by Blue_Notebook

        The sharpest, longest, and loudest inhale swarmed at the entirety of the lurid chamber. It owned every corner, every top and bottom, every furniture and material my vision would allow me to perceive and consume by the means of identifying them and relating such images to the situation. An intrinsic response by the most confounded of brains to analyze the matter at hand in the quickest of ways possible. Cretinous I might’ve been to confess of my not being supposed to be in this present demise, possessing this naked body of a male human, standing near the edge of the bed where another man (whose identity is yet unknown to my erudition), can be found positioned in a very odd manner. His brown buttocks’ bare in front of me. Divested of all doubt, I do remember specifying it to S that I may be sent somewhere corroded with errant frivolities. Somewhere where I can enjoy the dalliance of life. There must’ve been a malfunction on S’s portal for what else could be the explanation for this erroneous trek other than that? The divinity is true to his oath and is vowed to do me—nor any other divinity— no harm.

        Not too far from where I stood erupted quiet sobs. The moment I feigned to locate its source, my curiosity brought me to the man I formerly mentioned. Poor miscreant! Another victim of its own stupidity. Humans, they never learn. They only excel in their dreams so much that they fail to set boundaries betwixt the chimaera and the achievable goal. Decades wasted in faux opulence et id genus omne without attaining actual progress in their endless projects. Producing only play things as the immortal wish of gaining something “divine” infested their very beings. The malady of the temporary, of the inebriated and of the lachrymose— Why, the creature howled all of a sudden! As much as I would like to take even a scant credit for its pain, I fear that neither the tip of my finger nor the very edge of my nail brushed its skin. Yet its reaction seems too genuine to be considered a mere facade. Surely, I do not fancy trusting its kind but since here I was sent by the mighty door, then I’ll take the slightest responsibility of bequeathing him even the simplest of care.

        “The cause of such conspicuous cry?” questioned I as I turned to fetch the clothes which I assume are of this body. While waiting for his cordial response, I used the almost-wasted time to dress this body and cover its bête noire built. Cold is the place and colder it will get due to the windows flauntingly open behind us, teasing all who’s inside of the darkest firmament above. Perhaps it’s what he’s wailing about, the cold! It must’ve been the reason, too, why he’s unable to speak and is trembling so bad almost as if he’s epileptic.

        Hanging at the edge of the bed is his clothes—uniform by the looks of it. For the past centuries that I’ve spent with his kind, I could easily identify and classify human materials and their classic routine in life. This vibrating lad belongs to the species called “students” while this body which I’m currently inhabiting— well, it’s still unknown to me where he belongs. Minutes have passed before I came to the decision of forcing him to wear some of his clothes. Not because I am bothered by his naked carcass (which, in fact, is nullified by the strange erection of this body) but it is due to the reason that he doesn’t look so happy being nude. With much gratitude, he grabbed his uniform from me in a very caustic manner and quickly wore them, tears still coating his eyes.

        I prepared myself for an immediate departure once he was done with his clothing and looking at him for the last time, tried to suppress my chagrin. The boy is now holding a very pointy pen, raised just inches above my head by the very arms that are shaking wildly. His visage spoke nought but of pain and hatred. Which to what cause I am never allowed to know. There’s so much anger in his gaze that I can do nought but to look at him in awe. Humans are too susceptible to emotions—His hand’s now empty and the loathing orbs have been replaced with fear, followed by madness and hysteria. Like an uprooted tree, I lost all of my balance and fell to my left side where he drove the pen in my neck, at the very carotid artery I presume for the bleeding is excessive. Must I take it off, there’ll be a literal blood bath in this place.

        “Why?” he uttered, staring at me blankly before leaving the room, returning afterwards with two gallons of acid on both hands. I knew at once what they contain due to the stench they release.

        This could’ve been the worst death I could get myself into.

        Void of hesitation, the boy poured the first gallon right into my head down to my neck and stomach. Luckily, I’ve managed to exit from such terrible a situation by bringing the body’s real owner back into it. The human screamed so loud and in a gurgled manner, pleading for help as his voice ebbed into the thin air pervaded by the scent of his own burning flesh. He kept on wailing, thrashing around for the hope that the pain caused by the hungry liquid will vanish, clawing at his marred flesh which only intensified the seeping in of the deadly fluid. The boy, on the other hand, kept on pouring more acid on the lower part of his body, concentrating his fury on that one part where the blood of his innocence died. Now, the teacher screamed (oh, he is a teacher, for now that I am ethereal I’ve been granted access to all information regarding him) as his meat boiled to an amorphous degree. What’s said in that one fictional scripture, “Rid the body of the part that sinned and be forgiven”. The problem is that he will never get any forgiveness. It lasted an hour before life expired on his very eyes, his body melted like clay. Only then did I take pleasure upon examining the boy who’s still standing tall and godly in front of the corpse, inhaling the flesh-infested atmosphere around him. Freshly made murderer by the ugly circumstances of life, he will be miserable after his murderous drive subsides. What a tragedy.

        Slowly, the illusion of my being began to ebb as my tier calls for me again. His departed soul is now at my balcony, waiting for its retribution. It seems like I wasn’t misplaced after all.

Author’s Note:

Credits to the creator and owner of the photo used.

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