In a castle in the sky, memories unravel the truth.
There lies Yan, a woman who delves into her ghost-infested past, knowing it will give her the answers she seeks. What she doesn't know: if she stays in her past for too long, she may never wake up...
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Blood splatters all around me, and on me. Flashes of light, smoke, open mouths. Footfalls.
The white walls and murals are now stained with sin that can never be scrubbed into oblivion.
I had run with my eyes closed to the sanctuary I've abandoned. I'm no longer worthy of its protection the moment I rejected it, so why did I choose to be the harbinger of catastrophe?
It had been a blur of rattles, of clicks, of expletives. My past still zigzags on this route, stringing together bits and pieces of information the way an amateurish video production is made, abrupt and disjointed.
I am only left with a few drips and drabs: my shadow at the threshold where boots rush inward, metallic shells piercing heads and chests, something about gods and beliefs. The short story is that the priest made some disrespectful remarks to another religion and it so seems the churchgoers are in on the gossip, sparking a heated conflict between both religious groups. To invalidate someone else's god and make mockery. The price: a church shooting.
Perhaps that's why I chose to leave. I, the unlikely witness; I, the sole survivor; I grew more disgusted with humanity.
Things still don't come as a full movie, like a film trailer teasing me with the details I've anticipated and chucked aside.
The only words I've spoken in the razed sanctuary were for the priest: "I've lost faith in everything and everyone. Goodbye."
Little did I know how much of a farewell it would soon turn out to be. Maybe faith is as malleable as we would have it be. There are the freethinkers, after all. Who is to say they are wrong? And those who believe in the stories of all religions to coexist in our world? What of them?
A marked controversy.
We let our actions slide and suffer for it. I chose to hide and now suffer for it. Yet this suffering, this rewound journey, will only be another cause for some other consequence.
It's a good attempt, at the very least. Yet, the end has not been fully unravelled.
With clean clothes and a confident smile (is this a mask I don, or a display of authenticity?) I leave the church for the gym. Why would I meet Fantina again? Rather, what purpose do I have now?
I soon get my answer as I sit on the chair opposite her, our gazes clashing softly.
"I understand. Thank you, Fantina," I say.
But I understand nothing.
"I'm here to help you. Do you understand me, Yan?"
What did you help me with? Where were you, besides that one freaky meeting, when I needed you? You have the power to help me.
"You're leaving me with this friend of yours then? You just don't have the time to help me."
Yes, because I've been so alone in this wreckage. You lied, Fantina, and I trusted your lie.
