Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Erika Ruiz
Saturday, July 04, 2009
I knew the room, I had the advantage. It was my room. I ran through the door and opened room 313. As I went inside, I noticed the room was the center of it all. The spiral corridors seen, walls of the room were transparent. I could not sense any other doors as the corridor spirals over the room. A usual room in appearance; there was a television, the door, a couch, a bed, books, and the tool that is ought to be kept. I switched the television on, but looking at the tool. Nobody came; there wasn't anyone at all. I heard an unfamiliar sound, I muted the television, expecting. The dog was growling on the other side of the door, striking it with intent. I added locks to the door. The dog threw two books that passed through the door, aiming at me. I sat on the bed with my gun. The dog's rage disappeared and I saw it running through the spiral corridor, going up. It jumped and passed through the non-existent ceiling. It did not bother the tool, it growled, looking with an intent to kill. I shot it. It bit my hand, it bit me. There was blood.
I woke up on the bed, my blood spilling all over the place. I saw law enforcements around, but a bloody general was dead sitting leaning on his gun, above the shot dog. Nearby, there was a lieutenant lady bleeding profusely, blood gushing out of the ear and eyes open; she was moving, but she showed no sign of soul. I did not witness what happened, I blanked. I did not know who did it or if I did it. The door was hanged open.
I didn't bother knowing if what I was protecting was taken away. I just looked around the room and it ended.
Erika Ruiz
Friday, July 03, 2009
There was a train, a bird, fireworks, hearts, bubbles, and father. The dress and room was a premonition. The twins sang, the hands and the father motioned. There were beads, chicken, and tragedy ignites.
Erika Ruiz
Monday, June 29, 2009
The night was normal, vivid. People weren't running, law enforcers were nonexistent, until she started it, everybody going down. The grin on the face permanently plastered. There was blood and blood. I ran, hoping to get away from the target proximity, but I was axed on the back, but I ran and entered into a building where it stinks of life. I felt my meat disappear.
I stepped into a school's fire exit, a secret passage, to be seen with a few survivors. I was fatally wounded, my veins gushing out my dryness, blood, and thinness; my skeleton was showing. I went in first and decided to go back down to search for her, decided to keep quiet. There was security, face was damped with apathy, and we entered this enormous storage room. I heard noises. There were rooms screened and covered with newspapers. Peeping, I saw people devouring food. They were alive, but sanity was taken away. He smiled and nodded. I did not want to see it. I saw a small man eating something oriental and he insisted an interpretation I did not hear. I left and wandered.
I changed and walked to the morning ahead of what's about to happen. The people remained calm, but crypt was a forming tone. I felt no pain, I was running, waiting for anyone to give me a ride. The jeepney stopped and took me to the passenger's seat. The driver called the police if I could sit beside as there was someone already beside me. I recognized the faces when I turned. It was normal, but the entirety was pensive.
I didn't have a direction; all I want was to leave and live.
It was the first time fear entered my veins and immediately left like a dying fox; that morning was the very first time I've felt hunger.
Erika Ruiz
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I woke up and I was half-blind. I sensed the tense outside the room, but I couldn't move. Three minutes passed and I was able to jump out of the bed and saw what was happening. They parted, every single thing is evidently flustered in a quick pace. The format smiled and prepared the baggage for the silent riot. I went to the computer and typed how I could not see anything; that I couldn't see her face and that the keyboards were jumbled in my blindness. My head was heavy. Everything was moving violently aware of the parting.
There was a dream in the dream.
The renaissance presented its green. I saw no back, but the hermit asked who I was most thankful of. I settled, turned my back and went pensive in reverie. I said something I couldn't hear, but the thought says Anna and another one. A girl smiled somewhere faraway, but I knew it. The flowers on the garden of green bloomed in rich luscious colors; some petals were withdrawn from its hold of life. The horse-drawn rig passed slowly. Everything was peaceful, doubtful, and passive.
The message was not sent. The green was gone. We were leaving, we are leaving.
Erika Ruiz
