"Perfect! Just like how I picture it in my head." I cackled, cracked my stiff neck, wiggled my rigid shoulders and sighed with satisfaction. For the entire day, I was only scribbling to the empty pages of an old book paper and spending my breaktime imagining how the words will create its own mystery.
My name is Alice, twenty-four years old, crazy but awesome, beautiful in any form but always gets dumped, certified bookworm that has a bed on her library, a fabulous full-time writer but never received an award and cleans her eyeglasses all the time with a foggy breath.
I was once a hard-working girl that never had a chance to appreciate the beauty of doing nothing but now I'm a lazy slacker who likes sitting, eating ready-to-eat meals, staring at the wall while counting the hardworking ants, if gets bored, dancing in a chair with 'dame tu cosita' as a temporary relief and writing ultra-mega-super fantabulous novels.
*KRING*
"Hello?"
And answering my grumpy supervisor's call.
"HELLO!" He answered back in a very abrasive tone that I have to keep my phone away from my ears for five seconds.
"Ano na namang kababalaghan itong mga sinend mo sakin? Ang sabi ko yung matinong kwento na yung tipong makakaakit ka ng maraming readers at non-readers. Hindi yung basurang kwento na pupulutin sa kangkungan!" I can already see the steam coming out from my phone.
"Relax lang boss," I stared at my nails. "Kakaiba na 'tong istorya." I stood up. "One of a kind and it will be the book of the century." I expressed as if I really mean it, hee-haw.
"Naku, ilang beses ko na yang narinig sayo ah. Hindi mo ba alam hanggang ngayon eh hindi ko pa alam kung paano ididispatch yung mga na-i-publish na istorya mong bulok!" He contravened.
"Kumita rin naman ah." I protested with a proud smile.
"Kumita. Anong kumita? Lokohin mo lolong mo, kung hindi pa pina-90% discount yang libro mo para naman makabawi sa ginastos, hindi pa tayo makakabenta ng lima. Diyos ko, sana naman kainin ka ng mga libro mo at nang sa ganun makita mo kung gaano kapanget at kawalang saysay yang mga pinagsusulat mo. Pasalamat ka tinitiis na lang kita sa kontrata mo at last na yun! Hindi na ko magrerenew sayo!"
*TOOT*
And now he hung up on me.
I tossed my phone to my bed and stretched my body a bit.
Chill lang, boss chaka. I'll prove to you that this time, this story is worth a billion bucks that I could even buy your entire agency and you'll be my underling getting tired of me screaming on you over the phone.
Thinking about how many money I could earn from this makes my eyes turn upside down and smile like a horse neighing.
Because my writing strategy this time is unique and one in a million in modern era.
It is almost twilight, the hallway is getting dark, I switched on all the lights that shone brightly in every corner of my empty mansion.
I headed to my private library and turned on my lamp where an old book sits surrounded with the unnecessary not-to-mention things soiling my table.
And this book is peculiar.
It looks so old, bounded in faded brownish leather, cracked and dry with age and the entire volume reeks of dust, I sniffed it, weird, its aroma smells like chocolate.
The stack of papers stitched within are brittle and a light color of young wood, that with a hard touch can easily crumble into pieces.
And it is really heavy, I can use this as my dumbbell.
Honestly, I bought this book on a souvenir shop of a migrating family that were disposing their old antique possessions of their ancestors.
Well, I was intrigued, why?
I gently opened the book.
It was empty.
It was freaking empty and who would create such hard-bounded books with blank content in old era?
An ink lasts for centuries in an old book unless it was destroyed and neglected so it is extremely impossible that the letters aged in time.
But now, it is filled with different form of my words that disappears and appears as you turn one page after another and that's what made it special.
I didn't use any machine, nor a laptop or a typewriter.
The letters inked into these brittle sheets of paper came from the black pen moved by me.
And someday, this will be a historical book just like how the Bible in this modern age existed.
♥♣♠♦♠♣♥
"Pu-ah! Finally." I just finished my last chapter for the day and it tires me out. My target is to fill in the entire book no matter how long the story will be, but my progression is still slow, I'm barely in the middle.
I will wait for the ink to dry out as I take a bath.
I turned on the music in my bathroom and the "BEST PART" by Day6 soothes my head, I closed my eyes and my mind drifted away to serenity.
♪ Every night when I close my eyes
♪ I become more and more afraid
♪ That I will not have a tomorrow
I hummed as I just enjoyed my moment of pampering myself with a cool and relaxing bathe. I gaze on the stars hanging above the sky reflecting through my mirrored roof.
♪ I live in this way
♪ Feeling sorry that another day is gone
For someone like me who lives alone on her own mansion, without anyone to think of, has nothing to wish for and every moment with myself will always be the best part of my life.
"Cheers to you Alice~" I raised my glass of wine to the moon. "May you have a long and good life, Alice."
♪ So that on the last day of my life
♪ I am filled with smiles
♪ Every day that is given to me is
♪ Gonna be my best part.
"Gonna be my best part."
♪ Today's me is living today
♪ So that tomorrow's me will be happy
♪ So that on the last day of my life
♪ I am filled with smiles.
"Happy Birthday."
♥♣♠♦♠♣♥
I cloaked myself with a thick bathrobe and stopped in front of the table where my telephone is beeping.
Ten voicemails and scrolled the list.
Cousin.
Anonymous.
Anonymous.
Mom.
I pressed it.
"Hello my baby girl! I'm sorry we can't be with you on your birthday. Your foolish parents are really busy and have a lot of work to do on the company, but don't worry we'll try to catch up what we've missed. I really wish you happiness on this day and oh---"
*DING-DONG* My doorbell rang.
"We actually sent you a cake. Happy--" I cut it down and hurriedly went outside.
The delivery man is already waiting with a box on his hand. "Ma'am Alice----" He stopped as he stared at my chest.
Oh, I forgot. I'm just wearing a bathrobe but still my chest is covered decently.
"Papers?" I asked, unbothered.
"Oh, sorry. Right here." He snapped back to his senses and turned his gaze away from where he-shouldn't-be-looking-at.
Of course, my chest has a great amount of fats, that no one could really resists sparing a glance.
I instantly signed it and took the box from him.
Now, that I'm back to my library, I opened the box and expected nothing.
As usual.
They always send me a cake whenever they can't be with me.
Nothing new.
'Sweet is the opposite of bitterness and words are much more expressive than expensive gifts that can't convey its meaning.' Is what they always say.
I just sighed.
I'm a grown-up woman.
I'm rich that's why I know the pleasure of being lazy.
I'm independent and living alone in this mansion my parents had put up for me.
And I don't screw with any guys.
But I always get dumped.
Countless times.
I had a look on my book and placed the cake beside it, the ink is getting dry now.
Great!
I took the knife as I try to slice a piece of cake.
How much money will I earn the moment I exposed this---- Ouch!
I looked at my hand. I just cut myself.
Blood dripping down my finger and shoot!
With my careless move, I stained the page of my book with my freaking blood!
Fudge!
I instantly ran and looked for my first-aid kit to stop the bleeding first and hastily, worked on the book.
Good, it didn't smear the letters.
But.
Weird.
The blood, the blood, it seeped in, no, I touched it.
It was dry, like I let it sit for hours.
It dried out faster than the ink on my pen!
I can clearly remember that it always took me approximately three hours for unknown reason to make sure it won't smudge against the paper, with any types of pen.
Hmmm. What an odd book.
On an odd day.
So, I just threw my cake on the trash since I'm not hungry anyway.
I just lost my appetite.
What's worth having a cake when you have no one to share it with?
I'll just let this day slide for there will always be lots of today ahead.
♪ Every day that is given to me is
♪ Gonna be my best part.
Except my birthday.
But little did I know how naïve I am, that it will also be my last.
For…
I blinked my eyes twice, thrice and I am not mistaken, I'm not sleeping nor dreaming, not even in my own bedroom that I had few minutes ago.
Everything looks strange, feels strange, it seems to be blurry with the touch of the heavy raindrops but the fear in the eyes of the surrounding crowd and the unmistakable gasp is clearly visible, not of surprise but of horror, they are frightened of something.
"You." A deep and husky voice says.
Just like a thunder roaring in the storm, my eyes directed me to the blazing sword pointed at my neck mercilessly in an inch by a huge figure of a man.
With the struggle on the naughty raindrops and efforts of stinging blink, I can plainly see now his distinct features and I have never seen someone in my entire life as striking as him.
His sparkling dusty-white hair is as pure as the freshly bloomed Camellia flower trapped in the middle of a Volcanic eruption but at the same time cold as the cruelty of a muddy ice frost.
The crimson red eyes staring down at me, are burning but heavy and dark as the buried stories of heroes' blood slaughtered in a snow-clad battlefield that further intensify his exquisitely shaped facial features to its utmost glory.
And his body.
He is, he is just so huge and hefty for a human.
Large and firm hands hidden on a black gauntlet.
His towering posture is just so powerful and intimidating that it makes me shiver in cold, no hero can stand against him other than a God, one cannot even deny, how masterpiece he is.
He looks like a hero described in ancient times sent in a bloody battlefield alone to face thousands of armor-clad foes and have returned unscathed but the gold emblem embedded on his night-themed medieval renaissance clothing, implicates one thing, he is a royalty.
Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he's the ultimate definition of the art of human beauty carved to perfection by thousands of proficient artists that took years to hone.
Wait? What? What am I thinking?
He easily grabbed my attention with his growl, like the king in the forest, "I have no care if you are a Saint blessed by Gods nor a ruler with thousands of men but if you cross this distance with the length of my sword—"
"Then I have no space to spare." Those lines came out of my mouth absent-mindedly, I am still in dazed but thousands of thoughts and pictures swarming in my head.
"Those lines..." I murmured. "sound familiar."
My mind is floating and I can't grasp the truth between the reality and daydream.
I wandered my eyes once again to understand the situation but all I could see is strange people clad in strange clothes with strange stares standing on strange land dampened by strange rainfall from strange skies on a strange world…
Everything is outrageously strange!
Strange man with utterly striking beauty and overwhelming manliness that has the guts to point his sword to a stranger such as me.
It feels like how I described the world in the book I'm writing.
Impossible.
"Azazel!" A voice with a high authority boomed through the air, a name that rings on my ear and brought pain into my head.
Azazel.
My mind starts to scan my memories.
Azazel.
With the pen in my hand, my memories flowed like a river stream washing away my consciousness towards to mysteries, the ink that sinks in to the fragile sheet of paper, letters appear and disappears,
Finally, a certain word glowed, 'Azazel', after the word Prince.
My hands trembled, eyes widened, breath shortened and I've gone numb.
I tried to search once again but it only points me to the same old place.
No way.
No.
His cold expression, burning eyes of bloodlust, before he could even close the small gap against my neck, I struggled to get a hold of myself and moved my feet to step back a little in the nick of time.
His eyes flickered a strange color in a heartbeat but it didn't matter, I dared not to stray away my eyes on his, there is no mistake that he intends to kill me, I almost lose my head.
This is not happening.
"Prince Azazel," This time, the voice is even more demanding. "that is no way to treat your wife on your royal marriage ceremony. Withdraw your sword." His authoritative voice is a bit comforting and incomprehensible murmurs everywhere made me breathe once again.
But he didn't budge an inch, his eyes are even more burning.
And now I am his wife who he wants to murder in a broad daylight.
For a second, I spared a glance on a handsome young man with a golden crown on his head standing in glory, few meters away from us, surrounded by brisk men on armors and bright, colorful garments with few women dressed in an extravagant gown. His face is also glorious but not as this bold man.
Unfortunately, I regrettably prefer the odd taste of fashion of the daring prince in front of me, clad in red and ebony clothing and overflowing dark night cloak draped on his shoulders, which even more heightened his perfect physical features.
But alas, this isn't the best time gawking over someone when your life is in line.
Tsk.
"Hahahaha." I laughed out loud and they all gasped in surprise.
I collected myself, pieced the fragments of events in my head altogether as I stayed on guard for his next movement.
I raised both of my hands in surrender and it even more surprised them through the sound of their gasps but only him is entirely calm but alert, he never leaves his eyes on me, he watches my every move, even the sweat mixing with the rain can't sway him.
Good, I never plan to keep you out of my sight anyway.
If I am his wife.
"What a brave woman." Someone whispered in the crowd but have reached my auditory system.
Then.
*Pak*
I slapped my cheek with my left hand, roughly, hardly as I intensely stare at his eyes.
He was expressionless, the crowd even more gasped.
It stings.
*Pak*
I slapped my cheek with my right hand, even more harshly.
This time, his eyes flickered with a faint light of something-I-can't-describe or maybe, just a flick of my imagination, but his Adam's apple bubbled up slightly.
Ouch, it hurts that I might have dislocated my cheekbones.
I thought that after I slapped my face, I would groggily wake up just like how my ordinary mornings, the Alice sleeping on her bedchamber on the day of her birthday.
But.
I smirked.
In my entire life, I never had a dream who felt so real and a reality that looks like a dream and now I'm having a taste of its shit.
"Putangina."