by TYLYN

Hmm… Well…

Once upon a time, yes, a very long time ago, just a couple of days ago, in fact, a new kid arrived at my school. He’s really quiet, silent, even, and stays to himself in the back of the room, always looking down.

And so, I decided to talk to him yesterday evening, in the school library, which was usually empty save for me. Walking up to him, I could see that he was kinda focused on some class assignment, his light brown hair in a neat little bun at the back of his skull. I tapped him on the shoulder.

Nothing happened.

“Hey man, what’s up?” I said as I offered a handshake to him.

Maybe he isn’t all that touchy-feely like most of my friends? I wondered, withdrawing my hand. Just when I was about to turn away, his hand lunged at mine, gripping it…

In the most fragile way possible.

It was like as if he was scared to even touch me, as if just my presence would shatter the entirety of his existence. It was kinda adorable, in a really pitiful way. Slowly, gently shaking hands, I grabbed a chair from the table behind me with my other hand and pulled it up.

“What’s your name, new kid?” I asked as I took a seat. He pulled out a blank sheet of paper and wrote something down.

Kuro.

“Wait, so your name means ‘black’ in Japanese?” He just scribbled the same thing down over and over again.

Kuro. Kuro. Kuro. Kuro. Kuro. Kuro. Kuro. Kuro. Kuro.

The speed at which the kid wrote left the page a void of dark ink, even though it was white, like, literally two seconds ago.

Then, I felt something prod my back. And in my peripheral vision, I promise to god that this is true, I saw something long and furry. I almost squealed.

I carefully, very carefully, turned around, and saw a tail, just there. I whipped my head right back towards the kid and asked him, as calmly as I could, a simple question.

“Do you see that?” In that moment of strained speaking, I realized that I had never seen his face before, even though there was nothing to hide it. After what felt like years draining from my life, he finally looked up, at me.

And I swear to all that is holy and divine that the dude’s eyes were pure black. I’m not talking about dilated pupils, just a black hole of darkness and despair and the unholiest of things. Even a crow would’ve paled at those eyes. All of the color in my face, and the blood in my body, drained right outta me.

I got up, snatched my things, and shot out of that library as fast as humanly possible. Through empty, abandoned hallways and down creaky staircases, I ran. It was a blessing that I got to the busses just in time to get on and go home.

Sitting on the bus, looking out the window, darkness encroaches on the border of my vision. I feel like as if my paranoia is returning. It’s one thing to think you’re seeing or hearing things in the dark of night, but it’s something worse when it’s happening in the daytime, under the light of the sun. I feel myself begin to relax as realization strikes. I don’t have any reasn to be so afraid anymore! Everything is fine.

Feel kinda bad about runnin’ off on that kid, probably scared him.

I stepped off the bus and wished the driver a wonderful evening. She bid me stay safe. Same old, same old. The sky was still blue, the smell of oncoming rain in the air, life going on as usual…

I think I lost a bit of my soul back there. Even now, some part of me is missing. I had honestly figured that the bus would seem me home safely, despite the darkness that was encroaching on my vision. But that’s just paranoia, right?

The kid walked out from behind me, and just stood there. Time came to a stop, and I knew it. I was stuck, dead. His tail was wrapped around my body, trapping my arms, running was pointless, and my voice had constricted itself in my throat. I looked him dead in the eye, intending to at least die like I’m strong. His lips began to move.

“I know that you wish to know what I am. Clearly, I’m a black-eyed being, but nothing that should matter to you.” The whisper, that bone-shivering, hope-killing sound, was accompanied by this low rumbling that had affected only me. And with that, he grinned, showing dagger-like teeth stained by blood. I was yanked into him, and nothing, and I do mean nothing, could ever rival the muted scream of someone having their life snatched from them, without understanding. Nothing went black, nor white. Just… Gray.

But now, at least the pain and suffering is gone, physically-speaking. The only thing that sucks is that nobody ever even noticed my demise, not even the people that I had come to know and love. It was as if my entire story had been erased from the world’s memory, leaving me in this hellish purgatory where all I can do is watch, quietly shedding tears.

And the craziest thing, I don’t even know where my body is, or how I really died.

by TYLYN

Walk with me, my dear, into my mind’s home. As you can see from the petals scattered all over my driveway and yard, my home is the home of a number of humble sakura trees, bare, yet beautiful. Likewise, the clean bonsai serve as a sense of order outside of my mind’s home, the constantly trimmed branches a simplicity in this abode. Stepping into the now-open garage, the layer of dust almost makes you wanna sneeze just looking at it, the handmade shelves and cluttered pieces are clear attempts at true workmanship, despite the pieces’ pitiful appearances.

Taking a quick left into my kitchen, through the doorway, of course, we’re greeted by a buffet, the area littered with flowery red umbrellas, silky to the touch. There’s also the existence of the shoji screens, casting candlelight shadows that sort of set an ominous tone. But the wondrous smells of fried shrimp tempura alongside soothing dark chocolate fosters a sense of peace.

Follow me as we head downstairs, into my favorite place to be, the basement. Now, that might sound strange and creepy, but do hear me out. Let me flick on the lights (Click), ah, that’s much better. This is where my library is. Now, these books aren’t simply your typical novels or nonfiction works. Many of them are actually the stories of the people I’ve come to know in this life, then and now. In fact, my own tales and memories are being formed in that book right over there. I just don’t know how it works.

The other set of stairs, yes, the winding ones, leads up to my bedroom. I tried to décor it so that a simple elegance was maintained, evidenced by my use of scarlet with ivory accents in order to attain that. The yellow, aging scrolls hanging on the walls are my ambitions as a writer. Unfortunately, I remain unsure of where I am truly headed, but that leaves me flexible. So in the meantime, let’s get on with the rest of this tour!

A glance to your right reveals an obsidian bathroom, outlined with gold. Don’t mind the mirrors, just a bit of vanity is all. But they also say that the mirror is the window to the soul… Or was that the eyes? Probably the eyes… Anywho, speaking of mirrors, let’s go to the living room. The part of the all-glass wall is actually the entrance to the backyard, so everything works out there. With such openness, I can watch the young ones play, comforted by the knowledge that their safety can be maintained. I didn’t forget to fence in the backyard, either.

Of course, there’s always the problem of the glass being shattered, but that’s fine. And the whole privacy thing isn’t an issue, since this is the social space. If I wanted to have some privacy, I’d go to my room, since that’s understood to be my little “vacation” place. And I’ll let you in on one last secret, in case you didn’t see, or weren’t sure.

All of my trash cans are hidden by the shadows in the abode of my home. That’s because they’re filled with the fears and insecurities that sometimes plague my mind. I just throw’em away, so that I can keep this ship running smoothly. I’m no optimist, but how else am I gonna be able to help others if I can’t deal with my own troubles? Simply cleaning it up is all I can really do.

I think that’s it for the tour of my mind’s estate, for the most part. Do enjoy the rest of your day, and make sure to visit from time to time!

by TYLYN

I know that I was made to show love and affection to my owner through cuddling and all that every night, I can’t bring myself to think that, one bed thought mutely. Sometimes, the bed’s owner sleeps on the couch that he first bought alongside it upon purchasing the bachelor’s pad they now share. The man is a philanderer. I can get over those accidental nights on the couch, but the women he brings in here are too much.

A pricey and saucy, queen-sized bed, she was bought in the summer of ’08, when ol’ Johnny had barely graduated from college. Not wanting to rely on others for support, she looked for a change in scenery from what had been the supermarket. Johnny treated her like she was a favorite, in sleep and in consciousness, whatever the smells that developed in her over time. In fact, he probably cleaned her more often than he dusted those basic, unnecessary pieces of furniture.

But alas, this is not a story of your typical love…

Everything began well. He would rest in her memory foam, all while she wrapped him up in her blanket. But soon came the point where Johnny wished to have a “love life”.

Am I not good enough for you? Seethed his bed, I’ve been here for you since you were a mere graduate. She did nothing but try to be there for him, despite his gripes to no one in particular. And then one night, he brought home Alyssa. Some would say that the bed was forever scarred that night. In truth, she was furious.

So this is what those motel beds go through… She brooded. And then came Janette, prior to Mary, Amanda, and a slew of other female humans in the following weeks. It only got worse as she was forced to simply observe his flirtations with others, and to then endure their activities of the night. When will he grow up and realize how faithful I’ve been to him? With Johnny’s cheating ways showing no signs of ending, there came a point wherein the bed began to question things.

I don’t understand… Why are my kind supposed to behave as ever-present mistresses as our owners live their lives? I mean, they get to simply go through life without considering what we deal with as they make their way, settling down and starting to build families, she wondered during the day, simply sitting in the same room Johnny had put her in so many years ago. Family… Do I even have one? And what will Johnny do once he starts building a family of his own? Will I still be around by then?

 The real question is: Do I really love him, or the security I’ve had for so long?

While his bed reflected over the purpose of her existence, Johnny met another one, a girl by the name of Maddie. This one was a change in Johnny’s usual pace of going through women. He didn’t hit it after the first date, she wouldn’t allow it. In fact, this was the first time his bed had seen him behave so… responsibly. They would simply lie on her as they watched TV, without a hint of sensuality, despite the obviously ever-growing closeness of their relationship. Time went on, and eventually, Johnny started mumbling in his sleep about proposals and marriage.

So he’s finally gonna leave me for some, some creature? She fumed mutely.

“Ya know, Johnny really does care for that girl you hate so much.” Came the mirror.

“Oh shut up. What do you know about love? He just looks at you so that he can see himself!” She retorted. The mirror sighed.

“And he sleeps on you, sometimes with other people. Come on, you know that we’re nothing but tools to humans, no matter our feelings for them.” She took in a breath of air, causing Johnny to toss and turn a bit.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean–”

“No,” he interjected, “We’re nothing but tools. All we can do is accept our feelings, accept our position, and still care for them. The only other option is to get thrown away and replaced by another. We’re disposable.” The bed sat in silence, brooding on the truth of what the mirror told her. It wasn’t like she didn’t know it, she just didn’t want to, refused to, believe it.

“Hmph. Whatever.” And more time passed, until the day Johnny proposed to Maddie. He came home and flopped into his bed, excitedly talking into his phone about everything to come. His hopes for the wedding, for the future to be had with Maddie.

It was the day that broke his bed, as he slept peacefully. Twisting and tearing at her memory foam, bending her frame into an unrecognizable shape, her fury truly left her discombobulated. Upon waking up, Johnny was shocked to see the damaged state his bed was in, an overnight transformation.

This will teach you for trying to leave me for some chick with two legs!

“I guess that it’s time for Ol’ Reliable to go,” he remarked quietly, “She’s been through more than her fair share of me. Suppose that it’s time for change, now that I’m engaged and all.” When she realized that he considered her reliable, that he actually cared for her, regret couldn’t even begin describe what she felt in that moment.

It didn’t take long for her to be taken outside by Johnny and Maddie, just in time for the garbage truck to pull up. As they swung, then tossed her into the back of the truck, she reflected on the mirror’s words to her. The walls of the container closed in on her.

Well, I hope that theirs is a happy life. I should’ve loved Johnny like a good mistress, a tool.  She contemplated as she was crushed into a cube alongside the rest of the trash, And I’m sorry for being so… Useless.

And so this false romance comes to its end, thrown away, nothing more than junk.