T.A.C.: MHS 1 [ON HOLD]

Chapter 2: A Way of Saying Things Complexly

Beside all of those things, a folded note was placed there. I shrugged my towel upwards because it started to slip away. I leaned towards the note and grabbed it. I unfolded the note and it was also Ian’s doings. It went on like this: 

------------------ 

Like I promised, here are your classmates for this school year. It seems brat that you are still in the first section of the Engineering and Science Education Curriculum of Marcial O. Rañola Memorial School. Your adviser is Mrs. Gemma Tayo. But I used to call her Mommy Gem back when I was in high school. All in all, you are thirty-five in this section.

BOYS

1.    Ian Lander

2.    Benjie Rentourge

3.    Randy Demeter Oxford III

4.    Mandrake Vestige I

5.    Jae Springfield             (I hope he’s not gay) 

------------------ 

Ian, Ian, Ian. Again may I reiterate for the second time around in repeating that statement for the twentieth time, Jae Springfield is not a gay. 

But the number six is. 

-------------------

 6.    John Carlo Tiphania

7.    Renz Joseph Corales

8.    Yves Lawrence Ivan Merfency

9.    Michael Raven

10.  Noel Cabernet Jr.

11.  James Carl Legend

12.  Earl Fred Dewcross

13.  John Argin Hex

14.  Patrick Dhael Calcifer

15.  Arenz Nutmeg

16.  Xyrel Euphales

GIRLS

1.    Nikki Joy Newland

2.    Czarina Wayland

3.    Adele Maan Sierra

4.    Rica Virtue

5.    Jenevieve Destrephorne

6.    Mary Rhea Rhose Willow

7.    Donna Angelica Button

8.    Hyacinth Gardenia

9.    Maria Divina Nightingale

10.  Mikaela Archea

11.  Abegail Hementite

12.  Angelika Edifice

13.  Jelyn Solomon

14.  Jean Coldslash

15.  Karen Mae Magister

16.  Diana T. Yuna

17.  Jeahan Proxima

18.  Paolin Pearl Nender

19.  Fatima Sta. Ana

Why did the teachers, this year did not arrange you alphabetically? Well, you probably say two words, so I’ll stop here.

From your ever most annoying brother,

Fred Ian Dewcross.

--------------------

For the two words he meant, it was “nobody cares”. But he was right. I was famous for that statement. 

Anyways, I crumpled the paper and made a three point shot to the garbage bin at the corner of my room. And as just I am about to get myself dressed, I am dressed already.

Complete in uniform.

The ID, the shoes, the bag all of them I am currently wearing and carrying; and the hair was already styled, too. 

That was weird. I said to myself.

If that isn't wierd enough, a woman, about thirty, but she’s still a hot chick, is on my bed standing. Her pale, white face, her luscious red lips makes you want to kiss her. Except that she’s wearing an expression of sadness and sorrow; that seemed to be emanated from her deepest sorrows, just like mine.

I have been terrified with recent horrific nightmares. A day of the apocalypse, the hanging of my parents, the suffering and pain of carrying the weight of your whole family are one of those recent nightmares. And the worst of it all, I found myself and my flower, Hyacinth, along with five others in a mist of persimmon.

The good part of it is that I managed to get a hug from her. The bad part, well, we fell into darkness. 

The woman made a sort of magical banners of silver and gold. It started circling around her in one, continuous motion. It was solid but motioned like a fluid. A sort of force field that isn’t much distracting. 

Then she spoke . . . 

In the forsaken land, a quest must be completed.

The Demigods, The Curse and The Codex of History are needed.

To travel by the literary rules of love and hatred,

And to finish a part, without leaving a mark compensated 

“What are you talking about?!” I yelled at her. I charged towards her and punched one of the silver banners. It was as hard as silver and argentum combined. I retracted my hand and blew some cool air to relax its tense muscles. But the lady continued, which I have lost of interest in her beauty. 

The curses will make one feel more tormented,

Travelling the 7, to the place where bonds are connected.

With three prequels of dwelling and one of swelling,

Or death shall serve as the underhand of not believing. 

My hand still hurt and a bruise became more obvious to look at. I am still listening to the old lady waiting for her last lines. But those last lines, made it difficult for me to think positive for the day. 

Transport back to the land of the lost.

And you'll start with twelve, and ends with nine at most

Encounters with beings untold and forgotten

Marking a new hero born with a mitten

Then she disappeared out of thin air, leaving traces of glitter all over my bed. I heard three knocks at the door and it opened. It is Ian, wearing an appalled face.

"What did you just did to the room?" Ian said, marking the beginning his temper.

I agree with him it is a mess. Though, I don't want to tell the details because everything is too complex to say. Everything in the room went in a different form, different color and has a different perspective of looking at it.

"You have so, much too explain."

I do. And hopefully, this will not begin my rollercoaster ride to scolding.

--EARL: CHAPTER 2: A WAY OF SAYING THINGS COMPLEXLY (part 2)