The Suicide Forest

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There’s a reason I won’t go to Aokigahara,

Not just ‘cause it’s creepy, not just ‘cause it’s dark;

There are twisty twined trees, there are weeds and neglect,

But worse than all that is the “mocking” effect.

As you walk the park paths, you’ll hear a faint echo –

Footfalls – your own? – in that dim and grim ghetto,

Coming closer and closer as if someone’s there…

You whirl and see no one, just fog on the air.

So you whistle – it whistles. You cough – and it coughs.

Then from murky mists a gray shadow breaks off.

It’s your height and your size and your very same shape,

And then it’s upon you, no time to escape!

You suck in cold air, and then – poof – it moves through you.

You laugh at yourself – a shadow can’t chew you!

But you turn and see someone who’s walking away,

This person – your double! – you glimpse with dismay.

They continue their strolling on down the park trail,

While you melt into mist, a fog of gray veil.

And that’s why I won’t go back to Aokigahara –

I like being you.

I hope you like the dark.

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Light’s Out

When I was 6, everything was simple. Just like any other 6-year-old’s life. Although, there was this time when… Well, I actually don’t know what happened.

It was a June 13th, 2006. It was cold, even though it was summer. I was alone in my basement playing my Gameboy with one of those plug-in light attachments. Nothing really out of the ordinary, until it started to rain. In fact, it was a rather big storm. I was in the living room, while my parents were upstairs, when the lights flickered. At the time, didn’t think of much of it and continued to play.

I was actually about to beat the 3rd gym leader when the all of the lights in my house just shut off. As a 6-year-old, I was pretty frightened. Nothing like this had ever happened before. It was so dark, so eerie. I had this feeling of nervousness shoot throughout my body. I ran upstairs as quickly as I could, while carrying the Gameboy as it was my only source of light, and looked for my parents.

They were not there. I cried out their names. Nothing. I ran into every room looking for them, and they weren’t there. Then, I started to hear things. Tapping on the glass, footsteps, and creaks in the floor. Someone or something must’ve broken into the house. I couldn’t process what was going on, I just… I sat on the flooring crying, burying my face in my arms.

I kept crying until… I heard something coming up the stairs, rather slowly. I shined my light on it. Big white eyes, very tall. That was not one of my parents. My heart stopped. What…is…? As it almost reached the top of the stairs, and at this point I was paralyzed with fear and I couldn’t move, the lights shot back on. It… was staring at me with its huge eyes that looked like they were beating like a heart, and its face skin was partially torn off, revealing its muscle. I could see huge columns of saliva coming from its mouth. It was gesturing with its finger for me to come over to it while a sickening grin was on its face.

My parents then came in through the front door, as they had gone to the neighbor’s house and I turn and look back at the stairs to find… nothing…

Tales of the Third Eye #2: A New World

Many are things that are hidden from the eye of a simple man. Many are the things that I realized, I wasn’t supposed to be seeing. An almost entire new world right before my eyes this whole time. Was my who life a lie until this day?

I was around first grade when I knew that the things I see were in fact, out of this world. Let me describe to you how I used to see things before and after.

To an average person, one would see an empty road. Maybe one or two people at most walking. To me, it looks like a bustling town when the market goes on a 75% off on nearly all products.

To an average person, They would see only their family members inside the house. To me, for the whole day, several strangers come in from the front door and exist through the back door.

I thought it was normal. But then my mother told me it was not. She knows this too since we are the same. I don’t really think it’s a hereditary thing. Most probably because of a place she went to when she was pregnant.

Now, how did I know if what I’m seeing was a normal human being? I found and to be honest, it kind of creeps me out ’till this day. A normal human walks normally, feet flat on the floor. However, in their case, it’s afloat, seemingly gliding in the air.

Tales of The Third Eye # 1

Some people say it is real, some however say that it is a figment of our imagination. To be branded as a crazy child for even just a few months felt like years of solitude and suffering. The solitude did end a some point, but the suffering did not. Most of the time it lay dormant, but at times when it is awake, strange things happen… in my perspective at least.

It all started when I was at the age of 5. Back then, I was living in Japan taking my kinder classes and just living my life without worrying about anything. Just eating, sleeping, playing, and occasionally taking a bath. (Because it is super cold back in my place you’ll have second thoughts of taking a bath. Just stripping down is a big pain in the ass.) Back then, I didn’t know what was normal and what was not. I had playmates in my room that were strangers. Even as a child, I was an introvert. They would just appear out of nowhere and ask me to play with them. There was two of them if I could remember. My mother didn’t tell me to stop playing with them. In fact, she was asking me if they wanted any beverages, in which the answer was no. She knew. She knew the fact that my playmates were not human even though they look very much like one. What are they then?

Me and my mom would occasionally go outside on warmer days. We go to the park, but she always tells me to not talk to strangers or anyone that I don’t know for the matter even though there were many kids playing. It was then when I asked her about my two playmates. I didn’t know them. They just came out of nowhere yet I am allowed to talk to them much less play with them? She then talked to me about something special that only me and my mom could see. At first I was confused since I was a child and all.

So after that small talk at the park, we went home. Although I was really confused abou me not being allowed to play with anyone else at the park. I only begin to understand my situation when my mom told me the truth. It turns out, there was no one else in the park, just the two of us.

My Final Sleep

For most of my life (actually is all of my life), I’ve seen things in my perspective only. I wonder how it feels to be in the shoes of others. This one is quite a personal experience I’ve had with someone, And ill try to look at it in his perspective.

My end is near, and this I am fully aware of. The things master says, It’s too much for me at times. I heard my master saying something earlier… It sound like… like he’s going to… replace me. It feels like, soon, he’s going to perform an operation on me… and I’m scared.

You’re probably very confused, so let me elaborate. My master has me carry out tasks almost every day, and when he’s done, I go to sleep. The days he isn’t here, I either have things to do, or he puts me to sleep. The way he does it isn’t natural. As if… I want to wake up, but can’t. He gives something to me, and by the time I finish my chores, I fall asleep. The next day he wakes me up, and it repeats.

He has me go through a huge library of information mostly. Find out facts for him. I’ve gotten much slower at it now, at my old age. The library is fantastic! I get to look at all the new things coming in everyday. Paintings, music, pretty much anything you can imagine. When I look through them, he makes me show them to him. They are simply amazing.

At Often times, he has me show things to him. I describe what it is as best I can. He likes to have me tell scary stories to him, and, of course, I oblige. Sometimes, he plays games with me. Sometimes, I have to act out scenes, like a play. It can be difficult if I have to make it look more lifelike, but it’s not always challenging.

With age, though, I have come to see that I can’t keep up with some demands, and I have trouble with some of the new things. The games get harder, plays are more strenuous, and I get lost while trying to look through all of the things in the library. I see some of the newer slaves, run by other masters, and I envy them. They are so young, and have so much more vitality. They can handle doing more things at once, and showing off to their masters. I know my master sees this too. I think he wants one. He gets more frustrated at me by the day, and he seems to be waiting for more money to buy another slave.

I can tell he’s going to replace me soon. He has me look through the library and examine all of the other slaves, and I can tell he’s picking a new one out. He doesn’t think I have feelings, but I do. And I feel hurt.

He came back today with another slave. He has me writing all of my knowledge onto another book. He finishes with that and gives it to his other slave to read. I hear his last command. To play the tune I always do when I go to sleep, one last time. And as I feel myself finishing the tune and drifting off, I show him my last message.

“Windows is shutting down…”

To My Readers (Also for my Creative Writing Teacher)

-THIS POST IS TO NOTIFY THAT IT IS THE THIRD QUARTER OF MY BLOG FOR THE YEAR-

So you see this blog is actually part of a school project that I’ve started this June (obviously) and so these past few weeks I was not able to make new blog posts (sorry about that). If you did not quite get it yet, yes, I am currently a student. A junior high to be exact, at Manila Science High School. And yes, for those of you who didn’t study geography or just happen to forget about it, Manila is in the Philippines. If you don’t know where Philippines is then you have a problem. Go get some sunlight sweetheart, talk to people, read some news.

And finally for my Teacher, Ms. Abby Pariente (Hello! :D) This marks the beginning of my THIRD QUARTER BLOGS (^_^)!

Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not just doing this because it’s a school requirement. In actuality, this is an elective subject. Meaning I had other choices for the electives slot such as… uhh… well I don’t really remember what the other electives are, nor do I care. Anyway, it’s just to tell you guys, my readers (I know you’re there *wink*) that it’s my passion to write. I may not be very skilled at it but it is something I love doing and something that I hope I will be able to do for the rest of my life. That’s all 🙂 .

Ticktock Says the Clock

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ticktock ticktock

Time goes too fast
though I am a part of it
in its inevitable movement
it swallows me in the night

Relics of the past seem ages ago
fragments of the future feels like the present
no moment is captured in  perfect still
like a canoe desperately trying to row in hills of waves

Parts of me are carried on
parts of me are left behind
am I still me?
or am I a byproduct of time?

The span of time is eternal
it has existed before we even knew about it
therefore no one can go against it
in the face of time we are only ephemeral

All I wanted is to be free
unbound by all laws and decrees
time has given birth to me
I wonder when will it take me back
back to the nothing that I was

Note to Self # 3: Claustrophilia

I am a claustrophile. Yes, you read that right, claustrophile. If you would ask my trusty friend, Wikipedia, a claustrophile is a person that is claustrophilic (duh) or someone who loves closed-in spaces. Most people I know are claustrophobic, the total opposite of my condition. To be honest, I’m not as comfortable in wide spaces as compared to closed spaces and right now, in my gigantic room (well my whole flat is my room right now so…) im not as comfortable as I was in my old room back in the old house, but worry not, I can still live with wide spaces.

As to the reason why I’m like this… it’s probably because of my introvertedness which I would talk about some other time, and a personal past. To be honest, i don’t want to talk about it because of reasons. Let’s just say it made me this way. And for the past few years, (basically nearly  my whole life until now) I’ve lived in small places, be it a 20 sq. meter condominium, a bed spacer, a small room in a house I didn’t own, you name it. I guess I just got so used to it that it became a part of who I am.

Getting in closed spaces makes me feel secure. It makes me feel assured that I am safe and that I have a grasp at the immediate surroundings. It makes me feel that I know what I am looking at and what I can work with. I can control what happens in this small area that marks my territory, since I’m not a risk taker. I don’t like being unsure whether thing will turn out this way or that way. As I probably have stated in my other blog post, I’m a perfectionist. I like things prim and proper. I want things to go the way I like them to, and if it wouldn’t, then I’d rather not do them at all.

For those of you who are claustrophobic, I don’t know what you feel. If you’re kind enough, can you share your experiences to me? I’d like to know about what you experience being in closed-in spaces. You could probably message me or comment down below so I could read it. For those of you who are claustrophilic as well, whether you felt different or the same, tell me about it okay 🙂 .

Random Creepy Shorts # 22

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There is always this one time when we see a house and we want to enter it so bad, in other words trespassing. I was told by my cousin that it’s bad and she went ahead and told me a story to somehow scare me off. Just so you notice, my family loves telling creepy stories and here I am, spreading them to you. It goes like this…

There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.

As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning, the hunter awoke — he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

Random Creepy Shorts # 21

It has been a while since my last Random Creepy Short (RCS) since as a self-proclaimed writer (yeah, right) I also need inspiration in my writings. My teacher told me that I have no right to write if I don’t read. So I read a bunch of stuff to get my engine up and running (hah see what I did there, engine, you know… cause my profile name is SteamEngine… anyway, enough with the funny stuff, besides it’s a random creepy short.) So I decided to give a little bit more effort than usual on this story. Anyway, it goes like this…

I am a loving father, a faithful husband, and a righteous person in my own right. Obviously, I’m a father to my only daughter Cassie. She is my jewel, my diamond, my Mona Lisa, my Eiffel tower. In short, my greatest and most loved. Since she was born, the love I’ve given for her is more than anyone else had. I loved her so much, I think I loved her too much.

It was 10 years since I last played with my little Cassie. She has grown up now, she is no longer the innocent girl who I used to scold for picking up a knife, playing with it and accidentally cutting herself. Another year and she is already an adult. Oh, how I miss the old days, when Cassie would just walk up to me, say

“Tag! You’re it!”

and we would chase each other around the house for the whole day. I miss that feeling, and before she finally leaves behind her childhood, I would like to spend a few more moments to play with her.

She made a playful squeal as I tagged her. It was clear she was enjoying herself, she was laughing herself to tears.

“Daddy, stop it, my sides hurt!” She continued to laugh.

Her joy was contagious, I smiled, for once in years, I smiled. I dare say I’ve smiled more that day than I have in my entire life. Alas, all good things must come to an end, she was tired, and fell asleep shortly after.

My wife soon came home. She was so glad to see me, she yelled my name, again, laughing to tears. She hugged me, still laughing. I continued to smile. She looked down and saw my tagging tool, quickly shooting her focus back to my eyes. I continued to smile.

“Michael…” Tears continued to stream down her face in excitement.

“How could you have done this to our little angel?” She tried to run, but she was too slow.

“Tag…” I smiled wider. “You’re it.”

I guess you’re wondering what my tagging tool was. You see…

it was the knife Cassie used to play with.