Like the post title says, I'm back. Back from where? My 4-day stint around Singapore, of course.
Expect the next few posts to be about my time there. I had a blast! Going to Universal Studios, the Flyer, sleeping in the hotel. And as much as I'd like to write it up and share it with you guys, ASAP, I'm afraid like always, I have post-travel sniffles.
And yes, that is a real term.
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot
Short Post
Hey, Readers!
I know it's kind of late. But I'll just keep this short.
Tomorrow, I'm heading over to Singapore with my fam. It's gonna be so much fun going to Universal Studios, and maybe the Flyer. I may not post and be reachable while I'm there, so I'm telling you, just as a heads-up.
Guess that's all for now.
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot
I know it's kind of late. But I'll just keep this short.
Tomorrow, I'm heading over to Singapore with my fam. It's gonna be so much fun going to Universal Studios, and maybe the Flyer. I may not post and be reachable while I'm there, so I'm telling you, just as a heads-up.
Guess that's all for now.
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot
The Case Files of Natasha Riviers, Case File # 1: Return To New York City
Case File # 1:
Return to New York City
Return to New York City
On a hot day in the bustling NY PD, a little girl could be seen sitting in the lobby. You might've wondered what the small child was doing in such a place. Her name was Natasha Riviers, a 12-year-old British girl. Her dark blonde hair fell just above her shoulders, matching well with her fair creamy skin. She brought herself in a well-mannered fashion, making her seem more mature than her physical age. Although she stuck out, she seemed to fit into the scene quite well. A lone child in a room filled with grown-ups.
She crossed her legs, rested her chin on her hand and sighed impatiently.
"Nervous are you, Natasha?"
She looked up to find Christopher Fidéle Diamanté gingerly sipping his hot coffee. His light green eyes stared back at her gently, with a look of understanding. He had always seemed to have powers of telepathy, seeing through Natasha's most convincing charades. She had spent most of her childhood with him. He was like a brother to her. He was 22 years old, a decade older than herself, but seemed to have kept some of his childlike demeanor. He had the most fiery red short hair, and fingers that were exceptionally long from long hours on playing the piano.
"Are you referring to the press conference? Poppycock, Christopher. This is just the chance I've been waiting for! Imagine a live global broadcast! The whole world shall know the genius of yours truly, Natasha Riviers!"
There it was again, Natasha's confident facade shielding her anxiety. The past four years had taught her that adults sympathized young orphan children. She wasn't allowed to show signs of weakness. She had to be strong, and prove herself to the world.
"I'm sure your father will be proud of you," commented Christopher.
There was a pause. Natasha nervously swept back her hair. "Yes... Of course, he will. I'm continuing the family legacy, aren't I?"
Natasha gave a weak smile. It must've been hard for someone so young to experience a painful loss. She could still remember her father lying on the study floor, covered in blood. The moment she left to call for help, the body had disappeared. Whether he was alive or dead, no one could tell. But that small chance was what kept her sane... The small chance he was still alive. Four years had passed now. Perhaps it was time to let go of that false hope...
"Natasha," called Christopher standing up. "Let's meet the chief now, shall we?"
Natasha stood up as well and they rode the elevator to the second floor. They entered the door just in front of them, the Chief of Police's office.
"Good morning, Chief Starnez," greeted Natasha with a small bow.
"No need for formalities, Natasha. Haven't you grown since the last time we met," commented the Chief with a friendly hug. Natasha accepted the gesture in an awkward and stiff manner.
"It's only been a year. Now, what reason did you have to invite us?" She plopped down onto a swivel chair, sat bolt upright, and crossed her legs.
"Straight to the point as usual, I see. Sorry about the wait, by the way." He gestured to a young woman standing by his desk. "Allow me to introduce, Ms Reginald Policia Sanders."
"You can call me Reggie," the brown-haired woman said. She gave a sheepish smile towards Christopher. She had been staring at him since they had entered, but he didn't seem to notice. To Natasha, she seemed oddly familiar. And when Reggie laid eyes on Natasha, she shared a look of recognition.
"Hey..." they both chorused simultaneously.
"You're the officer who tripped in front of us!" exclaimed Natasha.
"And you're the little girl I saw come out of the office!" exclaimed the woman.
"Ah, so you've met," said the Chief.
"Briefly," replied Natasha. "She was outside the office last year and we bumped into her after I solved the case."
"Wait a second," interrupted Reggie. "Right after you solved the case?"
"Yes, Reginald, allow me to explain. This young child prodigy is Natasha Riviers, the detective that solved the Miranishi kidnapping case. She asked for her identity to be kept hidden until she was ready."
"Until she was ready for…?”
"Ready to open up my own Detective Agency," chimed in Natasha proudly. "I was sure the press wouldn't buy a word of this, so I spent the last year sharpening my intellect, to prove my worth once the Agency was opened. Passing college was a breeze."
Reggie's jaw dropped. "You've passed college? B-b-but I thought he solved the case," she stammered, pointing at Christopher.
"Then you are mistaken. It was I who cleared up that unfathomable case."
"And why must I bodyguard her?"
"Bodyguard?" wondered Natasha. "Why would I need a bodyguard?"
"You see, this press conference will clear the speculation and rumors of the public, but with her identity revealed, we are afraid someone might do her harm. Like the Jingkuja mafia, the kidnappers last year. This is just a precaution, the Interpol has decided on."
Natasha considered it. Interpol, she whispered unbelievingly in her mind. “Fine,” she decided. “I’ll accept her as my bodyguard. But, you must abide by my orders. You will follow me wherever I go, and must be fully alert at all times.”
“Fine then,” Reggie said at last, “as long as this body guarding job pays.”
“When did you schedule the press conference?”
“Four-thirty p.m. sharp, in the station’s lobby.”
“That’s quite a while away…” Natasha pointed out.
“Well, I had to reschedule it.”
“Why did you have to reschedule?”
The Chief tossed out two Broadway tickets. “How about you go catch a show?”
Natasha stared at them curiously. Her intuition began to tingle. She could feel an incident had occurred. In spite of herself, she gave a small enigmatic smile. “What kind of show?”
“It’s a mystery show… a murder occurred, one I want you to solve.”
She crossed her legs, rested her chin on her hand and sighed impatiently.
"Nervous are you, Natasha?"
She looked up to find Christopher Fidéle Diamanté gingerly sipping his hot coffee. His light green eyes stared back at her gently, with a look of understanding. He had always seemed to have powers of telepathy, seeing through Natasha's most convincing charades. She had spent most of her childhood with him. He was like a brother to her. He was 22 years old, a decade older than herself, but seemed to have kept some of his childlike demeanor. He had the most fiery red short hair, and fingers that were exceptionally long from long hours on playing the piano.
"Are you referring to the press conference? Poppycock, Christopher. This is just the chance I've been waiting for! Imagine a live global broadcast! The whole world shall know the genius of yours truly, Natasha Riviers!"
There it was again, Natasha's confident facade shielding her anxiety. The past four years had taught her that adults sympathized young orphan children. She wasn't allowed to show signs of weakness. She had to be strong, and prove herself to the world.
"I'm sure your father will be proud of you," commented Christopher.
There was a pause. Natasha nervously swept back her hair. "Yes... Of course, he will. I'm continuing the family legacy, aren't I?"
Natasha gave a weak smile. It must've been hard for someone so young to experience a painful loss. She could still remember her father lying on the study floor, covered in blood. The moment she left to call for help, the body had disappeared. Whether he was alive or dead, no one could tell. But that small chance was what kept her sane... The small chance he was still alive. Four years had passed now. Perhaps it was time to let go of that false hope...
"Natasha," called Christopher standing up. "Let's meet the chief now, shall we?"
Natasha stood up as well and they rode the elevator to the second floor. They entered the door just in front of them, the Chief of Police's office.
"Good morning, Chief Starnez," greeted Natasha with a small bow.
"No need for formalities, Natasha. Haven't you grown since the last time we met," commented the Chief with a friendly hug. Natasha accepted the gesture in an awkward and stiff manner.
"It's only been a year. Now, what reason did you have to invite us?" She plopped down onto a swivel chair, sat bolt upright, and crossed her legs.
"Straight to the point as usual, I see. Sorry about the wait, by the way." He gestured to a young woman standing by his desk. "Allow me to introduce, Ms Reginald Policia Sanders."
"You can call me Reggie," the brown-haired woman said. She gave a sheepish smile towards Christopher. She had been staring at him since they had entered, but he didn't seem to notice. To Natasha, she seemed oddly familiar. And when Reggie laid eyes on Natasha, she shared a look of recognition.
"Hey..." they both chorused simultaneously.
"You're the officer who tripped in front of us!" exclaimed Natasha.
"And you're the little girl I saw come out of the office!" exclaimed the woman.
"Ah, so you've met," said the Chief.
"Briefly," replied Natasha. "She was outside the office last year and we bumped into her after I solved the case."
"Wait a second," interrupted Reggie. "Right after you solved the case?"
"Yes, Reginald, allow me to explain. This young child prodigy is Natasha Riviers, the detective that solved the Miranishi kidnapping case. She asked for her identity to be kept hidden until she was ready."
"Until she was ready for…?”
"Ready to open up my own Detective Agency," chimed in Natasha proudly. "I was sure the press wouldn't buy a word of this, so I spent the last year sharpening my intellect, to prove my worth once the Agency was opened. Passing college was a breeze."
Reggie's jaw dropped. "You've passed college? B-b-but I thought he solved the case," she stammered, pointing at Christopher.
"Then you are mistaken. It was I who cleared up that unfathomable case."
"And why must I bodyguard her?"
"Bodyguard?" wondered Natasha. "Why would I need a bodyguard?"
"You see, this press conference will clear the speculation and rumors of the public, but with her identity revealed, we are afraid someone might do her harm. Like the Jingkuja mafia, the kidnappers last year. This is just a precaution, the Interpol has decided on."
Natasha considered it. Interpol, she whispered unbelievingly in her mind. “Fine,” she decided. “I’ll accept her as my bodyguard. But, you must abide by my orders. You will follow me wherever I go, and must be fully alert at all times.”
“Fine then,” Reggie said at last, “as long as this body guarding job pays.”
“When did you schedule the press conference?”
“Four-thirty p.m. sharp, in the station’s lobby.”
“That’s quite a while away…” Natasha pointed out.
“Well, I had to reschedule it.”
“Why did you have to reschedule?”
The Chief tossed out two Broadway tickets. “How about you go catch a show?”
Natasha stared at them curiously. Her intuition began to tingle. She could feel an incident had occurred. In spite of herself, she gave a small enigmatic smile. “What kind of show?”
“It’s a mystery show… a murder occurred, one I want you to solve.”
* * *
They seemed like a strange trio, standing in front of the theatre. A British girl dressed in a brown jacket over a white blouse and jeans, with a handsome, tall man wearing an “I ♥ NYC” t-shirt, and a woman wearing a badge, by her side. Even stranger was the number of policemen swarming the renowned theatre. The Chief had already explained Natasha’s presence, and they let inside, giving off looks of curiosity, disbelief, and even respect. Together, they stepped inside.
The Broadway Theatre was massive in size. Red velvet seats lined up the carpet-covered floor, under the balcony and private booths, with their golden railings. A crystal chandelier above, gave off a soft golden glow that illuminated the large hall. But amidst this grand scene, something was out of place. The stage at the end of the hall, framed with red silky curtains, was broken in the middle… and covered in blood.
“I believe you were the one who reported the crime?” Natasha addressed a well-suited man, busy with his BlackBerry, who was leaning against the wall. He briefly looked up from the screen, and seeing only a little girl, went back to looking at his phone.
Natasha tapped her foot impatiently. “If I’m not mistaken, you were the one who requested my services.”
“I asked for that ‘Unknown Detective’, kid, not you.”
“On the contrary, I am that ‘Unknown Detective’.”
The businessman and theatre manager, Aaron Miverdy, scoffed. “Yeah… sure, kid.”
“I am not joking, Mr. Miverdy. If you are still in disbelief, you may call the Chief of Police himself.”
And Aaron did just that, seeing Natasha was too focused on playing detective. Kids these days had no manners… How did she get into the crime scene anyway? Mr. Miverdy thought.
Chief Starnez picked up the other end of the phone, and a look of surprise came to Miverdy’s face. He hung up with a look of distaste. “Fine, kid, if you got any questions, ask away.”
“What exactly happened here?”
“Well, the victim was our lighting technician, Richard Chance. According to the witnesses, he was up on the catwalk and his girlfriend, Tracy, went up to talk to him. The must’ve gotten in an argument and Tracy pushed him off. He fell hard on the stage, and broke the trapdoor. A splintered piece of wood pierced him right in the chest. With all that blood he was losing, he let out his last breathe.”
“They’ve already taken the body for an autopsy, haven’t they?”
“Yes. And the suspect, Tracy, is sitting right over there,” he added, pointing to a corner seat.
Natasha spotted the woman. “Thank you, Mr. Miverdy. I’ll be sure to wrap this case up, posthaste.”
“You’d better, kid. With the theatre closed off, I’m losing lots of money. I’ve already had to refund the tickets for the next showing… Hah… all those dollars gone…”
Natasha left the businessman alone to mourn his lost money, wondering how greedy this man was to act like this murder didn’t mean anything. Didn’t someone’s live, stranger or underling, mean something of value? She shook off that thought for now, suddenly focused on solving this brutal murder.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said politely to the woman Mr. Miverdy pointed out. “May I have a word with you?”
Tracy Young was in her early 20’s, yet her face seemed like she was 52. Sadness and anxiety weighed down on her face, making it look pale. “Oh, sure, whatever…” she said depressively, not seeming to care who she was talking with.
“You’re the suspect aren’t you? I’m sure you could give me any story regarding what happened, but before I ask, I want you to answer one question. Did you murder Richard Chance?”
“No!” shouted the woman. “Of course, I didn’t! He was my boyfriend, how could I?” She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. “Yes, we were fighting these past few days, but I didn’t even touch him yet! He fell on his own…”
Natasha handed Tracy her handkerchief. “So you admit you went up the catwalk. What do you mean he fell on his own?”
Tracy took the hankie and wiped away her tears. “He was ignoring me, leaning against the railing. When I reached out to touch his shoulder, he just fell.”
“Strange… could he have just slipped?” murmured Natasha.
“I don’t think so… He fell forward, and the railway is just under-chest level,” replied Tracy. “He would’ve been able to stop himself from slipping… unless he was…”
“Pushed,” finished Natasha, and Tracy’s face sank. “Or, some other force made him fall…” Natasha considered the possibilities. Her eyes wandered to the stage. Behind the curtain, she could see the catwalk above head. The background paintings and props hung from the ceiling, ready to anchor down by rope. Sandbags were also hanging mid-air acting as weights. Natasha’s eyes lit up with an idea.
“Miss Tracy, would you please show me your positions up on the catwalk?”
Tracy looked up and realized that she was talking to a young girl. The way she spoke, Natasha had sounded like a mature adult. Without question though, she followed her up to the catwalk. The catwalk was a rectangular metal platform furnished with a single chair facing the controls for the stage light’s and music control panels. Tracy showed exactly where Richard was standing. Natasha stroked the railway, and found a streak of red. It seemed to be blood.
“That’s odd… he was already bleeding before he fell?” If you looked up you could see a fixed pulley without its rope. Natasha looked down to stage, and spotted a piece of rope buried under a plank of wood.
She rushed downstairs immediately, with Tracy at her side. Under the plank of wood was, as Natasha suspected, a sandbag. “I might be able to prove your innocence after all, Miss Tracy. Now I’ve found the real reason behind Richard’s fall! This sandbag must’ve fallen on his head!” Natasha sounded triumphant, and Tracy looked hopeful. She had established the ‘how’, all Natasha needed was to prove the ‘who’ and ‘why’. Perhaps it was one of the witnesses…
Before Natasha had a chance to think it through, she was approached by a woman. The black short-haired woman was tall and slender, wearing a pair of round-rimmed glasses on her nose. She had gentle eyes, and creamy skin. An over-sized lab coat hung down on her shoulders, covering her casual ensemble. “How did you get in here, dear? This is a crime scene, you know.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that, ma’am,” answered Natasha patiently. “I am here to solve this crime.” Natasha was sure she wasn’t going to believe her. Was it really that hard to accept that a child would have the intellect sufficient enough to be a detective? But unexpectedly, the woman seemed surprised for only a moment. Then, she put on a smile and nodded approvingly.
“Who would’ve thought a kid would be the ‘Unknown Detective’, everyone was talking about? I suppose you’d want to ask me about the autopsy results? My name is Maria Gomez, by the way. I work at the NY PD’s forensic department. The moment I heard the ‘Unknown Detective’ was on the case, I rushed down here right away!”
“And what are the autopsy results?”
“Well, I uncovered a few strange details.”
“Please elaborate, Ms. Gomez.”
“One, the body had strangely gone through some slight rigor mortis, the stiffening of a body after death, indicating an earlier time of death than his fall.”
“You mean he died before all of this?” asked Reggie in disbelief.
“Yes. We suspect he died around 8 a.m. this morning.”
“That would explain the dry blood on the railway. Anything else?” asked Natasha.
“Yes. The cause of death was a stab to the chest. Strange thing is, we analyzed the wound and found it was too long and deep to have been made with the short piece of wood.”
“So, he died before Tracy supposedly pushed him, and now it seems the cause of death was made by a different weapon,” summarized Christopher. He and Natasha looked at each other. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes indeed, Christopher,” Natasha said with a smile. She had expected nothing less from him; after all he was her father’s apprentice. “This was neither an intended murder nor a simple accident. This was an attempt to frame Ms. Tracy and cover-up the real murder that occurred earlier. If it wasn’t Ms Tracy, it must’ve been someone else. We should interview the witnesses. Now, they are all suspects.”
The theatre was mostly empty as the staff prepared for the next showing. The dancers and other staff were out on lunch break, and the only two who had seen the incident was Millie Karligan, a newly discovered actress, along with one of the theatre’s make-up artists and wig designer, Bethany Strauss. Natasha decided to interview them separately to see if their stories would match. She started with the actress, Millie Karligan.
“Where were you at the time of the crime?” asked Natasha, straight to the point.
“I was in my dressing room with Bethany. She was retouching my make-up for the next show. Afterwards, she said she was feeling tired and wanted to grab a coffee at the café across the street. I heard her scream outside my dressing room and when I went out saw her running over to Richard under the rubble. I did see Tracy on the catwalk, but I didn’t see her push him.”
“No one did, so there might be a possibility that someone else killed Richard. Do you notice anyone acting strange, lately?”
“Well, yes, I did. Bethany’s been acting strange lately, like she was hiding something. And if you ask me, she seemed a bit too eager to pin Tracy as the culprit.”
“You’re suspicious about Bethany, then? But, would there even be a reason why she would do it?”
“It seems a bit impossible for her do have done it. She wasn’t up on the catwalk. But, if I had to say a reason, it would probably be because of jealousy. You see, Richard and Bethany used to date, and then he dumped her for Tracy.”
“A love triangle…? Hmm…” Natasha began considering the possibility. If it was Bethany, with jealousy as a motive, how did she kill Richard in the first place? “One last question, when was the last time you saw Richard?”
“Come to think of it, I didn’t see him at all today… He was probably here early this morning, preparing for the show.”
“Alright, then, thank you for your cooperation. Please call in the other witness, Bethany.”
Soon Millie gracefully walked away from the seat in front of Natasha, and Bethany took her place. Natasha didn’t hesitate with the questions. “Ms Karligan states that you had exited the dressing room right after the fall?”
“Yes, that’s true. I just finished retouching Millie’s make-up.”
“What was your relationship with Richard?”
“I, Richard, and Tracy used to be best friends in high-school. The two of them are dating, and had been fighting recently.” She sighed quite convincingly. She didn’t bother to mention that she and Richard had dated as well. On her waist was a utility belt. As the make-up artist, she had kept her tools on it. There was a can of hairspray and red hair-dye on her right side. Natasha noticed that there was a scissors pocket on the belt too. It was made of leather, and was long.
Probably for her barber scissors… reasoned Natasha. Then the jigsaw pieces all fell into place, as the answer hit Natasha.
“I can’t believe Tracy would do this,” continued Bethany. “We’re best friends, and it pains me to have to testify against her… She doesn’t seem to have the heart to do something like this…”
“You’re right, Ms. Strauss, she doesn’t.” Natasha looked her straight in the eye. “But, according to the evidence, you do. You are the murderer of Richard Chance.”
The Broadway Theatre was massive in size. Red velvet seats lined up the carpet-covered floor, under the balcony and private booths, with their golden railings. A crystal chandelier above, gave off a soft golden glow that illuminated the large hall. But amidst this grand scene, something was out of place. The stage at the end of the hall, framed with red silky curtains, was broken in the middle… and covered in blood.
“I believe you were the one who reported the crime?” Natasha addressed a well-suited man, busy with his BlackBerry, who was leaning against the wall. He briefly looked up from the screen, and seeing only a little girl, went back to looking at his phone.
Natasha tapped her foot impatiently. “If I’m not mistaken, you were the one who requested my services.”
“I asked for that ‘Unknown Detective’, kid, not you.”
“On the contrary, I am that ‘Unknown Detective’.”
The businessman and theatre manager, Aaron Miverdy, scoffed. “Yeah… sure, kid.”
“I am not joking, Mr. Miverdy. If you are still in disbelief, you may call the Chief of Police himself.”
And Aaron did just that, seeing Natasha was too focused on playing detective. Kids these days had no manners… How did she get into the crime scene anyway? Mr. Miverdy thought.
Chief Starnez picked up the other end of the phone, and a look of surprise came to Miverdy’s face. He hung up with a look of distaste. “Fine, kid, if you got any questions, ask away.”
“What exactly happened here?”
“Well, the victim was our lighting technician, Richard Chance. According to the witnesses, he was up on the catwalk and his girlfriend, Tracy, went up to talk to him. The must’ve gotten in an argument and Tracy pushed him off. He fell hard on the stage, and broke the trapdoor. A splintered piece of wood pierced him right in the chest. With all that blood he was losing, he let out his last breathe.”
“They’ve already taken the body for an autopsy, haven’t they?”
“Yes. And the suspect, Tracy, is sitting right over there,” he added, pointing to a corner seat.
Natasha spotted the woman. “Thank you, Mr. Miverdy. I’ll be sure to wrap this case up, posthaste.”
“You’d better, kid. With the theatre closed off, I’m losing lots of money. I’ve already had to refund the tickets for the next showing… Hah… all those dollars gone…”
Natasha left the businessman alone to mourn his lost money, wondering how greedy this man was to act like this murder didn’t mean anything. Didn’t someone’s live, stranger or underling, mean something of value? She shook off that thought for now, suddenly focused on solving this brutal murder.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said politely to the woman Mr. Miverdy pointed out. “May I have a word with you?”
Tracy Young was in her early 20’s, yet her face seemed like she was 52. Sadness and anxiety weighed down on her face, making it look pale. “Oh, sure, whatever…” she said depressively, not seeming to care who she was talking with.
“You’re the suspect aren’t you? I’m sure you could give me any story regarding what happened, but before I ask, I want you to answer one question. Did you murder Richard Chance?”
“No!” shouted the woman. “Of course, I didn’t! He was my boyfriend, how could I?” She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. “Yes, we were fighting these past few days, but I didn’t even touch him yet! He fell on his own…”
Natasha handed Tracy her handkerchief. “So you admit you went up the catwalk. What do you mean he fell on his own?”
Tracy took the hankie and wiped away her tears. “He was ignoring me, leaning against the railing. When I reached out to touch his shoulder, he just fell.”
“Strange… could he have just slipped?” murmured Natasha.
“I don’t think so… He fell forward, and the railway is just under-chest level,” replied Tracy. “He would’ve been able to stop himself from slipping… unless he was…”
“Pushed,” finished Natasha, and Tracy’s face sank. “Or, some other force made him fall…” Natasha considered the possibilities. Her eyes wandered to the stage. Behind the curtain, she could see the catwalk above head. The background paintings and props hung from the ceiling, ready to anchor down by rope. Sandbags were also hanging mid-air acting as weights. Natasha’s eyes lit up with an idea.
“Miss Tracy, would you please show me your positions up on the catwalk?”
Tracy looked up and realized that she was talking to a young girl. The way she spoke, Natasha had sounded like a mature adult. Without question though, she followed her up to the catwalk. The catwalk was a rectangular metal platform furnished with a single chair facing the controls for the stage light’s and music control panels. Tracy showed exactly where Richard was standing. Natasha stroked the railway, and found a streak of red. It seemed to be blood.
“That’s odd… he was already bleeding before he fell?” If you looked up you could see a fixed pulley without its rope. Natasha looked down to stage, and spotted a piece of rope buried under a plank of wood.
She rushed downstairs immediately, with Tracy at her side. Under the plank of wood was, as Natasha suspected, a sandbag. “I might be able to prove your innocence after all, Miss Tracy. Now I’ve found the real reason behind Richard’s fall! This sandbag must’ve fallen on his head!” Natasha sounded triumphant, and Tracy looked hopeful. She had established the ‘how’, all Natasha needed was to prove the ‘who’ and ‘why’. Perhaps it was one of the witnesses…
Before Natasha had a chance to think it through, she was approached by a woman. The black short-haired woman was tall and slender, wearing a pair of round-rimmed glasses on her nose. She had gentle eyes, and creamy skin. An over-sized lab coat hung down on her shoulders, covering her casual ensemble. “How did you get in here, dear? This is a crime scene, you know.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that, ma’am,” answered Natasha patiently. “I am here to solve this crime.” Natasha was sure she wasn’t going to believe her. Was it really that hard to accept that a child would have the intellect sufficient enough to be a detective? But unexpectedly, the woman seemed surprised for only a moment. Then, she put on a smile and nodded approvingly.
“Who would’ve thought a kid would be the ‘Unknown Detective’, everyone was talking about? I suppose you’d want to ask me about the autopsy results? My name is Maria Gomez, by the way. I work at the NY PD’s forensic department. The moment I heard the ‘Unknown Detective’ was on the case, I rushed down here right away!”
“And what are the autopsy results?”
“Well, I uncovered a few strange details.”
“Please elaborate, Ms. Gomez.”
“One, the body had strangely gone through some slight rigor mortis, the stiffening of a body after death, indicating an earlier time of death than his fall.”
“You mean he died before all of this?” asked Reggie in disbelief.
“Yes. We suspect he died around 8 a.m. this morning.”
“That would explain the dry blood on the railway. Anything else?” asked Natasha.
“Yes. The cause of death was a stab to the chest. Strange thing is, we analyzed the wound and found it was too long and deep to have been made with the short piece of wood.”
“So, he died before Tracy supposedly pushed him, and now it seems the cause of death was made by a different weapon,” summarized Christopher. He and Natasha looked at each other. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes indeed, Christopher,” Natasha said with a smile. She had expected nothing less from him; after all he was her father’s apprentice. “This was neither an intended murder nor a simple accident. This was an attempt to frame Ms. Tracy and cover-up the real murder that occurred earlier. If it wasn’t Ms Tracy, it must’ve been someone else. We should interview the witnesses. Now, they are all suspects.”
The theatre was mostly empty as the staff prepared for the next showing. The dancers and other staff were out on lunch break, and the only two who had seen the incident was Millie Karligan, a newly discovered actress, along with one of the theatre’s make-up artists and wig designer, Bethany Strauss. Natasha decided to interview them separately to see if their stories would match. She started with the actress, Millie Karligan.
“Where were you at the time of the crime?” asked Natasha, straight to the point.
“I was in my dressing room with Bethany. She was retouching my make-up for the next show. Afterwards, she said she was feeling tired and wanted to grab a coffee at the café across the street. I heard her scream outside my dressing room and when I went out saw her running over to Richard under the rubble. I did see Tracy on the catwalk, but I didn’t see her push him.”
“No one did, so there might be a possibility that someone else killed Richard. Do you notice anyone acting strange, lately?”
“Well, yes, I did. Bethany’s been acting strange lately, like she was hiding something. And if you ask me, she seemed a bit too eager to pin Tracy as the culprit.”
“You’re suspicious about Bethany, then? But, would there even be a reason why she would do it?”
“It seems a bit impossible for her do have done it. She wasn’t up on the catwalk. But, if I had to say a reason, it would probably be because of jealousy. You see, Richard and Bethany used to date, and then he dumped her for Tracy.”
“A love triangle…? Hmm…” Natasha began considering the possibility. If it was Bethany, with jealousy as a motive, how did she kill Richard in the first place? “One last question, when was the last time you saw Richard?”
“Come to think of it, I didn’t see him at all today… He was probably here early this morning, preparing for the show.”
“Alright, then, thank you for your cooperation. Please call in the other witness, Bethany.”
Soon Millie gracefully walked away from the seat in front of Natasha, and Bethany took her place. Natasha didn’t hesitate with the questions. “Ms Karligan states that you had exited the dressing room right after the fall?”
“Yes, that’s true. I just finished retouching Millie’s make-up.”
“What was your relationship with Richard?”
“I, Richard, and Tracy used to be best friends in high-school. The two of them are dating, and had been fighting recently.” She sighed quite convincingly. She didn’t bother to mention that she and Richard had dated as well. On her waist was a utility belt. As the make-up artist, she had kept her tools on it. There was a can of hairspray and red hair-dye on her right side. Natasha noticed that there was a scissors pocket on the belt too. It was made of leather, and was long.
Probably for her barber scissors… reasoned Natasha. Then the jigsaw pieces all fell into place, as the answer hit Natasha.
“I can’t believe Tracy would do this,” continued Bethany. “We’re best friends, and it pains me to have to testify against her… She doesn’t seem to have the heart to do something like this…”
“You’re right, Ms. Strauss, she doesn’t.” Natasha looked her straight in the eye. “But, according to the evidence, you do. You are the murderer of Richard Chance.”
* * *
Everyone watched in shock and suspense, as Natasha was about to play the final act in this murder story. Bethany stood up, shocked. Tracy stepped forward towards her best friend. “What? Bethany… was it really you?”
“Of course not!” she snapped. “Stop playing innocent, Tracy. Although you’re my friend, you’re the murderer! Who else could it have been? And you, little detective, should know better than to make an accusation without any evidence! I knew you were a fraud, right from the start!”
Natasha merely smiled as she took center stage, ready to explain. “Now, now, if you truly are innocent, Ms. Strauss, I don’t see a reason why you should be so enraged. And if I truly am a fraud, than letting me explain my fraudulent claim shouldn’t be a problem.”
She turned to address Ms. Tracy. “Now, there were a few vague details about the series of events. Tracy did indeed climb up to the catwalk, but there was no direct evidence that she pushed Richard to his death. And according to her, he fell on his own. Stranger still, I spotted a streak of blood on the railway. Why was Richard bleeding before he had even been injured? Now, if we assume that Ms. Tracy is innocent, and that Richard fell on his own, the question now is how. How did Richard fall?”
Natasha walked onto the stage, picked up the sandbag, and pointed up into the catwalk. “Richard’s position was right under a sandbag, which was found near the body. If someone were to send Tracy up to the catwalk to Richard, a timed release of the rope would send it tumbling down on his head. Imagine a plank of wood was leaning against the railing. If the sandbag were to hit the higher end, it would tip over to the other side. That was how Richard fell. This was planned to make it seemed like Tracy had pushed him.”
“Now I had to establish who or why had done that. During my interview with Ms. Karligan, she stated that you had been acting suspicious today. And you exited her dressing room, right before the incident. Tell me, Tracy, did you bump into Bethany before heading upstairs?”
Too shocked to speak, she merely nodded.
“See? Your timing was perfect. You directed Tracy up to the catwalk and released the rope. Richard fell, and you pretend to help him, again making it seem that Tracy had pushed him, and you were just a witness. Ms. Karligan also informed that you were Richard’s former lover, and he dumped you for Tracy. Your motive was purely because of jealousy.”
“An interesting theory,” interjected Bethany. “But that is all it is, a theory.”
“Please, let me finish. Afterwards, Ms. Gomez brings me the results of the autopsy. I’m sure this information will intrigue you. Would you like to tell them, Ms. Gomez?”
“The odd thing is, the body’s state of slight decomposing shows an earlier time of death,” Maria announced.
“It seems that Richard was dead long before this happened. The Richard up on the catwalk was merely his corpse. This explains the blood on the railway, were someone left him leaning on,” explained Natasha.
“Also,” continued Ms. Gomez, “the wound was too long and deep to have been made with the splintered wood. The murder weapon was something else. Something much longer, like…”
“Like a pair of barber scissors?” finished Natasha. “On your utility belt is all of your make-up tools, this made me wonder why your scissors pocket was empty. My final deduction is that early this morning, you and Richard met and had a fight. In a blind rage, you grabbed your barber scissors and stabbed him. That’s why no one saw him today at all. Not wanting to get caught, you decided to frame Tracy. You placed him on the catwalk under the sandbag and timed the release.”
“Yes, I use barber scissors to trim the wigs for the costumes, but you can’t prove I killed him!”
“Very well, then, Ms. Strauss. If you’re innocent, then I suppose you won’t mind emptying your jean pockets?” Natasha requested pointing to her right pocket which was slightly bulging in a triangular shape.
That simple request was like an arrow hitting Strauss’s chest. This little girl was on the verge of catching her. And oh how smug she looked! It made her want to scream! In a blind panic, Bethany pulled out the bloody scissors from her pocket and jumped at Natasha…
Clang! With a well-aimed kick from Reggie, the scissors fell out of Bethany’s hand and skidded to the floor. An officer casually picked up. “Nice kick, Reggie,” praised Natasha.
Reggie put Bethany in a headlock as she tried to jump at Natasha again. Her face was distorted with rage and hatred. The killer’s true nature had come out from that innocent charade. “You little brat!” she shouted at Natasha. “If you hadn’t come here my plan would be perfect! My revenge would be complete!”
On the floor, Tracy had fallen to her knees as tears flooded down her face. “Your revenge…? Why, Beth? What did I do to make you hate me…?”
“You idiot, don’t you realize! You stole Richard from me! I protected you all throughout high-school, and this is how you thank me! He dumped me for you! What do you have that I don’t? You’re a wimp, Tracy, I hate you! I HATE YOU!”
The hysterical shouting of Bethany rang throughout the vast hall. Her words stabbed Tracy in the heart. Natasha felt like comforting her, but knew it wasn’t her place. She handed her handkerchief and told the officers to take Bethany away. Before she left, Natasha gave her these harsh words, “You’re pathetic, you know that? You’ve done all this over a love quarrel? Don’t you think Richard’s live is worth much more than that? And worst of all, you’ve hurt your best friend. You deserve to go the jail.”
The officers and theatre staff stepped aside as Natasha exited the theatre. Aaron Miverdy, clearly impressed with Natasha’s work invited to watch a free show. Natasha politely accepted the gesture, (Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.) and drove back to the Police Station.
“Of course not!” she snapped. “Stop playing innocent, Tracy. Although you’re my friend, you’re the murderer! Who else could it have been? And you, little detective, should know better than to make an accusation without any evidence! I knew you were a fraud, right from the start!”
Natasha merely smiled as she took center stage, ready to explain. “Now, now, if you truly are innocent, Ms. Strauss, I don’t see a reason why you should be so enraged. And if I truly am a fraud, than letting me explain my fraudulent claim shouldn’t be a problem.”
She turned to address Ms. Tracy. “Now, there were a few vague details about the series of events. Tracy did indeed climb up to the catwalk, but there was no direct evidence that she pushed Richard to his death. And according to her, he fell on his own. Stranger still, I spotted a streak of blood on the railway. Why was Richard bleeding before he had even been injured? Now, if we assume that Ms. Tracy is innocent, and that Richard fell on his own, the question now is how. How did Richard fall?”
Natasha walked onto the stage, picked up the sandbag, and pointed up into the catwalk. “Richard’s position was right under a sandbag, which was found near the body. If someone were to send Tracy up to the catwalk to Richard, a timed release of the rope would send it tumbling down on his head. Imagine a plank of wood was leaning against the railing. If the sandbag were to hit the higher end, it would tip over to the other side. That was how Richard fell. This was planned to make it seemed like Tracy had pushed him.”
“Now I had to establish who or why had done that. During my interview with Ms. Karligan, she stated that you had been acting suspicious today. And you exited her dressing room, right before the incident. Tell me, Tracy, did you bump into Bethany before heading upstairs?”
Too shocked to speak, she merely nodded.
“See? Your timing was perfect. You directed Tracy up to the catwalk and released the rope. Richard fell, and you pretend to help him, again making it seem that Tracy had pushed him, and you were just a witness. Ms. Karligan also informed that you were Richard’s former lover, and he dumped you for Tracy. Your motive was purely because of jealousy.”
“An interesting theory,” interjected Bethany. “But that is all it is, a theory.”
“Please, let me finish. Afterwards, Ms. Gomez brings me the results of the autopsy. I’m sure this information will intrigue you. Would you like to tell them, Ms. Gomez?”
“The odd thing is, the body’s state of slight decomposing shows an earlier time of death,” Maria announced.
“It seems that Richard was dead long before this happened. The Richard up on the catwalk was merely his corpse. This explains the blood on the railway, were someone left him leaning on,” explained Natasha.
“Also,” continued Ms. Gomez, “the wound was too long and deep to have been made with the splintered wood. The murder weapon was something else. Something much longer, like…”
“Like a pair of barber scissors?” finished Natasha. “On your utility belt is all of your make-up tools, this made me wonder why your scissors pocket was empty. My final deduction is that early this morning, you and Richard met and had a fight. In a blind rage, you grabbed your barber scissors and stabbed him. That’s why no one saw him today at all. Not wanting to get caught, you decided to frame Tracy. You placed him on the catwalk under the sandbag and timed the release.”
“Yes, I use barber scissors to trim the wigs for the costumes, but you can’t prove I killed him!”
“Very well, then, Ms. Strauss. If you’re innocent, then I suppose you won’t mind emptying your jean pockets?” Natasha requested pointing to her right pocket which was slightly bulging in a triangular shape.
That simple request was like an arrow hitting Strauss’s chest. This little girl was on the verge of catching her. And oh how smug she looked! It made her want to scream! In a blind panic, Bethany pulled out the bloody scissors from her pocket and jumped at Natasha…
Clang! With a well-aimed kick from Reggie, the scissors fell out of Bethany’s hand and skidded to the floor. An officer casually picked up. “Nice kick, Reggie,” praised Natasha.
Reggie put Bethany in a headlock as she tried to jump at Natasha again. Her face was distorted with rage and hatred. The killer’s true nature had come out from that innocent charade. “You little brat!” she shouted at Natasha. “If you hadn’t come here my plan would be perfect! My revenge would be complete!”
On the floor, Tracy had fallen to her knees as tears flooded down her face. “Your revenge…? Why, Beth? What did I do to make you hate me…?”
“You idiot, don’t you realize! You stole Richard from me! I protected you all throughout high-school, and this is how you thank me! He dumped me for you! What do you have that I don’t? You’re a wimp, Tracy, I hate you! I HATE YOU!”
The hysterical shouting of Bethany rang throughout the vast hall. Her words stabbed Tracy in the heart. Natasha felt like comforting her, but knew it wasn’t her place. She handed her handkerchief and told the officers to take Bethany away. Before she left, Natasha gave her these harsh words, “You’re pathetic, you know that? You’ve done all this over a love quarrel? Don’t you think Richard’s live is worth much more than that? And worst of all, you’ve hurt your best friend. You deserve to go the jail.”
The officers and theatre staff stepped aside as Natasha exited the theatre. Aaron Miverdy, clearly impressed with Natasha’s work invited to watch a free show. Natasha politely accepted the gesture, (Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.) and drove back to the Police Station.
* * *
At precisely, 04.30 p.m., a press conference was held in the lobby of the New York Police Department. Natasha sat nervously (though she didn’t show it) beside the podium. She calmed herself, by reflecting on this afternoon’s case. A tragedy it was, and she hoped for Tracy to recover. But despite all that, she quite enjoyed the experience. Her first official case and she had made quite a good first impression. There was also that feeling of satisfaction and thrill when she had pinned the real murderer. There was a lot of injustice in the world, but that was why she had decided to become a detective. She was going to find the truth wherever it may hide, and she was determined to deliver justice. Just like her father did for so many years…
“And now,” started Chief Starnez on the podium, addressing reporters, “I present you with the ‘Unknown Detective’.”
Natasha walked onto the podium and smiled. Everyone in the world, watching the live global broadcast, gasped. “My name is Natasha Riviers, and starting today I am opening the Riviers Detective Agency to help those in need. Feel free, to ask any questions now.”
Silence followed that simple statement.
Natasha kept on smiling. This was only the beginning of her career.
“And now,” started Chief Starnez on the podium, addressing reporters, “I present you with the ‘Unknown Detective’.”
Natasha walked onto the podium and smiled. Everyone in the world, watching the live global broadcast, gasped. “My name is Natasha Riviers, and starting today I am opening the Riviers Detective Agency to help those in need. Feel free, to ask any questions now.”
Silence followed that simple statement.
Natasha kept on smiling. This was only the beginning of her career.
This Blog is Officially Re-vamped!
Hey, dear readers. Remember when I said, "new things would be coming to this blog"? As promised, I have delivered. So there's so new pages up. Mostly, stories I wrote before. For more info, click the "How-To-Read This Blog" page.
All I need to say is pretty much written there. So, yeah. Don't know what to write here. It's all explained there. So go read it. Now.
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot
All I need to say is pretty much written there. So, yeah. Don't know what to write here. It's all explained there. So go read it. Now.
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot
The Gods of Lunar City, Prologue: A Chance Encounter
Prologue
A Chance Encounter
Lunar City is a cutting-edge futuristic city currently standing on what used to be New York City. The year is 3000 A.D. A bit surprising the Earth hasn’t died out yet, huh? Thanks to human ingenuity, and technology advancement, we managed to survive. Just barely. Lunar City isn’t a ‘real’ city. It’s all artificial. A glass dome covers the city with an artificial sun shining above head. Outside the dome, the Earth resembles a giant junkyard. The air and oceans have been polluted with toxins, and most of the plants have withered out, leaving little habitable areas. Perhaps I should feel lucky I live in Lunar City, but I have my own problems to deal with too. My name’s Astro Star and I am 12 years old. I myself didn’t care about what would happen to the Earth, but I experienced something that made me realize otherwise. It all started out as a normal day…
Krriinngg…! The school bell rang as the students exited their study pods. A leather recliner chair equipped with a video helmet projecting educational videos and a computer-generated tutor. A metal slot beneath the armrest produced a mini-CD, my weekend homework. Whoopee. I took the CD and stuffed it into my bag, steeping onto the school’s moving walkway. It led me out the classroom and past the hallways until I reached the school’s front gate. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the city’s filtered air. It was better than the filthy air outside the city, but I couldn’t help but wonder what natural clean air tasted like.
I walked through the gate and started making my way home. Tall skyscrapers soared overhead and hover cars zoomed on the sky lanes. I soon reached Satellite Lane, and stepped on the front porch of my apartment. A retina scanner next to the doorbell scanned my left eye and the door slid open to let me in. I then rode the elevator to my apartment room, where my sister, Crystal Star, was busy cleaning the kitchen.
‘Hey, sis,’ I greeted, searching the fridge for some food. I then slumped on the couch and put on my TV goggles. A 3-D version of Jurassic Park played on the screen.
‘I just wiped that table!’ My sister scolded, pushing my feet off of it. ‘Why don’t you make yourself useful and head to the store for me?’ She shoved a list and a jacket into my arms and pushed me into the elevator before I could even protest, so I had no choice than to do what I was told.
Fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of the grocery store with a bag of items in my hand. A computer café was standing next to the store. I didn’t really feel like heading home and decided to play on the net for a few hours. It was after that when things started to go wrong. I pulled out my cash card from my pocket and was about to swipe the card on the cash register when… crash!
‘Ouch…’ I looked up to see a red-haired boy looking back at me. ‘Can’t you watch where you’re going?’
‘S-sorry,’ the boy stammered, standing up hurriedly. He didn’t help me up and ran out the café.
‘Honestly,’ I muttered to myself, brushing myself off. ‘You’d think people would have some manners…’ My voice trailed off as I realized something. My green pendant was gone. The pendant I always wore around my neck, a gift from my parent’s during my 2nd birthday.
‘That kid…’ I swore silently and ran out the café without a second thought.
The red-headed boy took my pendant, I was certain of that. He was standing at the corner of the street, talking into his mobile phone. He hung up as soon as she saw me and ducked into an alleyway. I chased him all the way to the Backstreets, the gang territory at the southern part of the city. I zipped my jacket all the way up my neck and pulled the hood over my eyes. The Backstreets was definitely not a place where you’d want to attract any attention. The red-headed boy slowed down his pace, unaware I was still following him and entered a nearby warehouse. I crept up behind him and put him in a headlock.
‘Hey, let me go!’ he protested, kicking the air in front of him. He was about a year younger than me and didn’t put up much of a fight.
‘I’ll let you go as soon as you give back my pendant,’ I demanded in a stern voice.
‘I didn’t take it,’ he lied unconvincingly.
‘What did you do this time, Carrot-head?’ a voice said behind me. I turned around to see 4 boys emerging behind several crates.
‘He took my pendant,’ I explained. ‘Now he won’t give it back.’
The boy in the middle, who looked the oldest with jet black hair, took a step forward. ‘Give me the pendant, Craig. Let me handle this.’
Craig finally managed to free himself from my headlock and reluctantly handed over my pendant to the black-haired boy. I reached out my hand for the pendant, but he didn’t return it. ‘You want this back?’ he asked. I nodded, unsure of where this question was heading. ‘How about you do us a favor first?’
I sighed, but I was also curious. ‘What kind of favor?’
‘Simple. We’re practicing for a school play, a kind of magic ritual scene. We need someone to play the sacrifice for awhile, as the real actor is sick today. How about it? You don’t even have any lines to say, just stand there and follow my lead.’
‘That’s it?’ I said almost relieved. I agreed to his condition. I would do anything to get that pendant back. That was the last gift my parents gave me before they died in a hover car accident.
‘Excellent,’ the black-haired boy said smiling. ‘My name’s Chris by the way. That’s Michael, Greg, and Trey. The carrot-head pickpocket is Craig. He’s supposed to be on probation right now, but hey, old habits die hard.’ He gave Craig a playful punch on the shoulder.
He led me into the warehouse, his friends following close behind. On the warehouse floor, drawn with white paint was a circle with a pentagon in it, another star drawn inside. ‘Ritual circle,’ explained Chris. ‘But this is all fake, of course.’
It was then I felt a tingle on my arm. Something didn’t feel right. But it was too late to turn back now, as Chris pushed me into the middle of the circle.
The five boys put on black cloaks and stood at corner of the pentagon. In Chris’s hand was an old book. It was the old kind of book, made of paper and ink, instead of the 3-D hologram ones we have now.
‘Within this circle of magic we stand,’ he recited from the book. ‘We call upon the spirit of venom, the Goddess of Toxins, Toxica, with a sacrifice of blood as a sign of our belief.’ He walked towards me and forcibly pulled out my hand. He cut my hand with a knife before I could resist, and the blood dripped down onto the ritual ring. The room fell silent as a black haze rose from my blood. The haze turned more solid, forming a pile of black sludge. A figure emerged from the toxic slime, its ink black hair flowing down, and its eyes a glowing blood-red.
‘Toxica,’ Chris breathed almost in delight. ‘Welcome. My name is Chris, and I would like to ask for your help–’ Chris was cut off before he could finish. A whip of toxic sludge hit him in the face.
‘Insolent human,’ Toxica hissed. ‘You think you can command, Toxica? Not even a single offering of polluted water. I am leaving.’ She turned to the door and slid away like a snake, leaving behind a trail of black sludge.
Chris was left dumbfounded on the floor as he wiped the sludge off his face. It took a firm grip on his shirt’s collar to knock some sense back into him. ‘What was that?’ I demanded, angry and confused at the same. ‘Explain everything, now. And I’d like my pendant back, please.’
‘That was Toxica,’ he replied calmly as what he was saying made perfect sense. He also put his hand in his pocket and pulled out my emerald pendant. I snatched it back, afraid he might take it back. ‘An ancient god, we just summoned. It’s in the book,’ he pointed to the one lying open on the floor.
I bandaged my cut hand with my handkerchief, and picked it up. ‘The Ancient Gods of Lunar City’ was the title written on the cover. I leafed through the pages until I found Toxica. ‘The goddess of toxins, the personification of the environmental damage brought on by humans. Pollution in human form,’ I read. I fixed my most contemptuous gaze on Chris. ‘All that, and you still wanted to summon her?’
‘Hey, I thought if should control it, she could get rid of it too. But, I’m not stupid, Astro Star.’ I was about to ask how he knew my name, but then remembered that it was written on my school uniform.
He took the book from my hands and showed me another page. ‘Techna, the Goddess of Technology’ was the title of the page. ‘I tried summoning her, but it didn’t work. I thought I could get Toxica to help stop pollution, but I guess I should have thought ahead.’
‘Pollution… And why do you care so much?’ I asked.
‘Have you ever seen the world outside the city, Astro?’ I considered the question for several moments digging into my distant memories. I remembered a time when I was little, just a little after my parents passed away. I was sad like any normal four-year-old would be, and stumbled off on my own into the city. The police station was near the city’s Eastern Gate and I accidentally passed through. Outside, I saw a barren stretch of grey land, as far the eye could see. Plants and grass withered out and the sky was filled with a thick toxic mist. One gulp of the poisonous air was enough to make me suffocate, if the authorities hadn’t saved me in time.
‘Unfortunately, I have,’ I answered, thinking seriously about the subject for the first time.
‘The Earth wasn’t always like that. It used to be green and full of life, like the one you see in the movies or old educational videos. And it’s us humans that have killed that, and turned it into the dump that is now. I wanted to change that, Astro. Surely you can’t blame me for wanting that.’
I felt a tug on my shirt and turned around. Craig was standing in front of me pointing to a mini-TV screen. ‘You should take a look at this,’ he said. And so we did. A channel of the local news was broadcasted showing the city’s water plant. The water plant collected water from water bodies, such as lakes and ponds, polluted from outside the city and filtered into drinkable, clean water, which was then pumped into houses all over the city. Trails of black slime were all over the building’s front yard.
‘But, I can blame you for this. Now toxic water is being pumped to the whole city!’ I accused to a guilty-faced Chris.
‘I can fix this,’ he whispered, trying to regain his composure. When he finally did, he spoke more confidently. ‘Or more specifically, you can fix this, Astro.’
‘Me?’ I shouted astonished. ‘Why me?’ I protested. ‘This is your mess. You fix it.’
‘Ah, but that’s where your wrong. It is my mess, and I would love more than anything to fix it, but unfortunately, I can’t.’ He leafed through the book once more until he found the page he wanted. ‘It’s all in the book. We used your blood to summon her, and only with your blood can we send her back. Just sprinkle one drop, and recite this spell. Then poof! Problem gone.’
‘You make that sound so easy… Fine I’ll do it,’ I reluctantly agreed. What other choice did I have? I did care; I really did, all about the pollution and stuff. I didn’t realize that until now.
Do you really care, Astro? a sudden voice in my head whispered. What? Who are you? I asked back. Tell me you care about this Earth, Astro. Let me hear you say it.
‘I care,’ I said barely more than a whisper. ‘I care about our Earth. I want to help if I can.’
Good answer. The voice said, not just to me this time, but to everyone in the warehouse. An electrical haze appeared in mid-air slowly taking form a human girl. Her hair was a blue, transparent color, and was formed by electric sparks. Her skin was as white as snow and she wore a turquoise blazer, the sleeves were laced with frills, and she wore a matching turquoise skirt. ‘Hello,’ she greeted in a gentle voice. She looked like a regular 12-year-old girl. Everyone in the room was standing open-mouthed. Chris was the first one to recover his skill of speech.
‘I can’t believe you summoned her!’ he said almost with envy. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve tried?’
‘Oh, yes, I remember you,’ Techna said. ‘You did care, I’ll give you that, but you lacked determination and resolve. Proof of this is just when you shoved the responsibility of taking care of Toxica to Astro here.’ Chris stared down at his feet guiltily. ‘Now, Astro,’ she continued, turning back to me. ‘I’ll help you defeat Toxica.’
‘Good,’ I breathed sitting down on a crate. This was a bit too much for me to take in all at once. ‘I hope you have a plan ‘cuz my brain is too strained to come up with one.’
‘It’s all quite simple, actually. She’s in the water plant, isn’t she? Recite the vanquishing spell, add one drop of blood, and reactivate the filter. Clean water will be back into the city,’ Techna suggested.
‘Good plan,’ I agreed. ‘Just how do you plan to reactivate the filter?’
Techna gave me a small smile. ‘Have you forgotten? I am the goddess of technology. Hacking into the system will be a piece of cake.’
Before I could talk myself out of it, me and Techna were standing in front of the Lunar City Water Plant ready to execute our plan. We slid into the building without a sound, and Techna placed a hand on the water plant’s generator. ‘Here,’ she magically produced an earpiece in her hand. ‘Use it to keep in touch.’ I secured the earpiece on my ear and gave her the thumbs up. She dissolved into a million particles and disappeared into the generator following the cable to the water plant’s computer. I could see the progress bar on the computer screen. 50%... 75%... 97%... 100%. Now I just had to wait for the filter to start. I waited and waited. Nothing happened. Toxica was still lounging in the water vat.
‘Astro?’ Techna’s voice sounded into my earpiece. ‘We have a slight problem.’
I sighed. There was always a problem. ‘What is it?’
‘There’s no electric port for me to get out off. I can’t materialize. The filter’s starting button is on the panel. You’ll have to press it yourself.’ At that idea, I gulped. Walk past an evil toxic goddess, and just press a button. Sounded easy enough. I reluctantly stepped out from behind the wall and started tiptoeing my way to the computer. A metallic tile beneath my left foot was broken and made a loud clanging noise. Toxica’s head swirled around to meet my eyes.
‘A meddlesome human,’ she hissed in her snake-like voice. ‘You are either very brave or just plain stupid!’ A slimy black hand emerged from the water vat heading straight for me. I ran to the computer, which suddenly seemed so far away. I reached the computer, and Toxica’s hand closed itself around my neck. I reached around blindly with my free hand. I found the round ‘ON’ button and pushed it, the last of the air leaving my lungs.
I gasped for air as Toxica’s grip slackened. I turned around to see her face twisted in pain. The black water in the vat was slowly being sucked through the filter, taking Toxica along with it. I edged closer to the vat and held out a knife in my good hand. I made a small cut on my forefinger, and let a drop of blood drip into the vat. ‘Toxica, return,’ I whispered softly, the exhaustion of the recent events finally catching up with me. Toxica’s face melted into the vat of black sludge and was cleansed by the filter. She was finally gone. I took a deep breath and stepped away from the vat. Techna was standing in front of the generator, smiling proudly at me.
‘Good job, Astro,’ she praised. ‘There’s hope for mankind after all.’ She placed a hand on my forehead, and my mind fell into unconsciousness…
I regained consciousness a day later and found myself in a hospital bed, my sister staring worriedly at me. ‘Thank God you’re awake,’ she said, giving me a hug. I gently pulled her away and asked, ‘What happened? Why am I in a hospital?’
She gently placed a hand on my forehead. I felt a slight bump and a dull throb start to attack my head. ‘You ran into a lamp post,’ Crystal explained.
I blinked back at her in disbelief. ‘A lamp post?’
She nodded. ‘You’ve been asleep for about a day.’ Hearing this triggered a question in my mind. Then all of that… The warehouse, Toxica, Techna… Was it all a dream? ‘Astro?’ my sister asked anxiously, taking me out of my reverie. ‘At the internet café… did you try to leave without paying?’
I nearly jumped out the hospital bed. ‘Of course, I didn’t!’ I exclaimed. ‘I took out my cash card and swiped it on the… cash register…’ My voice trailed off as the incident flashbacked in my mind. Before the card made contact with the machine. A red-headed boy crashed into me…
‘Craig!’ I blurted out before I could stop myself. My sister stared at me with even more concern. ‘Never mind,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I really did pay, sis.’ Or at least I meant too, I added in my head. ‘You got to believe me, honest!’
‘The evidence says otherwise, kid,’ a man said emerging through the hospital room door. I recognized him as the computer café’s owner. He pulled out a laptop and placed it in front of me. A sketch of the café’s blueprint emerged on screen. Every booth was numbered, and a red and green light flickered beside each one. I guessed green meant ‘already paid’, and red meant ‘left unpaid’. I scanned the layout for my booth, C-16, and gulped as I saw the red light. The owner saw my reaction. ‘Have anything else to say, son?’
I searched my brain, trying to come up with a good reply. I didn’t find one. It was then a miracle happened. The red light suddenly flashed to green and I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. ‘Yeah, I think you may have experienced a glitch.’ I turned the laptop screen to his face. He studied the screen for a few moments and then scratched his chin. ‘Guess I did have a glitch. Sorry, about the mistake kid.’
A happy grin stretched across my face. ‘No problem,’ I replied. On the corner of the screen, the word Techna emerged in small letters. It wasn’t a dream.
Krriinngg…! The school bell rang as the students exited their study pods. A leather recliner chair equipped with a video helmet projecting educational videos and a computer-generated tutor. A metal slot beneath the armrest produced a mini-CD, my weekend homework. Whoopee. I took the CD and stuffed it into my bag, steeping onto the school’s moving walkway. It led me out the classroom and past the hallways until I reached the school’s front gate. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the city’s filtered air. It was better than the filthy air outside the city, but I couldn’t help but wonder what natural clean air tasted like.
I walked through the gate and started making my way home. Tall skyscrapers soared overhead and hover cars zoomed on the sky lanes. I soon reached Satellite Lane, and stepped on the front porch of my apartment. A retina scanner next to the doorbell scanned my left eye and the door slid open to let me in. I then rode the elevator to my apartment room, where my sister, Crystal Star, was busy cleaning the kitchen.
‘Hey, sis,’ I greeted, searching the fridge for some food. I then slumped on the couch and put on my TV goggles. A 3-D version of Jurassic Park played on the screen.
‘I just wiped that table!’ My sister scolded, pushing my feet off of it. ‘Why don’t you make yourself useful and head to the store for me?’ She shoved a list and a jacket into my arms and pushed me into the elevator before I could even protest, so I had no choice than to do what I was told.
Fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of the grocery store with a bag of items in my hand. A computer café was standing next to the store. I didn’t really feel like heading home and decided to play on the net for a few hours. It was after that when things started to go wrong. I pulled out my cash card from my pocket and was about to swipe the card on the cash register when… crash!
‘Ouch…’ I looked up to see a red-haired boy looking back at me. ‘Can’t you watch where you’re going?’
‘S-sorry,’ the boy stammered, standing up hurriedly. He didn’t help me up and ran out the café.
‘Honestly,’ I muttered to myself, brushing myself off. ‘You’d think people would have some manners…’ My voice trailed off as I realized something. My green pendant was gone. The pendant I always wore around my neck, a gift from my parent’s during my 2nd birthday.
‘That kid…’ I swore silently and ran out the café without a second thought.
The red-headed boy took my pendant, I was certain of that. He was standing at the corner of the street, talking into his mobile phone. He hung up as soon as she saw me and ducked into an alleyway. I chased him all the way to the Backstreets, the gang territory at the southern part of the city. I zipped my jacket all the way up my neck and pulled the hood over my eyes. The Backstreets was definitely not a place where you’d want to attract any attention. The red-headed boy slowed down his pace, unaware I was still following him and entered a nearby warehouse. I crept up behind him and put him in a headlock.
‘Hey, let me go!’ he protested, kicking the air in front of him. He was about a year younger than me and didn’t put up much of a fight.
‘I’ll let you go as soon as you give back my pendant,’ I demanded in a stern voice.
‘I didn’t take it,’ he lied unconvincingly.
‘What did you do this time, Carrot-head?’ a voice said behind me. I turned around to see 4 boys emerging behind several crates.
‘He took my pendant,’ I explained. ‘Now he won’t give it back.’
The boy in the middle, who looked the oldest with jet black hair, took a step forward. ‘Give me the pendant, Craig. Let me handle this.’
Craig finally managed to free himself from my headlock and reluctantly handed over my pendant to the black-haired boy. I reached out my hand for the pendant, but he didn’t return it. ‘You want this back?’ he asked. I nodded, unsure of where this question was heading. ‘How about you do us a favor first?’
I sighed, but I was also curious. ‘What kind of favor?’
‘Simple. We’re practicing for a school play, a kind of magic ritual scene. We need someone to play the sacrifice for awhile, as the real actor is sick today. How about it? You don’t even have any lines to say, just stand there and follow my lead.’
‘That’s it?’ I said almost relieved. I agreed to his condition. I would do anything to get that pendant back. That was the last gift my parents gave me before they died in a hover car accident.
‘Excellent,’ the black-haired boy said smiling. ‘My name’s Chris by the way. That’s Michael, Greg, and Trey. The carrot-head pickpocket is Craig. He’s supposed to be on probation right now, but hey, old habits die hard.’ He gave Craig a playful punch on the shoulder.
He led me into the warehouse, his friends following close behind. On the warehouse floor, drawn with white paint was a circle with a pentagon in it, another star drawn inside. ‘Ritual circle,’ explained Chris. ‘But this is all fake, of course.’
It was then I felt a tingle on my arm. Something didn’t feel right. But it was too late to turn back now, as Chris pushed me into the middle of the circle.
The five boys put on black cloaks and stood at corner of the pentagon. In Chris’s hand was an old book. It was the old kind of book, made of paper and ink, instead of the 3-D hologram ones we have now.
‘Within this circle of magic we stand,’ he recited from the book. ‘We call upon the spirit of venom, the Goddess of Toxins, Toxica, with a sacrifice of blood as a sign of our belief.’ He walked towards me and forcibly pulled out my hand. He cut my hand with a knife before I could resist, and the blood dripped down onto the ritual ring. The room fell silent as a black haze rose from my blood. The haze turned more solid, forming a pile of black sludge. A figure emerged from the toxic slime, its ink black hair flowing down, and its eyes a glowing blood-red.
‘Toxica,’ Chris breathed almost in delight. ‘Welcome. My name is Chris, and I would like to ask for your help–’ Chris was cut off before he could finish. A whip of toxic sludge hit him in the face.
‘Insolent human,’ Toxica hissed. ‘You think you can command, Toxica? Not even a single offering of polluted water. I am leaving.’ She turned to the door and slid away like a snake, leaving behind a trail of black sludge.
Chris was left dumbfounded on the floor as he wiped the sludge off his face. It took a firm grip on his shirt’s collar to knock some sense back into him. ‘What was that?’ I demanded, angry and confused at the same. ‘Explain everything, now. And I’d like my pendant back, please.’
‘That was Toxica,’ he replied calmly as what he was saying made perfect sense. He also put his hand in his pocket and pulled out my emerald pendant. I snatched it back, afraid he might take it back. ‘An ancient god, we just summoned. It’s in the book,’ he pointed to the one lying open on the floor.
I bandaged my cut hand with my handkerchief, and picked it up. ‘The Ancient Gods of Lunar City’ was the title written on the cover. I leafed through the pages until I found Toxica. ‘The goddess of toxins, the personification of the environmental damage brought on by humans. Pollution in human form,’ I read. I fixed my most contemptuous gaze on Chris. ‘All that, and you still wanted to summon her?’
‘Hey, I thought if should control it, she could get rid of it too. But, I’m not stupid, Astro Star.’ I was about to ask how he knew my name, but then remembered that it was written on my school uniform.
He took the book from my hands and showed me another page. ‘Techna, the Goddess of Technology’ was the title of the page. ‘I tried summoning her, but it didn’t work. I thought I could get Toxica to help stop pollution, but I guess I should have thought ahead.’
‘Pollution… And why do you care so much?’ I asked.
‘Have you ever seen the world outside the city, Astro?’ I considered the question for several moments digging into my distant memories. I remembered a time when I was little, just a little after my parents passed away. I was sad like any normal four-year-old would be, and stumbled off on my own into the city. The police station was near the city’s Eastern Gate and I accidentally passed through. Outside, I saw a barren stretch of grey land, as far the eye could see. Plants and grass withered out and the sky was filled with a thick toxic mist. One gulp of the poisonous air was enough to make me suffocate, if the authorities hadn’t saved me in time.
‘Unfortunately, I have,’ I answered, thinking seriously about the subject for the first time.
‘The Earth wasn’t always like that. It used to be green and full of life, like the one you see in the movies or old educational videos. And it’s us humans that have killed that, and turned it into the dump that is now. I wanted to change that, Astro. Surely you can’t blame me for wanting that.’
I felt a tug on my shirt and turned around. Craig was standing in front of me pointing to a mini-TV screen. ‘You should take a look at this,’ he said. And so we did. A channel of the local news was broadcasted showing the city’s water plant. The water plant collected water from water bodies, such as lakes and ponds, polluted from outside the city and filtered into drinkable, clean water, which was then pumped into houses all over the city. Trails of black slime were all over the building’s front yard.
‘But, I can blame you for this. Now toxic water is being pumped to the whole city!’ I accused to a guilty-faced Chris.
‘I can fix this,’ he whispered, trying to regain his composure. When he finally did, he spoke more confidently. ‘Or more specifically, you can fix this, Astro.’
‘Me?’ I shouted astonished. ‘Why me?’ I protested. ‘This is your mess. You fix it.’
‘Ah, but that’s where your wrong. It is my mess, and I would love more than anything to fix it, but unfortunately, I can’t.’ He leafed through the book once more until he found the page he wanted. ‘It’s all in the book. We used your blood to summon her, and only with your blood can we send her back. Just sprinkle one drop, and recite this spell. Then poof! Problem gone.’
‘You make that sound so easy… Fine I’ll do it,’ I reluctantly agreed. What other choice did I have? I did care; I really did, all about the pollution and stuff. I didn’t realize that until now.
Do you really care, Astro? a sudden voice in my head whispered. What? Who are you? I asked back. Tell me you care about this Earth, Astro. Let me hear you say it.
‘I care,’ I said barely more than a whisper. ‘I care about our Earth. I want to help if I can.’
Good answer. The voice said, not just to me this time, but to everyone in the warehouse. An electrical haze appeared in mid-air slowly taking form a human girl. Her hair was a blue, transparent color, and was formed by electric sparks. Her skin was as white as snow and she wore a turquoise blazer, the sleeves were laced with frills, and she wore a matching turquoise skirt. ‘Hello,’ she greeted in a gentle voice. She looked like a regular 12-year-old girl. Everyone in the room was standing open-mouthed. Chris was the first one to recover his skill of speech.
‘I can’t believe you summoned her!’ he said almost with envy. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve tried?’
‘Oh, yes, I remember you,’ Techna said. ‘You did care, I’ll give you that, but you lacked determination and resolve. Proof of this is just when you shoved the responsibility of taking care of Toxica to Astro here.’ Chris stared down at his feet guiltily. ‘Now, Astro,’ she continued, turning back to me. ‘I’ll help you defeat Toxica.’
‘Good,’ I breathed sitting down on a crate. This was a bit too much for me to take in all at once. ‘I hope you have a plan ‘cuz my brain is too strained to come up with one.’
‘It’s all quite simple, actually. She’s in the water plant, isn’t she? Recite the vanquishing spell, add one drop of blood, and reactivate the filter. Clean water will be back into the city,’ Techna suggested.
‘Good plan,’ I agreed. ‘Just how do you plan to reactivate the filter?’
Techna gave me a small smile. ‘Have you forgotten? I am the goddess of technology. Hacking into the system will be a piece of cake.’
Before I could talk myself out of it, me and Techna were standing in front of the Lunar City Water Plant ready to execute our plan. We slid into the building without a sound, and Techna placed a hand on the water plant’s generator. ‘Here,’ she magically produced an earpiece in her hand. ‘Use it to keep in touch.’ I secured the earpiece on my ear and gave her the thumbs up. She dissolved into a million particles and disappeared into the generator following the cable to the water plant’s computer. I could see the progress bar on the computer screen. 50%... 75%... 97%... 100%. Now I just had to wait for the filter to start. I waited and waited. Nothing happened. Toxica was still lounging in the water vat.
‘Astro?’ Techna’s voice sounded into my earpiece. ‘We have a slight problem.’
I sighed. There was always a problem. ‘What is it?’
‘There’s no electric port for me to get out off. I can’t materialize. The filter’s starting button is on the panel. You’ll have to press it yourself.’ At that idea, I gulped. Walk past an evil toxic goddess, and just press a button. Sounded easy enough. I reluctantly stepped out from behind the wall and started tiptoeing my way to the computer. A metallic tile beneath my left foot was broken and made a loud clanging noise. Toxica’s head swirled around to meet my eyes.
‘A meddlesome human,’ she hissed in her snake-like voice. ‘You are either very brave or just plain stupid!’ A slimy black hand emerged from the water vat heading straight for me. I ran to the computer, which suddenly seemed so far away. I reached the computer, and Toxica’s hand closed itself around my neck. I reached around blindly with my free hand. I found the round ‘ON’ button and pushed it, the last of the air leaving my lungs.
I gasped for air as Toxica’s grip slackened. I turned around to see her face twisted in pain. The black water in the vat was slowly being sucked through the filter, taking Toxica along with it. I edged closer to the vat and held out a knife in my good hand. I made a small cut on my forefinger, and let a drop of blood drip into the vat. ‘Toxica, return,’ I whispered softly, the exhaustion of the recent events finally catching up with me. Toxica’s face melted into the vat of black sludge and was cleansed by the filter. She was finally gone. I took a deep breath and stepped away from the vat. Techna was standing in front of the generator, smiling proudly at me.
‘Good job, Astro,’ she praised. ‘There’s hope for mankind after all.’ She placed a hand on my forehead, and my mind fell into unconsciousness…
* * *
I regained consciousness a day later and found myself in a hospital bed, my sister staring worriedly at me. ‘Thank God you’re awake,’ she said, giving me a hug. I gently pulled her away and asked, ‘What happened? Why am I in a hospital?’
She gently placed a hand on my forehead. I felt a slight bump and a dull throb start to attack my head. ‘You ran into a lamp post,’ Crystal explained.
I blinked back at her in disbelief. ‘A lamp post?’
She nodded. ‘You’ve been asleep for about a day.’ Hearing this triggered a question in my mind. Then all of that… The warehouse, Toxica, Techna… Was it all a dream? ‘Astro?’ my sister asked anxiously, taking me out of my reverie. ‘At the internet café… did you try to leave without paying?’
I nearly jumped out the hospital bed. ‘Of course, I didn’t!’ I exclaimed. ‘I took out my cash card and swiped it on the… cash register…’ My voice trailed off as the incident flashbacked in my mind. Before the card made contact with the machine. A red-headed boy crashed into me…
‘Craig!’ I blurted out before I could stop myself. My sister stared at me with even more concern. ‘Never mind,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I really did pay, sis.’ Or at least I meant too, I added in my head. ‘You got to believe me, honest!’
‘The evidence says otherwise, kid,’ a man said emerging through the hospital room door. I recognized him as the computer café’s owner. He pulled out a laptop and placed it in front of me. A sketch of the café’s blueprint emerged on screen. Every booth was numbered, and a red and green light flickered beside each one. I guessed green meant ‘already paid’, and red meant ‘left unpaid’. I scanned the layout for my booth, C-16, and gulped as I saw the red light. The owner saw my reaction. ‘Have anything else to say, son?’
I searched my brain, trying to come up with a good reply. I didn’t find one. It was then a miracle happened. The red light suddenly flashed to green and I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. ‘Yeah, I think you may have experienced a glitch.’ I turned the laptop screen to his face. He studied the screen for a few moments and then scratched his chin. ‘Guess I did have a glitch. Sorry, about the mistake kid.’
A happy grin stretched across my face. ‘No problem,’ I replied. On the corner of the screen, the word Techna emerged in small letters. It wasn’t a dream.
Death's Remedy, Prologue: The New Patient
Prologue
The New Patient
One thing about hospitals is the way they seem welcoming and yet at the same time foreboding. It’s a place where people who are sick get cured, diseases are eradicated and every now then, where miracles happen. Yet when you’re a doctor, working at this so-called higher institute of healing, you see a completely darker side to medicine.
Our power of healing is limited. It’s inevitable. People suffer in pain, people question why, people scream, people die. And as a doctor, you have to face all of that every single day.
The worse part of it was that as a doctor, you had to deliver bad news. That was exactly what crossed the mind of Harper Hospital’s diagnostician, Dr. John Gillian. He hoped that at least, he wouldn’t have to give any today. Unfortunately, he had.
“Hey, Elliot,” he called towards the nurse that passed by his office. “Did the tests from Hematology and the biopsy come in yet?”
“Yes, Dr. Gillian,” the young intern formally replied. “I have the tests right here.”
He said a quick thank you and consulted the charts. At first, he tried to stay optimistic (a futile attempt), but as he scanned through the numbers on the blood test results, his face fell.
Thankfully, it was then a beautiful woman in her early thirties walked the hallway pushing a baby stroller towards him. “Hey, honey,” greeted his wife with a kiss on the cheek. “Ready for lunch?”
It was nearing noon, Dr. Gillian’s scheduled time for lunch break. According to protocol, doctors should always put their patients first. That included delivering medical updates ASAP.
“Absolutely,” he answered, placing the charts on top of his desk. That could wait until later. His break was only 30 minutes anyway.
“Joanie said her first word today,” reported his wife, Reina. They found a table for two amongst the medical staff that occupied the cafeteria.
Usually, any talk about his dear baby girl would lift his spirits up, but after this morning it didn’t really help. “What did she say?” the doctor asked in a neutral tone as he picked his sandwich, a tray of food between them.
She instantly took his hand. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
He dabbed some mustard off the corner of my mouth with a napkin, and hesitantly scrunched it up into a ball. A part of him loved how she was the only one who can see through him. “It’s work. Apparently, it’s my job to keep on giving bad news.”
“Come on, you’ve done it tons of times before.”
“But I don’t think I can do this one patient.”
“Why, is it someone we know?” asked Reina panicked.
John squeezed her hand for reassurance. “She’s twelve.”
“Oh,” was all she managed to say.
For a few seconds, Dr. Gillian’s eyes wandered to the baby stroller beside their table. Sleeping peacefully with her thin baby hair was the small angelic blessing given to him, Joanie. She had turned 1-year-old just days before. What if this patient was her…?
“Why’d I ever become a doctor?” he sighed solemnly.
“Why?” his wife repeated, appalled. “You became a doctor, because you wanted to help people. To save lives. One of those lives was your brother’s. Don’t ever forget that.”
Despite his melancholy, he smiled. “I hope he hasn’t forgotten that either.”
Suddenly, his pager rang. “Gotta go. They need me.”
John Gillian stood up and hugged his wife farewell. Leaning down into the baby stroller, he gently kissed his baby girl on the forehead. “Have a nice nap, Joanie,” he whispered to her.
He came running towards his office moments later. “What’s up?”
By his desk was a fellow doctor named Dr. Freed. He was talking to a thin, weary looking woman before he interrupted. “John, finally you’re here.”
“Well, I am entitled to a lunch break now and then,” he pointed out as he sat down in his swivel chair. “Who is this, if I may ask?”
“This is Mrs. Letum, the mother of your patient that got admitted here this morning.”
“Ah, I see. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Letum.” Out of common courtesy, John held his hand out. She shook it somewhat reluctantly.
“What are the results of your diagnosis?” she asked a bit timidly, as if she was frightened of the answer.
“Well…” John let out a sigh. Was there any easier way to say this? “The blood test has confirmed a massive number in her WBC count and presence of RS cells in her biopsy. She has Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.”
John held his breathe as he waited for Mrs. Letum to respond to the heart-breaking news. “Cancer…?” she whispered weakly.
“Yes,” was all John said, not trusting himself to say anything more.
The expression in Mrs. Letum face showed deep disbelief and desperation. Her eyes began to water slightly, but she managed to compose herself and ask, “Have you told my daughter yet?”
“Not yet. Would you like me to tell her the news?” John thought it was the right thing to offer. He could never stand having to diagnose is own child with such a deadly disease. But in a sense, he was tired of giving more bad news.
Mrs. Letum nodded, her expression changing to that of calm and understanding, probably to hide her concern and worry in front of her little girl. John led her to Remedy Letum’s hospital room, discussing possible treatments. Soon they reached a semi-private room with no other current occupants thus leaving it all to herself.
As Dr. Gillian’s hand touched the doorknob, Mrs. Letum reached out for it. “Before you go in there, I think there’s something I need to tell you, Doctor.”
“If it concerns Remedy, then by all means. The more information, the better we can treat her.”
“Well…” The fatigued mother’s gaze wandered to the floor, as if she was embarrassed about what she was going to reveal. “Remedy has a bit of an… imagination. A bit high up there, I suppose.”
John could see where this was going. He had experienced a few cases with younger patients. “What, does she have an imaginary friend? A bit uncommon for a girl her age, but not that strange.”
It seemed that John’s assumption was right on the money, but only made Mrs. Letum’s brow crease with worry. “Yes, she has an imaginary friend,” she confirmed. “But the thing is… she says she can see Death.”
Weekend with a Birthday Boy
Hey, readers. I guess you're probably wondering who the birthday boy in the title is. So let me start off this post with a very special greeting:
"Happy 16th Birthday, Bill! You've been a very annoying special bro to me all these years!"
So yeah, this weekend started off with the fact that my brother's birthday was looming ever so near. On Saturday we hit Pondok Indah Mall. It was fun. We had a late lunch and watched this cool Russian Trapeze act they have going on there. It was short but still awesome to see all those leotard wearing performers soar through the air. I actually had an amateur video made on my brother's cell, which I might post some other time. (I think it turned out pretty awesome.)
Anywaaaayyy, the day after, was a Sunday. More specifically, June 20th 2010. The day of my big bro's birth. We all woke up pretty late (I dunno, it's like a family tradition) and shouted "Happy Birthday!" greetings to a sleepy-faced Bill. Ha, ha. Around 2, we hit another mall, one of our favorites, Taman Anggrek Mall.
We had a feast and Pancious, eating pancakes and waffles, decked out with maple syrup, fudge and ice cream. Then we went sock shopping (say what?).
Hahahaha. We ended up the night with a family film at Blitzmegaplex after switching malls to Central Park (you know, like the one in NYC?). We watched Toy Story 3 and it was just FANTASTIC! I want a Woody doll of my own now! (Any idea where I can get one?)
Well, here's some more good news. I planning to add some new stuff to the blog real soon, so look forward to that.Thanks for reading. And keep on smilin' guys :D
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot
Ups and Downs
What a weird day today was. I woke up late (as usual), and found out very exciting news. Just when I was going to tell my Mom, something came up. And then this led to that and the atmosphere in the house suddenly became awkward and tense that I completely forgot the news that was supposedly going to 'change my life'.
But strangely though a rough patch was hit, it gradual turned out to become a really nice day. I went shopping for like the first time with my brother, sister and mom, and it was actually really fun. We both a bunch of new clothes, and I got a new pair of shoes. I also learned that apparently, I had really good taste.
I'm feeling fine now, but the 'rough patch' at the start of the day is kind of starting to bug me. It's nice to feel happy, but am I getting over it too soon? Is it weird that I'd remember today like it was one of the best without remembering the bad parts?
I guess life has its ups and downs. No matter how many times it brings us down or how many bad things turn up, it's the little things, the small smiles, the laughs, the good parts that helps us to move on.
Oh, yeah, before I forget, I bet you're dying to know the great news, so here it is:
"I Am Now An Officially Selected AYC Delegate Leader"
'Huge smiles all around :)
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot
Waiting In Line, Waiting For a Verdict
[BTW, this is like important. This is like, my 20th post faithful readers (Or technically reader. Haha, yeah I'm talking about you. Let's see me reach 50(?), as soon as possible :) ]
Aaaaaahhhhh….
Oh, hey there, reader. I was just taking a moment to enjoy my end-of-school holiday. But, no, that's not what I'm gonna talk about today. Today I want to talk about yesterday, seeing as today was the next day after yesterday which I should've talked about yesterday instead of tomorrow which is now today, I'm gonna do it today, okay?
Confused? Good.
Anywaaaaaaaaaaaay….
Yesterday was a Tuesday. Don't get me wrong, I like Tuesdays, but that Tuesday was something I really wasn't looking forward to. If you look at my last post, you would see I received "exciting (yet TERRIFYING) news".
So, it came completely by surprise. I was up typing on my laptop, when on Facebook, Yudhi popped up in chat.
Yudhi: "hey, karin, r u coming to sch tomorrow?"
Me: "yeah, to drop off the form"
Yudhi: "what abt the interview?"
"…"
It took me a moment to register what was written on the chatbox. When I realized what he said, I rapidly typed back, "WHAT INTERVIEW? WHAT THE HECK R U TALKING ABOUT?"
I pressed enter, and whadayaknow, he went offline -__-
I resisted the urge to bang on the keyboard when he was for some reason going on and off on Facebook. When the connection settled, he replied:
Yudhi: "did you come to the meeting on Saturday?"
Way to answer with a question with a question, man. But then as I took a moment to recall it, I realized what he meant. On Saturday, one of the things we talked about was the AYC delegate leaders. Mr Yudi did say something about compiling a list of candidates, but seriously, how could they not tell me?
I pretty much freaked out. Usually, interviews and such wouldn't bother me, but that was mainly because I had time to calm down and prepare. In short, I stayed up late. There were still a few parts of the delegate form I tried to figure out, and then for some reason I ended up chatting up with a… well I guess I could say, friend. (To said person: We should really finish that chat, don't you think?)
I didn't get a good night's sleep. The next day I woke up a tad—okay, way — late. Yudhi said to get to school about 8 AM, and I woke up at well… seven-fifty-five. Hahaha. I kicked into overdrive to get ready and when I was dressing up in my room, my cellphone rang. The number on the screen, I recognized as Yudhi's.
Yudhi: "Hey, Karin this is Yudhi." (No duh) "About when are you coming to school?"
Me: "Uh, around 8.30…?" (Well, it was past that, which Yudhi didn't point out. In my defense, I had no idea what time it was.)
Yudhi: "Okay, then. By the way, the interview's at 12."
"…"
My mind took a moment to completely take that in (Yeah, I know it's been doing that a lot lately). I instantly felt relieved. I thought I completely missed out on the interview. So taking my sweeeet precious time, I got to school about nine. Ignoring obviously intrigued stares from the few people who were at school (seriously, who comes to school on a day-off? Other than the only guy who actually reads this blog, that is. Haha)
Hopping up the stairs, I walked into the Student Council room and ran into Yudhi and Mr Yudi. Only, the two of them that is.
"You're here so early," said Mr. Yudi, which only confirmed I was up way too early than I should've been.
"She's here to drop off the form," elaborated Yudhi, which compelled me to say, "Here it is, see you at 12." and head back home...
But no, it seemed Yudhi had something else in mind. "And maybe give a hand with all these other forms," he finished.
How was I supposed to respond to that? I shrugged, giving off this goofy smile and surrendered. My mom's car was gone anyhow, so it was better than doing nothing. Spending most of the morning re-typing the delegate forms was well, let's be honest, boring and the fact that I didn't get much sleep made my mind drift in and out of that place. Then Yudhi started making conversation, you know, the usual banter. HAHA. (Don't ask the reason for that one.) Then he said:
"So, you ready for the interview later?"
"…"
I cracked up in another one of my trademark goofy smiles, the ones I use to fill in awkward silences or when my brain is lagging too much or when I just don't know how to respond.
"I was actually trying not to think about it," was my final reply.
Although we were sitting across from each other, we were busy behind laptops, but I could've sworn he smiled(?). "How could you not think about it? I mean, this is kind of huge."
Thanks for reminding me, I sarcastically thought. "When I face "huge" stuff like this, my brain sorts of shut down. I try not to think about it."
I'll spare you the boring details and skip to around 10 AM, when the other guys started to file in. Most of them were 8th Graders, and there was only one other 7th Grader around. Didn't really help my odds *shrugs*.
Yudhi started getting texts from the interviewer a Mr Chu who flew in all the way from Singapore to interview us o.O. He was the founder of the GYCi, the Global Youth Congress International, and so I pictured him as a big hotshot or something, with fancy suits and maybe a limo(?). Didn't turn out the way.
So instead of arriving to school at 12 sharp as said, it appears that was his airport arrival time. Sounding just a tad bit like a tourist, he actually asked Yudhi how much a cab ride could cost (seems like a typical question, right?) only to start offering cab drivers 100k for a ride. (Naik taksi pake nawar, emng lg di pasar? (okay, jayus…) ya gk bisalah…)
I actually welcomed the delay. More time to freak out. Yipee.
Suckish thing was, we didn't know what the interview would be focused on, so I decided to prepare myself to ad-lib it all. Another suckish thing, I was getting hungry as lunch-time loomed near.
Then he arrived. Dun dun dun. Everyone was all tense suddenly. He wanted to meet us all in the meeting room, and introduce himself. Opposite to my initial image, suits and all, he wore a plain pink(?)-ish shirt and normal dress trousers. He had a typical Singaporean face and a friendly smile.
He explained a lot about the AYC's vision and ASEAN's history, and how he founded the AYC in hopes of a future were the countries in ASEAN had progressed into something huge. It was inspirational stuff really, but I couldn't help but tune out of the briefing every now and then.
In my mind I was all, After this is the interview. Don't panic. The interview. THE INTERVIEW. Hey, I said don't panic! You are gonna do fine.
Okay, that was a bit of over-reacting, but I did realize the interview was coming oh, so very soon and I just tried to keep my mind in the zone and ready for it. Then a certain image of a certain person came into mind, from like out-of-the-blue and mind fell off balance for a split-second. I blame last night's conversation -__-.
Back to the story. We were handed a guideline on what the Delegate Leaders are all about and a basic registration form. We got paired up for the interviews (which was sort of a relief) and sent to the Meeting Room again to fill out the forms.
Now, as you probably already know, writing is one of my many talents. In a sense, it might be the only skill I have mastered. But filling out the forms was a bit of a stumper for me. It mostly asked about past 'LEADERSHIP EXPERIENCE'.
Damn. The only leadership experience I had was like being class president and planning my family vacations. Trust me, it was hard work and brought out a loud of leadership skills in me, but like it doesn't pop out, you know? I guess, it shouldn't have been a big deal seeing as everyone else didn't have much outside school experience either. But they were all like in the student council or something, and it did give them the slightest upper-hand.
The only other guy who had zilch experience as me was, Erico, who was also my interview partner (unfortunately :P Just kidding. High five, dude!).
Many people ask me, "Why didn't you join the Student Council? You would be a great candidate."
Blah, blah, blah. Not to be disrespectful or anything to the people who support me and encourage me to be all "over-achieving" and who realize my leadership potential, 4 words: You. Don't. Know. Me.
Okay, I would love to be Ms. Busy-body and play teacher's pet, though evidently, that has gotten me into drama before, but I'm not a "Rachel Berry", if you will. I'm not the type of person who knows she has what it takes but destroys it by being overly-'me', all obsessive and overshadowing. I guess what I'm trying to say is, that I'm still figuring things out. I don't want to push myself to doing what seems like 'the typical me thing' to do. Not many people know what I have to deal with on a daily basis. School, parents, making sure my older brother gets through school and baby-sitting a younger sister. It's the little things I've been doing for like an eternity and I love doing them, it's like the dream job you don't wanna quit, but it takes a lot out of me.
WOAH. Don't know how that suddenly turned into a rant-ish paragraph, but yeah, that's basically my point. I promised myself, I would take this first freshmen year at Santa Laurensia JHS, to just adapt. Though that seems to have hurt my resumé, and I've realized that I do need to build it up (8th Grade, I am so going to kill you---> actually planning Student Council President Candidacy. Trust me, I have BIG plans).
Anyways, let's skip right to the interview. After waiting for over an hour in line, Me and Erico sat down next to each other, while we agonizingly waited for Mr Chu to take a call. I fingered a simple black bracelet I put on just for today. There's a bit of history into the seemingly mundane rubber wrist-wear, but let's just say it was like a good-luck charm.
He hung up (finally!) and started the interview. He asked a kind of cornering first one. In front of us was a list of the Leader candidates, and he ask us to choose the top 3 in our books, who would become great leaders. He gave us time to think, and I was just stumped. Not on the first choice (I think you know what I mean), not so much on the second, but the third. You see most of the names on the list were 8th Graders. And the gap seemed a bit disadvantageous to me. Since, we haven't really been in the same class and such, I don't think anyone could really see my leadership skills.
So after an awkward silence, Erico went first. First was, well, himself *ahem*. Second was, well, you-know-who *ahem*. And the third one I just forgot. Suffice to say he didn't say my name *shrugs*.
My turn. First was also myself (No, duh). Second was… unimportant *ahem*, and when I was contemplating third to be Erico I decided the opposite way, saying someone's name at the top of my head.
Next Question: "Why did you not choose your interview partner, out of curiosity?"
I nearly laughed, but I answered first. Well, since he didn't pick me, I didn't feel obligated to pick him, was what I said IN MY MIND. Out loud, I pointed out that we were in the same Writing Club, I had a chance to know him and I said he was a nice guy who participates actively in the club, (and "Nothing personal," I laughed) but I didn't think he would be able to manage a huge project on his own.
Yeah, that was a bit sugar-coated at best. I remember that the moment I said 'Writing Club', Eric's face sort of fell and he said afterwards that, "Pas lw ngomong Writing Club, ack, gw udh takut lw mo ngomong ttg gw males ngumpulin tugas ato ap, tp ternyata ngk." So, sugar-coated, at best. I guess I'm just that nice.
When he answered, I could tell he was making it all up on the fly. I can't exactly remember what he said but I think it was something like "…. But she's not out-going enough and might not be organized enough to lead a project like this."
My response: Outside, I had a small smile and nodded understandingly, taking the critique the professional way. Inside, I thought, Screw you. If we were in the same class, you'd be begging me to lead/be in your group. (Peace dude, no harm intended. Haha :P)
Next questions were pretty straight-forward. The good and bad about our beloved Indonesia, reasons why we should be the leaders, how we would handle a situation.
Bottom line, I think it went pretty well. I pretty much knew how to respond to the questions, and didn't really take too much time to think or say 'uh…' or 'um…' to frequently. Big thumbs up to myself on this one, was all I have to say.
Afterwards, it was Yudhi's and Kay's turn, and while we waited for the verdict, as he said it might be announced right after their interview (which it never did), Ms Maria, the principal of our school sat down with me, Garry, Erico, Evan and Mr Yudi and just had a nice chat. I didn't really say much, since I didn't have much of a reputation yet with Ms Maria yet, she didn't really acknowledge me (oh, boohoo).
Nicest thing was afterwards, Erico treated me to lunch at McDonald's :)
If your reading this, Erico, I wanna say thanks a lot, you saved my stomach, and I just noticed on Facebook that your birthday's tomorrow, so Happy Birthday, hope you have a good one!
Okay, WOAH. It's late. It's 10.30-ish now, and I started typing this at like 8.30. It turned out a lot longer than expected but hey, when you're writing from the heart, words flow out much more easily.
I'm still a bit nervous about the results. Will I become the first 7th Grade AYC Delegate Leader in Santa Laurensia? Okay, that's a bit of a stretch, but I'm way nervous. Wish me tons of luck!
By the way, tonight's episode of Glee was awesome, no it was legen—wait for it—dary! (Get the reference?). Love you NPH! Or should I say Bryan Ryan? Or, better AWESOME-er yet, Uncle Barney? Ahahaha. And I got the latest songs already in my cell, so it'll be tonight's lullaby.
So good night guys.
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot
Long Time, No Write :P
Hey, faithful readers. You've probably noticed it's been like 2 ½ weeks since my last post (It's not like anyone's updating their blogs either :P). Sorry for neglecting my awesome (?) blog, but I guess I've been busy. Okay, let's start off with a quick recap.
The next week after my last post, I had to face the final exams. In the past few years, when the finals loomed very, very near, I found myself turning into some kind of freakin' study-bot. The minute I get home, after a shower and snacks, I'd lock myself into my room and study, usually late into the night or, when there's something good on, I rest up by watching TV.
So yeah, I found myself doing just that this year too, but not as intense as in 5th/6th Grade, cuz I get off school a bit later than I'm used to and can't take a long nap. Heck, I even snuck in an hour of two playing Trauma Team on the Wii.
(Game Cover right there. For all you Trauma Center Fans, a MUST-PLAY!)
After tests were over, I felt confident that the results would turn out well. But school wasn't over just yet. We had a few days left to see each other, namely through class-meetings and farewell parties. I missed the first day, Friday, cuz I was supposed to go to the doctor to see if this continuous illness could get cured before it relapsed again. It got cancelled in the end, but I was feeling better so no harm done at spending a whole day at home :P.
The following Monday was a bit of a drag. 7F wasn't much for competing but oh well, we tried. So, I practically spent the whole day just wandering around with my BFF, Cindy (Love ya! :D). Then we hit the highlight and climax of the whole year: The Last Day of School.
Normally, the last day of school would be thrilling yet at the same time depressing. Sure, it's bye-bye to homework, tests, lectures and projects, but it also meant bye-bye friends :(
It was entertaining though, seeing the performances of Grade 9 (particularly the role of a certain tukang bakso in 9D's Romli and Juminten.) Ha, ha, ha.
But strangely enough, I felt simply adamant this year. I wasn't really all that saddened to see 7F go, even though I tried to hype myself up and get nostalgic, I just couldn't. Guess, I'm just fed up seeing you guys :P. Kidding aside, I look back on the days in 7F and cringe and smile and laugh and roll my eyes, and though I won't be tearing up over it, I will kind of miss it all.
The start of the year was rocky, but we pulled through in the end. Guess there's one left thing to say: GOOD RIDDANCE! (Alright, I'm joking again, and yeah I'm not that funny.) Seriously though:
"Thanks for a crazy year, guys. This year was a total learning process, and we've helped each other improve a lot. I know, we weren't the perfect class, but hey, not much in life is. I wish you all lots of luck in life."
:') I'm getting a bit teary-eyed for some reason now. It's probably the chili I just ate, but something tells me it's not.
Anywaaaaaay…. Yeah. It's over, my days as a 7th Grader. But my days as an 8th Grader is just around the corner, and I for one, will face it head on. Friday was Report Card day, and it was a bit… meh. Don't get me wrong, my grades were fine, I just don't like having to sit through a conversation between my (talkative) teacher and (even more talkative) mom (haha, peace. Still love you, guys! :D). The best thing though, was after that me and my mom celebrated at Harvest (yum!).
My past Weekend was fantastic, if not a bit awkward. Leaving the latter bit out, I had a blast with my family and realized how much these guys mean to me even though they're a bit dysfunctional. Ha, ha. We watched this:
Karate Kid @ Central Park Blitz. It was a cool movie (Jacket On, Jacket Off ahahaha), hilarious and touching, if not a little sadistic (seriously, Cheng is a machine *shudder*). It was a great way to kick off my holidays.
A Little Word of Congrats:
- To all 7th and 8th Graders at St. Laurensia JHS Congrats for passing this year. Wish u all the best in the next.
- To all 9th Graders, especially my brother Billy: Congrats on your Graduation. Keep Moving On, Best of Luck :)
That's it for now. Just got exciting (and TERRIFYING!) news. Must get to sleep now. OMG! See ya!
Signed,
Sir Writes-A-Lot