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Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Devil's Dust: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

10 Kabanata

Introduction

She bends over to pick up the mysterious crimson envelope by her doorstep. She struggles to balance the groceries in hand as she reaches out for it. It is not in her mind to put them away first as her eyes are rooted to the envelope, curiosity and wonder the two moods juggling in aura around her. All she wants to know is what is inside, why is it so inviting? Why is it so beckoning? She gets trapped in a zone as soon as she picks it up then deliberately lets her groceries fall to the ground. The box of milk inside bursts, releasing the white liquid, unashamedly wetting the rest of the groceries and the floor, but that is the least of her worries at the moment. Dusting off the little dirt on the envelope, she finally rips it open, taking out a small card inside. She’s left in wonder as the card has more of the dust than the envelope does, prompting her to blow at it. The dust daringly makes its way to her eyes and up her nose, provoking a series of tiny, little sneezes. She blows off

The Devil's Bargain

His index finger traces the edge of the smooth marble counter on the bar as he approaches. I can sense he wants to make a move, but a small smile suffices it seems, and he walks past me, over to the other side of the bar and sits opposite me on the counter. I meet his eyes. I can see the raw desire behind them, calling, demanding. It is like he wants me to want to make the first move. He’s playing a very dangerous game here.I take the last sip of my fourth mojito and order another. My visit to the bar was to ice out all the drama in my life right now. Ever since my single mother passed, my life sort of began to crumble like the chaff of a summer threshing floor. Just earlier today, I was fired from a marketing firm I have been working for, for the last six years, my boyfriend is a shit head who only cares about his reputation and a girl who just got fired isn’t a nice picture to hold onto.Honestly, I am still waiting for his break-up text. I’ve waited for one for over a year, surpri

Wet Dirt

Cool air kisses my neck as my sweat absorbs the latent heat from my body. I moan with satisfaction, feeling my body cool from just a mere touch of an unfathomable wind. Suddenly, my alarm rings, earning a groan from me for interfering with the serenity. I stretch my hand to turn it off when I graze my arm on a hard surface. I jolt up. I don’t remember my sheets being so rough.My butt now sits on a cold concrete, my confused self trying to make sense of my surroundings. What was in that drink I was given at the bar? My vision is still blurry and what I register is a blurred, dim yellow light just above my head. An excruciating pain shoots from my right shoulder as I try to sit up and I wince stridently, scaring a raccoon in the bin across from me.“What time is it?” I whisper to myself in exhaustion as I reach out for my still ringing phone with my painless hand. “It’s four in the morning!” I exclaim in shock, trying to remember why I had set an alarm for such an early morning over my

Devil on my Back

“Do you have a particular grievance with the angel?” my friend, Leah, asks in her deep Scottish lilt when she finds me throwing rocks at an angel statue in the park we agreed to meet at later in the day.I chuckle, throwing yet another rock, chipping of a piece on the edge of one of the wings. “I might have. He’s supposed to have my back.”She sits next to me on the bench overlooking the statue. “Really? When have you ever believed in angels?”“Since never. Though my mum used to be a believer, I guess you could say some of her beliefs got into my head. Something about guardian angels and how they protect you every second of the day.” I snort, shaking my head in disbelief.“Here, let me try,” Leah says, picking up a rock. “If you bloody well existed, my friend here wouldn’t be hurt.” She throws the rock with so much aggression it breaks the angel’s nose.“Uh-oh,” I exclaim then break into laughter.“Hey!” someone shouts from behind us.“Run,” I yell and we both sprint deeper into the p

Parkour

My hand begins to bruise at the wrist. I can tell by how tight one of Dustin’s companions is keeping me from doing what I am clearly considering at the moment. To run! The orange gold of the sun stretches over the horizon, a reflection of dusk indeed, as it is eager to take its seat at the mighty palace awaiting to show off its dark side. I am, since the other night, afraid of the dark and its evils. What did I get myself into?Dustin finishes his call, his calm attitude shifting to ballistic in just a matter of seconds. It stirs up something inside me. Something unapologetic and devouring. I want to think it is fear, but it gives me chills rather than shivers. He grunts in frustration, almost ready to hit the guy he’s talking to next to him. It’s as if he doesn’t know what to do next, stuck between a dilemma and I can tell I am the problem. He turns to face me and a sudden confidence engulfs me. My head is up high, a creepy smirk bouncing on my pale, dry lips as I put on a fake, dari

Port in the Storm

Port in the StormDear Diary,I know I’m probably too old for this, but my best friend is on digital detox and I hate almost everyone at work enough not to engage them in my silly misadventures. I would have probably told my mother by her grave, but somehow writing this down feels right and more real. It feels like I am telling a supernatural spiritual being, perhaps an angel? Who knows? They might be real after all. Michael, yesterday, came by in the middle of the night high on acid and probably even intoxicated. His knock on the door is usually firm and short, like one, two, done! But yesterday, it was unstable and rapid, as if in a cry for refuge over someone intimidating tailing him behind. It took me a moment to decide whether to receive the door or not, because I wasn’t sure who it was. Curiosity won the debate and I consciously opened the door to have an intoxicated grown man fall into my arms.I got so worried and carried him over my feeble arms to the living room. He started

Desires

Open your eyes and lust,At the glory of your wants.It took you time to trust,But I am a man of my word.Don’t get too comfortable, darling,And remember the wise words of mummy dearest.Though it might be too late now.I don’t change water into wine,But I sit and observe as dust changes to mud.Turn me over,And oh, don’t wait till the ink runs red.“Come with me!” Those were the last words I remember after brazenly kissing Mr. Memphis last night. He took my hand after pulling away from the kiss and led me outside the club, but that is the only thing I recall. Funny enough, I wasn’t drunk at all, just high on adrenaline.I take time to wake, wanting to savour the last bits of the most relaxing night I’ve had in days. The sheets feel soft against my sore excuse of a body giving me even more reason not to get out of bed. My shoulder feels tight though and I open my eyes to see it’s re-bandaged. So, I sit up and look around. The wall to my right is just windows from ceiling to floor

Scotch Mate, I don't do Water

Darling, I call on to thee, In respect to your fee. Pressure is off the table, Which makes me unable. You are special, you see, And I have to play my cards right, Though that does not give You the freedom of manoeuvre. Ties that bind, Makes the situation tight. I want you all to myself, But you’ve to respect, I work with dust. Forget the words of mummy dearest, You are in too deep. And my dust has already worked Its way up your core. Don’t try to be smart. You are in debt And I’d hate to see the ink run red. Upon waking up, my brain replays the last few scenes of my dream. Dimmed lights, a dark room and a crimson envelope. As vague as it sounds, it feels familiar. More of a memory than a dream. I sit up after a few moments and begin to analyse them in a lazy way. It is suddenly not clear, like my brain is sucking away any evidence there was of the memory but my gut tells me I have to remember. My eyes now fully open as I stifle a yawn. I stretch over to my bedside

I'm Your Hell

The air around us is intense, suffocating. Despite the efforts of the air conditioner, my body is perspiring so much you’d think I’ve being stranded in the desert. Dustin slams the door shut when he walks out, giving us the privacy we’ve both secretly wanted.Devlin is staring into my eyes wearingly, searching. Waiting. I’m now questioning if I should push through with it. Just the other day I was getting turned on by how chaotic I was going to be and now I am cowering, hiding behind the curtain. Why have I always been afraid to make a decision and just stick to it?My hands are in tiny little fists, legs fidgeting and heart thudding faster than normal. The way he is looking at me doesn’t make it any easier, but it is now or never. It is about time I attacked the king. Taking a deep breath, I move towards the broken glass in my bare feet. He inhales, not sure if to charge forward and stop me or let his curiosity take over and watch the madness I am about to pull off.I don’t stop. At

Vessel of Mercy

“Smitten, aren’t you?” a disembodied but familiar voice asks.Devlin stands up slowly, brushing his wet hand angrily across his mouth. He hunches forward as if preparing for a fight and huffs as the voice bearer walks inside the bathroom. The man has a fresh scar across his nose and a corny, nefarious smile dancing on his pink and supple heart-shaped lips. His posture screams pride, arrogance and conceit, values heaven granted him at his birth.He gives Devlin a knowing look, the kind I saw my mother give me during my teenage years when she was waiting for an answer. Devlin clenches his jaw in exaggeration as a reply, a habit I’ve noticed men nurse when they are angry. Michael does that a lot.Calmly sitting in a tub full of water in my pyjamas, I grant myself a free ticket to the show. Dustin is standing restlessly by the door, guilt hovering in display over his features, an emotion unaccustomed to demons and devils. Our eyes meet for a brief second and I almost feel bad I told on hi

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