Saturday 16 February 2013

Obsession, Part Two


Tuesday, May 10, 1978

Maxwell was an artist! Today I found an old comic that he drew by himself. How I knew this, I’m not sure. There was no name or anything proclaiming that he drew it, but I just had a feeling that he was the man behind it all. It was a fine piece of art, and I stopped my research and began reading it.

I’m sure that if Maxwell survived, he would have gone on to become a great artist.

--

What are the odds that Maxwell’s comic was still there? I mean, it survived all these years of abandonment and the changing of tenants! Intrigued, I started reading it too.

It tells the story of a young boy who moved into a new home with his family, and started becoming obsessed with a family heirloom until it consumed him.

‘My name is Michael. My life was never meant to be a story. Until I read the atlas. That darn atlas. At first, I thought it was a gift. Now I really see that it is a curse. A curse that I hope ends with me.’

--

Thursday, May 31, 1978

Is it odd that I somehow feel that the comic is now mine? I feel like I am its owner now. It’s quite unbelievable, but that’s how I feel. Maxwell is an amazing artist. I feel everything that Michael feels. I see everything that Michael sees. I know everything. It’s as if I was being sucked into the comic itself. It really is spectacular.

--

I was on my way home that day when I felt like getting a cup of coffee. Stopping at a local diner, I ordered my favourite cup of cappuccino to bring home, but not before telling the waitress to take care not to spill the next order, which of course she did. How I knew this, I do not know. But it feels awesome! When I got home, I started reading Jack’s journal to see if this ever happened to him.

--

Thursday, June 7, 1978

This is exhilarating. I have never felt so amazing in my life. It was just like what Maxwell said. First, I started seeing things. I saw how time passes by. I saw patterns in human behaviour. I see everything. Today, I told Colin to go to his locker to get his spare clothes so that he would not get wet. Nobody believed me until a car passed by and the puddle of water nearby splashed into Colin as a result a few hours later.

Michael must have felt this way too. I don’t know how to explain it, but it is exciting- it’s as if I inherited Michael’s psychic powers somehow. Suddenly, everything has become clearer, sharper. As time passed by, I began to expect and predict events. I could tell when Dad would be back from his work, I could tell when Mum would announce that supper’s ready. I could tell when a car would pass by the road outside the estate. I feel truly invincible.

--

I went for a boxing class today, and it was amazingly fun. I knew exactly where my opponent was going to attack and could defend myself against her. After my lesson, the instructor told me that I’m a natural at this.

Life in this small town really is turning out well. I think I might find a way to document this experience. Maybe I should record videos everyday? There’s no point in uploading them online, but it would be nice to have a collection of my memories somewhere.

On my way home, I was too absorbed in my thoughts to warn the girl to not let her cellphone ruin her life. I should have paid more attention; I could’ve prevented the car from ramming into her.

--

Friday, October 13, 1978

Something is not right. My head is getting flooded with things and patterns. It feels like it’s exploding. In the past few months I’ve witnessed too many accidents and events that I could have prevented that I fear I am slowly losing my mind. I’m starting to lose my focus in smaller things- I can barely pay any attention in school, I can barely eat. All I can think about is everything that’s going on in my head.

I found some journals that belonged to Stanley Beck, Maxwell’s father. According to it, Maxwell had started getting disoriented and started hallucinating. His lack of awareness and ability to care for himself wasted him and caused him to contract a weird disease. Apparently, he had then infected the entire family one night.

What this means, I do not know. All I know is that if this doesn’t stop, I’ll have to put an end to it myself. I already know where I can find the quarry. That would be a fitting place.

--

‘Oh shit’, was all I could say as I shut Jack’s journal. 



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And that's the conclusion! With this story I was really pushing myself trying to write this exactly as I had imagined it- trouble is I had envisioned certain parts of the story only and so had to fill in the blanks and so this really pushed my creativity and writing skills. Hope you enjoyed it! 

Saturday 9 February 2013

Obsession, Part One


Hey everyone! This week I decided to write a story without using prompts. Midway through writing it however I realised that it was too long for our standard entries so I shall be splitting this story into two parts. This is the first part- hope you enjoy. Please read & review!

---

I never imagined that my life would change so abruptly. I thought my life was going nowhere- I was stuck in a place where I was constantly shunned, where I had no friends, and no company at all. I kept being told that things would get better, but nothing seemed to be changing- I really thought that that was it. I was going to be stuck in a depressing life.

But that all changed when my parents surprisingly bought a new home in the countryside and forced us to uproot our entire life to settle into a new place. It was easy for me of course, but I could tell that it was stressful for Mum and Dad. It definitely wasn’t easy for them having to change jobs and everything, but I was grateful that they were still willing to do this for me.

It was a huge estate that Dad had bought with his hard earned money. It was a small town where everybody knew everyone, so I was quite nervous about not fitting in- but that all went away when I met my friends. Plus, there was all this greenery and space for me to roam around during the day, so I could also occupy my time exploring my wonderful new home.

I had a great time, and my life could not have been better. Every day there was a new place to explore. One day, I decided to silence my fears and went into the basement which had always creeped me out. It must have been from the stories I’ve read and movies I’ve watched, but I was not going to let this irrational fear take over me.

I’ve never understood the purpose of basements. If you had such a huge estate you could easily build a shed to store your belongings. But upon entering this basement, I started to see why. This wasn’t just a basement to store tools; it was where the previous tenants had kept their precious belongings.

How long have this been here? I wondered as I leafed through all their belongings. All I knew about them was what Dad had told me- that a family used to live here, until their son died in an accident and they decided to leave town and move elsewhere. The house was abandoned for many years, until now. Beyond that, I knew nothing.

My attention was brought back to my surroundings when I spotted a diary. Blowing the dust off the cover I saw that it belonged to a Jack Coleman. I flipped to the first page. After a few pages I gasped. This was the boy who died!

Saturday, January 15, 1978

I can’t believe Papa and Mama moved us here. I hate that Papa got the job offer. Why does he need to bring all of us here anyway? I have no friends here, and everyone seems to already know each other in school. Just today I thought I had a friend in Colin, but he was clearly not interested. What else can I do? Just spend my time here I guess. Every day I run around this estate, exploring every nook and cranny. But one very interesting idea came to me today. I want to research and understand the previous family who lived here, and why they left. After all, what else is there for me to do?

‘Honey, time for supper!’ my Mum yelled, which brought me back to reality.

--

That night, I spent the entire night reading Jack’s diary.

Monday, April 5, 1978

I found it! I have been at the library almost daily trying to find records of who used to live in our estate. I now know that it is called the Beck Estate, after the Beck family. The entire family died here, but I could not find any information on that. Tomorrow, I will search for more. But I wonder what would cause an entire family’s death. I hope it isn’t a murder, that would be awfully bone chilling and I would have some sleepless nights for sure.

I can now proudly tell others that Stanley Beck used to be the owner of this house, with his wife Maria, and his kids Nicholas, Isabella and Maxwell. Not much is written about the family; it appears that they were quite reclusive. All I know so far is that Mr Beck was in the farming business, and that this huge estate used to be a corn farm. 

From old school records, I have also gathered that Maxwell was quite the scholar. He may be the youngest, but he is definitely the brightest. He’s won everything from the local math competition to the spelling bee contest. I think I would have gotten along with him well.

My next research target would be the basement. I have always feared the basement a little, but I think it is now time to finally venture there. It says that the family kept their most prized possessions there, and I overheard Father saying that he might want to clear it out soon.

I wonder where this obsession with the Becks would lead.

--

I could not believe myself. I had stumbled upon something historical and monumental! This is amazing. I found that I could not stop reading Jack’s journal. The more I read, the more I understood. Maxwell had died of some disease that was common back then, but he had also infected the whole family. It was quite a sad tale- an entire family perishing just like that.

The more I read, the more absorbed I became. What happened to Jack and his family? Did he die of some disease too? I wonder where this obsession with the Colemans would lead…

--

(to be continued)

Friday 1 February 2013

My Cassie


The alarm clock rings.

I'm already lying awake in my bed. My husband is deaf to it, as he has always been for the past 10 years. I turn the alarm clock off without even looking at it and the morning is still again. I push my feet off the bed and allow them to be greeted by my warm, fluffy slippers before I make my way to another room.

I rub my eyes. I was up all night, tired but unable to sleep. I walk through the corridor, quietly turned a familiar brass-plated door knob and pushed the door, praying that it doesn't creak.

And there it is, the most beautiful thing in my life.

Cassie is still sleeping like a rock, peacefully tucked in thick blankets with elephant prints. The story book that my husband reads to her every night is at the foot of the bed and I look for signs of late night Fruitloop treats that I specifically prohibit my husband from giving her but he gives her anyway. He spoils her, I tell you. And sometimes they turn off the lights in her room to make me believe that she's already sleeping but my baby can't laugh softly, only capable of exploding with ecstatic fits of laughter, just like me, and I hear my husband 'Shhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!'-ing her like he always does with me. Goodness knows how often I hear them giggling and agreeing not to tell me about their little snack. Sometimes I burst in the room and catch them red handed. Sometimes I just let it go. Most of the time, I join them and tell them while laughing "THIS IS THE LAST TIME, YOU HEAR?!"

I take a few silent steps forward and sit at the edge of her bed, careful to be silent, just admiring every detail of her. Her mouth that looks like her dad's is slightly opened. I look at her little nose and sepet eyes that she got from me with wonder once again. Her hair is soft and messy and her skin fair. I count the number of times I see her tiny chest rise up and down, reluctant to wake her up.

I sigh. Life passes us by too quickly. It seemed like it was just yesterday I married my high school sweetheart, got pregnant and reassured my clueless, sobbing hubby that just because Cassie vomitted on him it DOES NOT MEAN that she hates him. And now, here we are.

"Hey dear....wakey, wakey," I soothe as I patted her belly. 

"Mmmmmm........." she silently groans and turns away from me. I don't blame her.

It takes awhile, but eventually she's sitted up. Sleep is still in her eyes but I'm glad. At least she won't see my puffy and swollen eyes. 

"Mummy??"

"Mmm?" I replied. 

She doesn't continue, almost as if she forgotten what she wanted to ask. It's a trait we both share and I smile to myself as I kiss her forehead.

"Come dear," I say, guiding her to stand up. However, she sleepily, instinctively and maybe even stubbornly lifts both her hands in the air, expecting me to carry her. I know the books tell me I shouldn't give in and let her walk herself and I always have been doing that, but today, I make an exception.

"Mummy?"

"Mmm?" I replied, wondering if she's going to remember her question this time. 

She doesn't. 

"I love you, Cassie,"

"I love you too, mummy".

It was only then I notice my husband standing by the door of our room, smiling at us as he watches. I smile back.

"Mummy?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you be with me on my first day of school?"

My heart jumps to my throat and I grip her tighter, feeling fresh tears welling in my eyes.

"Yes, honey. Of course!" forcing myself to sound more cheery than I felt. I kiss her cheek hurriedly, wishing I could immortalise moments like this before she grows up too quickly.