Ch. 3

Although I felt sympathy for the man, I refused to accept that his story was true. Nothing that I had heard about Mr. Garris or from the town elder held any irrefutable proofs. I was intrigued more or less by the severity of the villagers’ superstition about Satan and his mad game. Most the elements of Garuba seemed so well thought out that I had naively believed them to be convened by the villagers themselves to scare foreigners away from their ancient village. The village was remarkably old and maintained by a long line of Gaskanians for many years. They didn’t marry outside of the village, and if they did, they were ostracized from Gaska for the rest of their lives because they strongly believed that marrying outside of the village would only bring despair to innocent people, and that was not only a sin, but a welcome to the devil into the homes of God’s children. It seems like the Gaskanians were martyrs in a way. They knew they were marked people and took their undeserved punishment as if it was simply a matter of life.

Ch. 2

The next morning I rose out of bed without the comfort of a full night’s rest and set out to find Mr. Garris. He was born in the village of Gaska, but his parents, terrified of the curse the village suffered annually, decided to leave the place all together despite the rumors that a born native of the village can never escape the devil’s grasp. After the premature death of his mother and the subsequent suicide of his father, the young Kully Garris made his way back to Gaska where, ironically, he felt the safest. I had met a mutual friend of Mr. Garris and myself in England a couple of years ago who told me the story of this ill-fated man. His uncanny misfortunes sparked my interest in the serious belief that the village had concerning the supernatural, and I prepared for a visit to Gaska.

Panoro

Any traveler would have thought that the most malevolent plague had ambushed the people of Gaska Village if they had unluckily arrived on the sixth day during the sixth month anytime after six o’clock in the evening. Only the unfortunate  denizens of the small village knew that the aforesaid time was when Ol’ Satan would play his meanest trick on the poor and fervently pious people of Gaska. Because the village was said to be haunted by the quare fellow himself, and the inhabitants hardly spoke of it for fear of cursing their family with an unexpected visit from the fallen angel, they cautiously tiptoed around the subject by simply whispering the word Panoro from one person to the other in order to send around an unneeded warning about the encroaching day. Of course, travelers would only be confused by the passing word Panoro since it was in the vernacular and none of the villagers would say anymore about it, but its meaning translated from Gaskanian means trader, which, to the inexperienced traveler, seems innocent enough. One couldn’t be more mistaken. Panoro brought much fear and anxiety among the people of the superstitious village and for good reason. Does one dare believe what these helpless villagers endure during the month of the devil’s games? It is not unheard of for a mocking traveler to have suffered the price of Satan's amusement. In fact, to this ticking second, I regret and am self-diagnosed with shell shock from the day I stepped foot in Gaska Village.

Them

(The end to Her and Him)

"Wake up, son. It's time for school."

Dave opened one eye slowly and with much pain. He focused on his dad who was bending over him with a smile that had a little more meaning than before the fight. After his dad had arranged the window blinds so that the sun would shine through, he left Dave to his privacy so he could began his daily routine of rising. First he had to shake his arms for a couple of minutes before they were warm and would register the command of movement, then he had to swing his numb legs over the side of his bed and slide into his wheelchair which, all together, took about half an hour. With that done, he could wheel himself over to the mirror where a slightly disfigured face looked back at him with one permanently closed eye, one small scar curving into his left nostril, another larger scar under the closed eye, and an upper and lower lip that didn't line up perfectly. Apart from these facial details and his paralyzed legs, he was perfectly functional and still fairly handsome.

Him

(The Sequel to Her)

"I can't believe you! You had to try to be my hero. I never asked you to stick your neck out for me, but you had to let your ego get the best of you. I bet you were trying to impress one of the barbie crew, huh? Well now look at you. No fake-baking bleach blond doll is going to give you a second glance!"

A compacted, squat nurse no taller than 5'6 scuttled in with a clipboard in her arms, clucking her tongue behind her teeth as she prepared to listen to the boy's heart with a cold stethascope. "Humph" was the only audible noise she offered the shunken girl who sheepishly watched the woman's expressions through hanging strands of hair. No form of any affirmation was offered, and the nurse was out the door without any acknowledgement of the girl's presence. The girl bowed her head and continued with lowered eyes.

OOPS!

My Microsoft Word is unfortunately nonfunctional at the moment--hence the lack of posts. However, I should have another computer handy, so more posts should be coming soon! :)

Eternally Internal

I find it funny how the sun is really just a gigantic ball of gas with the power to color anyone’s face to a fiery red by simply turning up the heat. I know a hand-full of individuals who have this same power. However, I hardly see or talk to these comical characters. It’s usually because I am all alone. Today I get to sit in the corner and witness the circus of crazy people who run wild outside. Sweet Anika, my day nurse, wheels me over to the window for a front row seat to this entertaining show. I watch as the younger ones use their energy by sprinting towards the fountain with the most ridiculous statue of a naked woman right smack in the middle of it. She is attempting to be modest by covering her breast with one arm while her bottom half is covered by a scarf of some sort. Water is spurting out of her mouth, which, of course, ruins the whole beauty of its realistic features. I start to laugh as the young ones rip off their white robes and jump in the water buck-naked and having a great time! One of them is even bold enough to steal a kiss from the fair, semi-naked fountain maiden.