THE NONSTOP rain seemed to sympathize with Cent’s mood as she watched the heavy rainfall from her room’s window. Ever since Madame Lira died, she knew deep in her heart that it was because of that incident during the class wherein she met the professor’s eyes with her lime green ones. Cent touched her bangs, obstructing her eyes from the people. She thought it was enough to avoid the same incident three years ago.
“MALEFICENT! Maleficent!” Only one person called her that. Steffan, the young volunteer, visited her foster home the other week. He took a liking to her ‘quirks’. He meant her eyes that always had dark circles as if she spent weeks without sleep, how pale her skin was even if she played under the sun, or how her eyes were so dark as some kind of bottomless pit. Steffan liked it.
Cent spun her feet away from the running sunshine. She was afraid she would get burned by his sunny attitude, no matter how crazy that may sound. “Hey.” He was still able to catch up to her.
“What do you want? Don’t you have school or something?” She clutched her sketchpad to her chest, which his cerulean eyes noticed.
The next thing Cent knew, her sketchpad was already in his hands. “Give me that!”
He must not see it. If he did, he would indeed run away from her and never look back. Even though he bothered her like no one else, it was hard to imagine him getting angry with her. It would genuinely break her heart because Steffan was her only friend, aside from the shadows.
Stretching her arms, Cent flailed to get back her sketchpad. But Steffan was too tall and strong for a skinny gothic girl like her. She was almost in tears when Steffan’s words froze her. “These are awesome! Did you draw these, Maleficent? Dude, this is so cool!”
What? Did you call horned beings with ugly faces cool? Cent asked Steffan in her mind. The last time some shelter children looked at her drawing, they ran away while crying. Hence, the words spread that she was a devil worshipper. It was not true though she had no religion.
Cent heard from the nuns in the shelter that every time she was about to be baptized, catastrophe would ensue, thus leading to the cancellation of her baptismal ceremony. Sister Tasha proceeded to just register her, but Cent saw how the baptismal registration papers burned to ashes. Though it was kept a secret by Sister Tasha’s order, some nuns and kids in the shelter called her a Satan’s spawn.
“You are not afraid?” Cent’s wary reaction earned her a pat on the head from Steffan.
“Silly girl. This is absolute talent, I tell you. By the way, what are these? I get that these horned ones are demons, but what are these small creatures?”
Cent was about to answer him that she did not know and only saw these creatures in her dreams, but she was stopped midway when the shadows hissed the names of the creatures. “Goblins,” said Cent.
Steffan whistled from her reply. “You got some awesome imagination, Maleficent. You keep on surprising me.”
His smiling face was addicting that it also made Cent’s young heart smile. She lived under the shadows of doubt and fear because of her quirks. She struggled to convince herself that she belonged no matter how Sister Tasha kept reminding her that the shelter was her home. For the very first time, Cent learned the feeling of how to be accepted truly as a person and not because of filial piety. She felt happy for the first since she was born.
Steffan tilted her head as he guided her chin to meet his eyes. Her lifeless-looking face felt hot for the first time as she felt his minty breath against her lips. Staring at his attractive looks, Cent realized how different she was from him.
Her heartbeat quickened, her hands clenched, and her eyes widened as Cent waited for the magical moment.
Her fairytale turned into a nightmare in front of her. Black swirls of smoke from nowhere covered Steffan, grasping her shoulders rather painfully. Whizzing his breath, Steffan uttered his last words. “Y-You monster!” Cent rushed to him only to be pushed away by the shadows that were not hers. It was as if the shadows hated the idea of her touching Steffan.
Cent was about to rush again, only to be stopped by her reflection from the shelter’s windows. Her eyes were not cobalt-colored anymore. Instead, they were shining lime green.
CENT REALIZED that if anyone looked at her lime-colored eyes, that person would die. It was as if death would come knocking on that person's door. Since she could not control that ability, she chose to obstruct her eyes from anyone. Thus, her hideous bangs came into being. Loud knocks snapped Cent out of her reverie. "Milly? Are you alright, dear?" It was Sister Tasha. She was pretty worried about Cent's behavior since the latter stopped attending classes and was now planning to skip her birthday. Though tiny, Sister Tasha prepared a personally baked Chiffon cake for Cent, the celebrant's favorite. Cent walked away from her window, but she did not open the door for Sister Tasha. Instead, she walked near the door. "Leave me alone, please." I don't want to hurt you too. "All the more reason for me to stay, dear. Open the door, please." Sister Tasha became her guardian when she was abandoned by her real parents. The thought that maybe, her parents were looking for her was wishful thi
SOFT AS a cloud feeling and a chocolaty scent encouraged Cent to bury herself more to whatever she was holding on to. The uncomfortable weight on her head, which bugged her the moment she stirred from sleep, was not enough to pry herself away from the addicting smell. It was weird for someone as freaky as her. Growing up without the concept of ‘feeling at home, she was not supposed to feel this, yet Cent was feeling rather comfortable while snuggling. For once in her eighteen years of existence, she did sleep well. To the point wherein she did not want to open her eyes yet. Cent was afraid that she was inside a nightmare. Because there is no way, I will be this comfortable in real life. Let’s face it. Life sucks. Soft touches lulled her back to sleep as if she was being patted on her back. On instinct, Cent buried her face more into the velvety feeling at her side. “SHE’S ASLEEP again, my lord,” said Gukasho while standing beside the bedpost of his master. The Halfling stuck to Gr
“THEN WHY? Why appear now? Why abandon me? Did I do something wrong? Why?” Cent’s voice cracked as she stared at the man. The latter was staring at her as if she was a puzzle that needed solving. “Can you stand?” Instead, his reply earned him a confused response from Cent, who was on the verge of breaking down. “Huh?” “Can you stand?” He asked her again with an even tone that would be mistaken as a dull tone or as if he was bored. Cent reluctantly nodded her head, wondering what he would do. But as soon as she moved her head, his enormous left wing swept her as the infernal flames engulfed them. “What the heck!” Cent widened her eyes as she saw how the fire did not hurt her or how they were transported to the dining room after she blinked. I doubted again if I was in a dream or a dream within a dream. Being cradled by a gigantic wing was one thing, but being treated gently as if he cared for her like a father would make Cent teary-eyed again. “I will tell you everything, but fi
CENT THOUGHT that carriages were long gone, but riding a grand black carriage with her father to the Transylvania Academy was something that Cent would not even imagine hours ago. She thought that he would just snap his fingers, and voila, they would arrive at the so-called prestigious school. But no. According to his father, he could not use his magic freely in a neutral zone like the island of Ygdrasil. Apparently, Ygdrasil was the tree of life where all fates were tied in the Ambivalent world. This island was guided by the great beast, Kraken, who would also become her new principal. The Ygdrasil was one thing. But the carriage was definitely the highlight. Dude, it is the only carriage with no horses but large two-headed dogs! “Are you sleepy, Maleficent? Do you want me to turn Gukasho into a pillow for you?” Anyone would think that it was supposed to be a joke, but the dead-serious look of her father told Cent that he was far from joking if he ever knew what a joke meant. Smil
“YOU WILL visit me, right, Dad?” Cent looked at her father with wariness evident in her eyes. Her eyes flashed from her usual black to the green-colored ones as they stood in front of the haunted-looking gates of the Malevolent Dorm. The fear of being abandoned again lingered in her chaotic mind. Thousands of scenes were played should her father decide to leave her if she proved worthless. Patting her head, the Grand Duke eased his daughter’s anxiety. “Of course. I will visit you every week. You will know when I am back, that I promise you. And since I can’t leave you my shadow according to the school’s law, at least I can leave you a gift.” Gukasho opened his mouth. The Grand Duke inserted his entire arm into its mouth as if he was just getting something from it. The goblin expanded his mouth like it was natural for him to do. The entire scene froze Cent. Dude, why am I getting surprised? I am a living half-demon. A goblin turning his mouth into my father’s pouch is no biggie, y
STREET 666, House of Lamentation. Wow. Dude, this screams demon on so many levels. Matilda tapped the mailbox, her jaws cackling as her dangling eyes swayed merrily. “Welcome to your dorm house, girlie.” The clapping of the thunder around the gloomy castle gave-off a Halloween vibes. Cent realized that the hill where the castle was located was the only place on the island constantly shrouded with dark clouds and zaps of lightning. No amount of sunlight was able to penetrate the hill where the Halflings resided. Grabbing her suitcase, Cent faced Matilda with a smile. “Thank you for your time, Matilda. You saved me from all the hassle.” The bony zombie squirmed at her words. “It is an honor to be a help of the Grand Duke Beelzebub’s kin. I have to go, girlie. It won’t be good for a Malevolent student to anger Professor Michael, or we’ll end up fried and toasted.” Matilda snickered from the joke that Cent did not quite grasp, so the latter just smiled. Watching the bouncing bony bo
WITCHES riding on their broomsticks, zombies picking up their eyes amidst the crowded hallway, horned beings, ethereal beings that made it seem as if they had halos above their heads for fuck knows why reasons, and floating beings that screamed supernatural – the flock of black butterflies passed by the chaotic scene of the hallway as Cent secretly thanked her ability for the first time. That is like the Transylvania Academy version of Nether World, aka Hell, aka again, the Malevolent World. Cent scanned all the gigantic wooden doors to see if it was the History of Demonic Arts, which her father made sure to be taken by her. Apparently, the one who would give the lecture would be a demon lord named Asmodeus the Lustful. Three corners and six doors, a titan-like door with the crest of ‘History of Demonic Arts’ written on it with the flashing fire that read ‘Asmodeus the Lustful’. Thanked fuck! Concentrating on a single image of a black butterfly, the flock of butterflies turned int
“CENT, HEY GIRLIE!” The faint familiar voice of Matilda stood out amidst the buzzing noise in the hallway. After the three-hour lecture led by the crazy teacher, Asmodeus the Lustful. Instead of using her butterflies, Cent decided to walk and manifest her real form. Upon remembering what those students said during the class of History of Demonic Arts, Cent realized that being the conventional nobody would surely lead to her untimely death. And death would be a hindrance to achieving her one true desire – to be with her father, her last living family. The fear to be an outcast was still there and Cent knew it would never leave her. Though a kind of swirling darkness started to creep its way to her, the once unknown But for now, she needed a way to avoid