. His helmet wasn't enough to save his fragile life even for a few seconds after impact. When the Grim decided to kill Klanfal Oademe The Grim never knew who he was, how did he look like, how old was he when he perished, or how he perished. Like every other Grim, Rag just randomly chose this name, or any name, not according to how many sins or deeds he/she did, nor showing any signs of remorse or compassion. The wretched fingers would then fill its emptiness with another paper with another name;this time, a Saedem Aerok, forgetting the murder of Klanfal Oademe he committed just a few five seconds ago. Those same emotionless tears. It vanished the same way. As a result, a 46 year-old man surrendered his life to cancer. Modeas Aerok and Mrs Saedom Aerok who were in his dying bed wept after the doctor pronounced his death. Like a doctor, a Grim's job is to pronounce death. Unlike a doctor, a Grim never document the cause of death. A Grim may be an reincarnation of a previous deity, a human, an animal, a plant, another Grim, or nothing at all. Whichever he was, he has no recollection of his previous life nor any prophecy regarding his futuring life. He wouldn't just spare a Thereza-something because of the possiblity of another Mona Thereza. He wouldn't just save a Adulf-something because of the possiblity of another Adulf Hitta. Afterwards, a Thereza Polos was being erased. An angry client just clubbed a prostitute to death. Next a Edawe Ol Desfo. A beggar died of hunger. Next a Adeis Aloaped. Drowning suicide. Then a Poon Soow Sea. Electric chair, death sentence. And no, Rag never bothered to know how even though someone around them knew, be it punished, suicide, accident, or anything. Like a diligent operator, he worked like a machine, never hindered by the absolute monotony of wetting papers.

Then a Xyren Leverouqe. Rag gave this name a few seconds before deciding to cry on it. It was as if it was calling out for something. A distant memory perhaps? For the very first time, he felt curious although he wasn't supposed to. He was then quickly reminded by the 'punishment' if he lost his focus but an obscure sensation in himself made him wonder for a few more seconds again. He dismissed the interference but the interference relented, saving that paper for a few more seconds, and then it was gone. Before he realised it himself, the same few disintergrating tears escaped his eyes like captives from a prison. He never noticed whether the tears reached the paper but the previous mysterious urge resurfaced causing him to let go of that piece of paper. He wasn't sure if his tears came in contact with the paper. That little sheet danced its way back into the wheel of fate. He didn't cared to track it back though. Subsequently, the wretched fingers reached out to grab a Whart Dogdot, resuming his constant routine of eternity.

Little did the careless Rag knew that only one drop of the tears touched that piece of paper with Xyren Leverouqe's name on it. It vapourized a portion of it but it wasnt not enough to make the words unrecognizable. The semi-damaged and semi-viscous piece of paper then landed on another piece with the name of Blink Cryxalis. And merged with it. And disappeared into the billion pieces of papers with many other names on them that spiralled ceaselessly to look like the galaxy's most expensive confetti.

The wheel of fate kept turning.

***

A fucking dick. It felt alien but mine as I actually felt it being touched. This had to be a dream. Weirder than the one where I had hair that spanned to the length of my knees. Or the one everyone around me looked like me. Or the one I accidentally entered a beauty pageant for travesties. Oh wait I felt like one now. But it was never so.. surreal. I should be waking up anytime now right? I should be waking up. Wake up. Or maybe, the dream wasn't strange enough to signal goosebumps to my whole body that was gonna make me jump off the bed? Right? Right? Right?

What the fuck. For around ten seconds, i was too dumbfounded to move my hand away from my private part. Monero eyed me in disgust, probably infuriated by my indecent queer-like position. Knowing homophobic him, he must had thought I insulted his pride. His state of confusion hadn't left him though, and he was curious enough to talk to, erm, whom he assumed was Blinkie.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

He was loud but wasn't as loud as he was when he was searching for us. It took a few seconds to register in my mind that I should at least reply him to stop ourselves from staring at each other awkwardly. And I could test out my voice too.

"Enjoying my manhood."

I paid attention to myself as i said it. I actually sound like the-man-who-was-gonna marry-my-corpse, but the feeling of myself producing someone else's (although a boyfriend's) voice is extremely freaky. In hopes of provoking the stupid ex further, I grinned and imagined how retarded I/Blinkie would look because I never had cam-whored-with-grinning-poses with a different face before.

With the left arm shielding his waist and the right one clenched to form a fist, he charged wobbily towards me. His movement was much slower than before that I even had time to notice that Hind was still rolling on the floor and Whart was already shot dead probably during the random fires while struggling with Hind.

"Take this!"

That trademark one-shot punch again. Did he thought that I evaded the previous one out of pure luck? Underestimating people had been his negative trait. Inability to learn too. That hand on the wound had gave away more openings on the other parts of his body. Sorry Honey.

I barely dodged the attack and swiftly jabbed on his Adam's apple, nose, and then his stomach. It did hurt my cracked knuckle a little, but watching the big guy tumble to the floor was worth the pain. His fall was accompanied by profanities and gibberish that made me felt sorry for myself for not being able to hit him hard enough to silence him. But hey, I wasnt using my body. What the fuck. So I've beaten the last boss of this virtual game called dream. Do I get to wake up now?

Maybe Blinkie possessed my body in return and was hiding somewhere molesting it. He could've just asked right? That shy boy. But he's so unbelievably cute sometimes. Heeee. I looked around. There were men who were moaning and groaning like they lost their manhood (one did) and men who died happy cause they were satisfyingly silent for catching a glimpse at a dazzling-magnificent-elegant(not forgetting cute)-gorgeous lady's cleavage before breathing their last breath. I didn't see any prima-donna-super-model-beauty-queen that tried to act like a hero, nor any soul that might give me the slightest hint that it was Blinkie's.

Blink blink.

I just murdered a few people. Did Blinkie end up in one of their bodies or mine and then died? Not that I never killed before, but this was kind of.. scary. Guilt surged into me unconsciously, it had being ages since I had actually felt guilty.

Blink blink blink.

Simple logic, nothing was gonna change no matter how many times I blinked. No corpse was gonna spring back to life and tell me he was Blinkie and then we could start a gay relationship. But a little part of me thought that that would be very romantic. Subsequently that little part of me got me to examine the fallen men to ensure if my perception of romanticism was wrong. Something semi transparent that resembled dark clouds seemed to be coming out from all of the bodies that I had obliterated. Okay. They were gonna turn into horrifying ghosts and scare the living hell out of me and I could wake up and cry to my boyfriend about the weirdest (and coolest) nightmare.

Blink blink blink blink.

Similiar unknown entities hovered around Monero, as if they were helping him to regain his stance. The clouds from the dead formed shapes that looked like themselves. I could recognize the-pivot-head, the-castrated-man, the-useless-jerk, the-failed-gunman and the-professional-batter standing transparently on their own body. Hind was still spinning around, very much alive, screaming his lungs out to 'something's kneeling in front of him, licking (or eating) his wounded leg like vultures feasting on a carcass. The 'something's looked like perverted uncles who died to fatal car accidents or brutal samurai slashes or anti-alien laser beams because none of them had complete human body parts. They would push each other like aunties on a hard sale boutique store for food but none of them seemed to extract any mass from the leg.

What the fuck?

Blink blink blink blink BLINK.

I did NOT wake up. The five vengeful spirits were still admiring how good I look. Stupid ex was almost managing to complete his impossible feat of standing up. Vulture food was still screaming like a vampire bathing in sunlight. My guilty conscience multiplied. Fear manifested. So I ran. Down the stairs. Out from St. Jermane. Out from Rakelash Cliffs. Anywhere but there. Anywhere without them.

*****

My knee joints were in stinging pain, as if they were gonna dislocate from my thighs. I had being sprinting for five minutes. Lactic acid was threatening my legs to give it a stop. Oh great, now I'm stuck in the typical-running-from-ghost nightmare, and this was about time my legs would fail me and the ghosts would come so close to me and they would slash or hack or rape or bite or pinch or suffocate or flog me till I wake up. So I braved myself to turn around (as well as cursing Blinkie's untrained legs) to watch how creative my dream would annihilate me out of the dream-world. Odd enough, they were behind me and the distance between them and me was still the same, even when i stopped running. Regrettably, they looked ugly and so I closed my eyes and imagined Blinkie's face so that I could die with a good looking smile (in a dream).

Xyreennnnn!!!!

Wow. My imagination rocks. Hold on to meee!!!! Huh? I could imagine his voice as if I really heard him. I remembered that I was lying down with my hands clinging on to the love of my life, and then i was... unconscious? Was I sleepwalking? On such a time? Did I run like a coward?

What the fuck? Where are you? And why was I guilty anyway, I was saving my boyfriend's ass. I opened my eyes anyway, hoping to see Blinkie in my body which was somewhere around and then it occured to me that the external voice sounded just like him. He should sound like me with my body, right? Wait, was it even, external? It sounded like it was coming from within me. Inside. Nevertheless it boosted my courage to deal with those freaks although I might not have any idea how to do so.

What do you mean? Where are you? Was I hearing her talking to herself that she heard what was i saying in my mind? Why couldn't I see her around? Why am I gasping for breath?

I was hearing him, or should I use 'you' too. Let's see.. if I have still had control over this body.

"Where are you?"

I felt my mouth move but my brains or my reflex never issued any command to speak. Was I being mind controlled? I was pretty sure that I heard Xyren's voice just now, but it didn't seem to be coming from any direction. Did I miss her so much that I started to hallucinate her voice in my head? Or did she poss-#

That made perfect sense now. I just poss-#

#POSSESSED#

me?/him. I was unexplainably happy to hear that uninteresting voice though. As fast as the guilt vanished, the apparitions seemed to be dragged away, to the direction of the lighthouse. Haha. What a sweet dream. Now I could hear the exact thoughts of my man.

Grrr. What you mean by uninteresting? And there were ghosts chasing you? As weird as it seemed, this didn't felt like a dream at all.

Oh no.

Death isn't enough to separate us. You/I said that.

Oh no.

Watch what you said! You/I replied.

Our minds went blank for awhile, trying to dissolve what that had happened to me/us. A few seconds proceeded, I could hear this might be the best or worst dream of my life, what if this isn't a dream?, and what happened to the five stupids?; while I could hear did i just pulled her soul into my body?, Where is her body? What happened to her ex and the gang?

Then we saw silhouttes, scattered around in random spots, some stationary while some mobile, staring at us with the most curious eyes. (of course we can't really see their eyes as they are silhouttes. We judged by the way their faces turn towards me/us.)

You gave me the ability to see ghosts, didn't you?

What the fuck. I didn't know. I still thought this was a dream.

Well, good job for dreaming me into a cemetery.