She stood under the rain, droplets soaking her as she faced the graveyard. Before her, a tombstone read: Rest in Peace, Ipoh McDonnell.
The rain poured heavily, its sound drowning out everything else. Her hollow eyes stared blankly ahead, and a thought echoed in her mind:
Why am I here?
Suddenly, a skeletal arm burst from the grave, its bony fingers gripping Viora's shirt. Her eyes widened in shock.
The skeleton clawed its way out of the grave, more of its decayed form emerging with each movement. Finally, Viora could see the entire figure—the decomposing body of Mama Ipoh.
Despite the decay, the face managed to twist into a smile, though it was wicked and filled with malice.
"What's wrong, sugar? Aren't you happy to see your mama?" the grotesque figure rasped, its voice dripping with mockery.
Viora struggled desperately, clawing at the skeletal hand as she screamed in terror. The skeleton only tightened its grip, pulling her closer, inch by inch.
It drew her near, until its decayed face was right by her ear. In a chilling whisper, it spoke:
"How will your soul withstand the unrelenting hell of your own forgotten torment?"
Then, in an instant, the world around her shifted once again.
Behind her, the sound of rain filled the air, its steady rhythm a stark contrast to the surreal stillness surrounding her. She glanced down at her feet, and a peculiar realization struck her—she was shorter, much shorter, like a child.
The nightmare felt familiar—too familiar. A shiver ran through her as she thought to herself:
What is going on?
Then she noticed something unsettling—she wasn't holding someone else's hand. Why did she feel like she had to? The sensation gnawed at her, a strange emptiness that shouldn't have been there.
As she lifted her head, her gaze landed on an older Black woman with a voluminous afro and a vibrant collection of strange accessories adorning her clothes.
It was, without a doubt, Mama Ipoh—yet something felt off. It didn't feel like her, though Viora couldn't explain why.
Mama Ipoh looked visibly annoyed as she fumbled with the key to the door, her frustration palpable. Noticing Viora's gaze, she snapped:
"What are you looking at, brat? Do you think I'm dumb just because I'm having trouble with this key? Put that nasty look away."
Without warning, she slapped Viora across the face. The sting burned as Viora's head snapped to the side. Mama Ipoh's expression shifted to one of satisfaction.
"That's better," she muttered.
Finally managing to slide the key into the lock, Mama Ipoh opened the door and walked inside. Viora followed, holding her stinging cheek, the shock of the slap fresh in her mind. Yet, she didn't cry. Instead, a single thought echoed in her mind:
Mama Ipoh... slapped me?
She tried to think about it, to process what had just happened, but the more she focused on it, the more her head throbbed with pain.
Viora stepped inside. The place was peculiar, crafted primarily from wood, with every corner and wall adorned with strange, eclectic accessories. She couldn't quite discern their purpose, but they filled the space with an air of mystery, as if each object held a story she wasn't yet privy to.
It was a place she knew all too well—a place where she had once felt both great hope and total despair.
Mama Ipoh, speaking into the phone with an annoyed tone, snapped:
"Can't you take your damn coat off on your own? What are you looking at me for?"
Viora muttered in a low voice, her gaze fixed on the hook:
"But I'm too short to reach the hook…"
Mama Ipoh's anger flared as she snapped:
"What, are you a dwarf? Aren't you supposed to be ten years old? I've never seen a ten-year-old as short as you!"
Mama Ipoh yanked Viora's coat off her with a rough, hurried motion, hanging it on the hook. She then turned back to Viora and snapped in annoyance:
"Why are you looking so sad? You should be thankful to me. No one wanted you there..."
Hearing those words come from Mama Ipoh's own mouth made Viora's heart tremble. It was the first time she could think clearly, the weight of the moment finally settling in.
Mama Ipoh would have...
But before she could finish the thought, a voice echoed behind her, sending a chill down her spine:
"How will your soul withstand the unrelenting hell of your own forgotten torment?"
As Viora's eyes opened, she registered what she was seeing—and the realization hit her like a cold wave. She was lying on the street, surrounded by multiple cop cars. A truck's tire was stained with blood. She could hear officers talking to a woman she knew all too well—Mama Ipoh.
Mama Ipoh was being taken away by the cops, her face twisted into a wicked smile as she looked at Viora. Something clicked in her mind.
Mama Ipoh, why are you looking at me like that... stop.
With all her strength, mama Ipoh forced her way to the cop car window, a sick smile twisting on her face as she screamed:
"It's not my fault if the little bastard thought it was a great idea to run away and get run over by a truck! It's not my fault she was so weak that she had to run away!"
She said it in a sinister tone, her words cutting through the air as the cops struggled to force her inside the vehicle.
Viora's eyes widened in shock and despair as the reality of what she was hearing sank in.
"How will your soul withstand the unrelenting hell of your own forgotten torment?"
The world came into existence again and again, over and over. Viora didn't know how long it had been—time blurred as she spiraled through the loop.
But with each repetition, she began to understand. The spirit was warping her memories of Mama Ipoh, twisting them into its own perverted and grotesque version. She felt hopeless, unable to do anything to stop it.
In every scene, Mama Ipoh grew more cruel, more monstrous than the last. What had once been love and care became nothing but abuse. For an entire year, Viora had been tormented by the one she loved most.
The scenes grew incoherent, mixing memories from the future with those that had happened months before. They collided, one after another, creating a whirlwind of despair. Viora's already broken spirit shattered even more with each passing moment.
Finally, she reached her last moment with Mama Ipoh—the moment she watched her die.
"Oh, you hate me for dying, don't you? But I'll say what I always thought in my mind... I always hated you!"
Mama Ipoh's voice echoed through the room as she sat in her bed, blood oozing from her mouth, nose, and eyes.
Viora's heart clenched at the words, and with a trembling voice, she whispered, "Stop..."
But Mama Ipoh didn't stop. She continued, her voice cold and venomous:
"Did you seriously believe I saw you as my child? That I saw myself as your mother? Ah, what a good joke. A brat that even her own parents didn't want. Why should it be normal for me to want you? I never wanted you, either!"
Mama Ipoh laughed, blood trickling from her mouth as she spoke, her tone both mocking and cruel:
"Honestly, it was so funny—and at the same time, frustrating—to always have to console you about your 'abandonment' issues. You always cried, thinking that one day, I'd leave you like all the rest. But didn't you get it by now? You were born alone."
"Stop," Viora whispered, her voice weak and strained, but Mama Ipoh didn't relent.
"And you'll always be alone! That's how fate has decided your life will be. Year after year, different people make you believe you've finally found a home, a family, parents... How foolish can you be? Can't you see that happiness was never meant for you? Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice, shame on me. Tell me, Viora, how many times have you been fooled by all those people, including me?"
Mama Ipoh's laugh grew wicked, dripping with malice.
"You're probably the biggest fool of—"
Viora could take it no longer. In a burst of fury, she screamed, her voice raw with rage:
"SHUT THE HELL UP!!"
The twisted version of Mama Ipoh fell silent, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Viora, breathing heavily, stared at her with a fire in her eyes and said,
"I may have allowed you to hurt Cyrus and Umeboshi. I may have allowed you to kill me a hundred times, over and over. I may have allowed you to make me live an entire year of memories with Mama Ipoh, only to watch her die again... but I will never... NEVER allow you to pervert the incredible person that is my mother. That kind, courageous, sage, and caring person that she is... YOU HEAR ME?!"
Her eyes burned with fury as she shouted,
"I will NEVER FORGIVE YOU for forcing her, even in memory, to say those cruel things! NOW DISAPPEAR!!"
The world itself trembled at Viora's declaration. The last thing she saw was the corrupted version of Mama Ipoh, her face filled with shock.
"How did you figure it out? I thought you weren't strong enough to..."
But before she could finish her sentence, the world itself vanished.
Viora found herself back in her fourteen-year-old body, staring at her older form in shock. She realized she was sitting at a wooden table that felt eerily familiar. Then, a voice echoed through the space:
"Took you long enough, sugar... Look how much you've grown since I left. Yet, you're still so minuscule."
Viora lifted her head, her heart pounding. Across from her, Mama Ipoh sat with a look of pride in her eyes, her gaze steady and unsettling.
Viora's voice trembled with anger as she stood up forcefully from her chair:
"I told you to stop perverting my mother's memory!"
Mama Ipoh sighed softly, a gentle smile on her face, before she slowly walked across the table. Viora tensed, her eyes tracking every movement.
Mama Ipoh stopped in front of her, reached out, and gently patted her head.
"Don't worry, I'm not the perverted version of that fiend," she said.
Viora's chest tightened, and she couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She hugged Mama Ipoh tightly, burying her face in her embrace. Words escaped her—she couldn't say anything.
Mama Ipoh continued in a soft, almost soothing voice:
"Just a replica of how you remember me acting."
Viora pulled herself away from Mama Ipoh's chest, her eyes wide with confusion. Tears still clung to her lashes as she spoke, her voice trembling.
"But how? I... I thought she had full power here... in the canvas world, I mean... How were... how was I able to get control?"
She stared at Mama Ipoh, her words heavy with shock and disbelief.
Mama Ipoh lingered for a moment, her gaze steady, before she spoke:
"How do you think the canvas world is made?"
Viora thought for a moment, her brow furrowing, before replying,
"I don't know... I thought she just took full control of our memory."
Mama Ipoh sighed, tapping her finger lightly on Viora's head, and a smirk tugged at her lips.
"Sugar, without your memory, there is no canvas world. Yes, she's the painter of that world, but that doesn't mean she has total authority over it. Remember the first thing she said when she made you relive that first memory of me? She said...
'My painting is always flawless! Well, except for one little flaw... but weaklings like you will never figure it out anyway.'"
Mama Ipoh's voice softened as she continued.
"The flaw is that if a person has enough willpower and conviction, they can also have full control over the canvas world. She is not absolute. The victim's memories are the canvas... but the canvas can also paint itself. It might be confusing, but think of the canvas world as her being a lucid dreamer with total power over it, while you are not lucid—or barely so. There were multiple times where you almost broke the canvas world, simply by questioning yourself and the illogical events happening around you."
Then Viora said in a hesitating tone:
"But it still doesn't tell me how to use this power to my advantage and free me and everyone from this nightmare. She is obviously more talented at manipulating the canvas world than me. What should I do to escape this nightmare, Mama Ipoh?"
She then sighed and said with a smirk,
"You've turned into a goofball since I left, huh? Always going around bothering that boy Cyrus. The old you would've known what to do!"
Then she said, blushing and speaking in an embarrassed tone,
"I did not turn into a goofball! Why are you saying silly things like that? SILLY! The reason I changed so much is because I tried my hardest to follow your wish for me to live a happy life. And the reason I followed him is because, while I forgot everything you told me about your homeland, I still remember that you were a shaman, and Cyrus…he was the second shaman I ever met, and he could see spirits too. That's why I wanted to become his friend so badly."
She smiled proudly while looking at Viora and said,
"You wanted to be friends with him because you thought that he was a nice person? People who can see spirits can't be bad people... and they understand how important it is to treat others nicely. Is that right?"
She nodded while still blushing.
"Yes, I wanted to be friends with him because of that."
Mama Ipoh then looked at the front door as she said,
"So, does he fit the criteria?"
She shook her head and said with a gentle smile on her face,
"He is rude, impolite, doesn't hold back his words... and he treats everyone in a cold manner. Yet..."
Mama Ipoh looked at her with a gentle smile and repeated her last words in a low, gentle manner,
"Yet?"
She lifted her head to look at her, her eyes filled with admiration.
"He is courageous... and always does his best to try to understand wandering spirits. Even though he hates being around people, he still tries his best to save them. Even though he is rude, he pushes me away over and over because he doesn't want me to be hurt. People who can see spirits can't be bad people... Mama Ipoh, you told me that all those years ago, and I still want to believe in what you preached. I genuinely think he is a good person... no, I know he is. So, I will try my best to become his friend once I get out of here!"
She then began walking toward the door. As she placed her hand on the handle and turned back to her, she said with the gentlest of smiles,
"Mama Ipoh... no, mother... forgive me for not having the strength to stay by your side in your final moments. And please, don't worry about me... I know what to do now."
Just as she was about to turn the handle, Mama Ipoh, with a gentle smile, said,
"Really? You know what to do now? How so?"
Her tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in her eyes.
She smirked, still facing the door, and her voice was filled with confidence as she said,
"When you saved me from being run over by that truck, you told me all those years ago:
'You're not weak for running away… There's nothing wrong with running away from a situation that makes your heart heavy every day… There's nothing wrong with running away from something that makes your spirit suffer… You don't have to stay in a place that makes you feel miserable. But that… running away can only take you so far… When you feel ready, when you feel that you want to try another path to happiness instead of running, promise me you will go for it—no matter what… People who can see spirits know how precious happiness is, after all…'
This was the world I've followed ever since you died."
She let go of the handle and turned away from the door to face Mama Ipoh one last time. Holding up one finger, she smiled through her tears and said,
"And now I know what path will lead me to happiness. Running… Ever since I was little, I always ran away when I wasn't happy, when I was scared, and even when I was in despair. But that doesn't mean I'll run away all my life. That's why I'm showing you the number one—one last time. For one last time, I will run away to find my own happiness, and after that, I will take a different path to it. I will fight for it. I will not only fight to preserve my own happiness from people who try to take it away, but I will fight my own self. An external and internal battle for happiness. And before I go on that path, I need to run one last time to reach it."
She then turned away from Mama Ipoh, gripping the door handle tightly. She opened it and stepped outside, not needing to say anything more. She had said everything she needed to. So, she ran. She ran with a heart full of determination.
The sidewalk beneath her feet felt familiar, almost like it had been waiting for her. It was the same sidewalk where, as a child, she had run away from Mama Ipoh's house, terrified that she would be abandoned once again. It was the same street where she had almost been run over by that truck—the same morning when Mama Ipoh had saved her and shared the words of wisdom that would stay with her for the rest of her life. Those words had shaped her, had given her strength, and now, they guided her forward.
As she ran, a quiet voice spoke in her mind, no, more like in the very core of her being—a deep, resolute thought that transcended words.
I'm not running away anymore… I'm running toward something. Toward my happiness. Toward my future. And I won't let anything stop me this time.
Viora's heart swelled with emotion as she ran, her legs moving faster, her breath coming in gasps, but she didn't care. Every step she took was a step toward a future where she could stand proud, without fear or hesitation.
And Mama Ipoh... you were right. You never lied to me, not once. There was never a time when I didn't feel at home with you. I may not have realized it at the time, but you always saw me as your daughter. You always supported me, always cared for me, always wanted me to be the best version of myself.
As those thoughts flooded her mind, she felt her heart lift even higher. The world around her, the familiar park, the memories of her time with Mama Ipoh—it all began to fade away, as if the past was gently releasing its hold on her.
Tears welled in her eyes, but they weren't just tears of sorrow. They were tears of joy, of gratitude, and of a bittersweet farewell. She could feel Mama Ipoh's presence, her love, and the strength of the bond they had shared.
Because of you, because of everything you gave me, I am able to run.....Mama Ipoh, you always told me how you were proud to have me as your daughter, but the reality is that...
She shouted the words into the wind as if the very world itself needed to hear them. Her voice broke through the air with the force of a truth she had held inside for so long.
"I AM THE ONE THAT IS SO HAPPY TO BE THE DAUGHTER OF A PERSON AS INCREDIBLE AS YOU!!"
The wind carried her words, the park around her slowly fading into the background, but the message, the love, and the strength she had gained from Mama Ipoh would stay with her forever.
As though the very edge of the world was in front of her, she punched through it. The entire fading world crumbled and shattered.
As the shards of the old world dissolved, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no hesitation in her heart. No doubt, no fear—only the clarity of purpose. The canvas world, which had once been a place of manipulation and confusion, now stood before her, raw and untouched.
She was back in it, but this time, it was different. This time, she had control. She knew who she was, what she was capable of, and that no illusion could hold her back anymore. With the shattering of the false reality, the power she had gained from Mama Ipoh, the lessons, the love, the courage—everything flooded into her being.
She stood tall, her breath steady, her resolve unshakable.
"I'm not running anymore," she whispered to herself, her voice firm. "I'm going to fight, for me, for everyone I care about... and for the future I want to create."
The canvas world, now a blank slate, awaited her. She would shape it, she would take control. No longer a puppet, but a creator of her own destiny.
With a newfound strength in her heart, Viora stepped forward, ready to face whatever came next. The battle for her happiness, for her future, had only just begun.
chapter fifty-five end...