ritual guy

I lived opposite a family of four. The one with the reputation of kicking out maids. Poor maids. Like cockroaches that got swept out. Out the tortured scramble. They run and they never look back. And apparently i was kinda like ostracized by them— many residents knew me to be a stalker. Well i had to confess— i couldnt help it sometimes. When i saw someone infront of me and i felt inclined to just crawl behind them. I didnt know why. Instinct? and besides, there was once i was just sitting and rocking around on a creaky rattan chair, its filaments splintering and in such a delicate work of crisscrosses it looked like it was swallowing people and spinning skin into really fine strips. smooth like silk. and then i saw the little kids. Heard that one was p5? And the other one was probably p3. And my limbs oh i couldnt— they dragged my soul scraping across the road. I had no will to do so. involuntary? probably. idk i dont know. my parents were not around either so why not? So there i went. My conscience threatening to rip out of my head while the other rest of my body trudging forward. I couldnt control my body sometimes. Pathetic.

So i just went behind them, and the children notcied a random trans looking guy just staggering behind them. yes i was staggering. i could not do anything else. Stagger stagger stab with daggers.

the mom must have been some big activist talker; she walked up to me to negociate. and at the same time her i could see her pupils just dilating rapidly and then it went left and right. Like some iridescent marble jelly i had for desert. well i couldnt wait to dig in. Ah she must have cringed at my hair. havent cut it in years, such that it hung like a wrung cloth over my head. Weird for a guy, yet i had no will to do so. This was the only thing my body and soul both agreed on. No barber for me ever.

then they left me slumped against some trashbin. uh— rich people. Couldnt care less about the cukoo 14 year old living opposite them, with a crooked nose and seriously unstable mental health. Even though we were neighbours, there was no form of communication— a barrier between the fortuanate and the not so fortuanate. Those who enjoyed their lives and those who could only watch and dream. Everytime they made their way to school—my eyes just followed them. My iris burned to trace all their little movements— the little hops, the perfunctory nods. the rest of my eyes just moved along. the juxtapose of the grand and the dilapidated houses across the gravel lane. The type that groans under the weight of the cars as they blunder up, grazed across the pebbles. like the grind of bone into powder. The pestle and mortar could do an unimaginable, plethora of grinding and rumbling. From the leaves for the aromatic take on essential oils to the meat for consumption.

my family had always went on their knees on a sacred being, the legends passed down for generations. this meant a tradition, and many strict restriction we had to adhere to. Apperently, he was some poor man who grew up to fight for the weak, he went to murder some too many people… uh so he went to seek resort in some faraway mountain thingy. then he killed all the animals and wherever he went, the plants withered and melted like wax, sticky and sluggish, shrivelled and all, and the animals flesh torn, patches of skin gone to the roots of the ground, slowly, steadily, creeping through the ragged soil. cracked under all that pressure. uh people got scared of him, and so right he went to the village and the whole village ppl had to bow and do shit like that. passed down for centuries. So uh random traditions were like u kneel and bow real low when u eat and that made me look like a dog. there was an altar u had to eat in front of. i looked like a dog. Uh never touched one before. as shit and useless like one. The one that trotted along, never was one who pulled others along. The one always following. Always watching. Others included no school, sleep without clothes, and hanging carcasses of a little chicken or like dog (dog hehe) on the front door. we had yet to seek permission by the government, but, nobody had bothered. Yes, the last one— own a large house. We would have happily tumbled into any rental flat— but due to that we couldnt. i had nothing to do. We ate all sorts of things, including wood and bark. Yes, u might think it was shit. we were strong defenders of the bondage and the dominant-submissive status, hence i was frequently subjected to beating. That also meant no school. Nobody could see my broken face. I was nothing but a dog. ah yes the opposite rich people neighbour loved dogs.

they never saw anything in me.

Lucky me i didnt have a beard.

There were these periods of sacrificial dedication shit where i was stuck and my skin was all stitched up, across the chest, through the limbs. everything was done in this ritual room— all to the third floor, where the candles danced through the shadows and u have to roll on the ground on that weird liquid where it stuck to your clothes and that little cloack u wore. u might get burnt but that was part of the process. I used to get burnt and cry really bad. Suffering after was also part of the process. When the stitches were removed, they stung my skin, wrapped over a stick like clay.now i just retreated. Dumb dog. Pathetic. Retreated to one corner as acid burns through my blood, through the very tissue holding me together such that if i moved a little, my body would slowly decompose to the slightest shiver of the wind. And it mangles my body my fingers are gone and they needed sometime to grow back. Pulpy mess, frail and stagnant in my rattan chair. Where the chain across my neck strangles me till my very end just like how one was stuck in a room of acid where the more u yearn to live the more you choke yourself with the acute sensation that rots your brains and strikes your heart so hard it falls through your ribs and punctures a hole on the ground, before it writhes with its clogged vessel flailing around try to crawl back up. Then for days i stand there whimpering. Sick dog.

Talk about dogs. Ah yes that girl.

There was this family, the couple and a girl. She might me about the same age as me. A little short though. Compared to me. I was abt 168cm. She might be 10 cm shorter. But she was. Uh. Not annoying. She hated dogs and had one. At least she has got a living one ive got 2 dead ones.

They came about every few saturdays. It was rarer nowadays. But still, they came. But every saturday, was the sacrifice, the reaching out to him.

I would look awful with my hair sticky and wet and me with that awful cloak thing. And that chain.

From the confines of my room, out the windows, i saw her entertain the kids, even though i knew— that hate she buried beneath. she wants to kill them. As much as i want to inhale them up. I smiled, My eyes melting away. It was time to meet her.

It was raining so heavily. the rain dripped dripped dripped into my room, a rivulet down the corner, carrying the finest of sediments aling, tinting the water rolling, trickling, corroding the wall, secreting through the little granules like blood during menstruation. i was at yet another corner of my room, blankly staring at the musty bed, at the carcass swaying and its skull just banging against the window, its surface feeling so tangible, so edible at every instance it went BANG against plastic. Then i glanced out of the window, falling upon that mini cooper that revved up the parking lot. There was this sting in my chest that moment, that was my chance. No matter how PATHETIC and STUPID i was, on this day, marred across the skin of the moon, carved deep in, it was written then—the same motive we had, to finally be happy.

There she went. Then extra curve of her back, that burden. I might not want to, but— i couldnt stop to sympathise. I just had to. A tear ran down my face. That i couldnt control either. Another rolled down. I could feel that face of mine collapsing under all theose tears. pathetic. I crouched, my head just like the carcass on the other side, slamming against the window. A smear of tears, a scratch on the plastic. my hands. They were by my eyes without any thought. Rubbing the tears off. i could have whined. Could have ran down hugged the limp cadavers. Could have cried till the whole apartment was scarred with my sobs and flooded with my tears. I cried voiceless, my voice box caving in, my incisors digging into the plush of my lips. Sticky with the blood coming out with it. “no— no pls— this happens pls— let me be happy for once— i know u know im here— its literally opposite that shot house of theirs— i know you……” the rain outside only got heavier. I bashed my head a few more times. Pathetic. how dare i cry. stupid stupid fucker. If he sees this from up there, my heart not true to the wishes not counting the stars, not reading the swirls of the sun, not bowing to him, just— crying…

Pathetic af. No boy does that. At least none of those neighbours do.

Stop feeling.

You will be gone. And thats ur entry to your soul getting battered even more till its a mess, its poking, protruding in all directions. Like a snowstorm where the snow was red and black and grey, and the saturation juxtaposed so bad eyes seared to the sight of that.

No i had to do something. Even if he knew. I had to find her. I needed this one person. At least just one .she might not treat me the best—

i took a splintered wooden stick, a little wide, plucked out from the vase of wood chunks.

And stuffed it into my pocket. ripped the chains out of my neck, threw it at the altar, an indentation shimmered for that very instant, then that red flame that supposedly kept the living alive— went off. There i went. Down to my knees. A puppet to a ventriloquist, a prisoner to the guards, a dog to its owners. was i in a seizure??? no i knew i was not. I just couldnt help it. My body was acting up again. There in the faint glow of the moon. I tumbled over the ground, my bones grinding as i was dragged across the floor by my very own body. Like a stupid seizure and spasm altogether. There i went crashing against that rattan chair, my skin succumbing to the impact, turning blue, then purple, then finally wearing off, the way a bug moults its skin, mine came off without reluctance. no i cant see her… like this. Ugly and patchy blotchy skin—no. I wrenched myself up to the rattan chair, writhing towards to door. parents would be back and glancing at me disapprovingly. Then proceeding with their rituals. our whole family must have looked so dishevelled that— idk i dont know people didnt dare to look at us. i could finally step out into the rain. i didnt know why— like for the first time in so long, i finally could smile.

i stood in the middle of the street, in the pouring rain. who cares about the cars, run over me and pls kill urself after. i longed to imagine the smudge of red on the black of the road. I think i stood there for a full 10 minutes

the mini cooper was gone.

Maybe the parents went to get their alive dog. She was still there. I knew she would pull me into the neighbours big big house, that very moment the glow of the headlines threaten to desecrate me.

Ah yes the silhouette. Just looking out. no doubt,

She saw me. out the house with the umbrella, they mustve sent her out to check. she looked so hesitant, pecariously strategising every step she made to me. Unecessary. Alittle cute. Uh— was she gonna slap me or just bring me in or smth.

She pulled me into a hug.

Oh i could never—

I just stood there, I couldnt reciprocate, i didnt know how to.

I just got stuck to the ground. In the rain.

I’m looking so so stupid and ridiculous. Then slowly, my slippery limbs curved around that tiny frame of hers, and i dug my whole face into her shoulder. Such vulnerability. “wanna have some fun—?” She whispered. she knew, after all.

Finally finally finally

Time to wipe shit out of this world.

“Ill find someway to kill them all— you be the distraction…” me??? Distraction??? Whatever.

be that obedient pathetic little dog i was. Cant do shit anyways. She opened the door. i stepped into the light. Then, she gave them some shit excuse and she left. its me and the family. just us left. i was drenched with the rain and the wax of the candles, and all that oily sticky substance. they just glared at me. all i saw was disgust. in their eyes, down to their bones, through their guts, through the smooth, reflective kidneys of theirs, the little beans that cut through easily like pudding. Shivering in the cold, exposed and rotting away. Then they see my skin dotted with the stitchmarks and blotches of red just parading around my dermis. I glanced at the little kid. The chubby little cheeks. the little glasses propped onto the little nose. I couldnt remember what happened when i was 9. beaten till my skin was gotten, slapped raw and left to decay in the corner, where the maggots feasted and the blowflies celebrated. Where i couldnt piss or shit properly cause i couldnt walk anywhere. And the corner was insidiously fiddling with my body, and swarms of stuff seemed to eat me up inside out, till im nothing but an empty paper bag, storing half eaten pork offal. Where i was so afraid that my whole skull would wear off to the repeated impact sure to fracture it so badly that my half developed prefeontal cortex spills out through the crevices, so willingly, id rather live without one, and never talk to anyone ever again, never understand pain or acceptance or dying for someone i never knew existed.

what am i thinking to kill— them?

They were not animals, they were my neighbour. My parents are coming they might sacrifice me for their next prayers in some temple.

but no i have to do it.

To get that hug one more time

My heart itched, trying to grasp and claw for that— that feeling. the way people inhaled cocaine. I needed that high.

She was my only—

I couldnt lose it

Just couldnt

Couldnt lose her

Couldnt lose it again.

Well one way was to blind myself and kill them all.

How could i ever— do this?

I might cry again.

Embarrassing.

Sick.

Dumb.

Fucker.

stupid, i didnt know to kill. Even with that drive, that scavenge for the high, i just didnt know.

“Ew, get out, your house is opposite—please go back, do you know this is our house? Er, we will inform your parents, if you stay here” the wife, the mother. So direct, no stumble with words.

I might have forgotten to speak.

They could manipulate words, all i did was to get manipulated. (Whos that) (you remember that guy he stalked us) (what do we do) ( if he doesnt leave, we might have to call the police) this was the coversation between the adults.

“Stay back, please, go upstairs…” the adults ushered the little kids. yes i knew she hated them. that animosity that only the victims were oblivious to.

“No. Leave— them here—” my voice was nothing. A rasp, a butter knife to a loaf of meat, a canine to its whip. Its muzzle on its mouth, secured in such a way if u pulled it out its whole head pops out of its body along with it. Sounded more like the scraping of metal aginst gravel.

Havent drank anything in ages. My tongue made its way to the little raindrops dotting my lips.

i took out my wooden stick.

“Er, please stop this, stop STOP STOP.” They adults gestured to the phone nearby. “Do you want to go the the police? Im calling PUT DOWN YOUR STICK THAT WEAPON” did i ever have a choice. It was this or a slippery slope down the charge to death. i couldnt help it. i lashed out. The wooden stick flopped but i didnt. Wow the adult man must have been some army guy. He easily disarmed me and flung me. Like how one would fling a feral animal away. “No what are you doing? We cant hurt him, hes young, you might get caught for that, dont nonono— why are the kids still here, tell them to get out, go to the playing room or something!!” the mother shrieked. This happened when nothing was in ones control. I would never scream.

i still gripped onto the wooden stick. long and tight. my hands just crumpled and my bones just collapsed and my joints just caved in to the will of the stick. My knuckles went red and purple. my skin was just trying to crawl out of my whole body, shying away under the smooth, pale marble slabs. i couldnt help it. jus couldnt. the whole entire family of four was still writhing about and staring at me and trying to kick me out. and there the ugly weird guy strikes again. i only needed to stall time. she does the killing. the dog will only be given the task to die for its owner.

i slashed at the father. he looked threatening, as if anytime she came, he might harm her. i couldnt let that happen. i was hers to take, not a clumsy barrier she had to manually maul before passing through to get what she wanted. she would bring back something useful, like a knife or something—perhaps a shotgun? those .410 ones. idk i dont know. perhaps. and then we will skip into the melting sun and hide in that little nook by the cave and watch the crashing waves. as they corrode us into the tiniest of tissues to be washed into the vast mad ocean—

i didnt realise, the father had flicked me onto some dining table and my back got spun on that sharp little corner. i might have snapped in half. am i bleeding out??? perhaps—the children were crying. i couldnt move. cant move. whatever.

I was strangled and held down a rope, its frayed surface biting into my skin, my limp body thrown down the well, my skin peeling to the gravelled walls like apple skin to a knife, revealing fleshy bits underneath. My head slamming against rock bottom, my eyes seemed to start decaying with little blood globs glistening and crystallising around my vision. if this was me looking up at the carcass banging outside my window in that repetitive motion, i could have admired it. now that its happened to me—this might be humiliating. anytime now, anytime now. she would come. as the father’s fists just kept gnawing through my ribcage, my legs just dangled haplessly from the dining table, swaying limply like frog legs. disgusting, pathetic. ew. the children were laughing. the wife- mother thing, she just watched.

tears literally ate its way and gashed my face, pulling it down with every little drop. it was just a mass of tears, and the song of the blood, humming below my body, she would come, when she smells this.

high, high, high above us, there was the tiniest of a crash. a little bit of fun.

the sediments, the rubble started pouring.

and as the family of four watched their nice little paradise fall apart, eating them up, i struck the father’s head. very nice. as my wooden stick caved into his skull, i could vaguely make out the spongy scalp that wrapped around it, boucing the slightest as the splinters dug deep into flesh. you see, one could easily just run out to escape from a building getting demolished. but when you watch you perfect perfect paradise just crumbling like this, i bet you would rather die with it.

everything was settled. those who had to succumb to fate had done so flawlessly. well, apart from me. i might have gotten paralysed on the dining table. i could feel the little fibres of vessels just wrapping themselves around the dining table, entering every pore of the furniture, rooting my whole body there.