Wednesday 16 July 2014

Spells

'Fred?' His wife looked at him with surprise. 'I thought you were in Malaysia? Why are you back so early?' Fred now knew the meaning of seeing red. He looked at the woman in his bed, as if she was a stranger. She was half dressed, lounging on the bed. The noise his wife was making woke the man, and Fred got to see his face clearly. Fred did not know the fellow. All he knew was his wife was with a stranger. He wanted to smash his wife's face in, as well as the man's. His head was swimming in anger, and he could not think straight. He had come home early that day, back from a business trip. Something had cropped up and the deal was off. It had been a disastrous trip. He was looking forward to going back to his wife, and the warm comfort of home. The shock of seeing his wife in bed with... he could not remember. His anger was freezing his mind.

'Fred, I can explain,' his wife struggled for words. 'You see...' 'Save your breath, Sasha,' he spoke coldly. Throwing her a look of contempt, Fred turned on his heels and strode out of the room. It was clear enough. Five years of marriage had just gone out of the window. He went into the living room and picked up the phone. 'Mr. Lee?' He called his lawyer. 'My wife and I are divorcing. Arrange for the necessary papers.' Putting down the phone, he turned and saw his wife. Her sparkling eyes, that he used to find so beautiful, now looked like cold hard stones. Sadly, he looked at her. 'It's over.' He walked around the house but the man was gone. That was a strange thought. Where could the man have gone to.

It's not over,' she replied. 'I'll make you sorry.' Fred shrugged, and left the house. He was sure the man could not have just vanished into thin air. But he was too angry to stay in the house. Money had always been important to Fred, not to mention the fact that he had lots of it. Although he was not one of those people who was in love with money and was concerned about only that, there was something that he knew for a fact. One could be happy with or without money. But what if by chance one was sad? Would it not be better to be financially comfortable at the same time? Between Fred and Sasha, they owned eight houses. Some of them were attributed to the fact that they both had good jobs and some of them were attributed to the fact that they had both had rich parents and few siblings. In fact, Fred had had none. His money was all hard earned and multiplied through a few good investments. For the trial, Fred had employed the services of a very prominent local law firm. Jasmine, not to be outdone, engaged the services of an overseas one, from the United Kingdom. It was a scandal that the media loved. By the time the case was over, Fred was left with only two and a half of the houses he bought with Sasha, and he had to sell one to cover the lawyers fees.

Still, Fred could not walk away with that. He felt that the decision of the court was unjust, and had decided to appeal. He made a mistake. But strange things started to happen the day he decided to appeal. He fell terribly ill and was unable to do anything productive. He felt someone was following him wherever he went. He would turn around but there would be no one. He did realize he would still be able to survive without the house; he had assets in liquid form. Yet, he did not want to lose by such a wide margin. He wanted to win. After all, it was his wife who cheated on him and he did not understand why people could not comprehend this simple fact. In the court, there were no witness on his side that had ever seen his wife with another man. She was wrong and he was right, he thought. He had a fever and at one point could not even get out of bed. The more he became angry, the worse he got. He had gone to three doctors all of whom had prescribed him the same medicine. It was obviously not working. Because of that, plus his normally unquestioning faith in modern medicine, he started to suspect that the root of his problem was not merely physical. The pain was becoming unbearable.

He did have an open minded. He went to a medium to find out if the medium could help him. The medium was worried when he saw Fred at the door. Fred told him that at night he felt like someone was cutting him with small pen knife cuts. He would wake up with his own screams. The medium told him after a short session that someone was definitely trying to harm him although he could not tell who. There was something he would have to do. Fred was willing to do anything, he wanted help badly. The medium had, in the traditional way with Chinese brush and paint, painted eight specific characters on a piece of yellow paper. He then nailed it to a tree there and said a few prayers. Over the next two weeks, the medium visited Fred in his home three times. Each time he went for a consultation, Fred had got visibly better. On the third day, the medium had brought him what had seemed like an ominous warning.

He had told him not to continue fighting the case; that the case had something to do with that fact that he had got sick. Fred had simply nodded his head reluctantly; there was no way that he was going to stop fighting. He wanted that was rightfully his. He was not happy that the medium had rearranged his furniture and even moved his pictures on the wall. The minute he recovered, he continued with the fight that had already been going on even when he was not well. He rearranged his house again, the way he liked it. Three days later, he woke up and realize that he could not get out of bed. everything from the waist down felt like lead and he could not move his legs. He thought he was dead. What scared him most was the shadow in his bedroom that was always hovering on the ceiling. The shadow looked like the man who was with his wife. He started to panic and screamed out. Luckily for him, the phone was on the side table next to his bed. He grabbed the receiver and called his best friend, Alfred, who had the key to the house. Next, he called for the ambulance. They both arrived at the same time and it was a good thing because Alfred hurriedly unlocked the door for the hospital staff to get in. 

Fred had fainted. Fred was lying in the hospital bed the next day when he saw the medium coming in, shaking his head. Knowing very well why, Fred expected a stern scolding but was relieved to find out that the medium had been shaking his head in sympathy and not disapproval. They talked for awhile and the medium said a few prayers before he said goodnight and left. Before leaving, the medium advised Fred to sell away his house. The doctors out him through many check ups but could not pin point what was the cause of his ill health. At the hospital, Fred's health was deteriorating. He had more frequent bouts of dizziness and felt tired and exhausted.

Two days from then, the medium came back to find countless colorful flowers standing all over the room. He then ran out and the next thing Fred knew, he saw the medium coming back in with two nurses who then proceeded to take out all the wreaths of flowers from the room. As they did, the medium went to his bed and sat on the side, explaining in a soft whisper that someone had put a spell on the flowers and sent them to him. The medium looked at him for awhile with a certain kind of expression and opened his mouth to speak. Fred already knew what he was going to say and spoke before he could say anything. 'I know. I am happy with the case already; I'll tell my lawyers to pull back the case, okay?' The medium smiled and nodded and proceeded to say some prayers over him. Fred was better within the next three weeks. He never tried ti pursue the case. Strangely, Sasha wanted to buy the house at any cost but Fred tore the house down and sold it as part of an en-bloc sale.

Over the next few years, he went about rebuilding his life, and soon regained his lost fortune. Five years after the case, Alfred told him that Sasha had just filed for bankruptcy. What was worse was that she had lost her mind and was put in an asylum.

Sunday 13 July 2014

End Of Days

'If you want it done, you have to go and look for it, you coward!' She hissed at him. 'But how am I supposed to do it? She'll see me!' 'She's buying food, you idiot! Besides, she broke up with you remember? I don't think she wants to look at you at all. So you better go and find it now!' She shoved him towards the bag. he stood there hesitantly. When he turned back, she gave him the fiercest glare she could muster, and pointed to the yellow bag in front of him.

Looking around quickly, he scurried over to the bag, unzipped it. He rummaged roughly through, until he found what was he looking for. When he found it, he fished the little blue brush belonging to his former girlfriend and shoved it into his pocket. Without wasting another minute, he zipped the bag closed and walked back to Yvonne hurriedly. Yvonne stood there, looking at him approvingly. The two of them had been good friends since secondary one and had been streamed into the same class in secondary three. She looked at Martin with exasperation, and wondered why he was such a coward. They walked down to the school garden together, looking at the blue hairbrush. Yvonne grabbed the brush from him and examined it closely. 'Yvonne, do you think it was a good idea to take Ping Ping's hairbrush?' Martin asked nervously. 'What if she finds out it's missing?' 'What if? She did not see you taking it from her bag, did she?' Yvonne questioned impatiently. 'Anyway, stop whining. You want to get even, don't you?' 'Yvonne, I know I am not an expert with this witchcraft stuff but I am quite sure you can't use a stupid brush for it.'

'How dumb do you think I am?' sh retorted, still looking at the brush. 'Get some tissue from my bag.' Obediently, he did as told while Yvonne continued to study the comb closely. Yvonne had been reading up books on witchcraft for the last few years. Some people in school said before that she had magical powers. Firstly, she was doing extremely well in school, even without putting in as much effort as her friends. And she always faired much better then them. Secondly, even though she loved food and ate enough food for two men, she never put on weight. She would eat anything she wanted' ice-cream, chocolate, french fries any high-caloried food, but she stayed the same. No one had seen her cry and she enjoyed taking long walks alone. 'Okay idiot, listen. I am not taking her stupid brush. I am looking for hair.' She pulled a single strand of bleached hair from the brush and waved it in front of his face.

'I just feel that what we are doing is not right,' Martin muttered. 'You don't want me to go up to her and pluck it from her head, right?' He shook his head and laughed. Quickly and efficiently, she laid the few strands hair on a piece of clean tissue and wrapped them. Martin look on, and thought that would look pretty strange to anyone walking past that part of the school now. 'You coming over today to see what I am going to do?' She asked him. 'I guess I might as well. Hey, thanks. This is going to be damn funny, but don't torture her too much, okay?' 'If you ask me, I think she deserves it; I hate traitors. But then again, if you had listened to me in the first place, this would have never happened right?' Martin thought about what he had seen and the look on Ping Ping's face when she saw him looking at her holding the other guy's hands. 'How did you know she was like that?' 'Oh please! It's so obvious. Guys can be so blind.' 'I...' He sighed.

Later that day, they went straight to Yvonne's house after school. In her room, Yvonne unwrapped the little piece of tissue with Ping Ping's hair in it. Leaving it on her table, she stood up to fetch a blood red candle and a needle. 'It's a good thing that Ping Ping had a long hair. If not, things would be troublesome,' she remarked to Martin as she worked. When the things were prepared, she passed the needle to Martin. 'Hold it for me,' she commanded as she began to tread the needle with the few strands of hair. When the strands of hair was halfway through the needle, she stopped. Taking the needle from Marin's hands, she pierced the candle with the needle, drawing the strands through the candle wax. When the needle was firmly lodged inside the candle, she picked up a pair of scissors and snipped off the hair near the eye of the needle, leaving the strands protruding out of the candle. When done, she took the candle and handed it to Martin. 'You take this home. Write down on a piece of paper what you would like to happen to Ping Ping, and place it under the candle. Lit the wick and let the candle burn. If you want the spell to end, just let the candle brun down. The spell would end then.'

He smiled, as he took the candle from her. 'But be careful. Make sure you don't pull out the hair,' she warned him. 'I know. I know,' he uttered impatiently, his eyes bright on the candle. 'You are such a nagging grandmother.' 'what an ingrate! If I had known, I would not have helped you.' 'Okay, okay,' Martin joked. 'You are the best. Thank you, thank you, thank you!' It was in the middle of Mathematics lesson that it happened. Madam Teo had he back to them, as she tried to explain the complex formulas she scribbled on the blackboard. Behind her, the class fidgeted restlessly. Suddenly, the searching sound of metal against concrete could be heard. Yvonne, who was falling asleep, looked up in time to see Ping Ping rushing out of the class, her hand over her mouth. Madam Teo had turned at the noise.

'What's going on?' She asked the class. No one answered at first. 'It's Ping Ping. I think she's not feeling well,' the class monitor replied finally. Yvonne turned around to look at Martin, who was seated a few seats behind. At her raised eyebrow, he smiled back knowingly and shrugged nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. That bothered Yvonne greatly. The moment the recess bell rang, she stood up and walked to his desk. 'You made her sick?' 'Not seriously sick. I just asked that she start throwing up a little,' he chuckled wickedly. 'She probably thinks that she's pregnant.' 'Martin!' 'Okay, okay, I'm just kidding. I'll burn the thing day after tomorrow when I get back from school.'

By the third day, Ping Ping's condition had deteriorated greatly. Pale and weak from throwing up, she could barely make it to class. She slumped down on the chair at her desk and simply put her head down on the table. 'Are you happy now?' Yvonne looked with him reproachfully. 'When are you going to burn the candle?' 'I'll do it today. I told you already, didn't I?' 'You know, I really regret helping you with this. I never knew you were so revengeful,' Yvonne hissed at him angrily. 'You'd better burn the candle soon, or else she's going to die.' Martin could only stare at Yvonne. 'Well, all this rate she's going, if you don't stop the spell soon, there will be nothing else she could throw up.' Watching on, Martin felt a tinge of guilt. He had wanted to burn the candle down the night before, but the memory of her betrayal haunted him. He had decided to torture her, just for one more day. Now, all he wanted was to run home and burn that candle. The moment he got off school, Martin was in a hurry. Throwing his bag in a corner, he started looking around his room for the candle. It was not on his desk; he remembered placing it there the night before. A sinking sensation appeared in his stomach. Pulling out all the drawers, Martin still could not find the candle.

'Mum! Sis you see a candle in my room?' He yelled to his mother, who was seated outside watching television. 'Yes, I threw it away. I don't know why you keep these sorts of things,' Her voice floated to him. 'You what? You threw it away?' He stomped out of the room. 'Yes,. Why?' She looked at him queerly. 'I thought I told you to stay away from my room, right? Didn't I? Didn't I?' he shouted at his mom. He tried to control his temper but could not. 'Did you throw it down the chute or what,' he half screamed again. 'Don't you shout at me, young man.' His mother was losing patience. 'Oh shut up!' he yelled, not caring that she was his mother.

He went straight to the door. Slipping on his shoes, he slammed the door and ran downstairs. At his void deck, he yanked open the door to the chute, nearly gagging at the smell of stench that hit him as soon as the door was opened. Flies hovered over the garbage chute, and he could see cockroaches scurrying off into the shadows. Brown stains covered the walls around the chute, and the bin was overflowing with refused. Martin looked on with disgust, and could feel bile rising in his stomach. For a while, he felt like giving up. After all, she was the one who dumped him. Almost immediately, Yvonne's words came back to him. Ping Ping would die if he did not find the candle soon. Gritting his teeth, Martin rolled his sleeves up, and started rummaging through the bin. A few broken bottles lain in the chute, and Martin nearly got his arm cut. It took him nearly an hour to go through the contents. The longer he searched, the more desperate he got. The candle could not be found. He went back up to his apartment, totally in despair. He had merely wanted to make her pay, but not with her life. His mother was waiting for him inside the apartment, her face stern and angry.

'Here's your precious candle,' she uttered, 'Next time, you clean your own room. Don't expect me to do it for you.' With disbelief, martin looked at the candle with a few strands of bleached hair sticking out of it. 'Where did you find it? I thought you threw it away?' 'I did, but I was too lazy to bring out the trash,' she retorted angrily. 'You smell terrible. Go and have a bath.' Martin was more relieved than anything else. 'Thank you, thank you,' he also tripped over with his thanks. 'Thank you or no thank you, you are grounded for a month. This behaviour is totally unacceptable.' Martin was still thanking her. 'That's better,' his mother's tense face relaxed a little. 'But you are still grounded. Go take a shower now. You stink like a pig!' 'Yes, anything, Mum!' He picked up the candle quickly and went straight to his room.

He waste no time , setting the wick of the candle aflame immediately. As he watched the candle burn, Martin felt the tension fade away together with his anger. He was no longer angry with Ping Ping.

Wednesday 9 July 2014

Black Magic

Nathan sat there in his bed, cursing the chicken pox virus. He looked at the condition of his skin and sighed. The urge to scratch at the pus-filled blisters on his arms was overwhelming, but he forced himself not to. Placing both his hands underneath himself, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The blisters appeared a week ago. If he had his way, the virus would have run its course by now. His friends had told him about the new drug that was supposed to speed up the effects, so that the entire episode would be over in a week. But his mother, who believed in all things natural, insisted that he left it run its course. Who knows what kind of side effects drugs might have had on him? And goodness knows how much they would cost? You will have to pay through your nose if you get ill in Singapore.

Bitterly, he looked at his blemished skin and got up to open his closet door. The door swung open to reveal a full length mirror, and Nathan saw an unfamiliar face covered with pockmarks. He closed the door with disgust. For a while, he glanced at the phone, wondering whether to invite his girlfriend over. She had wanted to catch chicken pox from him, just so that she would get it over and done against the idea. After a while, he decided that it was better that she stayed home. The house was to quiet for him. He slipped back into bed and pulled the sheets up, taking care not to break the blisters on his bare legs. The pills the doctor prescribed were beginning to take effect. He was about to go to sleep when he heard the chime of the doorbell. He laid still in bed, listening out for the sound of his mother's slippers shuffling to answer the door. No sound came. The hallway outside was quiet. The doorbell continued ringing. With another sigh, Nathan got our from bed and peered into his mother's room. She was lying on her bed, asleep. He would have to answer the door.

He went to the door and looked through the peephole. A man in blue uniform was standing outside. It must be the newspaper man, here to collect the monthly subscription. Nathan was about to open the door when he realized the sight he must have looked. Quickly, he glanced into the mirrored partition and arranged his hair, only to realized that nothing he could do would improve matters. Resigned to his fate, Nathan opened the door. The shock on the man's face was enough to tell Nathan how hideous he looked. Somehow, he irritated Nathan. 'Delivery for Mr. Nathan,' he uttered hastily, thrusting a basket of flowers in Nathan's face. As he did, he took extra care to stay away from Nathan. 'It's okay,' Nathan snapped exasperatedly. 'I'm past the infectious stage. Don't worry.'

Somehow, the man relaxed a little. Still, he took care to avoid touching Nathan when the basket changed hands. Stifling an angry growl, Nathan grabbed the basket and slammed the door in the man's face. He carried the basket to the table. Filled with roses, the basket was a pretty sight. An unsigned 'Get Better' card was propped at the basket rim. His girlfriend must have sent it to him. Nathan smiled, picked up the phone and dialed Rina's number. 'Hello Rina?' 'Nath! How are you today?' His girlfriend's voice gushed over the phone. 'Thanks for the flowers. You shouldn't have; the look expensive.' 'Huh?' 'The flowers. I just received them.' 'Hello, my dear, who sending you flowers that i don't know about?' A hard edge appeared in her voice. 'Oh! They are not from you,' Nathan kicked himself. He was going to hear about this for the next month or so. Every other female acquaintance of his was going to become a suspect in the great mystery of the flower sender.

'It's probably someone in my family,' he thought quickly on his feet, crossing his fingers at the lie. 'No one in your family would send you flowers, even if they knew you are dying,' she spoke his thoughts aloud. Rina was not stupid. 'Hey, take it easy. Okay?' He laughed nervously. 'I'll find out the sender and send them my chicken pox. 'You'd better do that before I get my hands on her.' 'You are being paranoid, you know?' He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it. For the next few minutes, Nathan winced as he listened to the high pitch tirade over the phone. it took him a while to calm her down, and by then, Nathan was already yawning. 'Rina darling, I really need to sleep,' he let off a huge yawn. 'Oh all right,' she muttered irritably. 'This is not over yet, but you'd better sleep.' 'Yes darling,' Nathan said with relief. 'Bye darling.'

Hanging up the phone, Nathan looked at the flowers for a while, wondering who had given them to him. The thought of a secret admirer amused him. It must be someone who knew him very well, well enough to know that he preferred artificial flowers to real ones. they would never wilt and were value for money. Then again, it could have been just a coincidence. He returned to his room, and slipped back to his bed. His eyelids were feeling heavy, and it did not take long before gentle snores filled the room. Nathan opened his eyes to direct sunlight. squinting, he checked the time; it was eight in the morning. Nathan groaned with pain as he tried to sit up, wondering why he had woke so early. His question was soon answered s his stomach started to churn violently. He needed to throw up. On instinct, he dashed out of bed, and sprinted out of his bedroom. He practically slid across the polished marble hallway to the toilet bowl, and made it just in time. He emptied his dinner into the bowl.

When done, he rinsed his mouth hurriedly, trying to wash the rancid taste away. As he did, he tried to recall what he ate for dinner, a cheese sandwich and a glass of water. how could he get indigestion from that? He thought of blisters lining his stomach walls, and shuddered. it must be the chicken pox virus. Sighing, he walked back to his room. Every step he made jarred his brain. The headache was getting more unbearable. when he finally reached his bed, he sat down only to feel his stomach churn once more. Once more, he dashed madly to the bathroom. Upon his return, he groaned miserably, wondering what he had done to deserve this. For a while, he starred at the phone, wanting to whine to Rina about everything, but decided against it. He sat down on his bed gently, praying that his stomach remained still, and was glad when his head finally touched the pillow. He was feeling feverish, but he was too weak to go to the kitchen for painkillers. Soon, he was fast asleep.

His fever built and the pounding of his head got worse, as the day progressed. By evening, he had thrown up over five times, much to the concern of his mother. She had called his father to ask for help, and was told to sponge Nathan down. If that did not work, she would have to take him to the doctor. His father was on his way home. Nathan's father came home to find his son seated in the leaving room, starring blankly at the television screen with a wet towel over his forehead. Nathan's eyes were glazed, and he did not seem to notice his father. His wife stood nearby, and he could see that she was worried sick about Nathan. 'Nathan?' His father asked. 'Are you alright?' His father left his briefcase by the door, and had come to sit across him. lifting the towel, he felt his forehead. Nathan continued starring blankly ahead of him. A frown appeared on his face. Quickly, he put the towel back and held his hand over it as he began to pray. His lips moved rapidly, as he chanted a mantra taught to him as a child. As he chanted, he could see more light appearing in Nathan's eyes. Soon, Nathan looked up at his father, and for the first time that evening, his father saw recognition in his son's eyes.

'How are you feeling?' He asked Nathan. Nathan did not answer and just moaned. His father turned to his mother. 'Was he this sick yesterday?' He asked her sternly. His mother shook her head. 'Did anything unusual happen yesterday?' 'The only thing that came for Nathan was those flowers on the table. Even Nathan don't know who sent them. I hardly think that the flowers made him sick,' his wife said, trying to stay calm. Nathan's father did not wait for her to finish, and was already tearing the basket apart. He did not seem to hear her and started to pull out each individual flower out of the green foam at the bottom of the basket. When all of the flowers were lying in a heap besides the basket, his eyes widened at something inside the basket. The green foam used for holding the flowers in place was cut in very precise manner into the rough shape of a human being.

He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand as he looked at the marks that had been made by the plastic flower stems. They all centered on its stomach and its head and had created almost two big holes at those two points. He picked the doll up and looked it up and down. He then turned it around to find two Chinese characters written on it and pinned to the back of it. He took out the pin carefully and took the piece of paper to the door. Slipping into his slippers, he walked over to his neighbor's house and rang the doorbell. His Chinese friend opened the door smiling and asked what was up. Nathan's father showed him the characters and asked what they meant. 'Oh!' he had replied rather surprised at the words. 'That's your son's name in dialect! Who did that?' 'It's a long story; maybe some other time.' Nathan's father was thankful that he trusted his gut instinct. He presumed that if this was causing his son so many problems that it worked when it had arrived at the house. So, if it was not there anymore, it would not cause anymore harm. So he did the only thing he could think of doing; he walked over to the rubbish chute, threw away the foam doll, then burnt the yellow piece of paper with his son's name on it.

I supposed you could say that we would never know if what it was that caused the fever and the headaches and the vomiting. Nathan's father believes that it did. It may have been coincidence that Nathan's started recovering almost straight away and that his temperature was back to normal within the next three hours. His father asked him when he was well, whether he had any idea who sent the flowers. He said that he did not and his father went to tell him what he had done. Nathan was of course shocked. He had no idea who would have wanted to do that to him; but at least he could tell Rina those flowers did not come from an admirer. Nathan's father did not want to alarm his son by revealing who the sender of the flowers was. the flowers were not for Nathan, but was for him. but Nathan had touched the flowers first, and since their names were similar, the curse went to him.

Sunday 6 July 2014

Secret Admirer

'Oh my gosh! You mean you got all this gifts?' Kelly looked at her younger sister, insulted at her disbelief. They sat in her bedroom like little girls. Kelly was sharing her toys with the other two. Sandra, Kelly's best friend, smiled a little and piped in. 'Jocelyn, do you mean you don't know how popular your big sister is? I could barely find her among all the boys today. She should make it a point not to come on Valentine's day. Every single boy in school wants her to be his Valentine date.' Kelly did not seem to be listening. Her eyes examined the five boxes of chocolate, two bears and three roses that had collectively come from six guys. Her eyes of course, ended up eventually on the chocolate.

'So much chocolate, so little time,' she muttered wistfully. 'I cannot believe that Eel Face Martin gave you chocolates,' laughed Sandra. 'Tell me about it. That weirdo always looks at me as if he wants me to die. I nearly got a heart attack when he actually spoke to me today. 'Uh... uh... uh... this is for you' I swear he creeps me out.' 'Yeah man,' giggled Sandra as she turned towards a wide eyed Jocelyn. 'You should see this fellow. He really looks like an eel. All you have to do is just chop off his limbs, lay him on his stomach and throw him in the river.' The image really make Kelly laugh and she nearly fell over. Sandra was trying to calm herself and Jocelyn had just settled for giggling with the two of them. 'What say we pig out today? All chocolate and no exercise. Today we eat and tomorrow we starve! Set?'

'Set!' The other two burst out at the same time, still giggling. They opened three boxes of chocolate and finished two, leaving the other one, half finished in the refrigerator. Kelly woke up moaning the next morning barely able to get up. She thought about the day before and knew she should have stopped at four pieces; her stomach just could not take too many of a good thing. She rolled over and felt her body experienced something very familiar to her. Remembering the feeling from a long time ego, she soon realized that her body was telling her that she was going to throw up. She ran to the toilet and got there just in time. Her indigestion lasted longer than she had thought it would and she found herself in the toilet doing the same thing three days later. Thinking that neither her sister nor Sandra had had any problem with their stomachs, not to mention that she had eaten the least among them.

She opened the fridge to see if there was anything to drink. She looked at the half eaten box of chocolates and felt the urge to eat one. Knowing she should not, she took one anyway and popped one into her mouth. Closing the fridge door after taking out a packet of milk, she poured herself a glass and drank it down slowly. Her stomach got better eventually but she found herself craving for the chocolates that were in the fridge. The huge box contained an assorted of light and dark chocolates. As she walked back to her room with her milk, she walked back over to the fridge and took another one out. The next few days, Kelly was miserable. She was going from better to worse and back again, over and over. She had become so addicted to the chocolates that it worried her; because she knew that the chocolates would not last forever. She lay in her bed and tried to go asleep, wondering if there was anyone in school who hated her.

She looked at the last piece of chocolate three days later as she held it in her hands before eating it. She swore when she accidentally dropped it. She bent down to pick it up, the urge to eat it so strong that she considered just popping it into her mouth without even wiping it off. She picked it up and looked it over, trying to see of there was anything visibly inedible on it. Examining it, she found something inscribed at the bottom. It was her name together with a Chinese character she could not identify. She felt the hair of the back of her neck stand as she wondered what it meant. The urge to eat it, though still as strong, did not overpower her common sense ans she threw it away. Fear gripped her when she realized there was something spooky and evil going on. Her stomach ached but she craved for a bite. Kelly felt stupid sitting in class the next day, feeling the urge to eat chocolates. Suffering withdrawal symptoms from sweets was making her irritable.

She stared with glassy eyes at the teacher who was presently leaving the class. She stared beyond her and beyond the blackboard. Maybe, it was because of this that she did not notice the boy who approached her. Eel face Martin looked down at her and smiled. 'Feel like a chocolate?' Kelly grabbed a few and chewed them with delight. She was so happy that she wanted to kiss Martin for his kindness. And she did. Martin smiled with satisfaction. 

Voodoo Doll

Veronica walked back to her cubicle, mildly annoyed. She had never realized how egocentric she was until then. Realizing that her second last button was still undone, she buttoned it back up, arriving back at her seat and slumped back down into it. Looking grouchily at the screen saver on the computer, she fished for her compact mirror in her bag. Taking it out, she opened it to find out if she had any visible flaws on her face that day which she had not known about. She saw nothing she disliked and put the mirror back in her bag.

John must be a fool, she concluded. Any guy would have loved for her to give them the time of day. She rolled her eyes in frustration. The most gorgeous guy in the office wanting to hook up with the gorgeous girl seemed like common sense to her. This had been her third move. Never in her entire life had she needed to make a second one. And still this joker seemed uncomfortable to even be around her. in fact, he had told her to leave him alone because he needed to get back to work. She had never been so humiliated in her whole life. She looked at the clock and saw that it was time for lunch. Alone again. But, she would have an entire hour to cool off. She picked her purse and left for the cafeteria. At home that day, she looked at the simple doll she had made out of cloth and crumpled up the piece of paper that had the spell written on it. She had already chanted it and there was only one thing left to do. She looked at the doll and she looked at the needles, an overwhelming feeling of being far too old for this, engulfing her.

It probably would not work anyway and if it did, she would probably regret doing it in the first place. But there was always time for a little fun. She took one of the needles and poked it playfully into the doll's stomach. She contemplated the sight a little and then poked a few more in. She put the doll on her dresser and then got dressed to go and buy dinner for herself. Looking down at her dog that had been looking up to her with great curiosity, she smiled. 'We're gonna have some fun, Muffin, aren't we now?' John did not show up for work the next day. Veronica knew because she had walked past his cubicle, only by coincidence of course, about five times and noticed that he was not there. She wondered what had happened to him, and wondered whether what she had done had caused his absence in some way. She smiled a smug smile that gave her a bittersweet feeling inside and then continued with her work.

John did not show up for the next two days and the weekend came after that. veronica decided on Sunday that she should take the pins out of the doll's stomach. It may have all been coincidence but common sense told her that she should not take a chance. If anything too serious were to happen to him, she would probably have to deal with a great deal of guilt for a long time. So she took out all the pins one by one and poked them back into her pincushion. She supposed he did not actually deserve whatever it was that he was getting and that it was she who was being spiteful. She supposed that the fun would have to stop there. She carried the doll around, intending to throw it away. Her thoughts were disturbed by the barking of Muffin.Muffin had not been fed and it showed its displeasure. Veronica saw John the next day at work and asked him why he had been away for so long. He did not seem like he wanted to talk to her. He supposed that he must still have been quite affected by her coming onto him, although she could not imagine why. 'I had this terrible stomachache; I could barely moved. I swear that the moment it hit me, I thought I had been stabbed or something.'

'Oh dear, did the doctor tell you what it was?' 'Those idiots study for like twenty years and they never know what's going on.' 'But it's gone now?' 'Yes, disappeared all of a sudden. It was very strange; not that I am not grateful.' Veronica smiled a secret smile to herself as she typed and replayed the conversation back in her head. The next day, the announcement was made after lunch at work to the people who had known John. He had been hit while crossing the street, by a speeding car and had never made it to work. Veronica had been wondering before why he was not there. She felt her knees got weak when she heard the news. he had broke his neck when his head hit the edge of the hood. He had almost, in truth, had his head sliced off.

Kicking her shoes off after an emotionally tiring day, veronica went to the toilet to wash her face. Muffin followed her, the toilet being her favourite place as of late. the little terrier made her feel a little better about what she had heard at the office. Muffin weaved in between her legs and ran into the toilet before she could, picking something up and then dropping it at her feet. veronica's heart sank as she looked at what little Muffin brought her; it was the doll. The head had been chewed off.