Some time ago I was among the seven (there WERE seven of us, right?) guys representing La Salle Green Hills in a series of interschool contests for this PCPGE ecology week thing. All of us were from class IV-A, each guy the representative for a different contest. My contest was the english oratorical contest, and last thursday it took place in Ateneo.

Of course I took the time to prepare my speech and practice for this. Memorizing and orating a 5-7 minute speech isn't easy.

Well, after the first half of school that day, I dressed up, and left La Salle for the fun.

There were 14 contestants altogether, our particular schools not mentioned during the contest for the sake of eliminating any biased decisions, I'd guess. Some of them were...okay. But the others were good. I had some tough competition. Our order of presenting our speeches was random, done via drawing of lots. I was 5th.

When my turn came, I strutted up to the stage confidently, and started my speech strong.

Halfway through my speech, I blanked out.

It was really an interesting moment for me. I had the whole thing chalked up in my head, line after line flowing smoothly, until that particular moment when I just forgot. Blank. Blackout. cricket sounds and all. I dunno what the audience saw in my body language, but i knew what I was thinking. It was something along the line of, "ohshizohshizohshiz what'snext!?!?". For a second or two, that panicking part of my brain was the only one in gear.

Now, I had been taught before to never let dead air fill the stage. If something doesn't go according to plan, do something about it, but don't let dead air come up, or you're done. Thank you, Cue. So, what do I do? I start to improvise.

Mind you, it wasn't very good. I was pretty much just rambling about 'how the future of our environment is the youth's hands', but not really saying anything with substance. All I was trying to do was stall, so that I could put my scrambled eggs of a brain together and get my speech back on track. This is where I started making fun of myself in my head. "Haha, cedric, watcha gonna do now, hmmmm?" Not exactly the reaction I'd expect from myself, but seriously, i could hear me saying that. I was that much closer to laughing, too, cuz I could only guess how ridiculous I looked. I still don't know whether it was obvious I had forgotten my speech or if I just looked like a guy with a real messed-up performance.

It took all of a good fifteen-ish seconds to finally find a decent place in my speech to pick up and get going. When that happened, I began to relax, and hopefully, finished the whole thing decently.

Oh yeah. Moments like that happen. Sure, they don't exactly come in with an invitation, but it is amusing to look back on them. Mark it up as experience. Hahaha. XD

Have a nice day.

I found my watch.

Oh, how dear life just LOVES to make fun of us. Haha. Couple of nights ago I blogged about how my watch disappeared and how i was oh-so-pathetic that day in school without it.

About forty seconds had passed after i had posted said blog when my eldest sister ate Chiquit passed by and caught a glimpse of the computer screen.

[flashback]

Her: Oooooooooh. *oggling at mine wonderful coffee layout*
Me: Yeah. Coffee.
Her: *gawking*
Me: Hmm. Here, read my blog while i do my math homework.
..20 seconds later..
Her: You lost a watch...?
Me: Yeah, it sucks.
Her: Hmmm. Wait a sec. *walks off to room*
Me: *stalks her to her room. spots my watch on her desk.* WTF!? YOU had it?
Her: *shrug*
Me: how the hell!?
Her: I dunno, it just looked pretty, so I took it.

[/flashback]


Eh. Well. Yeah.

Anyways, last night, my mom gave me a new watch for 'saturday wear', she called it. Such timing. 'Twas a digital watch, this time. A Nike. With a stopwatch and light and weather shiz and calendar shiz and a whole bunch of nifty shizzaz, if you get what i'm saying. I love it. I now dub this watch Nike III (in the tradition of my two soccer balls, Nike and Nike II).

Nike III now owns my wrist for casual activities, and Raymond Weil, still for more formal ones. Yaaay.

You know you're stressed when you're blogging about watches.

Have a nice, rainy day. ^^

So. I had this wristwatch that I pretty much adored. It was a Raymond Weil with a nifty black leather strap and a shiny round face and roman numerals. Gotta love them roman numerals. It was a gift. And I believe it came from Switzerland or something. In a box, too. I loved that watch. I used to compare it with Delfin's. Mine was prettier.

A few days ago, I lost that watch.

Which truly, really, absolutely SUCKS. I just turned to my bedside table one day (my watch owned that bedside table) and it wasn't there where it always sat. Haaaai. I've been looking for it around the house. I haven't been lucky.

Today I went to school without it. And dear gahd, I was so absolutely pathetic.

I didn't know what time I came to school.

I couldn't tell whether to do my accounting-office-UA&P-application shiz first or my physics-long-test shiz first, because I couldn't get any reference to the time.

I was troubled with my time allocation for the problems in that said physics long test.

Nor could I properly allocate that '25 minutes' for the SW in math.

Problems also came when I had to balance out my oratorical practice for the speech thingy, the Fil sab-pag practice, and Cue rehearsals.

All because whenever I glanced down at my wrist, all I saw was ugly, bare skin and no leather strap, no pretty face with roman numerals, no nothin'.

Needless to say, I'm quite stressed out over. My dad is lending me another watch for now, but it's just not the saaaaame. it's not MINE. *sigh* My Raymond Weil. Inis. My watch, my watch, my beautiful watch. Where could it be...? :(

Taken from Vida. Maybe because 8 is a pretty number. Or because I just felt like it. One or the other.

Rules : Share 8 things that your readers don’t know about you.
Then at the end you tag 8 other bloggers to keep the fun going.
– Each blogger must post these rules first.
– Each blogger starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
– Bloggers who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
– At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
– Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

1.) I’m a very emotional guy, and I hate it when it shows. When I get happy, I’m ecstatic. When I get sad, I’m suicidal. When I get mad, oh, I get veeeery mad and you’ll wanna get out of the way. Unfortunately, despite my attempt at dancing through life with vague aloofness, the emotions do often get to me, little mood-swinging bundle of teenage bla that I am. Yeah. Hate it when that happens.

 

2.) When I want my hands free, I tend to use my ears rather than my pockets. The habit started a long time ago when I tucked pencils and pens behind my ear for fun. Now I also do it with test papers, receipts, money, pretty much anything that’ll fit there.

 

3.) I’ve been writing stories for a long, long, long, long time, but mostly everything I’ve ever started never gets finished. I had a story once about a kid who unwittingly turns into one of two dragons who would destroy the world, and wrote about just ten pages of it before tucking the idea away in the back of my head. It’s been there for at least five or six years now, along with the ideas for several other novels that still wait to be realized. So far I’ve only finished one novel (having only gotten really serious about writing recently) and am working on a second.

 

4.) I can recite the alphabet backwards. Fast.

 

5.) As far as I can count and remember, I have read and finished 61 novels (not counting graphic novels, shakespearean plays, collections of short stories...) over the course of my life. I can name the author of every single one of them

 

6.) People might find my taste in music odd. Maybe so, but my preference is just very diverse. I’m generally a rocker guy, doing Bon Jovi or Daughtry and the like, but on the other hand I also grew up on broadway songs and musicals like Fiddler on the Roof and Phantom of the Opera. In the same breath I’ll say that I have a bunch of hip hop tracks, pop songs and anime openings and ending in my iPod. What I feel like listening to depends on my mood.

 

7.) I’m into black. My phone is black, my wallet is black, my watch is black, my current-gen game consoles are black, I have good number of black shirts in my closet, my jackets are often black. The list goes on for quite a bit. Corny? Yes, very. Emo? Maybe.

 

8.) I do read the Bible. It’s not as boring as people think – it’s actually full of sex and violence and a bunch of quotable quotes.

I tag anybody who feels like doing this. Ta-da.

Sige, I admit (obvious naman eh) that I've been very angry lately. And frustrated. And whiny. Mood swings, eh. They come and go and do stuff to me. Trouble with the head, y'know what I'm saying?

I ask for your patience. I'm a teenager, I'm a real angsty one, and I've got issues. Unfortunately, I'll be like this for quite a while.

Have a nice day.

Once in a while you wonder, “What the hell is this all about?”

 

And then you sit around, bothered by the heat of the sun flowing in through your window, then you start walking around, trying to resist the urge to slam yourself against the nearest bit of concrete wall, and then failing to do so, hurl your shoulder at the doorway with little inhibition and hesitation but all the questions in the world spilling out and clogging up the veins in your forehead like frozen jelly served in a bloody punch bowl.

 

Yeah, that’s how I felt recently. Today. Now.

 

Whatever. Call it a mood swing, call it a question of sanity, call it mashed potato, because it might as well be any and all of those. And life will go on. As usual.

 

Being a senior is as tough as I thought it would be, but it’s tough in a different way. Instead of dealing with stress from all this here worldly schoolwork, I’m dealing with stress caused by psychological assault from all directions, social issues, ritualistic compulsions of insecurity, and the looming horror of college entrance exam tests.

 

Oh, yeah. The life of a 17-year old sucks sometimes, don’t it?

 

Anyhow, I’ve recently taken to writing again, along with learning how to play the guitar, exercising, and reading graphic novels to while away. It’s all fair and not. I’ve experienced quite a bit of disappointment and some sense of let down in the last week, so I’m trying to vent a bit of all that shiz onto this blog. And just to let all of you know how serious I am, I’m writing the whole thing in English.

 

I’m surprised to see it’s almost helping.

 

Inspiration comes and goes, just like the fickle, fickle, fickle weather. I’m going to keep on writing and dancing. I don’t care if the lights are off. Don’t care if there’s no music.

 

When tomorrow comes, I don’t care if the sun is out or not. But when tomorrow comes, I’m going to say, “Hey, how’s it going?”

 

So. Smell the roses. Steal the vines. And have a nice day.

So stuff happens and life goes, because that's how the world runs, like it or not.

Katatapos ng review classes (thank you, KP4a-08!), and pressure's on with the college bla, and the courses bla, and school's starting soon, and I've yet to wrap my books, procrastinator that I am. So, what's new?

I've recently gotten into some new things, as 60G Playstation3's just seem to be extinct round here and I can't get a hold of one and see what the big deal is. I have gotten serious about reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman graphic novels.

Death has the body of a model, the clothes of a poet, and the smile of your best friend.

And she rocks. Everything has to come to an end, eh? And when it does, you meet her. And she takes your hand. And off you go.

It really isn't all that bad.

As for the rest of her family, just like life/death, you can hate or love them. But that won't matter. Because they'l still be there. As long as people live, die, dream, desire, despair, destroy, or delight, they'll hang around. All a part of what we are.

And it all fits into a book in the hands of a blind man who enjoys walking around his garden.

It's really nifty to pick up something or watch something or hear something that'll make you think for a while, in'nit? Forget the change the philosophies, make-you-into-a-better-person kind of crap. Just at least something that makes you think.

Nge-hm. Yep. Let life go on. (as if we have a choice, aye?)

@AHEAD people: Thanks, hope to see you again soon.

@CUE people: See you guys soon, promise.

@IV-A people: You made it. Goodie. So did I. Dammit.

@Mentards: Some more pizza?

Fair life.

...Why it is raining like this? In the middle of the summer? Summer, when it is supposed to be sunny? Sunny, and not rainy, like it is right now? Freakin' global warming.

And why is it that Daughtry's concert has to be on a Tuesday night? Freakin' schoolnights.

Well, anywhy, vacation's ending soon. Dangit.

As of now, I am wondering what to do with the rest of my life. When you're haunted by college choices and courses and careers and bla, that tends to happen. I don't like it. But that's life. I try to do something about it, it'll come back to bite me someplace unpleasant.

Fair day to you. Whoever you are. =D

just because the first one i put up got fairly acceptable feedback, I'm putting this one up too. but this'll be the last I post up for a long time. (cuz i haven't written the rest yet. haha.)

read the first chapter if you haven't, otherwise this won't make much sense. enjoy, comment, have a nice day.

===

      CROSS

            CHAPTER 2

            ANSWERS, QUESTIONS

           

            When Ash awoke the next day, the first thing he noticed was that his arms and legs were in pain.

He was still strapped to the same, uncomfortable, straight-backed wooden chair. His limbs were cramping and aching from the lack of movement. He never wanted to get so acquainted with that chair, it was just irritating and excruciating now. He spent the first couple of his waking minutes struggling once again to free his wrists and ankles from the ropes. And once again, it was no good.

The next thing he noticed was that he was no longer in the same room as yesterday. He was in a huge room now, and the vastness of empty space startled him. A few strange machines, hooks hanging from the ceiling, scattered crates, and a musty smell made him realize that he was now in some kind of slaughterhouse, long out of use now. It made him feel sick. He didn’t want to imagine the pigs and other animals of the past being slaughtered, the animal blood staining the floor.

The last thing he noticed was that he needed to use the bathroom. Now.

“Awake, huh?” a voice said behind him.

Ash craned his neck around, and Chris was standing there behind him, his shades making his eyes invisible.

“Uh…yeah,” Ash responded cautiously. “Umm…where are we?”

“We’re in an abandoned warehouse and slaughterhouse at the edge of the state. We couldn’t stay in any one place too long. The police would track down my cellphone’s signal. We had to keep moving, so I brought us here in the middle of the night.”

“And you managed to move me from there to here without anybody noticing!?”

“I’ve got my ways,” Chris responded with the tiniest of smug smiles.

While Ash wondered how he was moved from one place to another in total discretion, he also noticed Chris seemed to be in a much better mood now than he was last night…last night, when he fired the gun and almost introduced a solid lead bullet to Ash’s forehead. He finally decided to risk asking, “Hey, Chris, could you let me use the bathroom?”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Is it urgent?”

“I haven’t gone since yesterday afternoon. What do you think? Yeah, it’s urgent.”

Chris spent a few seconds in quiet thought.

Ash made the most innocent look he could. “Please?” he pleaded.

Finally, Chris made a face. “I suppose I have to. Fine, I’ll let you go. But…”

“But…?”

“Don’t try to escape. If you try, you’ll just get hurt.”

Whatever to let him go. “Fine, fine, I promise I won’t escape!”

Chris undid the knots within just a few, easy seconds. Ash stood up and stretched his arms and legs with a feeling of enormous relief.

“Bathroom’s down that little hall over there,” Chris said, jerking his thumb behind him. Ash nodded and briskly walked off to relieve himself.

 

Ash decided to try and escape anyway.

Shortly after washing his hands on a sink that miraculously was still in working order, he took a quick peek outside the bathroom door and looked up and down the hall. There were a few doors, and one, large, open steel door led back to the slaughterhouse. A door in the opposite direction led to open air and early morning sunlight.

Ash bit his lip. Christopher Cross – if that was his real name – was nowhere in sight. Probably still in the slaughterhouse place, waiting for him to come back so that he could tie him up on that chair again.

No way, he thought. Was he going to just let himself get tied up again like a dog? This was his chance to get out of here. He’d make a run for it.

With a shaky breath, Ash burst out of the bathroom and dashed down the hallway towards the exit, towards freedom…

Wham! He ran face-first into Chris’s gloved fist. Where did that come from? For a dizzy, disoriented second, Ash saw stars and lost all sense of direction.

“I told you to try not to escape,” Chris sighed, gripping the collar of Ash’s shirt and dragging him back toward the slaughterhouse and the chair that Ash now officially hated more than any other chair in the world. “Told you you’d get hurt if you tried.”

“Uhmma wha…?” Ash garbled, trying to clear his head.

And before long, before Ash could come back to his senses, Chris had thrown him back into the chair and tied him up in place.

“Do you know what day it is?” Chris asked when Ash had could finally speak.

“What?” Ash asked through gritted teeth, beginning another pointless struggle with the knots.

“It’s Saturday. You know what that means.”

Ash gasped. He did. With a terrified look on his face he looked up at his kidnapper. “You demanded the money by tonight.”

Chris nodded. “That’s right.”

“Or else, I’m dead.”

“Yes. Or else, you’re dead.”

 

William Noble took his glasses off for a quick moment to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He was seated on a desk in his apartment living room. The television was on, the radio was on, and the desk was littered with various newspaper clippings of news of he kidnapping of Ashley Maureen.

He ground his teeth together as he ran his fingers over the fine print, analyzing every single line.

“Careless,” he muttered as the newscasters on both the TV and the radio gave pointless and useless updates on the situation. “Careless, risking revealing the whole organization like that… What was he thinking…?”

He scribbled something on one of the clippings, circled the lines on another…

“I mean, capturing the attention of half of Manhattan? Could he get any more bonkers?”

After several minutes, William sighed and slammed down his pen on the desk, exhausted, exasperated, frustrated.

“Chris Cross…where are you?”

 

“I’m hungry,” Ash whined.

“So what?” Chris muttered.

“So, give me something to eat. You might as well keep me comfortable while I’m hanging out here.”

“Hmph.”

Chris didn’t move from his spot on a large, old crate.

“Seriously, dude, I’m starving here,” Ash said after another while.

“That hungry?” Chris asked in a low voice.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s have lunch.”

With an inaudible muttering, Chris hopped down from the crate and walked towards Ash on the chair, his hand moving to the inside of his trenchcoat…

Ash cringed. Was he going to pull out the gun again?

But what Chris brought out of his inside pocket was a small pack of crackers. He tore it open, scattering crumbs on the ground, and held up a cracker in his fingers in front of Ash’s mouth.

Ash gaped.

“Eat,” Chris ordered.

“Come on, you’ve got to be kidding. Wouldn’t you rather order some take out or something?”

“No. Eat.”

“Seriously. There’s got to be a McDonald’s around here, somewhere. Or how about some Chinese? I’m hungry for Chinese.”

“No McDonald’s. No Chinese.”

“You sure? I’m buying.”

“Stop kidding.”

“Then why don’t you…!”

Ash didn’t get to finish his sentence because Chris suddenly shoved the cracker into Ash’s mouth. As Ash shot him angry looks and began to chew the cracker furiously, Chris laughed. And then Chris took the other cracker from the plastic wrapper and bit it thoughtfully.

“You’re…cruel,” Ash said when he was through with his measly portions.

“You wanted food, I gave you food.”

“I wanted Chinese.”

“Whatever.”

“Can’t you at least try to show some…I don’t know, some morality?”

Chris faced him, his lips in a thin, curt line. “Some morality? Are we going to start talking about morality here?”

And, unexpectedly, he lifted his hand to take his purple shades off so that he and Ash could look at each other eye to eye. For a while, that was all they did – stared each other down. Ash noticed that the look of anguish he had seen in Chris’s eyes the previous night was still there, still noticeable, traceable.

“I suppose I didn’t impress you when I…fired my gun yesterday night, huh?” Chris asked, completely startling Ash with the topic of conversation.

“When you almost blew my brains out last night? Uh…no, not really.”

“I thought not. Look, last night I lost control of myself. I got really mad. I did something I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Ash’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You serious?”

Chris rolled his eyes, and looked at Ash again with a very serious look. “Just because I kidnapped you, Ash, doesn’t make me a bad person. I think I know about morality just as much as you do. I told you, I only kidnapped you because I need the money. It’s not for any selfish reason. It’s for something more important that you probably will ever realize.”

The seriousness of Chris’s face and his words screamed truth. Ash saw it in his eyes. Chris wasn’t kidding.

As turned his gaze away to stare at the wall to his right. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t think you did. Do you want to know why I got so mad last night? Do you want to know why I lost control?”

“…Why?”

“I had a nightmare about Claudia. Claudia is my sister.”

“Your…sister?”

“Yeah. And she’s in trouble. That nightmare…it scared the living hell out of me.”

Chris put his shades back on as he left Ash to mull over that.

 

The day passed by rather quickly, and in that slaughterhouse at the edge of the city, things were quiet. Nighttime crept closer and closer…

“It’s almost night,” Chris muttered.

Ash had been silent for a long, long time.

“Something wrong?” Chris asked.

“I don’t know. What you just said a while back made me think, that’s all.”

Chris just looked at Ash with an unreadable expression.

“The money. The five million dollars. Do you need it to help your sister?”

“Yes.”

“Well, is she sick or something? Does she need an operation? You don’t need to kidnap people for that, Chris. There are people who can help you get the money! You…”

“No, it’s not like that. It’s much more complicated. You won’t understand.”

Chris began pacing. Now he was beginning to look nervous, even though Ash felt that he was the one who should be nerve-wracked. It was his life on the line, after all. He was the hostage.

“Still worried about that nightmare?” Ash asked, and for some reason, there was a level of genuine concern in his voice.

“Sort of.”

“Just forget about it. It was just a nightmare. You’re not the only one who’s been having disturbed dreams lately.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I had a weird dream too, just recently. Before I woke up to find myself kidnapped. Not exactly a nightmare, but the thought of it’s been bugging me too. I was lost on the street, just there trying to find my way home…when all of a sudden…” Ash’s face lit up a bit as he recalled. “All of a sudden, I saw this gorgeous lady approach me from the other end of the road. I think she was trying to help me.”

Chris raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She had golden hair and wore this white dress, but before we said a word to each other…”

“HOLD A SECOND!” Chris’s sudden scream startled Ash.

“What?”

Before Ash knew it, Chris had strode up to him, had his hands on his shoulders, and was shaking him so violently the whole chair shook with him. “A woman!? Did you say with golden hair? A white dress?”

“Huh? Uh…yeah…”

“Ash, this woman in your dream – did she wear a pearl necklace?”

“A what?” The urgency in Chris’s voice was making him feel uncomfortable.

“A pearl necklace! Was she wearing a pearl necklace!?”

As Chris shook his shoulders, Ash managed to search through his memory of his dream for that detail. The memory of his dream was so clear, it made Ash wonder again if it really was a dream…

“Yeah, now that you mention it, I think she was…”

“Ugh!”

Chris let go of Ash, pulled a cellphone out of his pocket, and quickly dialed a number. Ash watched, confused, as Chris spoke into his phone in a loud and irritated voice.

“Melody!” he barked into the phone, “You appeared to him?”

And although Ash couldn’t hear, the woman at the other end of the line replied with a chuckle, “Yes, Chris, I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I knew you’d call sooner or later.”

“Well, I’m calling you now. Why’d you appear to him, Melody!?”

“He’s special, Chris. There’s something different about him, though I can’t tell what it is. Something in his head tells me…”

“Different? What are you saying?”

“It’s hard to explain, but I’m positive of it. I’ve already seeped through his head, looked through his dreams, and I know it. There’s something unique, something special about this boy you’ve kidnapped.”

“…So he’s special. So what?”

“He can help us.”

“…help us?”

“This boy can save Claudia.”

Chris spun to look at Ash, and Ash gave back a look that was blank with confusion, not following the conversation at all.

“So…what then?” Chris asked quietly into the phone.

“New plan,” replied the woman on the other end. “Bring him back with you.”

“You seem very sure about this.”

“I’m very sure.”

“Fine. I’ll bring him.”

“See you soon, Chris.”

“Right.”

The line went dead.

Chris pocketed his phone and faced with oblivious boy tied to the chair with a huge sigh.

“What was that all about?” Ash asked.

“Ash…I need you to come with me.”

“What…?”

“Come with me. There’s a lot to explain, but I promise I’ll explain it along the way. Right now, I need your cooperation.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What the hell is this?”

“Please.” Unexpectedly, Chris sunk down to his knees in front of Ash and took off his shades once again so that they may look at each other in the eyes. “I’m begging you, Ash. This is very important. A lot depends on this. My sister…Claudia…needs your help. I need your help.”

“Chris…”

“This isn’t a demand. I’m not demanding this as a kidnapper to a hostage. I’m pleading. I’m begging. Please.”

The desperation and pleading in Chris’s voice, in his face, in his eyes – they were so full of emotion. Ash never would have guessed that Chris would humble himself like that for…anything.

A long, long moment of silence rang in the room.

“I don’t believe this,” Ash murmured, dropping his head in submission. “But…alright, fine.”

 

Later that evening, a taskforce group of policemen would storm the slaughterhouse, finally having traced the signal of the kidnapper’s cellphone.

The slaughterhouse was empty.

In the middle of the large room was a chair, and on this chair there was a written note. This note would eventually be handed over to the man it was addressed to: Ike Maureen.

It read:

Dad,

I’m safe. Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be alright. I’m off on a little errand right now. It looks like some people really need my help. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on, but I’ve decided that I’m going to help them.

Don’t go looking for me. I’ll be back soon. Sorry.

                                                                                                            Ash

On the streets of New York, a small, black car drove through the night, unnoticed, inconspicuous.

Christopher Cross was behind the wheel.

Seated in the passenger seat was Ashley Maureen.

The most conspicuous part about starting a new novel had to be comparing it with my first. The biggest contrast was in genre - AEON Book 1 is a fantasy fiction novel, very videogamish; CROSS is set in the modern world and time. I think my writing style and voice didn't change much with handling each of them, but even in the same light, novels of different genres will be different.

Still, I don't think either is worse than the other, but that is ultimately up to who's reading. I'm putting this up in the hope of getting some feedback. If you have the time to read this, enjoy and comment.
===

CROSS

PROLOGUE

3:00 PM. The last period’s bell finally rang. It was Friday, and I was so glad to get out of school. I had to admit, all things considered, it was a nice day. I said goodbye to Ben and Leyla, hopped on my bike, and began riding home.

 

3:15. By some stroke of the devil’s luck, my bike broke. The wheel fell apart from the frame, and I scraped myself on the pavement. So much for a nice day. I abandoned the bike and continued home on foot.

 

3: 40. I couldn’t believe it, but I was lost. The streets of the city were suddenly unfamiliar. I didn't’t know where I was. And I felt weirdly dizzy.

 

3: 50. Now I felt really dizzy. There was something wrong. I felt sick, I wanted to throw up, I wanted to collapse right there on the street. Everything was spinning…growing dark…

 

3: 59. I saw the woman. She came from the other end of the street, her golden hair flowing around her face. The woman was wearing a beautiful white dress, and a brilliant necklace hung around her pale neck. She was walking – no, gliding – towards me, and she reached out a hand to me as I felt myself fall backwards, the darkness overtaking me…

 

Desperately, I reached out too, until my fingers were just inches away from hers…

 

4:00. I woke up.

 

CHAPTER 1

KIDNAPPING

The television was on in a small living room on the third floor of an apartment on a quiet street somewhere in New York City. It was on the news channel, and the reporter on screen spoke quickly and seriously, reading out from reports being handed to him.

A man walked into the living room, a bag of chips in one hand and a glass of iced soda in the other, and plopped himself lazily on the couch in front of the television. His eyes were indifferent and aloof behind a pair of round glasses, his blonde hair and goatee an organized mess. This man’s name was William Noble.

William’s attention turned to the news reporter as he began nibbling on his chips.

“The kidnapping took place around half-past three this afternoon, and the sole witness said it was ‘so quick, I couldn’t tell what was even going on…’”

Interesting, William thought, sipping his soda. Someone was kidnapped.

“The following clip,” went on the newscaster, “was taken from a surveillance camera in the nearby department store, which was mostly empty at the time of the kidnapping.”

The reporter disappeared from the screen, and was replaced by a blurry, colorless video clip of a sidewalk. A boy was slowly walking along…and then a brief moment later, a man in a coat had crept up behind him, stealthily put something in his hand over the boy’s mouth, and carried him away. It didn't’t take longer than five seconds.

William Noble’s eyes widened with shock as his eyes fell for a brief second on the kidnapper’s face.

“The kidnapped victim,” the news reporter went on, reappearing on the television screen, “has been positively identified as Ashley Maureen, son of the renowned politician Ike Maureen. Ashley was said to be walking home from school when this incident occurred…”

William, his eyes focused now on the screen, grit his teeth together and dropped his bowl of chips.

“Careless…” he muttered, his accent heavily British. “Careless…”

 

Ashley Maureen woke up slowly, resurfacing from unconsciousness. He found himself in a small room that must have once been a bedroom. The yellowing walls and dusty furniture that surrounded him were bathed in a small beam of sunlight that flowed in from a single window.

Groggy, he tried to move, and then suddenly found that he couldn’t. He was tied to a wooden, straight-back chair, his hands bound behind him, and his ankles tied to the chair’s legs.

As awareness flooded into him, Ashley’s blue eyes started quivering with panic and his breathing became quick and heavy. Sweat began to build on his forehead, beneath his blonde bangs, and his thin arms and legs began to furiously fight against their bounds. His struggle to free himself from the chair was futile.

Where the hell was he? How’d he get in here?

The last thing he remembered, he was walking home from school. Walking…because his bike had broken down…

And…there was a woman, he remembered… a beautiful woman who had reached out to him just before he completely blacked out…

In desperation, he shouted, “HELP!” His voice ripping out of his lungs hurt his dry throat.

To his surprise, he got an answer. “Hey!”

A gloved hand lashed out of nowhere and slapped Ashley across the face. It turned out he wasn’t alone in the room. Ashley bit through the pain of the smack to look up and see his company.

A tall man towered over him, wearing a long, red, open trench coat, boots and gloves. His face was framed by long, messy, jet-black hair that was tied in a ponytail. Ashley could not see the man’s eyes – he wore a pair of strangely shaped purple spectacles that acted as shades.

Understanding hit Ashley like a ton of bricks, and as it did so, his lips clenched into a snarl and his eyes furrowed into a deep glare.

“What was that for!?” he yelled at the man, his cheek stinging painfully.

“Don’t be so loud,” the man said, his voice annoyingly collected. “It’s irritating.”

“Wait a second…irritating…!?” Ashley began to struggle again against the ropes that tied him securely to the chair. “Irritating? You…you…!”

“Yeah,” the man responded, nodding. “I kidnapped you.”

“Yeah!” Ashley screamed, shaking the whole chair with his efforts but still unable to get himself free. “You kidnapped me! So…uh…”

“So what?” the kidnapper challenged.

“So…err…let me go!”

“Or else what? Huh? What are you gonna do? Hurt me?” The man’s tone turned slightly mocking, and he chuckled lightly as Ashley gave up trying to free himself. The knots were too tight, and he figured he was just hurting his own wrists by trying so hard.

A few seconds passed by in silence, the only sound in the room being Ashley’s own breathing.

“It wasn’t so difficult,” the kidnapper said. “I used a special water-based formula of my own device to knock you out. It’s kind of like chloroform – except the victim never knows he’s unconscious until he does wake up. One dose of that, and you were out like a light. Then all I had to do was bring you here.”

Then the kidnapper reached down and took something from Ashley’s chest – turned out that he was still wearing his school ID. The man examined it for a few seconds.

“So…Student ID 98004. Ashley Maureen,” he said in his cool and collected voice, reading out from the ID. “Grade 9. Sheridan Private School.”

He let the ID drop from his hand. “So, you’re Ashley Maureen, correct?”

Ashley didn't’t answer, choosing instead to glare silently at the man, trying to gaze past his shades and see the eyes that hid behind them.

“You’re a student at Sheridan Private school, and you’re in the 9^th grade?”

Ashley kept glaring.

“Are you the same Ashley Maureen, son of Ike Maureen?”

Ashley kept up the silence.

“You wanna talk at all?”

Still, no response besides a very dirty look on his face.

The kidnapper sighed, exasperated, and turned away from Ashley to look out the window. “Just a second ago, you were so loud. And now, I’m asking questions, and you don’t want to answer. I’m trying to be friendly and…”

“FRIENDLY!?” Ashley burst, his voice incredulous. “You kidnapped me, slapped me full in the face, and now you’re telling me you’re being friendly? Dude, what kind of crazy are you!?”

The man turned back to Ashley, his face expressionless, and sighed again. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry, alright?”

“Wow, sorry totally cuts it.”

“How about this – I’ll tell you my name.”

Ashley raised an eyebrow, not sure where he was going.

“It’s Christopher Cross. You can call me Chris.”

After another brief pause of silence, Ashley laughed. “Uh-huh. Sure. Like that’s your real name. Chris Cross.”

“It is.”

“I’m not stupid. You kidnapped me, and that’s a crime, and you know that once I get out of here, it’s as easy as telling the police your name. Then you’re done. You’re going to jail. There’s no way you’re giving me your real name.”

Chris smiled. “But it is my real name. And I’ve given it to you because I have no worries about the police or any of that at all.”

“Huh?” Ashley gave Chris a confused look.

“Forget that,” Chris said, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll ask you again now. Your name is Ashley Maureen?”

Ashley sighed and rolled his eyes. “Ash,” he finally said.

“Sorry?”

“Call me Ash. I hate the name Ashley. Always did. It’s so…girly.”

“Ash, then. And you’re the son of…”

“Yeah, Ike Maureen is my dad.”

“Now, we’re getting somewhere.”

“Are you going to free me yet? These ropes aren’t so cool. And my face itches.”

“Of course not yet. There’s a ransom on your head, and until that’s paid, you’re not going anywhere.”

Ash grunted, and after a another short, useless struggle against the ropes that had him tied to the chair, he sighed. Looking up at Chris, he muttered, “A ransom. Of course. Your kind of people are always like that, always about the money. So, how much?”

“Five million dollars.”

“Five…million!?” Ash found that for a second, he couldn’t breath.

Chris chuckled. “What’s wrong? Maybe, you think you’re not worth that much?”

“Shut up! Five million dollars!?”

“And your people have until tomorrow evening to deliver the money. Just a bit more than twenty-four hours from now.”

“Tomorrow!? And…and…” Ash gulped in horror. “What if they don’t?”

“What do you think? They don’t, you’re dead.”

Ash felt the blood fade from his face. “…But…What do you need that much for?”

Chris suddenly frowned and turned away. “For something far more important than you’ll ever know.”

“And…what’s that?”

“Don’t ask,” Chris snapped. “Just…don’t. And believe me when I say, I do need that money.” Chris’s voice was grave as he sat down on the bed and crossed his arms. Outside, the sun was beginning to sink, the light turning red as the earliest signs of dusk began to show.

 

A lot of time after that was spent in silence. Ash had to remind himself to breath, but even as he did so he felt like his air was poisoned. He couldn’t see the watch he wore on his wrist, but he thought he could feel every tick of the second hand.

Chris seemed quite comfortable with the situation…although there were hints of tension, too.

Around Manhattan, the news of the kidnapping found a lot attention after just a few hours, and people were already in their wait to see what would happen next. The gossip spread like wildfire. Night fell unbelievably quickly. New York didn't’t get any quieter in the evening hours, but in that small, old, room in that abandoned building, it had. In that room there was a single bed, which Chris took to sleep in. Ash had to satisfy himself with sleeping still tied to the chair.

He would not try to escape, because he knew he couldn’t.

 

Blackness had covered everything, but shadows even darker than the darkness writhed like worms. Fear was not something that Christopher Cross usually felt, but this time it gripped him and suffocated him mercilessly.

The worst part about some nightmares was that they were often because of reality. More than nightmares they were the past, come to haunt him.

A glint of light flashed off the blade of a dagger.

A splash of red made it clear blood was spilt.

A scream pierced the darkness.

“Claudia…” he murmured.

“What?” a voice asked, confused.

“Claudia…CLAUDIA!” With a scream, Chris realized he had already woken up. Pain was etched onto every line of his face. Before long he met the gaze of Ash, still tied to that chair.

It was still the middle of the night, and they were still in the same room.

Ash’s expression was one of disbelief. Since Chris wasn’t wearing his shades anymore and he had adjusted to the light, Ash saw for the first time Chris’s eyes. They were dark, and screamed some kind of anguish he didn't’t understand.

Chris clutched his head and muttered something about nightmares.

“Hey, who’s Claudia?” Ash asked.

“Shut up,” Chris said, standing up to leave the room.

“Seriously, you kept murmuring that name in your sleep. Who’s Claudia?”

“Shut up,” Chris growled again.

Ash saw that he was ticking Chris off. Chris was losing his cool. He didn't’t mind at all. “Who’s Claudia!?” he asked again.

“Argh!”

Chris’s hand plunged into his trench coat. Ash saw him pull out a gun and take aim, a frantic and raged look in his eyes…

An explosive bang sounded as Chris pulled the trigger. The bullet flew an inch away from Ash’s face and buried itself in the wall, cracking the plaster that made it up.

Ash immediately shut up, horrified.

The silence that followed the gunshot was almost tangible. Smoke hissed from the gun’s barrel. Chris glared at Ash so angrily and fiercely that Ash had to look away.

A whole five minutes passed before Chris lowered the gun, broke his glare at Ash, and turned to storm out the room, slamming the door behind him.

Only when he and the gun were both out of sight did Ash’s heart begin to show any sign of slowing down.

What the hell was that about? Ash stared at the door, wondering what was on the man’s mind, wondering what he was dreaming about before waking up. A single name…unbelievable, how a single name could set anyone off like that.

Claudia…

But as Ash stared at the door, petrified as he was, he couldn’t help but think of his own dream, the dream he had before waking up to find himself kidnapped. It was hard to take out of his head the image of that golden-haired woman, moving towards him with her arm outstretched…

Ash closed his eyes. But was it really a dream…?

So we're all back home.

I got my report card, and am not pleased with the grades. We're getting our house renovated; the furniture all around has been misplaced, and so have the paintings. Our guitar and piano are out of tune. I have been unable to greet people birthdays. I want a Playstation3 for my own.

But well, life's like that.

And I wonder what to do now.

As always, have a nice day.

Yeah, so I finally finished it. Close to two hundred pages, over a whole year, possibly one of my proudest achievements - though I've probably said it enough already. Haha.

Vie, Luis - thanks for the help you offered. ;) Trust you guys.

To everybody who doesn't understand what I'm talking about, never you mind now. :P

I wanted to get it done before I left for the states (BYE GUYS!) and so thar. Now I'll recover myself from the radiation of the laptop. Smell the roses and have a good day.

...because since school is over, we finally can.

To all other highschoolers, congratulations for suviving the schoolyear. Seniors, I'm gonna miss you guys. The rest of you, until the next schoolyear starts, hello, have a nice day.


WHAT TIME IS IT!? XD (gotta shoot myself for that now)

It's weird not knowing how you really feel. Honestly. I can't make up my mind if I'm being emo (deargodhelp) or if I'm in a good mood. With everything going around, it's kind of hard to tell, right? Ehm. Err...yeah.

Anyways, recollection namin soon (palancas i would appreciate ^_^) and then this saturday will be LSGH's junior Prom. XD 'Nuff said.

Hahaha. Happy New Year, people!

This is a bit late, but with fireworks everywhere and people getting high on champagne (that’s me!), what the heck. We crash into 2008, ayt?

 

Apparently, 2008 is supposed to be a fun year, because it’s a leap year again and we got the Olympics in Beijing and cuz 2008 is all around a pretty number. Also because I’m expecting books coming out this year: Inheritance book 3 – Empire; Pendragon book 9; Abarat book 3 – Absolute Midnight. My gawd, Mr Barker better follow up with his release dates.

 

Waaah, vacation’s almost over T_T

 

Cheers and love and all that blah.

Weeell. Merry Christmas again, people. XD

Of course, Christmas ain't so without the huge, crowded family reunions. This time, though, we throw in a newly built zen garden, and that makes it all the more funner. And watching Cirque du soleil on dvd. Yay.

Strangely, i had no idea what to ask for this christmas, but the assortment of stuff i got isn't so bad.

Holidays are here, people. Smile. ^___^

Wow. Tapos na! Haha... I think we did good. Couple of shows over a couple of days, yeah, i think we did good. With what we had, I think Wicked was done justice eh? Everyone! Great work!  Cue people! ACTORS! PROD! (kudos always to the PROD) Next year uli!

...Grabe, a saturday, and I'm not doing anything...

I forgot to bring my camera for the show days, so I'm jus gonna go steal pics now.

And last night, people who went to white plains! XD Enjoyed the night? :P Happy birthday darryl & louie!

Well, we've been at it for months, and soon we have our show. Aaaaahhhh!!! XD To all the Cue guys and girls, I wanna say thanks! Ang saya ng last couple of months! Break a leg, break some more, and let's all give it everything we've got!

To everyone else, check out the show! pinaghirapan namin to! ><

All the best!

Well, I finally decided to make a Multiply. Just about everybody else has one kasi eh, and people ask. ><  Yep.