Poetry : I Will Protect You

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It was huge anticipation,
The fear real and palpable,
You can’t ease such a tension,
You can’t turn emotions stable.

He let out a heavy sigh,
The mission loomed so near,
He couldn’t picture the outcome,
Her breath he could also hear.

He looked before him at the wall,
She standing on the other side,
She too feared for what was to come,
Feelings she could not hide.

He spoke up to her hiding his fears,
Hoping his words reached her,
“Whatever happens do be scared,”
“I will protect you rest assure,”

She was silent as she listened,
Her hand placed on her heart,
He continued still as best he could,
“We’ll never be apart.”

She choked a little at his words,
To speak but failed, she tried,
“I will be there, watch over you,”
“Even if I died.”

Time came and they made their way,
Stood before the huge device,
They choked and took many deep breaths,
Exchanging glances twice.

“It’s time right now. Are you ready?”
“It’s time for you to go,”
The Guardian said in his voice,
Heavy his words were so.

Without a word she stepped forward,
And he too followed suit,
The both of them then started it,
They removed their clothes and boots.

The purest moment when clothes fell,
Sliding onto the floor,
All that was left was bare skin,
Vulnerable, uncovered, pure.

Both looked away to hide their fears,
Vulnerable and suffocating,
Yet both snuck glances at each other,
The sight was intoxicating.

But she was a person with a mask,
Her face defiant strong,
She stepped right up onto the floor,
As if nothing was wrong.

He followed close right after her,
And stood before her still,
They stood facing each other,
The air brought with it a chill.

She maintained her look,
Strong and calm, being unafraid,
But facades put up began to fail,
True feelings showed instead.

His words mentioned to her before,
Echoed in mind and hit her,
No matter the walls and shields put up,
Truth overcomes the barrier.

He looked straight right into her eyes,
Gently he called out to her,
“It’s okay. It’ll be alright,”
“I’ll protect you, I’m right here.”

She looked at him and it came to her,
A tiny smile appeared,
His eyes pierced right into hers,
Conviction she felt assured.

And then it began, the process started,
The machine was switched on,
They both floated and they held each other,
On a journey to beyond.

It was painful and unbearable,
Body and soul torn apart,
Pain as time start to distort,
Wincing and breathing hard.

Time affects our bodies in ways,
Our bodies grow with it,
Making it go beyond its course,
The body takes a hit.

A painful journey, distortions made,
To fabric time and space,
And suddenly it was all over,
They arrived in state of daze.

She was scared, she was afraid,
She didn’t know what to do,
But then his strong arms reached out to her,
Held her safe and true.

“Hey! Hey! Look right here!”
She looked at him in kind,
“I’m right here! You’re alright!”
“We’ve made it well in time!”

His eyes brought comfort to her soul,
In all the pain and daze,
Her body felt weak, felt so dizzy,
He held her in safe embrace.

His skin on hers made her warm,
She felt secured and safe,
Her fears and emotions, doubts and all,
Faded, in his arms she caved.

It wasn’t long before the cops came,
To bring these two away,
But all was right, all was fine,
So long as he would stay.

“I will take care and protect you,”
“Watch over you I swear,”
“No matter where or how far you are,”
“Just know that I’ll be there.”

I’ll be there for you,
To protect you,
To watch over you,
Make sure no harm comes to you.

Even though she had grew,
To not have emotions true,
His words rang right through,
That in him she trusted too.


Author’s note:

This piece was inspired by a scene from the new movie Terminator Genisys.

There was something very pure, very beautiful about this scene.

You sensed fear and a building connection between two characters as they faced the unknown.

Above all, it was the idea of comforting someone you cared for and would die for that got to me. To speak one’s heart out to that person with a conviction and belief. To be able to make a promise with such conviction that it lowers the wall and allow for trust and faith to enter someone’s heart.

The emotions played by the actors was well done. Emilia Clarke who plays Sarah Connor did a good job with portraying the emotions felt when by Kyle Reese’s played by Jai Courtney spoke those words.

You could connect and hear the whispers of her heart. Inspiring and beautiful visual and performance that gave birth to this imagery and a need to write it out in words.

Short stories and snippets : Love Young and Alive in Days of Old

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It hit him suddenly, like a little mischievous child who had jumped out of the bushes and pressed a soda can fresh from the freezer onto one’s skin.

He pulled his sweater tighter around him with his free hand. A shiver made its way out from within him and washed all over his whole body like a wave. It was a challenge for him to keep warm, but a bigger challenge to keep a steady hold of the object in his hand.

The cold was remorseless. It made no distinction between gender or age. It just attacked everyone; male female, rich poor, young or old.

He walked slowly into the living room, struggling with the burdens age has added on him, until someone came into view. The sight of her put a smile on his wrinkled face and he felt the cold slowly dissipate away. He approached carefully, very aware of mug in hand that had steam rising from it, dancing slowly and seductively in the cold air.

She was sitting on the coach with her back facing him, looking out the window at the falling snow outside. He peeked around the side, like how he always used to do back in the day, and saw her face. It was grumpy, a frown visible amongst all the wrinkles and tell-tale signs of many moons passed.

A sight to behold.

Clearly the old adage “men age like wine” wasn’t that accurate. As compared to him, she was still a pleasure for the eyes, even when time had taken its toll on her. He didn’t complain about the effects of age, wouldn’t have it any other way. She was beautiful to him at every step of each passing year, beautiful in unique ways with each passing number on the calender. It was a pleasent view for the old eyes, a view decorated by hanging ornaments and streams of memories.

Beautiful, like Christmas morning.

She turned to look at him, her grumpy expression still not changing. He smiled at her and slowly placed the cup in her open hands. The grumpiness melted slowly into a smile of comfort and he chuckled a little.

Old habits die hard. He knew she was not moody. It was just her expression whenever she was cold. She always had something against it. Then again everybody did to varying degrees. But they both knew that warmth came from many places, not just a hearth or heater.

She brought the cup to her mouth with both hands and took a sip carefully. It may be cold all around, but one’s tongue had to be careful when dancing with scalding liquid.

Again, another smile on her face. He grinned a little.

“Hope it keeps you warm,” he said.

“I feel warmer already,” she replied in her signature, albeit slightly crackly, cheery little girl voice.

She continued to sip on the milk as he took his place next to her. The both of them stared out the window, looking at the gentle drizzle of white outside.

Gentle silence filled the air, only to be suddenly broken by the sounds of soft stifled coughs. He got up as quickly as his aged body allowed him to, moving towards her as he did. He braced the cup in her hands in an attempt to prevent any of its contents from spilling out.

“Allow me,” he said as he took the cup from her and placed it on a nearby table.

He then reached for a blanket lying nearby and placed it on her shoulders. Her cough didn’t stop, prompting him to rub her shoulders and pat her back gently.

“Bless are you okay oh dear,” he said.

She looked at him and pouted. He just grinned in return. The nuances and hidden emotions of those words were a little secret shared between them. It was their own little language only found in their own little world.

She then let out a sigh and looked away, pouting still. But he could see the tiny smile sneaking in at the corners of her mouth.

He gently bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Years have etched lines on her face, altered her frame. But she was still as adorable as the first day he had met her. She smiled before looking at him, weary mischief in her eyes.

“I’m growing too old,”

She said those words with mock sadness. He got down on one knee before her, leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against hers. He then gave her a kiss on the forehead.

He knew she was joking. Again, it one of those things from their little secret language. It was a cue that she just wanted to be pampered, and he was more than willing to shower her with the soft petals of his honesty.

“No you’re not. You will always be young and beautiful to me. No matter what,” he said.

She smiled, face turning pink. Even with aged skin filled with freckles, spots and wrinkles, the hue still showed on her cheeks. Despite the cold, he knew she was feeling warm inside.

He took her hands in his and they both stared into each other’s eyes. No words said. No words uttered. No words spoken. His hands that were gently rubbing hers did the talking for him instead. It spoke volumes and said the words in his heart, words he had said countless times but never got tired of uttering.

“You’ve always taken care and watched over everyone. So let me take care of you instead. I will always be here for you.”

Silence fell as she looked into his eyes adoringly and with a happy smile. He returned the same expression in kind.

He knew “always” was too strong a word. He knew nothing lasted forever. Time takes away a lot of things from one’s life.

But until that day came, he promised to stay by her side and be there for her. Because he knew, she would do the same for him. For so many years of short human existance, she had walked the same road together with him, hand in hand. From the day they first met and weaved the intricate knots and ties that connected them together until today, till the day when eternal sleep separated them. They would never be alone. Because he knew, they belonged to each other.


Author’s notes:

I was inspired to write this story when I came across the phrase “You will always be young and beautiful to me”.

Along with this phrase, I was also very blessed to know one particular man who is married. He and is wife are an example of a beautiful thing in a worrying world where relationship ties are as thin as paper.

Break ups, divorces, heartache and heartbreak.

There’s too much mess going around these days where people take unadulterated and true ties between two individuals for granted.

I believe it’s a dream for most people to find that right person. And be able to spend the rest / all of their lives together with that meaningful and important someone.

The imagery of two old people, living together in the flow of time, was something very warm and dear to me. To just be able to imagine being in that situation where one is never truly alone. To know that together, a couple can create a whole new different secret world only they know about.

Poetry : As I ponder

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As I ponder,
I think not of what is now,
For the now has no place for me.

As I ponder,
I think not of what was then,
For the past is just a reminder for me.

As I ponder,
I think of what will come to be,
The problem comes from beyond to me.

As I ponder,
I do think but I am not,
One existing in what will come to be.

As I ponder,
I realise the future is not the now,
But I have no choice but to dwell there you see.

As I ponder aloud,
The voice of my mind speaks,
But it is echoed back off a wall to me.

As I scratch my head pondering,
The tears of fear and anxiety well up,
As I ponder of what to do next, help I beg and plea.

As I ponder frantically,
I have come from then to now,
But I am stuck, unmoving, I am not free.

As I ponder till fatigue come,
I close the eye of the mind,
And I slump in the corner to try and rest peacefully.

As I ponder in sadness,
I wonder now of what will be of me,
What will the future hold beyond the door of now I see.

As I ponder enviously,
I think of the luxuries of time and space,
Of breathing room that everyone has but me.

As I ponder hopelessly,
I wonder if I will ever be free,
To be cut loose from the shackles that hold and bind me.

As I ponder wishfully,
I wish there was a way out of this,
I wish there was a place for me to land softly.

As I ponder hopefully,
I hope that beyond these walls that I run into,
There will be, swaying in the wind, beautiful fields of barley.

As I ponder with eyes closed,
Whispering a prayer from the heart,
I pray for a place I can call home once again, safe and happy.

As I open my eyes and ponder on a last thought,
I look beyond to the skies, wishing ever so much,
That my heart, mind and soul can be safe and free from worry.

I can only hope.

I can only close my eyes.

I can ponder no more.

I can only start to dream.

And hopefully when I wake up,
May I have no need to ponder anymore,
For what I wish for is there, the hands to welcome me.

Home again, a place for me.

Weekly Writing Challenge : In the Beginning – “Genesis of Compassion”

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“What manner of nonsense do you speak?! Are you telling me to do what I think you have just told me to do?!”

“Orders are orders. We can’t deny His will,”

“This is the enemy! It shall not be spared!”

“But it is only a child…”

She looked at the creature with a look of disgust. The creature looked back at her with pitch black eyes. But for all that was filthy to her about this little creature, those tiny black eyes seem to only radiate innocence and curiosity. But that didn’t make her withdraw her blade, its tip inches from the creature’s face.

She felt a gentle hand touch her sword hand. She didn’t avert her eyes from her target but she knew whose it was, the very being that was telling her not to go with her plan of taking that life.

“Please…Eshaia…don’t do this. Do not go against His order,”

Eshaia stared at the creature hard, her iron grip on her weapon not loosening. The fire within her burned bright. Her vengeance and will was beckoning her to do what she made to do, what she was created to do. It was so close, so easy. Just a simple thrust and her duty was done.

But she couldn’t go against His will.

The conflict of His will and the calling within her inner being made her fill up with insanity. The contradiction was overwhelming. It took every strand of her own will to stay her hand.

The hand touching her sword hand was now starting to radiate warmth. It was soothing. It was as though gentle streams were rushing up her arm and entering her heart, slowing dousing the flame within. Finally and very reluctantly she loosened her grip, withdrew her weapon and sheathed it.

She didn’t look at him, but she knew Rachumiel was smiling gently. She let out a huff.

“So be it. As it is His will. But know that the moment that creature so much as causes a taint in our holy land, I will not hesitate to drive my blade through it.”

“Awww, how can such a thing do any harm?”

Eshaia groaned. There he goes again, reverting to his true self. All cheery and happy at all things tiny and adorable.

Rachumiel carried the little creature up. With its whole naked body covered in short black fur, pointed ears, tiny fangs, eyes of darkness, a pair of leather wings on its back and a pointed tail swinging around; it was pretty easy to identify that it was a demon child.

The little one stared at Rachumiel with its dark eyes and then started to laugh as he tickled its wings.

“Who’s a cute little thing? Who is? Who is? Oh no! It’s not you is it? It’s not you! It is you! You little cutie!”

Eshaia felt sick. The little demon’s laughter was so disturbing as it sounded just like the laughter of the young of her kind. It was so creepy knowing that that thing was so similar to her kin.

“Do you want to carry it?” Rachumiel asked.

“Do you want to carry my blade between your eyes? Don’t test me!” Eshaia hissed.

Rachumiel huffed but a grin started to form. Eshaia turned and started to walk away, unable to bear the scene before her.

“I have my eyes on it,” she warned.

“But of course Eshaia, but of course,” Rachumiel replied slyly.

Angels knew when to move out of the way of a Seraph that was angry. Her path was made clear for miles. She didn’t bother looking but she knew eyes were on her. The angels who were hiding and watching her could sense her fury, her anger.

Eshaia entered the Meadow of Contemplation and sat next to the Lake of Thought. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes.

She always loved this place. It was calming to her. And she needed that calm, for all the thoughts that were swirling in her head.

Why? Why did He ask her to spare its life? It was a spawn of the enemy.
How could He do that to her? She was a Protector Class Seraph. Her duty was to protect the gates leading to the Kingdom.
He made her with essence of fire burning within. He should know how much pain it was to obey His will and yet go against every calling of her fibre that He had made her to be.

She recalled that moment that had led to this odd turn of events.

Occasionally, minions of the Fallen One tried to attack the Kingdom. That earlier battle was an easy one since it was only a Scout party doing a recon of the outer perimeter of the Kingdom.

But why did those Scouts bring this one demon child with them? What manner of devilish scheme were they up to? Were they thinking of inserting that child into the Kingdom to be a spy? To let it grow in some hidden part of the Kingdom and later become the entry point of infiltration?

Why? Did they think that her kind would be merciful to it if it was an infant? Perish the thought! She was a Protector! She was made to execute the tainted ones with extreme prejudice, be it infant or adult. She did not discriminate between age. An enemy is an enemy.

But why? Why did He want her to spare its life? Why now?

It was so close, so very close to have done her duty. It was not a moment too soon that He had sent Rachumiel to that infant’s rescue. A second too late and that infant would have been sent to the Eternal Vortex.

“Rachumiel…” she muttered, now reminded of him.

Typical Angel of Compassion. Rachumiel was a veteran among the ranks of his kind. A good tradesman of lives, he’s dealt with the Sisters of Fate and Samael himself, often times getting a good bargain. He was a sweet talker, judging by his ravenous taste for cotton cloud candy. And also a very huge sucker for little tiny infant beings.

As her thoughts swam around in her mind, fatigue slowly overtook her. Her world started to grow muffled as the ambient sounds started to fade away. Sleep started to wrap its gentle airy arms around her head.

Sounds…sounds…disappearing…disappear…wait…what is that sound?

That tiny skittering sound in the distant…it started to get louder. And then a muffled laughter…a muffled infant’s laughter…that seemed to grow louder…

And suddenly she felt uneasy…that same unease she always felt…when her senses started to tingle…her inbuilt senses that was given to her in her creation…the senses that told her when there was danger nearby…

Demonic danger…

And then she felt it…on the top of her head.

Her eyes shot open and she saw a tiny leather wing dangling in her sights. And then came a pointed tail swinging around.

“EEEEKKKK!!!!”

She jumped to her feet, causing the little demon to fall and land smack on the ground. It immediately started to cry.

“WHAT IS THAT DOING HERE?! ON MY HEAD?!?!” she screamed.

Rachumiel quickly went to pick up the infant and sooth it, casting healing magic to heal its injuries. The infant wailed in pain but slowly, the wailing started to soften.

Eshaia stared at him with a look of insanity and rage.

“WHAT WAS THAT THING DOING ON MY HEAD?!” she screamed again.

She rubbed her hair furiously as if to get rid of a disgusting insect that had landed on it. She felt dirty and filthy, violated.

Rachumiel on the other hand was oblivious to her plight as he was too busy lulling the infant to sleep. He then looked at her with an annoyed look.

“Geez Eshaia. You’d think that you could have handled that well. I just placed it on your head cause it looked so cute. It just wanted to play that’s all,” he said nonchalantly.

“I will kill you if you do that again! You keep that…that thing away from me!” she warned dangerously.

“Calm down! Chill out! Sheez! It’s just a child! It won’t hurt you! Look at it!”

He turned to show her the sleeping infant and she immediately placed her hand on the handle of her sword.

STAY YOUR BLADE ESHAIA. SIT DOWN.

The voice in their heads caused them to jump. They could only look up, at the glowing ball of light far above.

“My Lord…” Eshaia said quietly.

SIT DOWN.

“Yes My Lord…”

Eshaia complied and did as she was told. Rachumiel continued to look at the ball. The Lord always did have a way of being very persuasive.

RACHUMIEL.

“Yes My Lord?”

YOU ARE NEEDED IN THE DESERT. THERE SEEMS TO BE A FAMINE GOING ON. SAMAEL IS ALREADY SHARPENING HIS TOOL. GO DOWN AND SAVE THE MORTALS WHO HAVE GOOD CREDIT.

“Yes My Lord. And the infant?”

LEAVE IT HERE. ESHAIA WILL TAKE CARE OF IT.

“WHAT?!” she screamed.

Rachumiel placed the little infant on a patch of grass before Eshaia. He then spread his wings and flew off in the direction of where he was supposed to go.

Eshaia stared in horror at the sleeping bundle before her. The infant moved a little but was otherwise in peaceful slumber.

ESHAIA, I WANT YOU TO PICK THE INFANT UP.

“My Lord! Please! I can’t! I cannot!”

PICK IT UP.

Eshaia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Very reluctantly and most gingerly, she crawled to it. She was trembling with every step she made.

The nearer she got, the more every fiber of her being screamed :
“Don’t do it! It’s dangerous! Chew your own arms off before you can touch it!”

But His will was compelling. She could feel His gaze on her, burning a hole at the back of her head. She feared the infant, but feared Him even more.

Finally she was on all fours before the sleeping child. Slowly she reached out her trembling hand. She put a single finger on it and quickly pulled her hand back as though it were gonna wake up and chew her digit off. It remained sound asleep.

COME ON. YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT.

“I can’t My Lord…I’m terrified…”

RACHUMIEL SURE IS A LOT BRAVER THAN YOU.

That made her snap. Oh hell no. He didn’t just say that.

A burst of flame erupted within her. Angrily but still trembling, she reached out and carried the infant. It woke up, causing all her hairs to stand on end.

She lifted it up, keeping it at arm’s length. It yawned and looked at her with its dark eyes, curiosity written all over its face.

SEE? THAT WASN’T SO BAD NOW WAS IT?

Her teeth were so clenched that she swore they were starting to crack even though they were made to last an eternity.

“Oh you have no idea My Lord…” she said between clenched teeth.

HOLD IT CLOSE.

She stared at the ball of light. Was He crazy?!

HOLD IT CLOSE.

She took a deep breath, so deep she could have sucked up all the water from the Lake of Thought. And slowly she put the child close to her in as gentle an embrace as she could, fighting the screaming urge to crush it in a death embrace. The infant looked at her before nuzzling itself against her chest.

She was breathing frantically now, feeling so dirty inside. The infant slowed its movements and soon, it started to breath the sound of slumber.

Something weird started to happen. She looked at the infant and the more she looked, the more her breathing started to slowly ease. She couldn’t understand this feeling that was starting to emanate from this child. It wasn’t malice nor evil. It was a comfortable feeling. She felt…at ease…as she continued looking at it.

SEE?

IT IS JUST AN INNOCENT CHILD. REGARDLESS OF WHERE OR WHAT IT IS, LOOK PAST YOUR PREJUDICES.

“I’m sorry My Lord. I can’t help it. It is a demon child. And I am a Protector Class Seraph. I was made to slay any demon that comes near our Kingdom. You made me that way. The mark is on my backside as proof,” she replied sarcastically.

She could hear His chuckle. That was very rare. The last time she heard Him chuckle was when He was amused at how Amoebas wobbled in water.

NO MATTER WHERE AND WHAT THE ORIGIN, A CHILD IS AN INNOCENT BEING, FREE FROM TAINT. I WILL TEACH YOU SOMETHING NEW TODAY, SOMETHING BEYOND WHAT YOU WERE MADE TO DO.

PUT IT DOWN ON THE GROUND.

She did as she was told.

NOW GENTLY WAKE IT UP.

She complied. The child opened its eyes groggily before looking at her in curiosity.

NOW DANCE.

She looked at up.

“You’re joking right?”

NO. SERIOUSLY. DANCE.

She was silent, riddled with immense internal conflict. She then spoke.

“My Lord. Please do me a favour. This does not leave the Meadow. Nobody must know of this.”

NOBODY WILL.

Eshaia started to wave her arms awkwardly. Arms made to swing weapons to behead demons were not suited for grace and show.

But something happened. The demon child stared at her, and soon after, it started to imitate her. She observed this occurrence. She made a different arm movement, and the child tried to follow suit.

She did more combinations, prompting the little one to follow her. She then did one that was pretty wild. The child followed but it was too much, causing it to topple to its side.

She didn’t know why but she started to giggle. She realised what she did and stopped, her eyes wide open.

“What did I just do?”

YOU GIGGLED.

“I was happy? How is that possible? I thought the only emotions I knew were anger, fury and seriousness,”

WELL SURPRISE YOU DIDN’T I?

“Indeed…I just discovered something new about myself today,”

YES INDEED. TODAY IS A SPECIAL DAY FOR YOU. OBSERVE THE CHILD. NOTICE HOW IT IS MIMICKING YOU. A CHILD IS INNOCENT. INNOCENCE IS A STATE OF BEING A BLANK SLATE.

NO CHILD HAS SIN. IT IS THAT WHICH IT FOLLOWS THAT TEACHES IT SIN. ITS GUIDE, PARENT, TEACHER, MENTOR IS THE ONE THAT WILL PAINT THAT SLATE WITH PICTURES – BE IT BEAUTIFUL OR UGLY.

Eshaia nodded in silence.

NOTICE HOW YOU GIGGLED AT ITS ACTIONS? THAT IS THE BEAUTY OF A CHILD. ITS INNOCENCE REAWAKENED SOMETHING WITHIN YOU.

A CHILD HAS THE POWER TO CHANGE A BEING, TO ALTER ITS REALITY. WHEN A BEING IS NOT WITH A CHILD, ALL IT THINKS ABOUT IS ITSELF. ITS WORLD JUST COMPRISES OF ITS EXISTANCE. BUT WHEN A NEW BORN IS BROUGHT INTO ITS WORLD, ITS WORLD CHANGES.

THE CHILD NOW BECOMES ITS WORLD. ITS ATTENTION IS DIVERTED. THE BEING IS SUDDENLY LIVING IN A WORLD THAT IS BEYOND ITSELF. IT HAS A NEW PURPOSE IN ITS LIFE, A NEW DIRECTION TO CHANNEL ITS ENERGY.

CHILDREN ARE SPECIAL THAT WAY. I MADE THEM THAT WAY. THEY REDEFINE ONE’S EXISTANCE. A CHILD HAS THE ABILITY TO CHANGE A BEING’S LIFE.

She looked at the demon child who was looking back at her again with an eager look. She did a simple hand wave and it followed her once again. She didn’t know why but she suddenly felt compelled to smile. The demon child saw that and smiled in return, its eyes seemed to sparkle. It then started to crawl towards her.

It was strange. Normally she would have had her weapon out in one swift motion, beheading the little one. But this time she didn’t feel that fire in her. Instead, she felt drawn to the little one.

The infant stopped at her feet and lifted its arms. It started to call out to her.

“What does it want My Lord?”

IT WANTS YOU TO CARRY IT.

And she did just that, this time cradling it in her arms. She didn’t know why she naturally held it that way. Something just felt right about it.

“It’s strange My Lord. I feel different somehow. I don’t feel any anger and fury for this little one anymore. Instead…I feel…I feel…close to it,”

There was silence. She looked up at the ball, wondering what He was thinking. She felt a movement on her chest and she looked back down. The demon child had snuggled against her bosom and was slowly falling asleep.

For some reason unknown, an inner voice spoke to her. It guided her actions and thoughts. She automatically held the child closer to her gently, slowly swaying her body from side to side to lull it to sleep.

“It’s now asleep My Lord,”

YES ESHAIA. IT FEELS SAFE IN YOUR ARMS. WELL DONE.

“I don’t know why but I don’t feel hatred for it anymore. I feel…I feel…”

LOVE. IT’S LOVE. AND COMPASSION.

That word sent a wave of realisation down her spine.

But how could it be? She and this child were of two different makes. They were enemies, destined to kill one another. Sure this was an infant, but to feel love for it was strange.

DO NOT BE SURPRISED NOR ALARMED AT WHAT YOU ARE FEELING. IT’S NATURAL. I CREATED FEMALES, WHETHER MORTAL OR DIVINE TO HAVE AN INNATE INSTINCT TO CARE FOR A YOUNG ONE. IT’S CALLED A MOTHERLY INSTINCT.

ALTHOUGH, MORTAL FEMALES ANSWER TO THIS CALL STRONGER THAN DIVINE ONES. A LITTLE CHANGE IN THE DESIGN ON MY PART. FOR SPECIFIC REASONS AS WELL.

Mother…

Eshaia couldn’t truly understand nor relate. She knew what a mother was. But she could never ever connect to the concept of mother and child. It was because she was made from nothing. She was a piece of matter with a consciousness placed into it. The day she awoke from an eternal slumber of nothingness to existance was the day she opened her eyes as Eshaia, a child angel created in the Kingdom.

She was never born persay. Never carried within the womb of another being, or within an egg for a period of time before coming into the world.

She was just…there…
Like a switch. Off. On.
It was bizarre and weird now that she started to think about it.

I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING. WORRY NOT ABOUT HOW YOU CAME TO BE. FOR NOW, THINK ABOUT THIS LIFE IN YOUR ARMS.

“My Lord, You knew it would come to this didn’t You?”

YES.

“Why me? What is Your plan My Lord?”

DO NOT WORRY ABOUT MY PLAN. HAVE FAITH. THERE WILL BE A MISSION FOR YOU SOON.

“What is it My Lord?”

FIRST THINGS FIRST. I WANT YOU TO TAKE CARE OF THIS CHILD.

“But My Lord! I am a Protector Class Seraph. I only know combat and how to slay our enemies! I do not know about love and care and tending to a young one. That is a task suited for one such as Rachumiel.”

YOU WILL DO FINE. YOU HAVE ALREADY AWOKEN THE INNATE MOTHERLY INSTINCT IN YOU. YOU HAVE UNLOCKED YOUR FIRST ACHIEVEMENT!

She looked at Him weirdly. Sometimes He spoke in a manner that was weird…almost human…

BELIEVE IN YOURSELF ESHAIA. AS I HAVE BELIEVED IN YOU.

Eshaia looked at the sleeping child.

And so, her journey began. She spent time tending to the child, caring for it. She realised that though it was a daunting task, the drive within her to see to the needs of the little one was strong.

Of course being a divine warrior, she didn’t possess a gentle hand naturally. Many times did she fumble.

But she had help from the Lord and Rachumiel. They were always there, taking it in turns to assist her with their advice. When Rachumiel was around he shared his knowledge on compassion. And when he was gone on missions the Lord would take over.

It was also during Rachumiel’s absence that she would allow herself to dance to entertain the infant. There was something beautiful about that laughter and smile.

Aside from tending and caring, she also began to teach the child. She began to cultivate angelic virtues in it that was appropriate for its age and state of mind.

Regardless of whether Rachumiel was helping her or not, the Lord was always watching her; provided He wasn’t busy spending His time doing other divine things, like humming to Himself and counting sand from any one of the deserts He created in contemplation, figuring out what He could invent next to amaze His mortal creations.

She realised that everything she did was meant to make the child be safe and happy. And in return there were intimate moments shared between her and the child. When left alone the child would start to cry and would only stop when in her embrace. It was as though the child needed her and only her. She felt that there was a strong calling, a purpose to her creation, like there was a reason for her to continue existing and doing what she did.

She realised that a bond between her and the child had been created. Perhaps…perhaps this was what it was like to be in a mother and child relationship.

As time passed, it slowly dawned on her. She looked up. She knew that He knew she was looking at Him, but He just kept silent. She was almost certain He was smiling at her for the realisation that she was getting.

“I think I’m beginning to understand you a little more My Lord. You and Your relationship to all Your creations…” she said softly.

I’M GLAD YOU ARE BEGINNING TO DO SO.

“Well little one. It’s time for bed,” she said.

She placed the infant in a cot that she had fashioned out of various leaves and furs.

She watched as the little one slept soundly and soon, was lost in her thoughts.

How she had changed over the course of time tending to this one. How she could only think of caring for this one. How she felt so protective over it. How she would do anything to make sure no harm came to it.

How did she, a Seraph, sworn enemy and slayer of demons, could care for a young one of their kind. Strange…

It was strange indeed. And horrifying when she woke up the next day and saw the sight that greeted her. It started out as silent shock, which later transformed to a scream of horror.

Rachumiel arrived as fast as he could in response to hearing Eshaia.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s the child! Something’s happened to it!” she replied frantically.

He went to see the little one held in her arms and got a shock as well. The child’s wings were frayed and wrinkled. They looked like dying leaves that were ready to drop off from the tree. The child though, showed no sign of pain as it looked at them curiously. It laughed at Rachumiel and lifted its arms, a sign that it wanted to be carried.

Rachumiel obliged.

“There there! Who’s a cute little demon? Who’s a cutie little demon? You are!”

As he said those words while carrying the child there were crackling sounds on the infant’s back. Then two snaps as its wings fell to the ground. They landed, started to shrivel and crackle more before crumbling to dust.

There was a very awkward silence as both angels stared at horror at the disintegrating wings. Then Rachumiel was shaking violently as Eshaia was wringing his neck.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ITS WINGS?!” she screamed.

“I DID NOTHING!!!” he replied, choking.

CALM DOWN ESHAIA.

Eshaia stopped at the voice, grabbed the child from Rachumiel and held it close trying to comfort it. But the child just continued to stare at her in confusion, no sign of any pain at all. Rachumiel was gasping for air.

“My Lord. You could have stepped in sooner and stopped her,” he said, colour returning to his face.

MY APOLOGIES. BUT I COULDN’T PASS UP A GOOD SHOW.

“Why thank you My Lord. I can see where the mortals get their sense of humour from,” Rachumiel groaned.

“My Lord! What has happened to this child? Please save it! Cure it!” Eshaia pleaded.

RELAX ESHAIA. EVERYTHING IS FINE. LOOK!

Both Rachumiel and Eshaia now averted their gaze to the child. Sure enough something was happening indeed.

From the stump where its wings used to be, feathers were starting to sprout out. More came out and soon both angels could see that they were attached to a wing bone structure that was now making its way out. When the whole process was done, they saw that where once were devil wings were now new angel wings instead.

Both angels were stumped. The demon child on the other hand, was totally oblivious to what had just happened.

“My Lord! It now has angel wings! But! But how?!” Eshaia asked.

BECAUSE YOU HAVE CONVERTED IT.

REMEMBER WHAT I HAVE MENTIONED? THAT A CHILD IS A BLANK SLATE. IT LEARNS FROM A TEACHER OR MENTOR OR…IN THIS CASE…A PARENT.

WHAT YOU TEACH IT IS WHAT IT WILL GROW UP TO BE. YOU TAUGHT IT VALUES ONLY ANGELS KNEW. AND THUS IT GREW INTO AN ANGEL.

THE FALLEN ONE WAS ONCE AN ANGEL. BUT AS AN ANGEL CAN TURN TO A FALLEN ONE, SO CAN A FALLEN ONE BE TURNED INTO AN ANGEL AGAIN.

 

CHILDREN THOUGH ARE MUCH EASIER TO INFLUENCE THAN AN ADULT. BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO SIN.

INNOCENCE IS A BEAUTIFUL THING. NOT BAD HANDIWORK EH?

“This…this is wonderful My Lord! This means we can convert the Fallen Ones to our side!” Rachumiel exclaimed.

IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING YES RACHUMIEL. BUT ADULT FALLEN ONES ARE VERY HARD TO CONVERT.

THE MIND THAT HAS STEEPED ITSELF FOR FAR TOO LONG IN NEGATIVITY AND EVIL IS HARD TO CHANGE. IT BECOMES BLINDED TO THE GOOD AND TRUTH.

IT’S NOT IMPOSSIBLE. BUT IT WILL BE A VERY TOUGH CHALLENGE WITH YOUR LIFE AT STAKE.

SADLY, OFTEN TIMES THE ONLY WAY TO QUELL THOSE IN THAT STATE IS BY THE SWORD.

Rachumiel slumped, feeling upset.

FRET NOT RACHUMIEL. NEVER GIVE UP. ALWAYS KEEP TRYING. YOUR COMPASSION IS A BEAUTIFUL GIFT I HAVE GIVEN TO YOU. IT CAN CHANGE THE WORLD.

BELIEVE ME, IN A TIME SOON TO COME IN THE LAND OF MORTALS, THERE WILL BE AN AGE WHERE MANY MEN ONLY THINK OF PEACE AND LOVE. THEY ADORN THEMSELVES WITH FLOWERS IN A TIME OF WAR IN THEIR WORLD.

YOU WILL BE NEEDED THEN TO SOW THE SEEDS OF COMPASSION. ALL IN DUE TIME.

BUT FOR NOW…ESHAIA…

“Yes My Lord,”

She turned to look up, child in her arms. The demon child flapped its new wings curiously and started to play with it, laughing.

RACHUMIEL, BRING THE CHILD TO THE NURSERY.

“As you wish My Lord,” he said.

Eshaia passed the child to Rachumiel who took it from her and flew off. Eshaia looked at the vanishing angel in the distance before looking back at the ball in the sky.

ESHAIA. THE TIME HAS COME. I MENTIONED BEFORE THAT I HAD A NEW MISSION FOR YOU.

“Yes My Lord,”

A NEW AGE IS DAWNING UPON THE WORLD OF MORTAL MEN. THEY HAVE GONE ASTRAY AGAIN. APPARENTLY, A HUGE SHOWER TO WASH THEIR SINS DIDN’T WORK TOO WELL ENOUGH. SO I’M GOING TO USE A DIFFERENT APPROACH.

I WILL BE SENDING SOMEONE DOWN INSTEAD. A REPRESENTATIVE OF MINE TO GUIDE THEM. HE WILL ARRIVE IN THEIR MIDST IN THE FORM OF A MORTAL MAN JUST LIKE THEM. THIS WILL ALLOW HIM TO BETTER CONNECT TO THEM AND EASE HIS DUTY TO STEER THEM TOWARDS THE RIGHT PATH.

I HAVE TRAINED YOU FOR THIS MOMENT. I WANT YOU TO WATCH OVER HIM. YOU WILL BE HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL. YOU ARE A PROTECTOR CLASS SERAPH, SO DOING SO WILL NOT BE A PROBLEM.

BUT BECAUSE YOU HAVE DEALT WITH A CHILD IN A MANNER ONLY A MOTHER COULD, YOU WILL ALSO BE ABLE TO DEAL WITH THE PROBLEMS HE WILL FACE WITH COMPASSION. YOU HAVE LEARNT TO KNOW WHEN TO STAY YOUR BLADE AND USE IT INSTEAD OF VIOLENCE.

MOST PROBLEMS OF MORTAL MEN CAN BE SOLVED WITH COMPASSION. WORDS AND LOVE ALONE CAN QUELL ANGER IF USED WISELY. MORE OFTEN THAN NOT IT’S THE AGENTS OF FALLEN ONES WHO LULL THEM TO RESORT TO THE EXTREME OF VIOLENCE.

YOU HAVE STEPPED IN BOTH WORLDS – OF LOVE AND COMPASSION AND OF FORCE AND VIOLENCE. YOU WILL KNOW WHEN TO USE EITHER OF THEM WHEN NECESSARY.

“I understand now My Lord. Thank you for guiding me,”

ALSO. HE WILL HAVE A MORTAL MOTHER TO RAISE HIM. BUT YOU WILL CONTINUE TO GUIDE HIM BEHIND THE SCENES. USE WHATEVER MEANS NECESSARY AT YOUR DISPOSAL.

TEACH HIM WHAT YOU HAVE LEARNT AS WELL AS THE VALUES I HAVE INSTILLED IN YOU WHEN I CREATED YOU.

TEACH HIM TO SERVE MEN, TO SERVE MY WILL.

TEACH HIM TO RESPECT HIS TEACHERS, HIS PARENTS AND THOSE AROUND HIM.

TEACH HIM ABOUT COMPASSION, ABOUT LOVE, ABOUT FORGIVENESS, ABOUT SACRIFICE.

The night was silent. The star shone brightly high in the sky. The three men were on time as they reached their destination.

Far in the distance out of sight stood a hooded figure, shrouded in shadow. She stood watching the scene unfold before her.

HE HAS ARRIVED.

“Yes My Lord. I will watch over him,”


Weekly Writing Challenge : In The Beginning

Weekly Writing Challenge : Worlds Colliding – “The Whirlpool Within”

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Seeing this challenge, I had to agree with the statement by Ben Huberman that we do slip in and out of differing personas without even noticing. I couldn’t really think of nor remember a prominent moment when the switch-a-roo happened.

Instead I can only think of a ‘period’ or ‘timeframe’.
It’s a period that most of us are very familiar with.

The period when my persona changes a lot – when I’m chasing after someone whom I have a crush on / interest in.

I’ve noticed a rather obvious change in my persona during such a period; be it during active conversation to passive contemplation.

Take conversation for example.

Having conversations, be it in person or over text messaging, I change my manner of communicating. Sometimes I try to be funny, to put a smile on that person’s face and brighten her day (nothing beats happiness in someone and knowing you were the person who made their day). Other times I try to be matter-of-fact or serious. And there are times when it’s casual. Depending on the situation, my persona changes.

I had to shift between being an interested person trying to know more about the person I was after; to being highly casual and distant (this will be explained below).

I want to know so much about the person. I ask the important questions at as appropriate times as possible, some of which are rather hard because the anxiety of awaiting the answer kills more than the answer itself.

One very popular question is (in its many forms) :

“Are you seeing someone?” or
“Are you going out with someone?” or
“Are you dating / in a relationship?”

But while the querying is going on, I don’t want to get too carried away for fear of making her uncomfortable by over-bombarding her. This is where I put some distance. I try to make it feel casual. I slowly pace myself, bringing out the relevant questions when the timing is right.

When you’re trying to pursue someone you’re interested in, pacing is kind of the key (well to me anyways). Perhaps I’m not a highly skilled person in this little venture, but this is kind of how my personality works and how I go about it. To me it’s all about timing.

But what a whirlwind of personalities I go through. During a period such as this I transform from my normal contemplative self to a frantic bunny chewing on an electric-charged carrot. Quiet and thoughtful to fidgety and restless (inside of course, I try to keep as calm an exterior as possible).

Then there are those moments when I’m confronted with my mobile device or computer screen.

I await for the sounds of notification that a message has arrived on my device eagerly. So that I can continue to speak to that person, to keep the conversation going, to stay connected.

Once in a while I try not to send a message out, hoping deep down inside, that the person would message me instead, that she would make the first move and send the first “hi” of the day. To see if there’s a connection or at least, a start to one.

And then I come to a time when I get so restless as I stare at a silent mobile device. I start to think and wonder how is that person, what is that person doing. Am I in that person’s mind.

High school stuff I know. But I guess it still hits me even at my age (nearing the 30 mark as of this writing), no matter how jaded I might be with the world around me. When you find someone that revives you, that makes you feel alive again after sleeping in a corner of life covered in cobwebs, you feel reborn. That the world, in all its grey colour, has had some of its colour return.

I guess it’s true when they say that the most exciting part about finding someone is in the chase. You get that rush. But what a powerful crank / switch that person is to your gears. That person can perk you up, or make you feel rather empty. Make you feel anxious, or satisfied for the rest of the day. Make you wonder restlessly throughout the night, or sleep soundly with a smile till the next day. That is the power of someone who means a lot to you / you have a crush on / you start to notice with interest.

That adrenaline rush keeps the motors running. A kind of “purpose in your life” that serves as fuel. The jolt of fresh electrical current into the ol’ engine starter.

It acts as a catalyst for a very manic chemical reaction in the Petri dish that is your personality. It changes your mood across the spectrum; from happy, to restless, to agitated, to distant, to dazed, to anxious, and back to happy again – and it does not follow any particular order either.

Of course, saying all this I must add :
The effects of the chase; there are those who have it, there are those who don’t. Those who do have it experience it differently from person to person at varying degrees.

For me, I definitely have it.

A whirlpool within the waters of my soul.

Weekly Writing Challenge : Worlds Colliding

Weekly Writing Challenge : Student, Teacher – “Tribute of the Edge”

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When I saw this challenge, I had to take this opportunity to pay tribute to a man who has made a change in my life and well, in addition just share a few insights that I’ve learnt from him.

The man I speak of is my FMA (Filipino Martial Arts) instructor.

A little intro about FMA. FMA is a very broad term to describe the art, styles and systems that call Philipines its home and origin. Unlike most martial arts, FMA teaches its practitioners weapons first before advancing to empty hands. Its core concepts and philosophies, no matter which style, focuses and revolves around bladed combat. There are some styles that focus on empty hands like Panantukan, but its still based on bladed combat principals. The craft I’m practicing is a system, or more accurately, a combative system.

To put it briefly, a combative is any type of martial art that goes towards the direction of preparing its practitioner for actual fights and applications. It is used by the military, law enforcement and security officers. It tends to focus on efficient movements and tactics. And with anything to do with efficiency, it’s always a fun journey exploring and finding out why certain things are done the way they are.

Now back to my instructor. A teacher / instructor is someone who guides you. But not anyone can be a teacher. It takes a certain special kind of mind to teach. There’re a lot of core values that someone of this position requires.

Patience, creativity, tolerance, an eye for detail, an eye for inner potential…just to name a few.

And that is what I see in him. He has the attention to detail in regards to the craft he teaches. He has the creativity to make dull moments interesting, tedious lessons fun and painful moments less painful. But above everything else, he has an eye for inner potential and the patience to see it grow and nurture it.

In my life, there have been very very very very few people who have the traits that he has.

Paradoxically, for a combative that has hard hits and violence, he has a mind that’s thoughtful and an opposite to the rough physical nature of the system he teaches. His is a mind that is philosophical, the mind that questions and wonders. And above all, it contains principals that I believe we should abide by. I’m not saying he’s a God or something, that he’s all perfect and infallable. And of course he’s not the the only one who practices principals. But to see him make an effort to uphold and maintain principals is something that I’m seeing very rare of in most people this day and age.

He has taught me a way of life. To adhere to principals and uphold a code of honour, integrity and honesty. He has taught me loyalty and perseverence. I may have an innate perseverence in me, but he was the one who had the patience to allow it to pull me through and nurture the skills that I have with me today.

And there is no better honour than gaining his trust and letting him know that you as a student care for his interests.

There have been students who come and go. Some are just passers by, curious about the system. Some come in and leave within the span of less than 2 – 3 months. And it’s quite nasty doing that because one has wasted my instructor’s time and effort to bestow and share the knowledge. I think the one way we can do him justice is to stick around, take in his teachings and see it through till there’s a certain benchmark accomplishment.

In addition to that, there’s another thing about him that sets him above so many others.

He has no problem acknowledging things. If you have progressed as a student, he will acknowledge it and tell you so. He has no problem acknowledging your strengths, achievements and weaknesses (and he will mend that weakness and bring you up).

And above all that, he has my respect because he acknowledges and admits when he himself has made a mistake or does not know something. He has no reservations of admitting from which instructor he has learnt a drill or technique that he is bestowing upon us. And he doesn’t mix around. If he says he will teach something, he will teach only that and not mix it around with any other knowledge that he has.

That is very important especially for a martial art, because every art / system / style has its own essence, flow and unique footwork. The presence and addition of a foreign concept from another school of thought will cause a clash. Yes you can mix things up, but one must first have a strong foundation in one’s art to have the understanding to intergrate in any new concept.

I’m the kind of person that has very limited trust towards others. I mean, I can be friendly. But to truly trust someone that I’ll give my time and all to that person, that person needs to be in my circle of trust.

But for a man such as my instructor, there is no question. My loyalty lies on a person, man or woman, with principals that they adhere to and practice.

And now that my tribute is done, a little sharing session about what I’ve learnt.

A few basics, pretty common sense and pretty much practiced by other combatives as well.

1
Always assume that you will attacked by multiple opponents.

2
Keep the altercations short and quick – this is where tactics and proper skills come. Why short? As stated in number 1, always assume you will be attacked by multiple opponents. If you spend too much time on one opponent, you’re opening yourself to attack from others. Also, you’re a human with a limited amount of stamina. Sure you may run rounds in the track all day. But when you’re under life and death situations, the adrenaline pumping in your system saps your stamina pretty quick.

3
Do not fear the blade, but respect the blade. A blade isn’t a toy. There must exist a certain level of respect towards it. Do not underestimate the damage a cut can do. In the hands of laymen, the blade swinging around is dangerous. In the hands of a skilled fighter, it is deadly.

4
Footwork is key. Hand techniques are important, but footwork plays a bigger important role. Displacement of the self is important in a bladed confrontation. Blocks do not work because the blade has many angles of attack and it can circumvent the obstacle a static block provides. Mobility is key. The blade or attack can’t hurt you if it isn’t able to reach you.

5
Cliche as it sounds, basics are important. As my instructor said, “There is no advance. Advance is just the combination of basics.”
A building without a strong foundation collapses easily.

6
Do not fight unless necessary. Another cliche but it has its grounds. Training with blades and blade-concepts have taught me that it is very easy to get killed with the presence of a weapon.

7
Practice practice practice. No matter how long you’ve trained, just like blades, you can get rusty and dull. Always sharpen your skills and keep fit.

I have to also give a thank you and respect to my seniors. They have guided me as well and have been teachers to me in their own right. But the emphasis of this post lies on my instructor because he is the progenator of the skill that I now possess within me.

As the Buddhist saying goes, “Respect your teacher and guru first before even Buddha because without them there wouldn’t even be any knowledge of Buddha in you”.

Weekly Writing Challenge : Student, Teacher

Poetry : Lightshow

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When God said “Let there be light!”,
He truly did gave us quite a sight.

Best seen when all is dark at night,
The show a splendour display so bright.

Like frantic dancing worms in the sky,
Wriggling fast among the clouds so high.

Capture a moment, pause and hold,
And see a glowing thread to behold.

With every flash of light above,
Follows with it a loud roar’s birth.

Many little children scurry and hide,
Afraid of the light and sound outside.

Often it seems the skies get hurt,
For tears tend to drop after down to earth.

But me, an older lad, am not afraid,
I see beauty behind the force instead.

As vibrant plume is to a lovely bird.
Lightning’s own majesty, be seen and heard.


 

Author’s note :

Inspired when I saw lightning dancing in the sky amongst dark rain clouds. Quite interesting view when you’re stuck in a traffic jam. Akin to fairies chasing each other.