Friday, July 31, 2009
I decided to go outside the room to see through the screens the tall dancing bamboos beside the hut below. It was peaceful. I broke the bond and went straight to the grade 3 room. In my mind, it was the grade 5 room. Despite the open doors, the room was extremely dark. It was frightening dark, unrecognizable, unknown if there were beings inside. But I knew it was dirty, the windows edging away the light. I ran outside past the grade 4 to 5 room and stopped at the stairs. There were two directions where you could descend: in my right, I go back to the corridor with the playing field; in my left, I go to the inner part of the school with the kinder to grade 2 classrooms reside and where the front gate beholds. In my front was the filthy river. There were bodies floating through the waves. I felt indifferent and descended on my left.
I was carrying a bag on my back when someone called my name. I looked back, it was an old memory and I moved forward. Passing through the grade 2 to kinder classrooms on my left, lay another restroom. I went inside, the lights were extremely orange. I remember washing my skin while the cockroaches stride everywhere. It was stinking and I went outside facing the kitchen. I advanced to see caged doves on my right; they were stinking. I did not reach the front gate and went back to the stairs to the corridor to the canteen. Before I reached the back gate, lay another restroom. I peeked inside to see a filthier and darker interior. Beside it were used wood, metal and everything grabage. I washed my hands by the faucet beside the disorientation and saw the owner of the canteen. He was eyeing what I was doing. I felt uneasy and phased away through the stage and outside the gates.
It wasn't me, but it was me. A vehicle was waiting for me and I was suddenly with a usual companion. We were wearing heavy jackets, mine a purple one. Inside the vehicle waiting were my mother and my oxyn. He was with a friend oxyn; they were known to be aggressive and filled with passion. He ordered me to get in and I did not want to. I wished to buy porridge and eggs on the food stall first with the ten pesos that I had. He obliged and ushered me in, my usual companion already inside, apprehended my enter.
There was a clear direction to home: on my right was a low descending grass field; on my left was the filthy river. My mother, driving the vehicle, drove backwards and the vehicle fell on the descending grass fields. My usual companion and I, sitting on the back, almost fell on the mud as the door on our part opened. My usual companion dipped her hand on the watery mud and felt disgusted at the coldness of it and decided that we ought to run for the both of us.
My mother the the oxyns agreed to wait for us through the nearer end of the passage of the same direction of different pathways. My usual companion smiled and ran. I followed her with glee. The river was just filthy.
As we ran over the edge, we encountered the setting filled with dried glass and broken alcohol bottles. It was a good thing we were wearing boots and kept on walk-running. As I moved further forward, but still behind my usual companion, the dried grass met the slums. There were a huge amount of cautious Muslims around their houses, doing anything: picking up pieces, washing clothes, walking, eyeing. We were dressed inappropriately as they wear their turbans as signature. A little Indian boy walking past me opposite to my direction smiled and asked if how was I. He was the only meek being in there.
My usual companion was still ahead of me until I reached her hand and moved forward; we were both laughing despite the stern behavior of the setting, enjoying our walk. The slums became more dangerous, the dried grass replaced with filthy cemented flooring. I ascended towards a swaying alley and my usual companion disappeared. A thin boy signaled me to stop. He was so thin his skull was showing. I did not stop and started to walk towards the dusty granite bridge. I could never be followed. I ran.
A little creature who I did not recognize was following me, the thin boy unknowing. the bridge ended as I was now facing a more civilized slum. I was suddenly to meet my father and just walk. I walked through the exhausting labyrinth of this place and met my father near the narrow alley.
Before we reached the narrow alley, there was a small basketball court where there were little humans dancing in sync, the ball lay beside their stance. We entered the narrow alley, darkening. Ahead of my father, he began telling me how he liked his shoes as they get enlarged to my sight. The end was a more civilized slum from the former.
My father stopped to a store and paid a retailer since the little creature would buy some pids. The houses grew so close to each other I couldn't breathe properly. Looking at my back with prudence, we reached a better setting. Normal houses appeared as we walked and walked. The sight of the vehicle did not appear.
Suddenly, on my left appeared a high jungle filled with healthy vines one could go up without breaking them. The houses were afraid of the creatures, cautious all the time. Through another safe narrow road, we faced our left and reached the first gate of our home. My father moved forward to open the second gate and the third gate as I watched. I remembered I used to run on the other side when some creature was following me during the hazy fay and devious night of fireworks and dancing stars.
A monster appeared at the outer side of our first gate from the left, the other side of where we walked. I developed fear, but did not move. I looked at him as he destroyed the gate slowly. I ran as I saw the vehicle before the second gate. I started it without hesitation and drove past and crashed the second and third gate. I stopped in front of our home. It felt as if it was foreign and I was not welcome again. The oxyn were no longer existent. It was a usual day, uncle was visiting. I just knew. The afternoon was aghast.
I got out of the vehicle and hid over the left side before my home where plants and trees of all sorts were abundant. As I peer quietly, I saw another creature. I went to the second floor without actually going through the first floor and went to my sister's room. Its window was facing the vehicle below. By the screen fences lay a cropping field.
It was near night. It was repeating and it was happening the first time, overlapping. I was in fear, no one was after me anymore. I pierced hole through the thin wall below the window. I went through the bizarre roof and fell. The vehicle disappeared where I parked it. As the first gate was destroyed by my crashing, the clear sight of the night frightened me. The moon was so close and the stars were dancing. Another moon was eclipsing. The clouds quasi-covered them. I went out of the dead gate to my left where a narrow detour with luscious maroon plants were settling. I observed the cropping field through the screen fences. The farm was dark; on its right were shabby apartments.
Then I did not mind my existence. It was already morning. I moved to my right near the second gate and saw a dog peeing near the farm. I created a hole and entered. The dog grew enraged. I walked through the shabby apartments cautious enough to stay near beside the bushed with red flowers for covering. The house of the owner of the shabby apartments was expressing its beautiful garden no matter how grim the mid-morning was.
I felt that someone was following me like I used to on the other side. I ran over the main street, beings were cautious with killing intent. I liked it when I reach the old house on the right side, but this time it was distorted and appalling so I went back. Beings on their houses look at me with intentions I don't recognize and I moved back to going further. I ran through the usual zigzag of shabby apartments and went straight through the narrower and shabbier slums of a setting. The dogs were barking.
I observed the houses were dead. I saw a house where clothes were hanging exactly on its door, covering whatever yellow they were about to see. It was disappointing. Progressing, the houses grew bigger, the environment more endearing. I saw our new house with it, new furniture up front. The outer covering was scraped out. I sat through the bulging seating of the new house until I grew tired. Suddenly the place went more beautiful with a nature as the neighborhood along with other beings. I went out to go to a different direction. I saw the outer part of the narrowed streets as the descending road empty. I went down to see another road, vehicles swaying right and left.
I attempted to hitchhike, but decided to just go back as an extremely deadly catastrophe attacked. Waves of water overflowed on the road. I did not see any vehicles anymore and instead they were replaced by enormous logs. The greens suddenly appeared. The beings were riding the logs as they continued on to their usual business. I wanted to ride a log, but realized that I ought to go back to the narrower slums where the houses were dead.
Within the labyrinth, I rode a jeepney towards a parking, ordering me to walk. I managed to find the basketball court where the small men used to play. I entered the narrow alley again and ended up seeing the jungle. I grabbed a vine and went down.
I walked to the left to another narrow alley, faced my left and went home.
I did not repose, but it was morning. I changed my clothes to my highschool uniform. I asked my mother for money and she gave me half of what I wished she would. The gates were fixed and I went out. I was the first person to go out so I was tasked to unlock the gates. I took huge amount of my time. I couldn't put the keys in the lock. After several attempts with anger with me, I managed to unlock the second door, but it started raining.
I walked with youth as I opened my umbrella. The filthy restroom canal of the shabby apartments faces our garden. It was stinking and killing. There was something else, but I could not remember what I induced in my subconscious.
Walking towards the bakery, I saw a frictionless jeepney and went in it. It was already afternoon, but my destination was still my school. It stopped right through an intersection only to let me down. I wanted to hitchhike once again as it reached the night with me expecting some vehicle to let me it. The rain made the streets flood a little and wet. To my left was where the school resides; to my right was an alternative route to my home. I walked right.
As stepped on the wet sidestreet, the vehicle grew slower and slower. The poor streets replaced with greens. I saw the descending road, but right now I was at the bottom. The beings were alive, but were dead. As I reach the top, someone was following me.
I ran through the basketball court and the narrow alley. Then I went down to the high jungle. I entered the gate and locked it. The creature appeared once again.
It repeats itself.
Erika Ruiz
Thursday, July 30, 2009
In the middle of existence, a professor made us do a game and train inside the second floor where I live. You get to be a beater, the barrier, or the bearer. They were getting ready, I planned to be the barrier. I went to my right to the door where the terrace was positioned. I eyed the streets, the plastic windows seem fake. Everything was begrimed; then I saw the clothes laid on the table extremely impure. I picked it one by one, careful not to make my fingers feel the gross, but I embrace it to my arm as I pick them up. They were stale. I saw my red on my black jacket wide spread and that was the last. It was covered by two feces, extremely gross in its sogginess. I did not lay down what I was embracing and just dosed into sleep.
I woke up, entering the house, my clothes new and my body heavy. The room was wasted, there was no furniture; only woods of old age covering the walls and the floor created a compromise. Distant on the sides, chairs were pushed away. Everything was stinking of wood. I saw my professor clapping as the barriers did their footwork. I joined them, but they stopped. I asked if I was doing the right thing, an enormous colleague laughed sweetly. The professor explained the rules of the game again and again; then before everything even commenced, it was game over.
A distant aunt and her husband captured me and an unusual companion. The second floor was not filled with color, terrace nowhere to be seen. The furniture came from innovation, the white walls were complete. They forced us to wear 1600s European clothing, my hair was curled, my make up was frighteningly colorful. They were supposed to be disciplined being too religious, but they were insane.
They threw me out of the door where I saw the terrace did not change. There was still no way out. I was bruised. Her husband, holding a linoleum knife, cut both my little fingers as I cried without tears laying on the floor in despair that I was projecting. He hanged me horizontally to the wall, nailing my limbs and some parts of my body for my angle to remain concrete. He didn't like how my feet were not flat so he cut it. For the first time, I felt something, I felt extreme pain, but I persevered. I certainly did not like what they were doing; I was tormented, but I did not plead for a reprieve or for anything.
He did something to my unusual companion that I did not sense as she ended up laying on the table, unconscious. He was vile. He laughed along with my distant aunt, who was assisting him, as I fell down from hopelessly on the floor. My feet and hands were bleeding and I felt saddened about this defilement. It made me feel like I never wanted to go far away. My mind was undeniably excusing. I developed doubt.
Erika Ruiz
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
As we reached the end, the commotion was about to start. The bridge disappeared, the place now sheltered. I did not see the first and second man anymore. I was clearly wearing something inappropriate for myself and for the phenomenon, showing my skin. So I covered it with a jacket. The lights went out as I sat on the edge of the right, the performers began to sing; the spotlight beaming at them. I heard no sounds, saw no faces. I began to move around to search for a better seating and sat beside a usual companion on the left back. A little boy with bright grace came to us and asked innocent questions. I could not deal with him; my subconscious started to create a scenery of me thinking and doing what I should in order to appease this conversation with the little boy. My usual companion stood and went forward to seat nearer the performers. The little boy followed him, giggling. When she came back, the boy was no longer in sight.
I decided to go back to where I was originally seated. I saw the old couple who took my former seat disappeared and I began my walking and took off my jacket, showing my skin. I sat on the edge, the man beside me smiled, signaling that he was enjoying the performance that I could not even comprehend. There was a deafening absence of presence. I put my jacket on again and changed setting.
A pilgrimage-house-like was the front of the way out. Like the usual train station, I saw the bamboo structured bridge again, in face of the cottages. I moved forward and saw beings doing their own whereabouts: sitting; talking; resting. Craving for a drink, I went inside the cottage where the food was served. Beings self-served themselves, as I brood myself as to where the milk and chocolate was. They all died of the plague, contaminated by the food touched by someone I did not know. The commotion was wild, panicked.
Tabula rasa.
I saw a woman coughing while talking to her phone. She took a bubblegum from the cottage, her hands waving through the food. She was the criminal of the plague. I went inside the cottage where the food was served. Beings self-served themselves, as I brood myself as to where the milk and chocolate was. An old helper with her horse humor pointed it out. I found their product bizarre, but pursued, not feeling thirsty. I filled my cup with water, mixed milk with chocolate. Nobody died. The commotion was passive, suffering.
Erika Ruiz
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I looked over the window to see a very rich garden-laden street that just hit home. I remember the music that I came to like when I gained consciousness and awareness of what is to be and become. There were fences and wonderful greens around. I decided to have a walk, the outside was rather cold and dull, although I could not feel it one bit, my senses incompetent. I took my camera with me and slid it inside a blue plastic along with other things I have that I did not mind at the moment.
As I went outside onto my left, I no longer saw nature, instead, I saw dead slumps. I was alone again. The street went narrower and I descended to the lower level of the way until I saw a beautiful vulnerability of a concept. I saw a tree struggling from the defying air, shaking madly. A cage was tied onto its bark where there were hanged drying clothes inside. The other end, it was tied onto a shabby house. I did not feel the air. The cool blue changed to sepia tone. I took a picture of it. The temperature suddenly changed from being windy to entirely cloudy-foggy that eliminated myself from my own sight. Blankness overtook my stance, my disconnection pulled down further.
I saw a small stray wanderer of a man carrying his bag on his back, striding ahead of me, walking peacefully as if in stern daydreaming. I was not following him, merely his advances were the same as my way to wherever I'm going. He continued to be ahead of me. I ended up walking on the long winding road. It was like a tunnel, almost like an enclosed Great Wall of China; only then it was made of paper, not of bricks. It was extremely foggy and every step that I make, the paper crushes down, creating a hole below, which was too deep I could not even see the bottom. I do not want to fall. The tunnel was cubic in shape, but circular in its direction. I was frightened of the breaking of the pieces of paper whenever I walk, my fear willing. As if I was heavily burdened and the man walked leaving no trace of damage to the tunnel at all, as if flying; an expert. Something about his grace was endearing. He never looked back.
I found myself relieved to have come back to the pub. I believed it was a very dangerous sting of a walk. As I went inside, few people were in and I saw my usual companions whom I did not see during my first visiting. Two of my usual companions started playing virtual chess that moved swiftly as they were eyed. I talked to one of them and laughed seriously aware and telling of how I used to man to progress and survive. I remained indifferent, my emotions unattached. I was saying something I am not aware of nor did I give consent in my mind. I took both their sides as I continued their halted play of chess. By the column before us, another usual companion also joined the discourse, lost in its amusingly sordid form.
I was behind of my unknowing self.
Erika Ruiz
Sunday, July 26, 2009
I woke up to find myself healed from injury, the phenomenon occurred beforehand was unknown, in an underwater hospital. I breathed into the water, feeling the familiar sense of comfort in my lost element. I was comfortable to have been placed in a setting. It was clean, the room was just filled with the bed as I sense with indifference. Sitting, I saw an aquarium by the side before me and beside the white door. Two fishes were swimming in it, fishes of orange with long bodies almost like an eel only with dancing white laces around their entirety. At first, they were blameless, until they were suddenly angry. I saw them looking straight at me, swam out of their territory preparing to attack me.
The pain was unbearable. The impact was not extreme; nonetheless, it sickens me. Their long lacy bodies trying to pry on my wound, but I never breathed faster. I unfolded the wide fabric covering my body towards their charge and grabbed a hold of them. They were profusely bending, trying to get out. I left them in their gradual diffusion.
As the white door opened, the hospital, it seemed, was empty. The ceiling was beyond sight, I created no bubbles of air. There was neither internal logic nor coherence. Outside my chamber, it looked like a mega-structured steampunk in clean slate. The eerie was there, but non-existent. I was all alone.
I ran towards the left, ascending to the stairs. It wasn't long, I proceeded faster and faster until I reached the top. It was the exit. Outside, the lights were frightening and the greens were around the background. It was dull and cold. I breathed air, the underwater nil, then I started to pant in my outrageous escape. I saw a woman as she escorted other beings in panic, running like madmen inside the hospital and everywhere. I did not know what happened. I remembered a dream. I asked her permission if I could leave. She looked at me, but did not answer.
Erika Ruiz
Friday, July 24, 2009
I met a man on my batch and escorted me near an alleyway where I saw my aide parking a bizarre vehicle. The nightlights were overpowering. The man waved goodbye as I sat on the back of the vehicle, my aide driving and telling me to pump the juncture of the vehicle to make it faster.
As my aide drove, I learned that there were methods on how to pump the juncture in order to get the perfect speed. I could not get the perfect speed though. The highway was nearing, we stopped and let some few more men to get in the open vehicle. I did not see their faces, however. They were vague apparition of the unknowing. I continued to sit and pump. I was getting tired until I saw that we were already beside the towering railways of the train, already in the highways. But I was disappointed when I saw that a part of its cemented fence far below was barred and destroyed. The beings walking on the fence continued to walk, as they reach the disconnection created by the explosion, they fell one by one without reaction.
I kept on pumping the juncture.
Erika Ruiz
Monday, July 20, 2009
We were apprehensive... and we won the lottery.
Erika Ruiz
Thursday, July 16, 2009
So I have my means, but I deal with the road with destination.
So it seems; what is weak is the rule and the choice is blocked.
Even the word is desecrating the thought, long nights guaranteed.
It's always disconnection that creates a mistake - it is raw.
Share the happiness with nature starting from clean slate, at least, before I die.
All the way to where breath all started, on my own.
Erika Ruiz
Monday, July 13, 2009
Our relatives watched around the background, laughing in our senseless venture, as they drink some fine wine. We continued to run, stumbled, and proceeded; back to back.
It was hard to move, but we were explicitly wild and laughing, unknowing to the mistakes we were about to make.
Erika Ruiz
Sunday, July 12, 2009
I was painting, people were walking around, crossing the streets and passing by. I was done, sat and rested. I saw all the people that I came to know passing by, as if in trance and routine, not bothered to what I have portrayed.
I threw white paint all over my side wall and started all over again.
Erika Ruiz
Friday, July 10, 2009
He was in my home, sitting on the broken furniture, willingly smiling. He asked to talk to my parents. He did and was enlightened. I did not hear anything as I stayed beside the beings in discourse. I watched as he went out and cried.
Erika Ruiz
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Erika Ruiz
Saturday, July 04, 2009
I knew the room, I had the advantage. It was my room. I ran through the door and opened room 313. As I went inside, I noticed the room was the center of it all. The spiral corridors seen, walls of the room were transparent. I could not sense any other doors as the corridor spirals over the room. A usual room in appearance; there was a television, the door, a couch, a bed, books, and the tool that is ought to be kept. I switched the television on, but looking at the tool. Nobody came; there wasn't anyone at all. I heard an unfamiliar sound, I muted the television, expecting. The dog was growling on the other side of the door, striking it with intent. I added locks to the door. The dog threw two books that passed through the door, aiming at me. I sat on the bed with my gun. The dog's rage disappeared and I saw it running through the spiral corridor, going up. It jumped and passed through the non-existent ceiling. It did not bother the tool, it growled, looking with an intent to kill. I shot it. It bit my hand, it bit me. There was blood.
I woke up on the bed, my blood spilling all over the place. I saw law enforcements around, but a bloody general was dead sitting leaning on his gun, above the shot dog. Nearby, there was a lieutenant lady bleeding profusely, blood gushing out of the ear and eyes open; she was moving, but she showed no sign of soul. I did not witness what happened, I blanked. I did not know who did it or if I did it. The door was hanged open.
I didn't bother knowing if what I was protecting was taken away. I just looked around the room and it ended.
Erika Ruiz
Friday, July 03, 2009
There was a train, a bird, fireworks, hearts, bubbles, and father. The dress and room was a premonition. The twins sang, the hands and the father motioned. There were beads, chicken, and tragedy ignites. There was a boat, a friend, crudeness, dark comedy, stairs, water, and photography.
Erika Ruiz
