Chapter 13: Bridges [Part 1]

'Romulus!' A soft delicate voice called out to him.

Stirring to his senses, he inspected his surroundings. Long extended weeds towered over him and the sky was as blue as the sea. The clouds sailed lazily and the wind blew a gentle breeze cooling the midday heat. With eyes half open, he traced the source of the soothing call to the little hut about twenty metres away. Peculiar fellow he was, never wanting to be under any shelter.

'Lunch is almost ready, will you not come back?'

'I was on my way, actually.'

'Obviously you were.'

'Was just taking a break.'

She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

Back at the mansion, a soft melody bounced from wall to wall. It rang clearly and familiarly like a church bell. The young man played the piano with his eyes shut. His heart clearly beating in time to the music and his body swaying as if possessed by the tune itself. Disapproving eyes, however, pierced his back like knives. A greying gent stared on with a slight frown. Though clearly more talented than his brother, he never took well to the business trips and meetings. A slight yawn, and a simple 'What a bother' said with such a burdened monotony that it often ignited the rage and frustration of the gent. 'I must have let down Ethan', he often thought to himself.

Bursting through the large doors of the mansion, their hurried footsteps announced their timely arrival for lunch. Walking through the halls, Romulus simply couldn't help but appreciate the paintings that adorned the woodern walls that led to the dining room. Passing the big chandelier that lit up the stairwell above the walkway, Romulus paused and stared deeply at a certain painting. It was a rather simple painting of two medieval knights engaging in a fierce fight. Strangely, though they were the only ones locked in the contest, the fields on which they stood were heavily stained with blood. Romulus never understood why. He often wondered aloud, as to who the victor was.

At the dinner table, everyone was getting settled. Napkins folded neatly and placed on their laps, hands already washed and dried and utensils neatly arranged. They sat facing each other at the large oak table capable of hosting up to 20 guests. Just as the food was about to be served, the pianist looked in the direction of the fair lady sitting diagonally across him. His heart must have skipped a beat when her gaze met his! Fingers anxiously tapping on his thighs, and clear attempts at steadying his breathing, it was tough trying to act calm. At last the food came, and he gobbled it down absentmindedly.

'I must be insane.' He thought to himself as he nearly choked on the baked potatoes.

'I think so too.' Another generated thought sailed through the air during their silent meal.

Chapter 12: Echo [Part 3]

At this very instant, reality reigned supreme once again. It had seemed that through this great puppeteer, the almighty human mind had been played into an illusion, or rather, a surreal experience created from within. Eyes opened. Nerves settled. Muscles relaxed. The great master himself set himself at ease and turned to face the crowd that he had enthralled. A million thoughts flashed through his mind but yet his ultimate feeling must have been one of utter joy. The smiles, glowing in the dark chamber hall was simply priceless.

He stood up, and took a nervous bow, with his eyes not meeting the gaze of awe and envy from his peers. Applause all around, of course. Who would have the sheer audacity of denying such a great pianist his rewards of recognition and appreciation? As he took each step away from the grand piano, his eyes searched all around for the familiar face that very much paralleled his. The same deep blue eyes. Thick, rich and curvy golden locks. Suddenly, two outstretched arms caught him. They wrapped tightly around his waist and he felt a soft touch just above his shoulders.

'You did well.' A soft feminine voice whispered tenderly into his ears.

'Thank you.' He turned around and gently pecked her softly on her cheeks. 

A friend. A companion. A wife. All of such was she. But he lacked that final sense of belonging that had been absent within him. His chest heaved as he sighed heavily.

'Its Remus isn't it?'

Chapter 12: Echo [part 2]

The host, especially, was getting extremely agitated and perturbed by the apparent missing piece in this jigsaw of a gathering. Motioning for one of the statues, or rather waiters, he whispered into his ear and demanded, perhaps with a little to much angst where his missing guest is. At that moment, thunderous footsteps echoed throughout the hall. It was if an elephant was running through the very same compound that they had all been gathered together in.

The guests turned their heads and before them beheld a scruffy looking man hiding in a suit. Hair obviously sculpted by the wind, shoes and pants that were decorated with dots of mud, and a rather foul distinct stench of sweat and panic. Heavy panting and a slouched back at the entrance of their company certainly completed the worst first impression ever. Perhaps he was the harbinger of something greater to come? Or was he just the jester of the night.

‘I’m sorry’

A complete standstill ensued as they looked at their man. Then like a small flame being flushed out by a pail of cold water, the tenseness vaporized and the air was once again jocund and light. They laughed at his stiffness instead and patted him on his back as he made his way to the centre of the hall, all this while still trying to make himself presentable and blend comfortably with his peers.

Screech, went the chair as he thrust himself on it. Gently, he opened the lid of the wooden box. It was hollow, save a few keys that all looked the same. He stared blankly at it for a moment, seemingly expecting the keys to unlock a door in his mind.

Then it came.

Like a searing wave of the sea, the box took everyone by storm. A soldier marched out of the box, followed by another and another, until an entire troop was present. They marched pompously around the room with their steps clear and sharp. Drills and routines peppered their performances as they continued their majestic showcase in the awe of the spectators. Suddenly, it came to a halt. At the blink of an eye, it all disappeared. All that was left was a lady in a red Spanish dress. She started to dance feverishly and with a fire that ignited the souls of the audience. With every breath she took, her aims flailed wildly and her leaping and wild, exotic dancing resembled that of a gypsy circling a fire with inconsistent steps that was so determined by her own inner heartbeat that bled uniqueness.

The box surprised again.

Her dancing grew slower and slower, like a sprinters steps after the race, until it reached a standstill. The box consumed her and after a brief moment of silence, it spat out another woman. She was nothing like the elegant and pomp of the first two. Dressed in an elegant black ensemble, she knelt and buried her face. Whimpers were heard. So soft they were, that they strained hard to even hear the emotion of her expressions. They gradually grew louder and her cries became thunderous to the ear of the listener, though she maintained her discreet volume. She wept. Her tears flooded the hall and took out the lights that had previously lit up the room so brightly and gloriously.

 Though such was her gloom, the only light that descended upon the entire room chose to fall upon her. Moonlight radiated on her glowing white skin as her teardrops sizzled as they dropped to the ground. Then, before their eyes her tears became sparks. And the sparks grew to larger and untamable flames. It spread and the hall was on fire, though only she burned. Unforgettable. The twisted and demented face of horror as she finally looked up! Without warning, she charged to the nearest window and flung herself Perhaps hours. out. Eyes shut, and though with lungs burning for oxygen, their ears were in utter anticipation of the crash.  Seconds. Maybe minutes. Perhaps eternity. Time, itself, refused to confine such soul wrenching events to mere human limits. But then it came, and what a surprise it was. Just a simple cushioned drop and she lay dead.

Chapter 12: Echo [Part 1]

Splendor. What majesty. Intricate carvings and patterns adorned the freshly painted walls. What skillful art it was, for no recurring design was any different from the other.  Humongous chandeliers suspended off of the high ceilings and the many other candles already lit up simply added to the novelty and grandeur of the event. The candles gave off the scent of rosewood and the poignant aroma quickly filled the air. It brought time to another summer time of fresh fields and flowers swaying in the wind to a backdrop of a blue sky and burning sun.

‘Hurry, hurry!’

Tables were being set up, and the rattling of glasses rung steadily through the hall as they were being arranged in an orderly fashion. The harried and stressed out looks carried by the waiters far contrasted the serenity and nonchalance worn on the pretty and powdered faces of the attendees. Forming small groups along the corridors, they talked and discussed in unison. Varied pitches and pauses blended in well with their enthusiasm and eagerness to share as their chatter gradually stirred the life out of the lethargic evening sunset.

Unexpectedly, a sudden decrescendo descended upon the liveliness as the steady sound of rolling wheels resulted in a shift in their attention and gaze. Oh, it was nothing, just a mere large chunk of wood being shifted into the large ballroom. It warranted a few shaking of heads and whispers of disapproval at the sudden interruption of the liveliness. Sighs aplenty and handkerchiefs came in handy as they finally completed their work.

Soon, the guests filled the grand hall of magnificence and together with their presence; they carried with them the atmosphere of joy and laughter. However, like all fuels, their fire and energy gradually fizzled out and impatience hung heavily in the room. They were, after all, not the main event.

[!] Milestone + Blog

Hi peeps!

Today marks the day where this site has received its first thousandth view/read after it's birth dating back to last year. The journey toward this milestone has been rather rough at times, with both mind and body completely not functioning in unison. Fatigue and often other commitments have always been my excuses to delay and postpone. I assure all readers, that's going to change soon :)

I really want to thank all the persistent readers who have endured through my long posts, some even on their mobile devices. Your faith and steadfastness is truly amazing and often what spurs me on. Thank you for your support and stay tuned to the latest developments coming up soon :D (Pace quickens immensely as of the next chapter)

On a side note, I've looked into the future and have already started planning the framework for the next saga/story that would replace Arteries and Veins. All I can reveal so far is that it'll be something more fun and appealing. Hopefully I can make it something easy to relate to. Personally, Im glad to announce that the genre would be a concoction of romance and comedy. I hope to have your support for the next project too!

Thank you,
Jethro Lim
 

Chapter 11: Ghosts

It was a chilly autumn afternoon and a fine gent was walking through the vast open country sides still left unmolested by the feverish ideas of machinery and mass productions. Buttoning up his upper vest to shield himself from the strong highland winds, he trudged on through the mud covered tracks. The sky was bright red and the sun was beginning to set, and in his eyes he saw the multitudinous farmers at work in their fields, beginning to cease and return to their homes. The fields, too, gradually left him in his journey and towering bushes and trees flanked him.

He made a sudden left turn and followed down a path too narrow for two. The overlapping crowns of the trees blocked out whatever sunlight that was left and even his shadow was barely visible. He finally reached a gate and before his eyes were flowers. The colors blinded him momentarily but he managed to navigate his way without stepping disrespectfully on the floral decorations that adorned the stones.

Stumbling clumsily, however, he reached a corner of this vast maze to come face to face with a cross with two names engraved on it. He shut his eyes, and pictured them before him. Their 'meeting' was silent and only their eyes spoke volumes. He swallowed hard as their haunting eyes stared deep into his own. 'Rip me apart, and bare my soul' he thought to himself on his knees. He was frustrated at his inability to communicate in ways that he himself knew. The phantasms and images gradually faded away and he opened his eyes. He was alone again. Seemingly consumed by the moment, he broke down and tears flowed from his eyes. His silent sobs echoed deep into the lazy woods and a million thoughts were on his mind. Shadows were cast over him as the dying sun painted the clouds and prepared to go to its own period of rest. Getting up, he shuffled through the maze once more and left.

The arches of the trees impressed upon as an endless vortex, a journey to eternity. He sneered at his own wild imagination and chided himself to be hasty. Reaching into his pockets, he grabbed a fine tobacco roll and placed it between his parched lips. Producing a match box, he struck a match swiftly along the rough exterior of the box. The flame glowed minimally lighting up the dark and rather depressive path back onto the main road. Burn, and the familiar choking yet calming aroma of smoke filled his nostrils. He squints as the exhaust irritates his eyes. Puff after puff, his body filled with weary, step by step, with feet like lead, he finally makes it out back on to the main road.

He pauses for a moment and takes a deep puff. Letting the smoke reach the deepest part of his lungs, he exhales calmly and slowly. He feels a deep sense of serenity and looks back once more at the long narrow corridor that he had just exited. A million thoughts flash through his mind again. But at the last of his smoke-filled breath, he smiles and leaves the ghosts that haunt him behind. Hurrying again back on the main road, he realizes that he is late.

Chapter 10: Expulsion [PART2]

Shock. A rather uncanny timing for a Kelly to appear. 'But who is she?', the troubled twins of the Goodend line wondered. She reminded them of their mother. It was identity and not tidings that they were more interested in. For Ethan, it was an acquaintance from years ago, and he was once again reminded, but yet relieved, that his children would be in good hands in the future.

'My father sends his best wine to you.'

Her hands reach out the basket containing the fine produce and looks up at them. Eyes glowing and gleaming in full glory. Slowly, her lips curl into a smile and urges them once again to accept this gift. She reminded them of Anne. Her silhouette cast a large shadow over them as she walked through the door.

If for that moment, the gents were elated at their harbinger of joy and hope, oh how wrong they were. Everything happened as quickly as it had originally started and over that fateful night.

Unable to find any rest in the days events, Ethan was more than just a bag of nerves downstairs. Schizophrenia, as the physicians had deemed it, had struck. Tailing shadows, blood flowing out of his hands, a policeman banging at the door. The fallen man, had once again been reduced to yet another sinking level. However, this experience, unlike the others, wasn't unreal.

A heavy thump on the door as loud as thunder. A few men screaming downstairs. The twins, 'fast asleep' upstairs were, however, able to distinguish one of them as their father's. Wood cracking and pottery smashing further gave evidence that a scuffle had erupted downstairs again. However, this time the prelude to the descending silence came a little louder with a forte.

It must have been ages, for their muscles ached in tension and their bed sheets were soaking with perspiration. Then, Romulus shot up and whispered.

'Is Daddy with the other man lying in the kitchen?'