An explosion 50 kilometers away jolted Kiko awake. The windowless walls of his room didn't give him a view of the destruction outside. It didn't matter. Kiko had seen the aftermath of a Kraken unleashing its power too many times. 06:59. He glanced at the metal wall clock near the door before grabbing his black coat from a steel chair near his bed and storming off the corridor.
“Good morning, General,” a stern lady in a dark blue uniform joined Kiko's walk. “Coffee? Is it going to be black or with some cream and sugar in it?”
Kiko regarded the lady and kept walking. “Thank you, Mafalda, but that Kraken's enough to be my caffeine this morning.”Read More
This year, I started my new writing project Death's Last Days with the Dying, a drabble spinoff series of my debut novel. Here's a summary of the series so far before we move on to 2018 where exciting things are planned for it.
Story 1 - Tommy
- Memory 001: Time, Tommy
- Memory 002: Tommy Envisioned
- Memory 003: Time Expired for Tommy
Q: Hey, I saw the title. So what's with the DEATH?
A: He, she, it, or whatever, Death I mean, is none other than the protagonist of this story.
Q: What's with the DRABBLE?
A: This project will be written in drabble form.
Q: Wait, what the hell is a drabble?
Q: And what the hell is with the DYING?
A: Exactly! This drabble series is about Death's last days with the dying.Read More
Lucky. That’s what they called me. So I named myself that. My father, the owner of the hotel, he in the dark gray suit, said I should be that. My mother, standing next to my father as his business partner, reiterated I should be that. Their friends, faces I only glimpsed, for they kept twisting and turning, some yawning, some smiling, agreed I should be that. Two teenagers standing next to Mother, a brother and a sister, but siblings we were not, nodded that I should be that. The odd man in a white, billowing robe, splashing water on my bed, curtains, dresser, mirrors, and lamps, uttered a rigid invocation and prayed I should be that. They showered me with gold and silver coins, some clapping and some repeating my name, Lucky. I would bring them money.
Then they bolted through my door never to be seen again.
September rain washed the mud and filth off my old body. Abandoned in a deserted valley for days, my decaying corpse would scare myself if I stumbled upon it. Worms had made it their playground. Crows had nibbled on different parts. The hollow circle in my chest was beginning to fill with water.
The time had come.