Dear Mr. World

My name is Fransis Becon, I’m 29 and as you know I’m a vampire. I remember being one when I first learned what ‘A’ stands for. But please don’t fear me, I’m just like you. I like playing Minecraft and Angry Bird, read all of George Orwell’s… have Black Mirror on NETFLIX and Game Of Thrones on HBO GO. I like sushi more than dumplings, but like blood the most, I wouldn’t lie. They supply me with one liter every week to stimulate the urges. Just like you need meat for nutrition, I need pig’s (cold) blood.

     At night I shop at Walmart and in the morning, just before dawn, I jog to Starbucks for an Americano short. I’ve made many friends in your humble world, Ted and Jamaya are the best. They knew what I am and accepted as it is. Just like most people in this town, maybe all over the world, accepted our kinds after the AGREEMENT. Others may think of this situation as a dystopian prison, while I beg to differ. A normal life with a normal job… (Labor job, but a job is a job) and a house of my own. Any more is pity.

     And as I’m reaching at the end of the last page of my journal, I must tell you what a pleasure it had been.

     Now I have to leave this sweet world as per the AGREEMENT and die return to dust like a proper human being.

     Sweet Dreams, Sweet World.


How Disgusting!

The name Parisa Grace was carved on one of the poles on Eastern-Park, but its proud holder was taking her beauty sleep beside the garbage bin of a restaurant called “Chineez Chili”. Floating above snow white clouds with pigeons, couple of inches away and could feel the divine comfort a bucket full of hot water thrown on her face by the owner… ‘GAT OUTH YO STUPID WHORE, BIE HUILAI’.

Gray, Harry and Elina were trying to justify how NBC’s Hannibal is a garbage and why Breaking Bad is infinitely superior, but Josh’s way of explaining and his deep knowledge in TV series had its arrogant deflection shield up. Harry was about to repeat his theory for eleventh time, when Josh saw Parisa waking up it that horrible way. Others didn’t. ‘How awful people can be’, he said. So he went down the alley and gave Parisa 2 dollars. ‘2 dollars?’ asked Gray. ‘Don’t you know she’s the Croaked Lady, the most horrible woman in town’? ‘Most annoying too’ said Elina. ‘How Disgusting!’ (Parisa was one of those skinny awful looking people you see on the street)

Parisa hasn’t ate anything for four days straight and this little gesture was the most blissful. But Josh worried his alienation from his fancy Elina. And in that fear he said… ‘Get yourself some rat poison, would you?’

Everyone laughed.

Three days later exactly two dollars were found in a gutter and the name on Eastern-Park pole was scratched out with Alias Maitland.

Three Smokey Tales

While taking Shelter from spring’s sudden downpour Anschel concluded his tale of The Dying Dragon… ‘without a belly full of sheep the dragon rested his last days till his eyes went grey… Why didn’t he enjoy it?’


His two friends looked at each other, then to Anschel, “WE KNOW NOTHING JOHN SNOW”… and Deirdre took the cigarette from Anschel and tasted the filter. It was swinging on his lips while he replied, Maybe fear grabbed him… but enough with fantasies… let me tell you about a dream of mine, a nightmare…


I was under an ocean, holding my breath that was about to explode bubbles… its surface where I suppose to go, was pitch black… the depth where death was certain, was as bright as day…’

‘Then?’ asked Anschel. “Choked to death… happy ending”, Deirdre squeezed his cheek, secured enough in, and tried to make smoke-rings.


Wal seized that poison stick, sucked a hot one in and made a perfect ring that went inside one of Anschel’s. He was figuring out his side of the tribute.


‘I read this in a blog… there’s this girl who loved her village. One day she found his husband had burned the whole village down. Living pandemonium. Bitter and Frenzied when she ran to confront him… she found him moaning on their dead son’s body… some villagers killed their child and he went berserk… now I stand here… doubting myself, refusing myself… would I have done the same?” she whispered…’




Rain had stopped.



The land floats on a river of time, at the end of the world… round like a penny, dead and gray. Separated and alone.

Night surrounded the sky, with a creepy moon above. Round face, white as milk, with a blind man’s smile that tells another story entirely. A Flashlight upon this distorted land where life never dared to grow.

The field was devised in a shape of waves – like a spiral that goes round and round, where strong wind hinders and whistles.

From an alien abyss, right up in the pitch dark, thunders were cracking down, making bright as sunshine then darkened again — in a blink of an eye.

Toward the east (opposite to the moon), land formed a mountain in red, one of its kind, and on its cliff was standing a tall man, strong and black, with his silver sword, which kept luminous with thunderbolt’s rhyme. As he staring at the enormous giant, sleeping on its belly, at the center of the spiral.

”A creature made of shells and spells”… is what was written in old Gleam.


The man in black leather had the most elegant green eyes. But that doesn’t define him. It’s his rare smile that doesn’t come very often, but when it does, it can make that ONE BAD DAY feel blissful again. (But not the teeth)

He wore a cape made of feathers that were waving in the cool breeze.

He had a weapon that can fire through metals, sharp as a dagger, used as both. To do so, he held it upside down on his left hand with his pinky on the trigger.

The chokuto sword on his right hand, was made of five blades hammered into one (gourd and grip included). The metal was too hard… too rare to melt. It was light as a feather, cold as winter. Some unsung words were written on it, roughly interpreted as “storm eater” (the guardian of the sword told him so, as the man can’t read, too hard for him)

His grey hair was combed by hand all the way to the back of his head, spiked upward like a porcupine. Rough and dirty, showing his head that was missing both ears. They were burned in a deadly battle but that’s a different battle. Just like his new cape or the pack of unguent on his belt.


‘Chickned out yet’, a familiar voice mocked this man’s hesitation. It was the voice of his little companion. An imaginary one in a kin-dergar-ten uniform. (A boy with a pale face or maybe a dead serious look)… ‘Can we go back now? You’re not gonna do it, can’t, too chickn shit, not today + not today is what you about to say yeah?… Haz-zer?’

Hazzer… widely known as The Verreaux didn’t reply. He just didn’t feel the privilege to argue. Not today + Not today.


Kalaz is what the dragon was named and the long tails were what defined Kalaz. Two smoothy ones, jelly smoothy, longer than his whole body.

He soured very loud, almost like the clashes of clouds.

He has a red furry face with gazelle antlers and body covered in red – hard dragon shells. Two wings, large enough to lift his leviathan body up in the sky and can even fly higher… now resting on his back ‘unwanted’ (as they were burned by a dark wizard years ago).

On his chest sparkles an armor white with extending chains tightened around his both wings.

His front legs were longer than that of the back to give his stand a proud posture… could be called arms if one chooses to, and the back ones were short but plumped… if one chooses not to call them fat.

”And he who lives on without any food or thrust, sleeps for eternity in his humble domain”… (From Gleam)


Kite had spoken rubbish again and Hazzer had stared enough.

He jumped off the cliff, legs bend closer, making a “Z”, while cape floated behind. And as he did such thing without any worry of the fall, a lightning stroked the sky, went pass him (in the eyes of a third person) and made a shadow figure out of it. As he was sliding down the slope, on his metal plated shoes, he realized it wasn’t as hard as he had predicted, much harder, and with that rough ground and all those rocks, hardest slide he ever did. But now’s no time to think of that, now’s the time to jump. So he jumped upon three huge rocks one by one (second one was a slippery one) and landed on the gray land. Like a big bold entry. Only it wasn’t bold, his legs touched the ground but so his whole body, made a big mess with the dirt. So big it was.

‘You had to do dat!’

He had to, kicked the hesitation off’

Though the hesitation as an unbreakable companion it was later found its way back in and turned into chilling vibrations because the beast had awakened and standing in his ESTHETIC GRIM before the shinning moon. Its shadow covered one third of the land (both of them in) and scared the shit out of kite as he might say.

The enormous giant spread his GIGANTIC WINGS, wide as the whole sky, and made the roar of the century. A roar that could’ve given a heart attack to that old man ‘Hazzer’.


“Shall we make a waste of ourselves, old chum?” The Verreaux asked to the crimson eyes, lynched his sword with his wrinkled arm and gripped his gun that made the vain visible. He marched towards the approaching terror, and the terror blew its earthquake fist. He dodged it fast like he always do but the elbow was next. To defend himself, he held his strong sword, supported it with his other arm on the reverse side, and cut through the flesh then cracked through the bone than flesh again. And the beast felt the cocktail of fear and pain.

In a matter of second the long tails bend and came, cutting sound through the air, smashed the old man’s left ribs and a mess was made.

The beast troubled to stand and the man was in the dirt. Again. Only this time for quite a while.

Winds were whistling again, Sky was crackling… the old dirt breathed, but Kalaz breathed fire. So strong, it melted the land, destroyed the pattern and made a river of magma between them. “don’t cross the border”

‘Its im-possible, lech go back while we can’, kite had explained. ‘Lech go back to our old days of huntn and robbn, those were good times don’t you agree… this?… he’s too fkng strong. Let’s retreat while we can’

But old people are the most stubborn. And Hazzer will not let his long journey through goblins and vampires to go to a waste. A journey to the end of days, his last stand if that’s what God had written for him. His jump had defined that. He Will Not Be A Waste. ‘Not Today Not Today’

Verreaux coughed a load of blood, but stand he must and he did. He looked straight in the crimson eyes and blasted his gun that went straight for the exposed bone and shattered it along with the remaining flesh attached… made the beast howl and the arm crumbled… followed by the colossal body. Lost his temper too, Kalaz, as he roared rage that echoed horror all over the place, into both of their heart. Kite closed his ears but couldn’t stop it. Hazzer’s sword was shaking, so was his feet.


Kalaz’s strongest weapon had never been his wings or his long tails that kept smashing the ground, neither his breath of the hottest kind. It’s his crimson eyes that tells many tales. A gaze that makes people live their worst fear, and Hazzer finally realized he had gazed long time ago, even though the Gun Maker had warned him not to, no matter what. But age makes people forget all the time. When he realized that, (not about the age but the warning), it was already too late and the world went blur.


Hazzer was staring at a white ceiling, unable to move his eyes or even to blink, paralyzed by it or maybe the personal fear of his self, only hearing voices of a different kind. Hopeless, helpless he kept staring. Even if he cries, facing his worst nightmare, it wouldn’t come out on his face.

And days… even months had passed. He was floating on that endless space when he finally heard that familiar voice.

“sonofabitch”… “I told you, you couldn’t win, I told you, but did you listen?, nooo, you had to ‘I had to!’ you had to be a looser didn’t you? now I am stuck with you in this shit hole” Kite had finally spoken…

Only that it wasn’t those tortured broken words, they were clear as the holy water and he appeared in one of those Picasso’s distorted marble style, talked by that painted mouth on his forehead. But Hazzer didn’t see all that, couldn’t look the other way.

“Is …?… Is it you old chum? No one can give such warm welcome like you do – it’s been so long – Has it been months? – Or years perhaps? I can’t tell… as you can see there’s no tick tocks – please come this way, I can’t move…”

“Of course you can, you dip shit, how are you talking then? You’re capable blinking and even moon walking on a high pitch pop, you’re capable of many things… killing that goddamn piece of reptile, what’s it call? eff.. ephialtes is one of those things as well if you choose to… it’s all depend on you and it’s about time you make a choice… either you let yourself live in this denial you made for yourself or accept horrible mistake that you have done and let them be… it’s time you let m… Laila belong to the past, like it should’ve been… you and I both know it will only hurt the dead if you deny their departure. Remember Terry Wordot’s broken doll, his daughter as he called it, had said…

“My daddy can never hurt me, and even if he did in this twist of fate, I love him too much to let him know”.

It’ll only hurt Laila, can’t you see that?”

“Don’t start that nonsense again. Not now. You know I hate you when you start that nonsense again. She is… Laila’s alive and waiting for me, waiting in her golden dress and curling her hair. All I gotta do is kill that Ephialtes like you said, and then I… we… can meet her again… so help me get out of this mess…

Right? — ? — can’t you see, I have to tell her I love her, I have to kill that beast to get to her”

“She’s dead… fa…”

“NO. You know that isn’t true, don’t joke about things like that, if…”

“It’s true and you know it old man. She’s been dead for… “NO.” … years now. I know you do remember the day… cause I’m just you talking back to you… you imaginary need… She was tumbling in your arms but then she smiled and her eyes went dull. You told me how it went, confessed to me other things too. Remember her last words… remember remember”

“youuuuuuu… GET LOST YOU LITTLE DEVIL, I don’t wanna see a liar anymore,

In her garden of red and blues, she’s waiting so impatiently for me… waiting for you too, all we have to do is kill that THING, and then we can eat her famous apple pie once again. You would like that don’t you? I do too. But to do so, I gotta figure out how to get out of this spell and you need to help me… then we can go for the heart, the weak point, just beneath that armor… I can melt that thing with this gun of mine, that’s why we spend 5 years to find the maker right?… remember his running nose, remember what you said?, ‘that fountain can feed an entire village’… remember old chum?”

Kite was long gone… it was just him and his stubborn loneliness that shared the bed now. The moment he realized that a brief bolt of despair ran through his heart and for the first time in so many years, Hazzer finally realized what isolation actually feels, that he had never felt such emptiness before, even in those darkest hours of his life Kite was always there to annoy him, to make fun of him, made him forget his tragic memories, Kite… “Kite?” still no reply from the darken side…

“nononononono noo, no – no – no – please, please don’t leave me here, kite, please come back, this old hag needs you… look how yellow my teethes had become, come on, you always had something to say about those… kite?… Get rid of that urinating teeth of yours is what you used to say… come on let’s hear that? Or maybe something new? Come on Kite?” Hazzer was shouting over the edge while his heart kept drumming on a heavenly scale. He kept asking with his broken throat but the dark world was already silent, unbearably terrifying and then perplexity occurred.


Another wave of time escaped. The ceiling spread wider. Hazzer remembered Kite saying something important to him, surprisingly not offensive, it’s one of those few times when something actual good came out of that boy. Or perhaps it’s the old man’s consciousness that was speaking for itself. It was one of those clear nights before the dimming fire when he said, “It’s through pain that we can truly understand and it has always been our pride that makes us fool… is it not?”

‘Kite was quite mature for his age you know… yes I know… smart in a funny way but mostly offensive, it’s in his nature, he can’t help it… and he was your friend… my only friend in the whole world, he was always there in the red moon nights, in the hungry forests, in the dying desert, always cheering and annoying to make the world lighter… so why did you called him devil?… he was insulting Laila, you know I wouldn’t take that… yes I understand, so you choose between friend and love, tough choice, but you did what most people do… my only source of hope and I let him go… but it’s either him or her, and you can’t lose her, she was your life, your reason to live, the only thing worth protecting right… and now I’m alone again, still breathing even after she’s d… hey I’m here… you’re just my imagination… he was too… yes, but he was kind and helping and what’s with this it’s a good thing you let kite go?, what’s with that? Aren’t you suppose to say I gotta let Laila go?… Do you need me too?… Get lost… hey, I’m not getting paid for this man, screw you… Spear me of your stupid monologue, as kite might’ve said now, might’ve said something filthy too, he’s like that, he can’t help it, and now he’s gone for good… but if he comes back again, I might apologize, might even agree to his demands too, if he comes back that is… so should I leave?… Get lost!’

Another wave of time yet escaped again.

‘In The Book of Gleam, there’s an old tale of the blue lady. The lady had the most beautiful eyes, dark hair, prettiest smile and the softest skin. Yet all those features were left hidden as she was completely covered in blue. She was so blue that all men in town couldn’t even look at her. Women too. Day after day she was humiliated, ignored and children would throw mud at her. She had two friends, two kind ones, but after their marriage they were instructed not to visit her as it might frighten the kids. The blue lady lived inside the forest, far away from town, making her own bread, cutting woods for the fire.

One day one of her friend arrived with a news. “There’s a man in town… a blue man, colored as deeply as you, helping the whole town in this time of plague… they say he’s making miracle… the blue angel as they’re calling him”. So the girl went to the town to see this man. Hoping to talk to him, “maybe they can be friends, maybe something more, maybe something wonderful”. She wandered around the whole town, and it took her a lot of time to find him. When she did, the man in blue smiled at her with the warmest kindness. The same kindness that others found in him, where color didn’t matter.

An old woman grabbed the lady’s hand to tell her how wrong they were to hate her… others wanted too, when they noticed the lady was in shock. The blue lady couldn’t stand that man, those disgusting blues. Dark and shining in the sun like a filthy worm. And that creepy white smile in that dark face. She hated it all. All together. Cursed him… “You monster”… and ran as fast as she could. She ran away. That was the last time anyone saw the blue lady.

I never understood that story. It doesn’t make any sense. Like most of the stories in that book don’t. Most of them don’t have happy endings either. They should. At least that one. Should’ve made a blue family, with purple little children. Like Kite. Well not exactly like Kite. The world can’t handle any more big mouths like that… but he’s like that, he can’t help it…

Hahaha… how many times have I said that by now?.. Too many I lost count, lost count of how many times you told me to get lost, and about that story, do you think you’re that monster or Laila that blue lady… But she didn’t reject me… no, she accepted you with warm heart, you were that blue lady, and you must let her go, she’s dead and you know it old man, as kite might have said… he should’ve come back by now. Without him every day the world feels a bit colder, terrifying and empty. First my wife and now my friend had left me. He must be hating me. Will she also hate me like the blue lady? Why wouldn’t she? After what I did to her… she probably will. Or is she love you too much to let you know? If she do hate you, and kite do too… what in the world am I left with?

(As Hazzer said that he felt an extreme struggle running through his body, he could feel his frozen heart melting down and now it’s burning. Felt a cold wind blown on his eyes and an unknown anger channeling through his vain) I have to get back, get back to my little Kite, the only one who never hated me, the only one I have to protect, I have to get back, I have too…’

Still… the world stayed unheard.

‘Damn you…. Damn you all… I’ve had enough of your stupid games… damn you stupid arm, damn the legs… move god damn it… M O V E.’


Kite blinked three times, Kalaz blinked twice, still bleeding… while the man left the eternal dream. He felt his eyes warm again, zoomed out of the crimson red into his garden green. Next he felt his whole body getting warm from a long numbness.


The old man was weak, too weak to carry on… the sword, light as feather, felt too heavy to hold on to… but Kite was there, pale as ever, as he greet his old man.. “yo just dug yo own grave old hag”… Hazzer felt an enormous pleasure, a satisfaction that gave him an unknown strength he never knew he had.


Kalaz had jumped towards the winning enemy, that was crawling and trying with his three legs… too soon to master the art of walking with three and he was too scared of that spitting magic that might melt his armor too. So he crawled with all his strength to end the grim reaper and end his charade… grabbed him successfully… He had to protect his armor at any cause, too important for his survival. Only one squeeze and the pulp would end… But the trigger was pressed, even when the Black Death’s lower half was crushed, he dared to pull the trigger.

The magic ate through his armor in white and blue flames, burned the flesh and bone and reflected north. It was his crystal heart that can no-one break, and beneath the shine was what seemed like long dark hair. And then, after a brief despair in kite’s face the crystal broke, without the dragon’s permission and he roared his last pain.

All he ever wanted was to rest in his humble domain. But now he rest in his eternal slumber with his head bend low on his giant body and his eyes remained wide.

And the loud snore was never been heard again.


The crystal shattered like snow and from that fog of tiny particles a hand reached and went through the man’s chest, grabbing his heart… his beating heart.

“And still we dare to breathe,

Even at the end of woe”… is what the lady muttered with her whispering lips. And as she said it a lightning went past the whole darn mess, made a shadow figure once more, of piles of flesh, then a naked body with her stretched arm, followed by the hanging man and the heart that was beating still.

It was his love, his Laila in flesh, holding his heart that belong to her anyway. The tired old man didn’t even feel pain… not one bit… He cried in joy, made one last attempt to say something, only the word ‘forgive’ made it to the surface, others were lost in vain and then he went too.

A moment so sublime that an secret satisfaction made Kite feel complete as he faded away in tiny stardust, left a drop of tear from his red-rimmed eyes that didn’t make it to the ground.


The next thing Hazzer knew, was that he was lying on a bed with the ceiling above, not white but changed into yellow. He can move his arms, can even blink and across the room was a tired man sleeping on a chair that looked just like Kite (as a full grown man with a fancy hair). Pipes were all over the old man’s body, one went deep inside his throat. The green screen was beeping constantly, but another sound from a distant overlapped it. It made Kite’s clone blink too.

The grown up kite woke up, looked at him and burst in tears… and at that moment the old father knew…

It was the day when he finally woke up from his dream that lasted for twenty long years.


When a bird left the earth

There was a bird who hated the land more than anything. He couldn’t stand it and wanted to fly far from its disgrace. So he flew with his proud wings, far and further. But it was never enough, he couldn’t fly enough higher to not get bothered by the filthy land. One day he determined to fly above the cloud, maybe even further if needed. And will never return, he swears it.

He flew very high that day, left the clouds way back, but he didn’t mind, he wanted to reach the height no bird has ever reached and then he reached it, that no bird can ever reach. When he did, all his breath came to an end and the whole body went paralyzed as he felt down and kept falling. The heat and pressure burned his proud wings and he was smashed to the ground he so hated. But it felt cold and comforting as it let him took his peaceful last breath.

[You knew this ancient tale, i did too, just wanted to write it down, if i can dare]

My Hero Academia 3 episode 11

What makes a hero so great? It’s a thought I had for longer than I can remember. All might, Boku no hero’s mightiest superhero, as he shinned so brightly today that burst everyone in tears, even made the audience cry. I wondered what made him so unique. So distinctive. His United State punch, his colorful stand, his weird smile, all these are just childish. Like Superman with his truth, Justice, and American way. Exactly as Superman. As we learned, All Might presents himself as the symbol of peace, hiding his weak self, and his pains. Something that’s freaking admirable, but that’s not it. He’s a hero that formed, evolved to greatness through hardship, determination, experience. Which leads me to that particular scene where All for one was trying to defeat him with words, breaking him from the inside. Confused, and raged, he was succumbing to it, but finally he breaks out as a civilian behind cried for help. That was something that speaks volumes to his character. His years of fighting crime, his experience carried out with his final blow, and put some lines to All for one’s wiped out face. So what makes a hero so great? It’s the light, and energy that comes with him. Crime is horrible, and ugly. It makes a child cry. But a hero put smiles on their faces. And All Might does it with or without his Santa Claus uniform. He will smile with his handheld high, and patriotic soundtracks will play on the background. Why? Cause he’s here.