Entry 3: Dreamland–The Harsh Confessions

This was a dreary day. A dreary day indeed.

We had to retrieve the fifth and sixth  Sparks. Yes, that was what we were called–Sparks. Why? I haven’t the slightest clue. But, why not?

These two people were quite young. Well, one of them was. It was a girl named Alex. Fourteen years old. The other one was a boy named Nick, an 18 year old.

But this was all done in dreamland. My dreamland.

I looked around me as the world came to view. Once you enter Dreamland, things change a lot.

I was standing at the bottom of two parallel towers that started up as modern and marble, then soared skywards into a steampunk display of bronze and intricate art.

The tops were open, revealing the world to all who ventured to the highest floor. There was a small reflective pool, a restaurant, shops of all kinds and a skywalk just awaiting the fainthearted with a mocking grin and a soft chuckle.

Dressed in my new fighting suit, I went into the building, past shoppers and tourists. The place was bloody packed. But I was not headed for the mall area like they were, or even the skyview. I found my way to the perfectly hidden middle floor, which contained a collection of prison cells where the innocent were thrown. It was where they had Nick and Alex.

As I climbed up flight after flight of spiral marble stairs, I finally reached the door, nearly missing it, had I not been one who paid extra attention to detail.

I picked up my paintbrush and drew a bridge to the door. Rushing inside, I shut the door behind me. Strangely enough, my siblings and father were already there. They were trying to sneak in and save the prisoners.

“Hello,” I whispered.

“Good. You’re here. Let’s do this.”

Suddenly, Aguinaldo disappeared. We looked around, and out of nowhere, came his voice:

“I’m still here. I’ve just turned invisible. I’ll see if I can do it without them noticing me. If anything goes wrong, come in.”

With that, he snuck off to the prison ward. A guard was on either side of the entrance, but they did not at all notice him.

He carefully picked up the keys off the guard’s belt and tiptoed towards the cells, where he unlocked the gates. They were confused, standing up to run out. And they did.

“Hey!” The guards shouted, running after them. Aguinaldo regained his visibility and we ran outside. I drew that bridge again and we crossed it, then I clenched my fist and it evaporated into nothingness. We began to run upstairs, but then, panic broke out.

The guards knew who we were. And they were going to drastic measures just to stop us from doing what we were trying to do.

People ran down the sets of stairs around us, shoving and pushing.

The organisation that had those two locked up began threatening us, and when we would not listen, they pumped air into the structure of the building, making it begin to float. They were dropping off everyone that was on the building, to make us feel as though we were responsible for their deaths.

But I did not care. Not anymore.

And yet I fought back.

The events blurred into each other and slowly, I woke up from my dreams.

When I awakened, I found Aguinaldo had brought food for us and they were about to eat. I’d slept for what could be fourteen hours or more–I do not know. I just know that I slept a lot.

My brother and father were discussing something rather feverishly. I asked them what it was they were discussing, and then I found out that my father had told one of her brothers everything.

Or most everything, anyway.

He told him; Chalvanath, about something I had confessed to father. I saw no reason as to why I should hide it from him; why I should keep protecting the monster who gave me nothing but shit, all my life. With all sorts of allies that contributed to her message of sabotage.

He told him of when she got married behind their backs. The only one who knew was one of her brothers. He also told them of the fact that when she got pregnant with a fourth baby, it was not his. Chalvanath could barely keep listening without feeling like he was about to cry. Or maybe murder the bitch.

But this is good. You know why? Because everything she had ever done is being laid bare to everyone. She lives on the praise she receives at work and on the fact that she has a lowly PhD that is probably the only thing that ever came close to completing that bag of sand.

Now she will lose it all. She will have nothing to her name. The house she is so proud of, the cars, the riches–all will be taken from her.

And you know why I will relish in every single second she is suffering through?

Because she deserves it. Because just as she watched me, when I was barely fourteen, clinging onto every breath I could hardly draw, as her monstrous hand came down hard on my back, I will watch her lose everything. Her position at work. Her pride. Her facade of a broken victim, of a mother that ‘never asked for this’.

The blame and problems and faults she shoved all on Aguinaldo will return to her. The extent of how horrid she really is will be revealed to all. No one will ever respect her again.

Perhaps, just like she mocked those homeless, telling her own ‘kids’ not to give them a single penny, some other high society freak will look down on her as she wanders the streets, homeless, screaming at the world that she owned a measly PhD in mud crafting.

Yes. That was what she was so fucking proud of. A PhD in ceramics. She put it in our heads that she was superior to all because of that. Made us feel like we owed her something.

Well, let’s see just what that PhD can do for you now, bitch.

And her giant husband? The fat idiot whom I am surprised I still have not murdered in cold blood? He will pay, too.

For every time he yelled, for every time he ‘pranked’ me like a stupid child, for every single time he did something I did not allow.

You cross my boundaries? You ugly, pathetic stranger? You fucking leech?

He used up Narcissitis’s money and anything else she had. He still is.

But you know what else? He sent us a threatening message. To all of us. A 19, 17 and 15 year old. We received his threat. And we’re holding it as evidence. We show it to the authorities, you know what happens to him? Prison. Probably worse. I don’t care enough to know. All I know is, these two are standing in the proximities of a shitstorm just waiting to take them by surprise.

Just imagine them, a moronic beast and a monstrous hag. A fat, egg-shaped bastard that abandoned his daughter and married the wretch without his family knowing.

And the embodiment of filth. Even a cockroach walking on my arm is pleasant compared to her touching me.

Just… Bam. They’re fucked.

I know there is not much to tell today; I slept through most of the 24 hours. But I know that my father told The Puppet Thief’s family of a lot of things that might literally kill her.

If her youngest brother found out she slept around, there is a very likely chance that he will grab his guns and shoot her where she stood. I kid you not.

Isn’t it fucked up how we’re all capable of murder?

But then again, all humans are. They kill animals all the time. They murder insects, don’t they? And if they had not viciously killed each other, they would not be here.

If they had not killed other animals, they wouldn’t have evolved intellect.

And you know what? This entire species is fucked. I could not care less what you fucking say. No one is pure. No one is ‘good’ because there is no such thing. Humanity is a filthy, filthy race of animals. They invented slavery, did they not? They fought in pointless wars over the stupidest of things, did they not?

All of you are seriously fucked up. No matter how many of you look at me with judgemental eyes and a stupid nose pointed upwards like you’re the fucking queen, I see right through it.

This species is filthy. This species is disgusting. They are the most pretentious lot imaginable.

Really, your pathetic attempts at coating the hard realities in the sugary lies of purity and ‘good will’ makes me laugh. You’re all fucking hysterical.

Locking up your mad. Using fear as an excuse to treat those who are different in the most shitty of manners.

Before you judge that broken man sleeping in the streets, take a fucking look at yourself, Mr/Ms. Perfect. You aren’t perfect. You’re just like everyone else.

Fighting a battle against the entirety of the human race.

Trust? Who? Why? Why in the name of logic would I blindly believe what you say? Why would I hand you a knife and turn my back to you? Just so you can kill me and take all of my possessions?

True. There are some people who are different out there. The creative ones. The artists. The musicians. The scientists.

But in the end, we’re all fucked.

Because we come from this fucking species.

Not just  that. Humans boast about their ‘intelligence’ yet they fail to think for themselves. They gladly dive into herd conformity and refuse to let their mental faculties do the work they evolved to. Instead of judging beneficial from harmful, they judge others. They waste their valuable mental skills in the most disgusting of habits.

Valuable… I wonder how I wrote that without laughing.

Think I’m cruel? Think I’m cynical? Big fucking woop. Good for you; I’ve stopped bloody caring.

I see no reason as to why I should care. We’re all the same. You’re not as exceptional as you’ve successfully deluded yourself into believing.

Really, I’ve always harboured this fierce hatred for humanity. I just never had the right fucking push to let it all out.

If you think capitalism is the best, you’re delusional. If you think anyone cares, you’re delusional. If you think you’re special–fucking wake. up.

We’re all humans. No one is better than the other person for anything that has to do with physical appearances.

The only way anyone could be better than anyone else is the way they think. Who they are.

If you’re one of those rare few who think for themselves–and don’t think they’re better than everyone for it, despite being not exceptionally intelligent–you could be better than most. Who knows. I really don’t care.

Did this hurt? Good. Since you took it personally, I’m glad it did.

If it did not hurt–you’re welcome. I’ve ‘voiced’ things many are too afraid to say.

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