Renaissance of Chaos

II

   His phone buzzed for the 2nd time in the span of five minutes. James watched as his brother excused himself from the table and went out to take the call, while a bad feeling nested into his stomach. He shifted his attention to the cup of cold mint tea, and half-eaten lemon tart, his favorite deserts whose taste now, he could barely feel.

"Of course. Good things never last after all." he thought as he let out a deep sigh, a headache slowly creeping in.

Since that morning, he had this bad feeling following him around from the moment he got out of bed, to tge one he stepped through the café's doors. It had been following him like a dutiful shadow, never far, and always too close for comfort. At first, he thought it was due to his rumbustious housemates with their usual shenanigans, but now, he wondered if that was truly the case.

In the back of his mind, behind memories of days whom he would rather not recall, something pulsated. Peculiar whispers reached out from the void, from places he had once known, but now could not find, swimming into his ears, always repeating themselves, over and over again. But it was in vain, for the meaning of their words he could not grasp. Like the buzz of an annoying mosquito which he could not see, he had no choice but to endure its incessant noise, eagerly awaiting the moment it would try to bite, but...what would he do then? Would he fight? Would he flee? He wanted to believe he would pick the first choice, but to ignore the second would be utter foolishness. He was an experienced man when it came to matters of weird and not-exactly common occurrence, and knew well enough that sometimes, most times actually, things did not go as planned. Men who thought themselves brave had been reduced to mere, scared children more times than he could count and though he hoped not, he knew he may share the same fate one day.

Dark thoughts began to filter through his mind, and in an attempt to distract himself from them, for how could one think clearly when a storm brewed in their mind?, he began to look at the items and decorations in the café. It was a small, comfortable place, doting all sorts of curiosities besides the other-worldly, delicious recipes for sweets and coffee. On the walls, strange paintings were exposed, one might say even scary, but intriguing nonetheless. One such painting, was of a tall woman, posing next to a piano. She was of a rare beauty, dark hair combed to the side, falling in curly waves over her shoulder and snow white dress. On the side of her head, she dotted a curious accessory of diamond and silver leaves, same as the rest of her accessories, a pair of earrings and necklace. Her lips were red as blood and her eyes black as the night, holding a certain snugness within, along with a strong sense of pride. Whoever she had been in life, James was convinced she held power and fear over many, for her very portrait demanded respect.

However, as he examined the painting, something has begun to stir within him. He could almost swear he had seen that woman before, in flesh and bone, but that could not be, for in all his life he had never came across someone with such a powerful presence. However, as soon as the sensation awoke, it had fallen back into slumber, almost as if it had never existed. He rubbed his temples, the headache growing stronger, yet his mind still searched for answers.

This was not the first time he had felt this way that day. His thoughts flew to an odd sight from that morning, on his way to the café where he was to meet with his brother. In his rush, he had bumped into a young girl, the apology he was about to give dying the moment his gaze landed upon her face. She was bruised all over, one eye so swollen he got shivers just by thinking of all the trouble it would cause if left untreated. A pitiful sight, heartbreaking even. However, beneath all the bruises and injuries, there was a certain sense of...familiarity. He sensed a nostalgia in those few seconds he got to gaze upon her visage, as one does when seeing a dear friend after a very long time, but the source of it, he could not place, no matter how much he struggled. When she turned around to leave, he had half a mind to call out to her, but the realization of where he had to be, dawned on him like a crashing wave, and in the blink of an eye, his intentions had been all but forgotten as he resumed his rush through the crowded streets to his destination.