The Malachite Curse 4 : Chow’s fury and Cuifen’s burial

The Malachite Curse 4 : Chow’s fury and Cuifen’s burial

12 March 2020

 

Courtesy mirror.com

 

With a speed unexpected given her stocky build, Chow leapt onto Ming-Hoa who had just been released by the men holding him as they had to tend to the platform, rolling it to the cemetery where they would bury Cuifen. Chow held Ming-Hoa’s ridiculously thin throat in a deadlock and the men who had come back from rolling the platform on its wheels were no match for the strength of her fury as she tightened her fingers around Ming-Hoa’s neck.

 

  • You killed her, you old bastard, she spat out at Ming-Hoa who merely spluttered. He seemed to have no will to fight her deadly fingers. You killed my beautiful Cuifen, she continued in a rage

 

Cuifen whom she had carefully clothed and taught all the rudiments of life and who had somehow been able to teach her back more refined ways of doing things. Cuifen whose beautiful hair she had combed and tied back with a sigh wishing she could allow her to have her hair fall around her beautiful face. She had known then that Cuifen’s beauty could be a curse because she could not even let her hair fall alongside her face without that causing a stirring in the hearts of all those who saw her. Cuifen who had come out of her, an infinite gift despite the horrible relationship she was in and which had allowed her to endure more easily the beatings she used to get from her husband. Cuifen whom even her father would never harm so much he was awed by her beauty. Cuifen who had been robbed from her by this contorted old man.

 

Chow’s hands continued to tighten around the neck of Ming-Hoa and the latter suddenly realized that he wanted to die. He wanted to die in the hope that the crowd would bury him close to Cuifen’s grave rather than have to break the ice-covered earth in a totally different place. It would indeed be easier to overturn the earth nearer to Cuifen’s grave than attempt to break through another new patch of ice further away. He was surprised to find that he did not fear death anymore as long as he could share a proximity with Cuifen in death if not in life. Besides, now that Chow was strangling him, he realized that she was indeed dead and he no longer had any desire to live. He closed his eyes offering his neck to Chow.

 

The other villagers had already started breaking the ice in the cemetery in anticipation of the arrival of the platform holding Cuifen’s coffin. For some reason, the ice seemed more difficult to break than usual. It was as if the earth itself refused to swallow Cuifen and wanted her to stay forever exposed to the eyes of the villagers. As they continued to dig with their shovels turned sideways each one thought back to their first encounter with her and the latter encounter once she had started growing up into a beautiful young girl. Those who were married had cursed the fate that got them married before she had grown up and those who were unmarried dreamt secretly of how they would woo her after they had earned enough to be able to afford a marriage. They dug with the force of desperation not only to counter the might of the ice but also to counter the flooding of the images of their broken dreams as they now had to literally bury them with her.

 

Spirit of Free – Saint of Sin

Time and Time again

Time and Time again

8 April 2018

Time pinterest com
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

She looked out of the window at a blue sky full of fluffy clouds. Ironically the clouds reminded her of how the memories of him were slowly fading. She had known him once with utmost certainty but now she was not sure anymore. She thought back to their first encounter. Not the one she remembered consciously but the one that had been at the back of her mind when they had met fleetingly on the small strip before the beach. When she had glanced at him then and her eyes had met his she had known deep in her heart that it was him but the thought had been so preposterous that she had had to brush it aside, grit her teeth and walk on. She had then seen him go into a sports car that was parked on that strip.

For years the memory had haunted her. The thought that she had walked beside the love of her life and not had the courage to take a chance and speak to him had weighed her down for years. Then he had reappeared in her life. First in a ghost-like form with no words said but for the evanescent image of him. Then with increasing precision in the form to which was added a telepathic communication. She wondered whether he was aware at all of this or if she was the only one seeing and hearing him. His spirit-like presence then became a daily routine in her life but left her with the ache of not having him around in flesh and blood.

She turned back from the window and glanced around the room which was submerged in pale light coming from the one window that was open. The room reeked of wasted memories and unshed tears. She wished she could turn back time and go back to that moment to see if she could change the course of fate but she knew it was not possible here and now. It reassured her to think that there was a version out there in the Multiverse where she had taken that risk and was perhaps growing old with the love of her life. He whispered in her head that he would come to her Time and Time again when the elements were favourable. It reassured her even more to think that maybe serendipity would put them both on the same path again. In Time. She smiled a wane smile before the tears finally welled in her eyes.  Someday…Somewhere…In Time…

 

Somewhere in Time – Maksim Mrvica

A wealth of memories

A wealth of memories

24 November 2017

bird shutterstock com
Courtesy shutterstock.com

 

She shuffled to the park bench where she usually sat, her back still upright although the rest of her frame showed more of the frailty of old age. Two joggers looked at her vividly coloured clothes astonished at the marked difference between the peaceful serenity of her face and the gaudy colours of her salwar kameez. She merely smiled at them and waved as if she were waving to some long lost friends. They waved back after a few seconds of hesitation. It was always like that she thought in this foreign country where westerners did not expect strangers to wave or even smile at them.

As she watched them jog down the path she had just come from, she slowly opened the bag that she had extracted from her large handbag. It was a plastic bag filled with breadcrumbs and chunks of potato from yesterday’s servings that she had saved. She started throwing some to the birds that had gathered around her in the daily tradition and they readily started gobbling the morsels. All the while throwing the bread crumbs, she told them stories of the past, her present woes and her wishes for the future. The birds hovered or walked around her alternatively cooing or eating while she continued her monologue in hushed tones adding now and then a mark of appreciation for their listening.

  • Nobody listens anymore to my stories. I got so many to tell from my younger days but none of the young boys bother to hear them. They want stories of Superman and Batman but I can only tell stories of an old woman who was once young and lived an extraordinary life travelling.
  • Coo… coo.. coo
  • I did not travel like Superman of course as I did not have fast cars but I did travel once on the Orient Express
  • Coo… cooo… coo
  • I know dear. The Orient Express is not that exciting for youngsters today but I also traveled on the Palace on wheels which many youngsters still like today albeit when they are a bit older than James and Morris
  • Coo…cooo…coo
  • Who are James and Morris ? Well they are my grandchildren dearies. Did I not speak to you of my grandchildren ? Oh, they are a beautiful pair. A bit naughty but a beautiful pair of young children all the same. They call me grammy and want me to tell stories of Batman and Superman but I only had my own stories to tell
  • Coo… cooo…coo
  • Susan bought me a few books. She says I can read those books to them as they have stories of Superman and Batman. I do that now but then who will listen to my stories ?
  • Coo… cooo…coo
  • I know you will dearies. You are so kind. My late Robert used to say one day we will both be old and maybe not remember each other anymore but I am sure we will remember enough to tell each other stories. He is now long gone my Robert and my stories still hang around my head whispering to me so that I may tell them to someone. I wish my Robert were here to listen to my stories. I would look at him and say listen old man (chuckling) – he was an old fool, Robert – I have a wealth of memories to share with you. He was an old fool indeed. Always used to say that I looked just like the young girl he had always known.

She kept chuckling and sharing both pieces of the food in the bag and stories of the past as well as hopes for the future. The birds gathered around her in more tight ranks as the murmur of her voice subsided. As the sun went down, the joggers who were passing by on their way back saw her extended frame on the bench where she had stretched out to peacefully pass away, her wealth of memories tucked away into her folds forever.

 

Stive Morgan ~ New Asia – Zov Predkov (Stive Morgan Remix)

The for never more

The for never more

8 September 2016

inverted-pinterest-com-9
Courtesy pinterest.com

 

The gowns flow

Like rivers of lime

Committed

The seventh crime

Nine gates carry to the rhyme

That unfolds in Heart

 

Renewed start

In seasons squared root

The owls hoot

To the moon

They speak of wish dead too soon

In folds of the night

 

Brief respite

Encounters of lips

In the dark

Shadows lisp

Unheard names before the lark

Chirps to the unseen

 

Ravens bleed

Velvet of the night

They hop low

Like a crow

Three blackbirds join in the show

Clipped wings fly too slow

 

Consensus

Gleaning compromised

By free will

Flown downhill

Through the aisle like corpse reeling

Loss of the feeling

 

Wrapping up

Loose ends that flutter

Gifts resist

Grim gutter

Words that Heart will not utter

The fornever more

 

Reading of the poem: 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Courtesy pinterest.com

I’ll remember you – Sophie Zelmani

Waiting for the Miracle to come – Sophie Zelmani

Stay with my Heart – Sophie Zelmani

 

A book for shelf a loss of Art

A book for shelf a loss of Art

7 August 2016

bluegreenloss cont ws

 

Time to depart silent chest heaves

Tears of morrows when bluebirds call

Afresh the start as wind blows leaves

Raked in sorrows hearts don’t recall

 

Wish me pennies from heaven’s purse

The lips have shut secrets buried

Call me Denise then swear and curse

Uncensored cut movies hurried

 

We will play game of peak and boo

Like meek blue elf I fit the part

A mind to shame in who is who

 

A book for shelf a loss of Art

Excuses lame to see me through

I will myself naïve and tart

 

Reading of the poem: 

bluegreenloss deviantart com another_brick_1500_by_gyaban-d6ub4ks

Hush Little Baby – The Horse Flies

Angel Tears

Angel Tears

30 July 2016

Angels tears carlos queyedo raphael
Courtesy Carlos Quevedo on deviantart.com

 

Falling rain

Covers my meadows

Black prairies

Grass withers

Scorching sunlight seeps within

Land of the fairies

 

The woods speak

Their voices wooden

Like ship mast

Now downcast

We carry our crew like rock

Flags of soul breach seas

 

Feeble mock

Their hearts set in stone

Marble walls

Angels’ Tears

Within the dark veins strewn thin

In loss of the Love

 

Reading of the poem: 

angelstears carlos quevedo
Courtesy Carlos Quevedo on deviantart.com

Troth – Thomas Feiner

Joining Sky and Earth

Joining Sky and Earth

2 April 2016

joining reikilorient com
Courtesy reikilorient.com

 

The choices

They create craters

Caving loss

Felt in soul

Never again to be whole

Beliefs from the fear

 

I hold dear

Remnants of the skies

They pulsate

Within me

Through the air my heart dilate

Setting my soul free

 

The choices

They are more than faith

Measured steps

In blood flow

We reap only what we sow

Our hands kindness tools

 

Earthen rules

They speak of bounty

Made heavy

Weight of gold

The hindrance more than was told

Within dark whispers

 

Glowing choice

Forgiveness in heart

Love music

Symphony

In letting go of the reigns

A sky-bound rebirth

 

Heaven’s voice

Mother speaks through me

Energy

Deep healing

Flowing fast through my blue veins

Joining Sky and Earth

 

Reading of the poem: 

joining thelovestory org
Courtesy thelovestory.org

Love Tears Heartaches & Devotion – B-Tribe

Matador de sa pena – B-Tribe

Libera me – B-Tribe

Love – B-Tribe

Suspiro – B-Tribe

Wisdom & Courage – B-Tribe