The Cult- Part 1

THE CULT

(BASED ON A TRUE STORY)

Mum and I decided that it was time to take a much needed vacation to escape the “rat race” as mummy put it. I, having worked extremely hard over the past three months was more than just keen, I was down-right thrilled. However, there was one detail that needed taking care of, where on earth do we go? We only had three days, since I had to work over the weekend, so naturally, it had to be near-by. Well we have been to almost every fun filled destination, what mum and I really needed was some good old rest and relaxation. That narrows it down, a spa. Oh the soothing massages, wonderful beauty treatments, peace, tranquillity, I was in heaven just thinking about it. Then my fitness fanatic mother blurts out “Wails how about a health spa?” Well I am trying to lose weight, and my skins looking a little worn out, yes, okay maybe a little pampering topped off with an extra dose of vitamins and fat free foods might just do the trick.

Mum sets of on her mission to find the perfect destination. As I said, “fitness fanatic”, mum comes home from the gym bubblier than usual. She has found the perfect place, ‘Hoogland Hydro Spa’. “Whose land what Spa mum?” Okay clearly she heard this from one of her gym buddies, only “those” people know these places. Mum explains that it is a Hydro spa, with facilities that operate all day, three meals a day- all healthy and my favourite part, pamper treatments. Daddy books it, I pack everything except my bed, mummy is road running or something gym-like before we leave, and of we go to our weekend of tranquillity.

Now it needs to be understood that I am about as fit as a television set, my idea of exercise is having to walk from the lounge to the kitchen for a snack. My stamina lasts just long enough for me to get up three steps. Mum on the other hand is a ball of energy, that women never tires. I am starting to think that god might have given her my share of energy because he knew I would do a superb job of been lazy. Nevertheless mum and I are like adjacent countries, we share a border line. That leaves us with enough similarities to get along quite well. We are picky when it comes to living arrangements, hygiene, food and so on. We love nature but from afar, put us in a shopping mall and we’ll have a blast. We are both willing to learn but extremely head-strong and mildly rebellious. At the slightest hint of our independence and freedom been questioned, we turn of the charm and switch on dragon lady mode. Our common phobia is reptiles, hence the lack of interaction with nature, we cringe at the thought of them.

Okay now that we have that out of the way, back to my story.

We follow the map, and find that it’s not too far from home, to mums relief. However, in order to reach the actual Spa we have to get onto some dingy dirt road that leads up and into the mountains. Now when I say this road is long, I mean it’s as long as the ‘Never Ending Story’. As we drive along this fairly isolated road, I begin tensing up, and I know for a fact mum is to. Why? Every single building we have passed looks worse than a factory, some of them look like perfect places to commit mass murders. The only decent looking building is a Hindu temple, it’s huge and detailed, and it is definitely amazing beyond explanation. Please do not get me wrong this is not good news for me, when it comes to temples, for every ounce of amazing detail, you get an added ounce of scary. Meaning no disrespect at all, the engravings are extremely creepy, and the culture fascinating, but frightening. Besides, if we are staying close to the temple i am going to hate it, I do not want to hear chanting while getting my aroma-therapy massage. I say this from experience, I was once a Hindu, it scared the four year old me then and it terrifies the nineteen year old me now.  Thank goodness, we were no-where near it, come to think of it we were no-where near anything. Right then, I better get out my pen and paper and start writing out my will, you know, in-case I don’t make it back. While i am pondering who to leave which teddy to, we arrive at “the gates”. Relieved to have finally reached our destination, mum and I perk up. Only to be told that we would have to drive further in. “My word mummy, there is no escaping here”, and really there was not, they shut the gates firmly behind us. The uphill single lane road continued for at least six minutes, all unpaved, might I add. Our first glance of the actual building didn’t seem so bad, in fact it bore a similar resemblance to the ‘Cabanas’ at Sun City. I could not have been more wrong. Mummy and I walk up to the glass doors cautiously, we are surrounded with nature after all. We open it and step in….  

Well this is cute, it has a front desk, sweet little plant setting and a mosaic thing. The friendly young lady greets us with a warm smile, and gives us the paper work to fill out. While waiting for the forms to be processed, mum asks her if there are any reptiles near the building. Her reply had me turn stone cold. In her Afrikaner accent, “Ag no, don’t worry the snakes and lizards are in hibernation, they won’t come here now only when it’s very hot”. “Hello women, did you not notice the bright sunshine, its 30 degrees out there, is that not hot enough for you?!” that was what I yelled out. Okay, I yelled it out in my head. Mum and I just looked at each other, our mummy-daughter telepathy transmitted the message between us, and “we won’t be stepping outside”.

We get the key for our room, I walk cautiously behind my mum and the receptionist, all the while praying that by some miracle our room would be awesome, or at-least liveable. As she opens the door I open my eyes. I still cannot fathom why I was surprised, it was awful. It looked like a room in a dormitory. Still trying to keep an open mind, I look around, well at-least the paintings look pretty. Something seemed to be missing, I looked around and it seemed frighteningly empty. “Oh my goodness there is no television, mum we have got to get out of here now, what kind of sick joke is this”?

Mum calms me down and we discuss our treatments scheduled for the next day, I managed to build up anticipation and once again put a smile on my face. Having been on the long journey to get to the spa, we were starving. Mum goes to the receptionist and politely asks if there is somewhere that we could buy some food. The lady looked horrified, “no I am sorry, lunch is over and there aren’t any shops around here”. It was beyond me, how could anyone possibly survive without any shops. “What time is the next meal” asked mum hopefully. “Ag the next meal is supper, that is at 8’o‘clock. “ Either this lady was playing a prank on us or we had just entered into hell’s kitchen-less pits. I stood staring at her for at least a minute waiting for her to yell out “you have been “punked”. Clearly she had not seen the time, it was just after 2 pm, and I would die if I had to wait till 8 pm. Next on the agenda of surprises was our tour of the spa. The bombastic lady walks in, loud and proud, with her fur coat, and starts our tour. First stop the schedule board. Okay hold that thought, I feel it important to mention that I am on holiday, why exactly is there a board and a schedule in my holiday time, senseless. There is exercise classes, walks on the trails and my personal favourite, lectures.

The number- Part 1

Winston was on his way to the cafe to meet his darling girlfriend of just a week. As he walked down the busy streets images of the month before, flashed in his mind. Just before he had met the love of his life he had being plunged into a world of mystery.

It was a cold winter’s day and Winston was late for a job interview. He jumped into a cab, anxiously awaiting reaching his destination, all the while humming ‘Eye of the tiger’. He arrived at Bill and Toms Law Firm, just on time. He walked into the icy cold room for his interview with the major partner of the business, Bill. He seemed to like Winston and the interview was going swimmingly well. Ten minutes into the interview, Bill throws a stack of papers at Winston, “if you can complete this by tomorrow morning, you have got the job.” Winston expresses his extreme gratitude picks up the papers and leaves.

On his way out a man spills coffee on him, apologising profusely the man directs him to a near-by public toilet. The toilets looked seriously un-hygienic, having no choice Winston walks in. There was something mysterious about the dim lit walls, it reflected of a sort of green light, the type of atmosphere created in horror movies. It was dead quiet, with just the whispers of the hustle and bustle of the world above. “Well I might as well use the loo while I am down here”.

There is nothing strange about graffiti and random quotes and messages on the walls of a public toilet. Winston looked around taking in all the ‘ Johns’ for Jane’s forever’ and all the other obscene content on the walls. Now like i said there is nothing curious or strange about this, however, what Winston saw was a bit disturbing. On the lower part of the cubicle wall was a number scribbled, it looked as if it was scribbled in a hurry or while the person was in agony. Having studied law, Winston analysed things more than most people. He bent down to get a closer look, pulling out his cell phone to shine light onto it so that he could see it clearer. He angled the phone this way and that to rid that horrid shadow and green light effect. He got closer and closer, he squinted his eyes, until he got a better view. He fell back and hit the other side of the cubicle, staring at the wall with a look of pure terror on his face. The number was written in blood. Maybe it was just some emo or Goth who liked playing around with blood, or maybe it was fake blood. No it was not, and Winston knew this, he just tried to make up every sort of excuse possible in his head for this to be just some kind of a joke.

The blood was dry, but it was fairly recent, he knew this because it was still potent in smell, and not crusting the way blood normally did after been exposed to air for a long time. The number was scribbled in an act of desperation, you could see it, the lines were pressed but shaky. The last digit was cut off and from it finger prints leading to the door, was this person dragged away. He followed the movement of the finger marks, at the edge of the door the finger prints in blood, clutching the frame as if for dear life.

 Winston’s heart beat accelerated, it was the only audible sound now. He took a picture of the number, the finger prints and all the other writing in the cubicle, he shoved his phone deep within his shirt pocket and buttoned up his jacket over it. He composed himself, trying to seem as normal as possible, he washed his hands and made his way out. Trying to keep an open mind, his logic was been questioned by himself. He knew better than to get involved in this, if it was anything to get involved into that is. Deep in thought, he made his way past the Law Firm building plotting his next move. Somebody watched him from the window above, wiping his hands, of spilt coffee.

Winston entered his pent house suite, having a rich daddy had its perks. Locking the door firmly behind him, he was becoming increasingly paranoid. He pulled out the cell phone and downloaded all the images onto his laptop foe better viewing. He spent three hours analysing each detail of the writings on the walls, but none seemed to be linked to the number of blood. He opened up the image of the number, there seemed to be no other clues. His only option was to do the obvious, call the number. His instinct came either from his brilliance at investigative law or from watching too many movies, but he knew better than calling from any of his private lines.

 He could use a public phone, but he would have no reason to call that number, whoever was on the other side of the line would become suspicious. “I have got it”, he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, wrote the number down and put it in his pocket. He switched his cell phone and laptop off and put it into his safe hidden behind the frame of his mum and dad. He got another cell phone, some gadget, his jacket, locked the door, and headed down to call a cab.

He pulled up in-front o ‘Life line insurance agency’ and walked in. He approached the extremely beautiful secretary who clearly had her eye on him from the moment he walked in. “Good afternoon miss, my car has just been stolen along with my wallet and cell phone. Is there some place private that I may be able to use a phone to call the cops and my family, please?” The women clearly heartbroken for Winston immediately got up and directed him to a room far down the corridor, “if you need anything please call me” she purred.

A she closed the door behind her Winston picked up the receiver and stuck a gadget into it. He knew the number of by heart, he was glad that he remembered it and would not have to pull out the piece of paper, it was too risky. Is hands trembled as he dialled the number. The phone rang once, there was a beep, he was uncertain if the beep was that of an answering machine or of the phone been picked up, he steadied himself. Winston was certain that he heard heavy breathing on the other side.

 “Hi there I am Timothy Matthews calling from Life line insurance, would you be interested in securing the future of your family?” He was doing his best to keep up his fake southern accent. The breathing continued. He had to keep this up for at-least 30 seconds, that was all he needed. “Madam, Sir, is anyone there?” Still nothing, no response, he was dead certain that he had just entered into a game that would have him fighting for his life and possibly someone else’s.

10 seconds more, “I know that you have heard this before with countless pointless calls, but we really do offer something different. If you would just give me your approval and your details, I could fax or e-mail the details to you”. Perfect he had spoken for almost a minute, now for a clean escape, “I think I may have got the answering machine, I will be in touch again soon, I won’t rest until your life is covered. Goodbye.”  He pulled out the gadget quickly, ruffled up his hair a bit and made his way back to reception.

He approaches the lovely young lady to say thank you. “Have you sorted everything out sir” she asked. “Yes thank you, my parents have sent a cab for me and the rest I will sort out later.” She hands him a piece of paper with her name and number written on it, “Please call me if you ever have time, for coffee or something.” Winston takes the paper, smiles and nods and heads back to the cab that he told to wait for him.

His next stop is at his best friend’s house, Lee. Lee is a technology whizz, he can create, disassemble and even hack into any equipment. Winston hands him the tiny gadget and asks him if he can track the location. Lee being a genius and a loyal person does not ask any questions, he does it with a smile, mainly because he knows how. The location pops up on screen, its way out of any developed part of the country, in-fact, no-one even knew that it existed. “Whoa Wins, why on earth do you know anyone who lives out there?” Winston straightens up. “I think the question is what that person is doing there”. Lee immediately gathers that Winston is playing detective and that this is not as clean cut as it appears to be. Although Lee is a “techno-nerd” he is also a master in 7 fighting types that originated in an ancient city of Japan. Winston knows that Lee can help him and protect him, they have always been partners, and Lee has never let him down. “Do you think that you could hack into that cell phone buddy?” Lee nods, and grins, of-course he can. A matter of seconds later, it as if they have the cell phone with them. Images, contact numbers, video clips, the entire cell phone network is now on Lee’s computer.

Winston tells him to open up the images, pictures of a girl with dark hair and pale skin opens up she is beautiful, her face without a trace of make-up. There are pictures of her dancing, smiling, eating and a picture of her tattoo. A beautiful butterfly on her right ankle, she is pointing to it in the picture, pulling her tongue at it. They keep going down all the images, as they progress the pictures turn to images of a green lit bathroom, of walls and corridors and then they become sordid.

A young girl is tied up to a chair her face cannot be seen, bruises and cuts on her body. The person taken the pictures has mistakenly put a hand in the shot. Winston tells Lee to zoom in onto the hand, it is clearly a female’s hand. This is not possible, someone is being tortured in the most gruesome ways, by a girl. Lee and Winston both look horrified, whatever are they going to do. The cops are not an option, they would investigate Winston and Lee before they accept the complaint.

They view all the pictures, no faces are revealed, just the girl’s body, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a vest, her feet bare. The dark room is dirty, it looks like a garden shed or cellar. Winston is convinced that the girl being tortured is the girl from the pictures. Lee notices something, the girl does not have the tattoo on her ankle, pictures of her have been taken from every angle, yet nothing. This is definitely not the same girl, even though her body and hair looks the same. Looking for some sort of sign, they notice that on her wrist is a tattoo, also of a butterfly, in-fact almost identical, to the one on the young girl’s ankle.

They zoom into it, it scratched out, scabs on her wrist, this was not done by her captor. “Lee, it looks as if she had tried to get rid of that tattoo in a fit of rage, how odd that they should both have similar tattoos.” They opened up the video clips, once again most of the videos were of a happy girl playing around having fun, and just like the images, they became violent. The girl tied up was begging her captor to let her go, all the videos had a girl with a distinctive evil cackle, clearly the person behind the camera.

They spent days analysing pictures and videos, looking for clues. Researching the people in her phone book trying to gain some insight into who she was or where they might find her. They could not take any drastic actions, finding her was definitely a must but they had to do this while covering all their basis. They knew that the evil women would not kill her, it was clear that some sort of vicious vendetta was being carried out here and the intent was purely torture.

Winston had to balance working at ‘Bill and Toms Law Firm’ with his undercover role of finding the missing girl. He had to put up a front, he could not risk Lee or himself being found out. It was evident that whoever was doing this had connections into his world, thus he was extra cautious. Lee spent all the time he could further analysing pictures. He found the picture of the number that sparked of this mystery. He picked up something that Winston did not; outside the door blurred in the background were the black stilettos of a woman with pale feet. He immediately dialled Winston’s number but it just rang.12

Winston snapped out of his reminiscing, he had arrived at the cafe. He felt awful about the secret life that he and Lee shared, he wished that he could tell his love about it, but he could not risk her getting involved in something as grotesque as this. He had only just met her by fate, he believed, but he knew that he was head over heels in love with her, he was certain that it was real.

He opened the door to enter the cafe, the loud sound of a women cackling sent shivers up his spine, he assured himself that he was imagining, there was no way possible that the lunatic was here. He wrestled with his emotions, it was as distinct as hers, no, that is enough he was here to spend time with his beloved. He walks up to the pretty lady sitting in the corner, he notices that her cell phone light is on, she was on the phone. “Ah damn love, I forgot my cell phone at home.  Oh well you look lovely, I missed you.”

She smiles at him, leans over and gives him a kiss on his cheek. Her blonde hair, lightly tickles his face, she is beautiful. She has a lot of make-up on, Winston often wonders what she looks like without it, but he loves her none the less. As she returns to her seat she knocks over a knife by accident. It scrapes her fair ankle and falls down next to her ridiculously high black stilettos. She grabs her serviette and wipes out the dripping blood on her ankle, revealing a beautiful tattoo of a butterfly. Stuffing the bloodied serviette into her hand bag, she resumes her position and smiles sweetly at Winston.

Untitled story

Far into the sunset he could see it. There it was, growing into some sort of vicious typhoon. What was it? He was stranded there, he had no choice but to engage in this fearful surrounding. He walked towards it in a trans like state, something pulled him towards the red storm. He felt powerless, almost possessed. He moved closer and closer. He felt something on his arm, a pain, he had never felt anything like it before. He looked down at his arm, what he saw made him want to scream, but he couldn’t, it wouldn’t allow him to. His skin was been blown of his body, his skeleton was in full view, his entire body began to suffer the same fate and then…

Tristone woke up in a state of panic. He had been having the same dream for the past month, each night he awoke in a sweat, confused and scared. At first he let it slide as just his over-active imagination playing tricks on him, but now it seemed just too strange to ignore. Was it a movie that had perhaps stuck in his head? It couldn’t be, this was far more frightening then any horror movie he had ever seen. He scanned his room, as he did every night after his nightmare, everything seemed to be normal. He went back to sleep, trying hard to keep those horrid images out of his mind.

There was nothing ordinary about Tristone. From his exceptionally out-standing looks, to his extraordinary intelligence, Tristone was a stone throw away from perfection. He was an only child and loved dearly by his parents. His parents, Sasuke and Jun Kazama ran a successful business ensuring that he was never short of anything. However they knew that there was something special about him. At the age of two he could play the piano, read, write and operate all the electronic devices. This was something his parents chose to keep secret. They grew him up as normally as they could.

At the age of nineteen he was captain of all the sports teams on campus, president of the university student body and the highest achieving student in the country. However his strength, good looks and intelligence did not make him conceited or rude. His personality was just as amazing, he was kind, considerate, loyal, respectful and responsible. Nothing you would expect from a teenager. He knew that his super intelligence was not to be discovered, he kept all his discoveries and inventions to himself and his parents. He was popular, however he did not have any friends but rather, as he called them, acquaintances. He felt that he had nothing in common with the rest of the people, if only he knew just how right he was.

Tristone had been keeping his strange dreams from his parents, they worried far to much about him. The more he tried to ignore the dreams, the more they seemed to haunt him. He would have to stay focused, it was just a dream, it meant nothing. After graduation, he would work at his parents company. He jumped into bed praying that he would have a peaceful sleep, for tomorrow was his graduation ceremony. It was 21:30, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. He awoke at 1:30, something felt strange. He did not have his dream and if he did he could not remember. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He sat up in shock, “this is not my bed” he screamed. He looked around, it was the guest bedroom. “How did I get here?” He walked back to his room puzzled, he would tell his parents about his dream tomorrow after graduation.

The graduation ceremony was finally over. Tristone had found it hard to enjoy the ceremony, he was too preoccupied with his strange dream. His parents noticed how distant he was, but decided to rather let him be. At dinner Tristone played around with his food for a while before excusing himself. His concerned parents watched him climb up the stairs, his head bent low and shoulders slumped. “Do you think his sick Jin” asked his mum. “I don’t know dear, he looks rather concerned and his eyes are so dark” replied Sasuke. “Maybe I should go up and speak to him”. “Don’t, rather let him come to us”, he grabbed her hand and held it tight. Upstairs in his room, Tristone felt as if he was not alone, this feeling frightened him. “That’s it I have got to speak to mum and dad now.”  He ran downstairs into the living room where his parents were watching television. “Mum, dad, I need to tell you something, I know its going to seem silly but I’m really scared.” His dad turned of the television and turned towards him, “we are listening son.”

“I have been having these strange nightmares, in-fact it’s the same dream every night for the past month. Its so scary. I don’t remember having the dream last night, but I woke up in the guest bedroom, I don’t remember going there.” “Son what have you been dreaming” asked his mum. “I’m in this strange place, like a jungle, far ahead theres a bright red storm almost like a tornado. It’s pulling me towards it, not physically but mentally. When I get close to it my skin starts peeling of my body, I feel the pain but I cant scream, and then I wake up. When I’m in my room I feel like I’m not alone, mum, dad, I’m really scared.” Sasuke hugs his son, it’s just a dream kid, sometimes these things happen to smart people, don’t let it scare you.” “Thanks dad” he walked up to his room, that was not the response he had expected.

Jun looked at Sasuke curiously. Although he had comforted Tristone, there was something strange in the way he had spoken. It seemed to her that he was avoiding any bigger discussion around the dream. “I’m just being silly” she thought to herself. She went upstairs, got into bed and began reading her novel. Downstairs Sasuke sat alone in the dark, pondering to himself about what he had just heard. “It cant be, its impossible.” He leaned back against the soft leather settee, closed his eyes and drifted of into some far away place. He found himself back in the year 1962. He was an eight year old boy, living in a tiny Tokyo village, working as a cattle herder in the afternoons. He was one of the fortunate young boys who were able to get an education. He worked hard and set his mind on pulling himself out of poverty.

At that young age he already had a business mind. He wrote down his ideas in a little book made out of papyrus. He hid it in between to pieces of bamboo sticks that made up part of the tiny shack he shared with his parents and little sister Xiayu. At the sight of her little face in his mind, Sasuke clenched his fists. His sister had died at the tender age of three. Not even his wife knew of her existence. He could remember every detail of that horrific day, even though he had not thought about it in over fifteen years. He was walking in the fields on a hot sunny afternoon. It was a quiet day. He sat down on a rock and stared far into the distance, this was his usual method of relaxation. He saw something peculiar, a tornado or something like it. It was not moving in the standard circular motion, but rather swirling around in the exact same spot. It seemed to be increasing its area, and even stranger was its bright red colour. Sasuke became afraid, but his amazement and curiosity compelled him to remain where he was. He looked around to see if anyone else was aware of this strange phenomenon, but there was no one else in sight. He remembered thinking to himself “of-course there isn’t anyone else here, im in the middle of the bush.” Suddenly he saw a boy, about the age of 20 walking towards it, he looked like a zombie. “How could that be, no one could see it from the village” he had thought to himself. He walked closer to see what was happening. The boys flesh began peeling of his body, yet he continued to move towards the storm. Sasuke could see something in his hand, a doll. He looked carefully, straining his eyes, it looked so familiar. It was his sisters! He sprinted towards his house not even stopping to look back and see what had become of the boy. He entered his house, it was quiet, it had an eerie feel to it. He looked into all the rooms, but found nothing. He heard a quiet snivel, to afraid to look himself, he ran to his parents. He told them that he could not find Xiayu but that he had heard a sound. They ran in to check, he would never forget the shrilling scream that came from his mother. Xiayu was dead, They had not allowed him to see the body, but he had overheard them talking about how gruesome she had looked. Unable to deal with the death of his sister he ran away, he grabbed his book from between the bamboo sticks and left, never to return. He stowed away on a ship to America. He was fortunate enough to meet a nun who took him in as her own. He got an excellent education, graduated from university and put into practice all the ideas that he had written in his little book.

Sasuke awoke from his reverie of his past. Switched the lights of and went to bed.

Many had tried to research the bizarre event that had occurred. Sasuke dedicated his years to finding out the truth, however he hit dead ends almost every single time. He eventually gave up, he decided to let it go, it was consuming him, he had a wife and a baby to devote his life to now. He locked up his research in a place out of mind.

In the deserted town of Wing-Shao, a land unknown to all but its few chosen residents, a secret was been shared. The year was 1727, in the temple of Maruko, a meeting was held between four strangers. Not strangers to each other, but strangers to the world. The largest of the four men, seemed to hold all the power, he took charge of the meeting. He spoke with authority, commanding the attention of his cohorts. They spoke in a language never to be known to any other person. The discussions were of a mysterious relic that would be found at the foot of a river. A beautiful Japanese Princess, Asuke, would find it. The princess would be found dead in her room within the palace shortly after. A fire burnt and the four man sat around it, images of the death of Asuke embellished within the flames, as if the story was been told through the fire. The flash of red light, the man in a trans, the fragments of skin flying into the air and the sudden explosion. “How can this happen?” hissed Togo, one of the four strangers. “Settle down Togo, we still do not know the full potential of the piece” explained the large man.

You see the four strangers together formed something powerful, but alone they were nothing. The leader was an over sized but friendly looking middle aged man, Kahn, he possessed the power of wisdom, he was calm and assertive. Togo was the good looking but temperamental one, he had a good heart but made terrible choices. Why was he part of the four then? He held the power of strength. At any sign of danger Togo was able to protect the four or any other who needed protection. The healer, Keiko, was young but powerful in his ability to cure any illness or wound. Finally the inventor, he was what modern day people called a nerd, he would invent things that assisted the four. Together they were The Protectors. They did not know how their powers came to be or how they had found themselves together. Kahn had dreamt of the relic shortly before Asuke could find it, he did not understand how, but he had a basic idea of what it was. They searched high and low for it but to no avail. They knew that they were the only ones who could save Asuke.

They followed Asuke to a remote part of a fishing community. It was here, in Kahns dream, that Asuke had found the relic. Just as he had anticipated, she found the relic and picked it up. A strange look came over her face, she walked back to the town and made her way back to the palace. Kahn had a notion to stay in the deserted area. A few hours later a red flash of light shot across the sky, and the winds became heavy. The atmosphere became dark and gloomy, and out of the red tornado, a handsome man emerged. He did not look Japanese or even Asian. He walked towards the palace with a blank expression on his face. The Protectors followed him, ready for anything. As they approached the palace entrance, they heard a shrilling scream. They ran into the room, the man looked as horrified as they were as they looked at Asukes mutilated body. In a second, the zombie phase had over came him again. As if responding to a call, he stood up and made his way to the strange storm. Kahn and the group chased behind him trying to draw him out of the trans like state. As he got closer to the storm, his skin began peeling off, unable to think of any other response, the men joined hands and followed behind him. Their flesh tore of their bodies, just as the pain became unbearable they grabbed the man a huge pulse surged through all and an explosion occurred, the relic dropped close by.

This was the first record of an incident relating to Jins dreams. Sasuke was sitting in the attic, in front of him on the floor lay an antique box with hundreds of photos and paper cuttings. He was reading over the first incident. He began arranging the articles and pictures in chronological order. He went through each event, all of them happened in the exact same way.

Life or love-Part 1

Every decision in life results in a consequence. Life itself has a consequence. When two different options present itself to one, sub-consciously a decision is already made. What if that choice was between two forces you simply had no control over, for if you did, you would never be in this position right now.

Kitana ran as fast as she could, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, the mist of her breath lightly falling onto her clenched fists each time it crossed her chest. The more distance she gained the easier this race would be. Running was so easy, it came so naturally to her, after all she had spent her entire childhood running. Being a princess was no joke, the pink and puffy image created on television was nothing at all like the true life of a princess.

Day in and day out a new suitor was brought in, each time she declined. This was her daily schedule since the age of 14, however since the age of 13 her eyes had already fallen on another. His sparkling eyes and gleaming smile sliced straight through her. He carved a letter in her heart each time she caught his gaze, slowly but surely his name became imprinted on her heart, whether she resisted or not it would not matter, her heart belonged to him.

What was the problem? Not that she adhered to the social ladder or the rules separating peasants from royalty, but this was not even like that. He was royalty, he was intelligent and compassionate, he was perfect. Everything about him set her heart alight, from his kind heart to his warm smile, everything she had heard about him all proved that her first impression was spot on. He really was  an intellectual individual, he truly cared about his people as well as animals and everything else that was important to her.

He did not know it yet but he loved everything she did, and represented all that she stood for.  All she could think about was him.

Prince Kian saw her across the room from him, typical scenario from a classic love story, yet so different at the same time. This time the violins did not play, the room did not start to spin nor did everyone disappear. Instead, the room went silent, the room stood still and everyone moved in slow motion, except her of-course, she moved at a graceful pace coming closer towards him without even realising that he existed. Her face was a perfect replica of a beautiful porcelain doll, her cheeks just the perfect blush of pink, her lips the softest pink and her eyes the darkest black. Was she manufactured?

What a ridiculous thought, but her beauty was really that astounding. She paced around all by herself, interacting with passerby’s on a physical level however remaining emotionally disengaged. Her eyes signalled sadness, her movement mirrored his, three steps and a nod at someone or the other, an uncertain glance and another three paces. Was his movement really the same as hers or was he subconsciously mimicking her. For the first time that night his attention was drawn away from her, in a split second a shadow crossed her path. His eyes followed the quick-moving shape to a statue, the shadow removed the sword on display and flung it at her.

Meeting him under such strange circumstances made the bond all the more firm. How he had managed to save her life in a moment was beyond her. He had knocked her to the ground before she even realised that she was in any danger. That fall to the ground was henceforth used as her metaphor for when she fell for him.

She looked up into his sparkling blue eyes, he had a look of bewilderment, she placed her hand onto his tensed up shoulder, she felt his gaze easing and slowly his tension became an eased lock of protectiveness. He helped her up and remained silent all through her questioning about what had happened, who tried to kill her, how did he see it coming, who he was and the list went on. Kitana babbled when nervous, although her racing heart made it hard for her to keep track of her babble.

 He put his strong-arm around her shoulder and guided her away from all the people. He looked at her intensely, unable to speak and completely frozen Kitana tapped his hand, trying to be gentle while trying to shake him out of his daze. He suddenly snapped out of it, and grabbed her, his arms locked tightly around her tiny frame. At first she resisted but slowly melted into his embrace, somehow this felt like it was right, like those arms were meant to be around her at that specific moment, it was the safest place anyway nothing wrong with a bit of security from a gorgeous blue-eyed boy, who just happened to be your hero….

Breathless

An eternal sunshine was always promised to me, or so said my mother. She often used it as a metaphor for almost every “opportunity” that came my way.

How she could, even for a moment, equate any career offer to sunshine was beyond my understanding. This was not a career, this was not a life, and this was not living. She had started me off you know, assuring me at the early age of 10 that it was okay, we were different from everyone else. “You’re unique, like your mother” she would always say. Yeah well maybe I did not want to be unique, maybe I wanted to be normal.

How fulfilling it must be, to look into someone’s eyes and not feel as if you are staring into their very soul, and charging them for it no less. It was like stealing a diamond from a rich mans pocket and then selling it to his wife at cost price. Could humans really be this heartless? I cannot imagine that my father had intended for me to become the person that I am today. Had he known that this would be the result of giving in to temptation, he would definitely have been stronger.

What do I do? I am a professional psychologist. What is so wrong with that, you may ask. Well, let me explain. As time went by, humans become more focused on technology than actual living. Computers and the World Wide Web slowly took over the lives of family members, leaving them almost completely immune to emotions. The entertainment technology brought out ruled human interaction and the need for verbal communication. As a result, the human species were able to suppress all inner emotions and focus rather on what the internet had to offer.

Years later, the need for psychologists and psychiatrists became minimal if not extinct. As if my mother would let that stop her from forcing her eternal dream onto me, her only child. Mom had always wanted to be a psychologist, however due to circumstance, she never managed to fulfil her wish. She made it her mission to put me through university and have me qualify as a psychologist. I protested, laying down the obvious in a desperate hope to not do as she wished, I explained how unnecessary my profession had become. The pointlessness of the gruelling years spent studying something that really did not matter to me, haunted me from the moment I realised that I had no say in the matter.

Humans truly are the most savage species in existence. Yes humans, they take and take, never giving back and never stopping to realise that this earth that they over plough, will soon no longer be able to sustain them considering they harvest, but never sow. I am not a human, no, well not completely anyway. My father, an android, went against all rules of our kind and developed a relationship with my mother, an earthling. How the story actually played out, I was never told, mom said she wishes to never speak of it, dad is forbidden to have contact with earth, I have not heard his voice since the first and only lullaby he ever sung to me.

I remember everything, my birth, my birthdays, the important events in my life and the useless ones too. My abilities allow me to view past events of both my parents lives, ones that do not include each other. From the many events that I have watched in each ones existence, I was able to draw conclusions as to the types of personalities that they possessed. My mom: beautiful, healthy, fit, snobbish, controlling and manipulative. My father was straight forward, handsome, athletic with a body to suit the part, caring, respectful and utterly loyal.

How did two such different entities have a single moment of unity. How could such opposing creations, join forces to create me. I was now the first, and only one of my type, I jokingly named myself the “humdroid”. Apart from having mum and dads past as a playback, I could also look into the heart of any human and know exactly what they were feeling, and why. That is how mother finally created a market for my psychology practise. I would first look into the hearts of unsuspecting strangers, decipher their troubles, think up a solution, and finally randomly walk into them and let loose my expertise. Naturally they felt as if all their problems were over, they booked countless sessions with me, thus the emergence of my thriving business.

It was shameful, hurtful and harmful to my android body. Living this lie was a constant reminder that I was a Halfling, neither above, nor below, just somewhere in-between. It kept mother dear satisfied, and that meant she was quiet for most of the time, the money kept her shopping and well out of my hair and head. She often told me that she loved me, but I never knew what that meant. She always forgot that my type do not feel such emotions, but then who could blame her, dad sure had enough emotions back then to cancel out that trait.

“You were born with an eternal sunshine”, yes mom, that sentence is true only because I cannot die. Eternal referred  to my immortal life, and the sunshine to my abilities, with such a combination I was surely ruling the perfect life. For some reason, I wanted more. I longed to know what it felt like to experience all emotions, to be able to differentiate between them. I looked into the hearts of people on a daily basis, each person had the exact same scarlet couloured heart. I looked into my own, it was black.

I got a call early one morning, it was my personal assistant. “Miss, you have an appointment this afternoon, he is not on our records”. What on earth is that about, I had not met any new patients, this person surely called out of his on free will. Wow, I had my first real patient. I assured myself that I would use no powers on him, this would be traditional.

I sat in my comfy chair, looking professional, harbouring the most absurd smile. I was genuinely happy for the first time, I knew this emotion well, though it was the first time I did not have to generate it, it was the first time my emotion was real. At precisely 12:30 my office phone buzzed, “your 12:30 is here” squeaked my assistant, “Send him through” I replied.

There was a faint knock on my door, it was so graceful yet strong, respectful yet dominating. No! I promised myself I would analyse this patient professionally, I had spent years studying after all, I really was qualified. He opened the door, his hand was the first thing in view, fair and soft. His shining black Italian shoe stepped in confidently, his black pants settling on the shoe perfectly, his scarlet formal shirt was tucked in, with a light tug out over his belt, it puffed over so naturally, yet embraced his clearly defined arms menacingly.

For some reason the breath had being knocked out of me, some invisible force had punched me in the gut. I let out a gasp in order to regain oxygen. What just happened to me, I felt a thud in my chest, that thud should not be there, our organs do not work that way. I looked down at my chest, my vision went deeper, my black heart was beating. He took a seat, his eyes were so warm, yet they stared into mine so painfully. He had a smile on his face, and a glow to his aura, in spite of that, when I mustered up enough courage to catch his gaze, he signalled out a desperate plea, “help me” his beautiful eyes cried out to me. I do not know what had just happened, or what this intense feeling was, the only thing I did know, was that for the first time in my android life, I felt human.

Kibas Rainbow

The first sign of a rainbow is always the rain. Kiba leaned against the window pane as he breathed his warm breath onto the cold glass. He loved how the mist formed; it seemed so mystical, even though he knew it was inevitable. Today, however, the mist seemed to go unnoticed, he did not stare at it in awe as he usually did, nor did he drag his fingers along the fogged up glass.
He stared out into the distance, a blank expression on his face, how very rare for one so appreciative of everything to sit so sullen. Kibas’ mother knew that whatever caused his glum state, had to be of a rather serious nature. Standing at his door frame, watching him lost in his own world, was amazingly captivating, she had been there for nearly five minutes now, quite ridiculous really.
As she turned to leave, Kiba suddenly snapped back to reality, he shook of his daze, but instead of resuming his gentle nature as expected by his mother, he slammed his open hand onto the glass and dragged his finger along it in clear despair. Knowing better than to question him, his mother proceeded down the passage, dazed and concerned.
As an intelligent four year old, Kiba had read a novel describing the quest of a father to find his lost son, his attitude, always optimistic even at the worst of times had inspired Kiba at that tender age. He carried with him the lessons he had learned from the book, fourteen years later he still latched on to the words etched into his mind, “the first sign of a rainbow, is always the rain.” He lived his life taking in all the events around him, remembering them and appreciating the lesson he learnt from each occurrence.
The worst situations in his life caused only a brief sadness, for he soon remembered that it was just the rain, and that his rainbow was soon to follow.
It was different this time. Nothing could compare to this feeling. His body was lame, his mind frozen and his ears ringing with the words that had caused this pitiful state. “She is dead Kiba”, said Mr Welling in an absurdly calm voice. She was dead. Kyra was dead. She was deceased. She had departed. She was, gone forever. He said it over and over again, using different words, numerous phrases, anything that would help it sink in. How could he accept, that his soul mate, his love, his entire reason for being, could be so swiftly stolen from him. It was fate, fate had brought them together, destiny had decided that they were meant to be, and now, it was fate that took her away. He blinked for a second, turned his back for just a moment, a single moment had he turned away from her perfect face, a brief flash and she was gone. Was this the plan? Had fate decided this? “Let Kiba pause for a moment, oh he will, he is human after all, wait for that moment, and we shall steal the angel, grab her out of his grip and force her to release her clasp”, he thought sarcastically.
Why had the word “chance” been put as a synonym for “fate”, he wondered. Kiba realised in that moment, that his whole life had being a dream, because of that dream he would never get a chance to say goodbye.
He no longer saw the rain as an opportunity for a beautiful rainbow. The rainbow was a consolation prize for the devastation that the rain had brought. The rain was just that, it was destruction.

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