AFTERLAND and The Cryptic Prophecy

03: The Earthquake in My Room

The Red Cup Festival was a quarterly event regularly attended by students from the nearby schools. There was a live band and free beers. Red cups filled with beer could be seen everywhere. Colorful disco lights danced along with us. Though it was Friday night, the band played the song Saturday by Twenty One Pilots.

"Nice move," said Franco from behind.

A blue half-sleeve polo paired his grey pants. He listened to my suggestion -I mean warning. He kept doing his awkward dance moves. I couldn't explain how he was doing it, but it's kind of retro. We were partying as if nothing strange happened when we left our village.

Our encounter with the nasty old man continued to haunt me. I wondered if I get him killed, but I guessed being slammed against the wall would not be enough to kill him. What I was actually thinking was how did I throw him on the wall without actually pushing him?

It was not the first time a stranger asked me to open my palm. Someone also did that to me last week, last month, and the other year. Different approaches. Some asked me nicely, and some were violent, like the old man. Gregson also mentioned about opening my hand when we had a fight. Many were so obsessed with seeing my palm and the reason was a mystery to me.

Diordin danced along with us while holding her frosty beer in a red cup. "You should thank me for forcing you to come. Your parents are probably nagging you now because of Ms. De Austria's email."

"Do you think they won't scold me after this?" I bugged out.

"At least you had a glorious moment before the interrogation at home." She laughed and raised her red cup.

"But you know what, I have more concern other than Ms. De Austria's email," said Franco. We focused our gaze at him. "Why did they call this event a Red Cup Festival?"

I exchanged looks with Dior before saying, "Franco, did you not breathe enough air when you were born?"

It came out unpleasant to hear than I meant to.

"Look around," said Dior. "What do you see?"

"Dancing people?" said Franco.

"And?"

"Colorful lights." He looked clueless.

"And?" There was a building anger in Diordin's tone.

"Oh!" He snapped. "The live band! They must be called Red Cup band?"

Dior was about to yell in distress, so I took the spot. "Franco, can't you see the red cups everywhere and the red cups we're holding?"

He leaped his eyes to the cup of beer he was holding and nod in realization. "Oh, thank you for that detail."

I didn't know if he was trying to be funny or he's just an idiot. A circle would never be perfect without someone acting like a dumb.

While we were dancing, I saw a young man standing from a distance. I wasn't able to control my grip on my cup when I realized it was Gregson, with his milky white eyes. I rubbed my eyes, thinking that maybe the beer was already taking its toll on me. I stared at him again, but he was gone. I looked around, but he was nowhere to be found.

Maybe I just drank too much beer. It's impossible for Gregson to attend the festival because of what I did to his leg. Well, if he had the audacity and strength to come, I would definitely kick his leg, his other leg, to make it balance.

"Can't still believe Charlie beat them all earlier," said Franco, snapping me out of the trance. His face was getting reddish. He was more interested in talking about how I rescued him from Gregson than how I slammed the old man on the wall.