Shadow Burner, Jude Alquinto [top 100 books to read txt] 📗
- Author: Jude Alquinto
Book online «Shadow Burner, Jude Alquinto [top 100 books to read txt] 📗». Author Jude Alquinto
March 14th
The sun glared at humanity incinerating everyone in sight. I went out with my sleeves rolled to my elbow and wore pants of the lightest fabric. If I was to feel any warmer, my breath would be at labor; so I shouldered my vest. As I walked to school, everyone I saw acted like nightly creatures sheltering themselves from the light—well, most of them. Summer made all drool for shade. My feet, resting beneath fine leather, felt the heat pierce through. Our shadows stretched as far as it could from the sun.
I have lived through the ages and have seen man’s capabilities and weaknesses. I have taken part in the fall of empires and the rise of kingdoms time and time again. Countless poor souls have perished before my eyes. My loved ones, from a youthful lot, grew old and weak countless times as I have not aged a second. And I must confess... I am joking.
Ever alone amidst the four corners of this room, my fingers count more than the friends I cherish. I prefer quietness. No one to burden and give me burdens. If life was to be a game, I would rather be a spectator than a participant.
Lately, my thoughts have been quite wild. When light shines upon something, a shadow is therefore cast. Which means something hinders the light. Something is present. Something exists. All things cast a shadow. I was right. SHADOWS are the proof of one’s existence.
I have come to know what it means to exist... or to be “present” at the least.
“I can think, therefore I exist”
“To exist is to be sensed”
“I can sense things so it means I have to exist.”
All the philosophers were correct during their times. Again, WERE correct.
Those, I daresay because recently, I have discovered a most peculiar ability of mine. But to my regret, as of this moment, I only have a vague notion of this somewhat “demonic” power.
I can set shadows ablaze with my touch; with it, their existence.
After which, its owner fades to nothing—not ashes, not dust.
This learning is to be tended with utmost secrecy. Unintended sharing of this knowledge would be bothersome. I need to distance myself from people. So far, my isolation stands not a problem since I reject the acquaintance of mindless monkeys. They must not know of this.
My day was dull as any other. Treading past the town, I breezed through the merchants to take glances of their goods—sold were trinkets, food, and the like. I head to school for formality and return home with nothing new. I even fail to remember the last time someone other than me saw my smile. Though it concerns me not, I can only see darkness in society.
Only Pauline (a woman I’ve had my eye on these past few months) can expel the darkness I see. But I’m not in love. I think “fascinated” is the word. Shorter than me, radiantly white skin, night-black wavy hair, a mole on the lower left of her lips, a birthmark on her left arm, and always cheerful. She’s cute and charming—my very opposite.
Today, I saw her by the library wearing a simple dress. Alone, she read books.
A sight of her is the peak of my day.
March 20th
Six days have passed since I last touched this. I had nothing to write. If I did, I fear, the same things would be read. But today is special. The beautiful candlelight that parts me from darkness… turned nigh.
Good things have taken place. Pau and I, miraculously, became friends. My dream came true. Perhaps a chance to advance? No, too hasty. Having the similar sense of humor, we get along quite well—Pau and I. She was the first woman to ever invite me to lunch FOR NO REASON AT ALL. Her suddenness made me delighted more than she thought. How nice to know someone desires my company.
As for my “touch”, I ran tests to broaden my knowledge. After days of trial and error, I noticed that “burning shadows” had “conditions” to be fulfilled—three to be exact.
First, the object must have its shadow FULLY exposed. If it overlaps with another, all would be for naught.
Second, the power rests only on the flesh of my palms. I needed only to make physical contact with the absence of light—the shadow. Even a fingertip would suffice.
Lastly, in my mind, the image of ravaging fire needs be conceived. Closing my eyes helped. The larger the object, the longer my touch needed to last.
That was true for lifeless objects. Now, my hands wonder about shadows of the living.
“Wound me to your heart’s content… but never let me see you under the light.”
March 22nd
That woman, Pauline, truly holds my interest captive. Her movements so mellow and her voice filled with bliss. My heart throbs at her mischievous smile. When I gaze onto her eyes, my soul is intrigued by what rests beneath. Even a glimpse of her nape is enough to have me dumbfounded.
When we are apart, I plead the heavens to hasten time.
But as I am with her, I wish for the moment to last forever.
May 8th
Once again, long it has been since glistening ink touched these youth forsaken papers.
Having a woman by my side was surprisingly enjoyable. Eating, laughing, and conversing together. All this time... all this time, I sat alone in a corner observing what couples do as I remained in endless wondering as to why they looked so happy. I understood the answer through Pauline. We’re no couple but my head is filled with images of her lusciously alluring smiles.
Damn. The way she speaks my name is bewitching.
Last 14th of April was her birthday. I failed to write about it then so I am compensating now. We had each other for the whole day. May that translate to anything? I wonder.
The present I gave her was a poem—one above the usual kind. I detest giving flowers. “No time? Too lazy? Buy bloody flowers! Works like a charm!”
P - ounding my chest and yanking my eyes
A - lluring is thee, a girl with no price
U - proot me from sadness, we’ll venture the skies
L - et us hold hands, oh that would be nice
I - f my soul is a kingdom, then you’d be its queen
N - ever be troubled, on me you may lean
E - nchanted am I for a fairy I’ve seen—nobody contest... her name is Pauline.
After reading it, a tear peeked from her eyes and crawled to her soft cheeks. I have never seen Pauline smile so happily before. And never, too, have I seen anyone appreciate my writing as much as she did. I can only try hiding my doltish smile.
Perhaps it would be a good idea to have a relationship with her? More than friends, I mean. I am thrilled by what my actions would unfold—worried as well.
May 15th
Today noon, the streets morphed to a desert. No living soul dared to roam the scorching streets. Had I stayed there longer, my sweat would have drenched the whole of my clothes. The heat had the best of me. Failing to notice that my hand rested against a lamppost’s shadow, my thoughts conceived flames. With no malevolent intentions in mind, I made a lamppost disappear. Thank heavens no eyes were around.
Now you see it... now forever gone. I felt like a magician... like an illusionist.
That hellish afternoon, I was in waiting for Pau to have lunch as we always did. I look forward to seeing her—every damn time. I crave yet I know not why.
At the restaurant, I thought I was free of blame for my crime of setting ablaze a shadow (Yes, I consider “shadow burning” morally wrong.) but as we ate, she asked me, “How did you make it vanish?” The cat’s out of the bag.
I confessed the truth for I knew she was not naïve. I confessed the curse of my touch. I was certain of her shock for her jaw lost interest in its chewing. But I saw neither fear nor disgust in her eyes. She knew by heart that I shall bring her no harm. She TRUSTS me.
Trust—that sounds mighty good.
The longer I am with Pauline, the more I find myself in a realm of bewilderment. She’s calm and gentle while easily frustrated as well. That perfect blend is what I prefer.
For the sake of clarity, I am neither in love WITH her nor FOR her. Through my readings, I have learned the difference. And for that, I am grateful. It sickens me to see how people take the word “love” for granted.
June 4th
Time: 17 hours and 36 minutes after the day’s first second.
Duration: more or less three minutes.
Her lips were softer than cloth. Her breath—warmer than flesh.
June 6th
For years, I spent my life as a sulking lonely man. That was until one woman compellingly snatched me from the empty void I created myself. She lent her ears to my eager voice and I listened to her tales. The bloodless wound my heart had suffered for many years was effortlessly healed by Pauline. She saved me. I want her.
There are times when “wanting” weighs more than “needing”.
It was this day that I felt her dainty frail hands.
The relation we have now... shall remain an agreement unspoken.
July 15th
My theory was again, correct. My “ability” does have an effect on living creatures. Sorrowed I am for depriving a stray dog the gift of a morning sun. I have absolutely no idea as to why it chased me. It just did. Toppling over at around three to five times from clay pots, creates, and barrels, I managed to hide behind a wagon filled with surplus fabric and rags.
Sliding my hand cautiously, I barely reached its unsuspecting shadow with a finger.
When an unfortunate creature’s shadow is consumed by the unseen flames, it vanishes like smoke. I must admit—it was a lovely sight. It smolders without a hint of pain. It was like the smoke of melting ice. The skin was the first to go—revealing the red beneath flesh. The dog later looked at himself only to see that he only had his bones left—which also vanished shortly afterwards.
Seeing a foe disappear before my eyes was lovely… but scornful at the same time. A shadow devoured by flames can never be retrieved again. A new face of death—shadow burning. Was it a better end than “death” because it seemed painless? Or was it harsher because what happens afterwards is unknown? Or was it even truly death? I do not know.
Regardless of the answer, I make this written vow never to scorch another shadow again.
August 16th
This day stacked another year in my life. I’m now aged as Pauline. She is older by a few months—four to be exact.
Never in my wildest dreams have I thought of a woman knocking on my door to celebrate with me my birthday. She came with a bag of ingredients—mostly flour and sweets. The pastries she made were truly scrumptious. She used cherries—the fruit that can shatter my sanity.
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