Welcome to the blog and website of the author James Kidac.

Welcome to the blog and website of the author James Kidac.
In Between, now available in leading ebooks stores and Amazon paperback.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

The melodies of shattered glass

Shards of precious shiny things look beautiful even in a rioted mess. The bits and pieces of shattered glass illuminated the bare ground with its reflected shine and beautiful it was. I looked into those shattered, glittering eyes and felt so attached and yet pained at seeing them. After all, shattered eyes only give piercing looks and could hurt one if touched. The sight of the beautiful mess belied the sharp edges that jut out of each glass piece. The yellow sunlight assured everyone with warmth and colour that dilutes the gaze from the shimmering ground.

Hollow eyes. Broken inside. He wasn't the hero-to-be. He was just another guy who watched too many girls falling for good guys kind of fairy tales. He didn't know that life wasn't half as wonderful, pretty, perfect as movies promote. In a movie, 10 years is but a minute away. in 10 years, nothing changes, maybe the moustache, maybe the applied wrinkles but truthfully, a movie is never an adaptation in its pinnacle.

The guy had used the words used in a teen flick. He combed his hair. As if he could. He wore the heart of a brave nut and he was made to look the fool. Nothing was ever the fairy tale type. Girls would attest but for once, they are not right. The prince charming is but a superficial desire, for thought, care and love is often substituted by looks and charm. He looked at the girl's eyes and saw her pupils dilate and he wanted to say words that could charm a girl. He didn't and she wasn't the girl whom he thought he could turn to. She was just a girl, and he was just a guy. There was no fairytale fuck (in the sense nonsense, not sex).

I was just running away when i talk to her. When i try to get her gifts. When i thought i could talk her out of leaving. When i kept her christmas cards in my drawers that i am too gutted to give. When i went bollocks because of life. I was just being in denial. I was just thinking, no no this isn't true. My life is better than a movie. But its not. Its just a life that is not created in the kingdoms in the clouds in the heavens somewhere. It was just another life that has nothing to do with the fairytales, fantasies that are fed to us everyday.

Hope is but a distant memory. Do i want to hope that my fairytale is a prolonged soap opera? Or do i cut my sadness short and say enough? I've already known my answer, but i can't do it. Not because i don't want to, but because i just can't. I placed all my chips and more and luck and heart in it and nothing can be savaged. There's no blame, no regret, only sadness, only melodies. I do not hope for understanding, i just pray for a reprieve. Am i not punished enough? Did i not do enough? I know the world is unfair..

Friday, December 26, 2008

Sorry for the Insane

The man was young and brimming. He was the best of them all, but, perhaps, being alone at the top might not be the prized outcome anyone wants. The lack of challenge is stark and the openness to criticism damning. Must we all strive so hard towards such a tasteless outcome? He weaved a sword that ran down his waist and extended a long way out, and despite its lean and long built, it was indestructible, just as the man was. They were the living legends of their time.

A deep ponder into the world was a certainty for anyone who was as intellectual as he was skilled in all things mundane. He made swordplay look extraordinary and made anything done, reading a book, telling a joke, into a thing that is desired. But then again, when we look deep into this world, what are we fighting for? The survival of sloths? The queue to nothingness? The love that is fleecing as it is fleeting? A wrong step or should I say, a misrun of secular thought, and the nothingness that suddenly alerts the nimble mind might drive anyone into madness.

"We breathe, but we do not live."

"We love, but it is never enough, it never sustains. It goes away and we are left reeling in defeat."

"We fight and petty over small things that, in the end, make no difference to our lives."

Even a mentally strong Sephiroth couldn't resist the indulgence of foul thought and it spreaded into his life, his veins, his breath, his love but most of all, his passion and desire.. This world is so sad. It shouldn't live. Everyone fights for futility and only get it when they die in no honour. They do not know the lack of worth in their plies and they should not suffer unnecessary pains. They deserve the end of my blade in their throats. I should end all misery. They deserve nothing less. HeHeHeHe.... *sniggers* HAHAHAHAHA.. *laughter that chilled the bones*

The only solace the world could feel was that Sephiroth wasn't a god, but the world should be afraid, for nothing is a certainty in time's passing, even the absurd morality and wild imaginations.. Humans have more power than they can ever imagine..

Thursday, December 25, 2008

You said it wasn't true (part 1)

There was no sound, no wind, no movement and no feelings in the air. No one was at this place.. alive. A sea of red seemed to have flooded the town, leaving it bloodied and so foul that it would warn anyone that the town could bear no one. The smell was revolting and the emptiness and nothingness was arrestingly cold. Days passed, and still, no wind, no birds, and nothing moved.

I wasn't one of those people who had loving parents. I wasn't one of those who looked for jobs to find answers rather than question. I had a guardian who took me in as a virtual orphan. I had freedom, love, care and things that i need and don't need. I was lucky nonetheless. It has been years since I visited my hometown. I miss her. I miss the smiles. I dreamt of them and I am on my way to Yamei.

The old man who loved me as his own had a funky smell. Old people smell, is what me and Zack called it. He was the most gentle human being on Earth, and he cared more than anyone, including girls, could. He had his logic, his quirkiness and philosophies but he never failed to listen to my views, my beliefs and my imaginations. My guardian, Yuhuan, on the other hand, was a fierce lady. She was beautiful but protective of me as I hadn't the strength to do so. She was the mother I never had. Many men mistook me as her own and still asked her out, but she was never lucky with love. Maybe i was her jinx, but she loved me all the same. Time aged a beautiful girl into a demure and self-assured lady and she seems to grow shorter as i grew taller. Her frown everytime i did something wrong grew deeper into her forehead and i still feel guilty of making her fume every time.

When we decided that i were to join Shin-ra to be a soldier, i saw the droplets of tears in her eyes when she was at our little cottage door, waving at me as i left with my gunny sack. I knew she was proud of me. Now I am a Soldier and no longer a recruit, she must be ecstatic. I haven't gotten a letter from her for months, but she used to send them every week. Her old lady's scent still lingers in my mind. Ah Yu, will you remember me? I love you so much, and like the old man once said, without pre-conditions.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

17 Hours ago..

Your heart is cold. Your breath is warm, your body is made of blood that is red but i only felt the cold, cold ice that is your heart. Burnt with apathy, sickened with mockery and beaten in entirety, your scaly hand still haunts the skin of my sweaty right palm.

The nursery rhyme occasionally plays out in the marketplace. The familiar old radio ekes out what's left of its batteries through jarring sounds, pauses and the occasional nursery rhyme that goes " dum, ta, dum" and drones off.. The shops aligned together was a bustling lot and no one could tell about its checkered past. A boy with a blade that was so big it could eclipse the sun walked into its precinct. A worn out radio on the table of a shop selling ice drinks played out happy tunes that hold no hint of sorrow and the boy was just stoic. He listened to the tunes that go "dum, ta, dum" which drones off and he remembered happier times that were once a reality.. Were they?

It wasn't the same town that the boy could relate to, and it wasn't a familiar sight to behold, but its people were the gems that glittered and littered around this place. Everyone had smiles, and looked like behind their smiles, only happiness encapsulates their being there.

He hesitated a step further into this happy town, ashamed that his tiredness, his honour, his existence, his painful heart and broken memories that do not befit a place as precious as this. Of course, this was a biased view from a biased man and more often than not, a biased man is not one with logic. He never said to himself that he was a loving man. Perhaps to him, it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever fill the gap of a rejected heart.

"Young one, why aren't you inside this happy town? Come on in.. " said an Old Man who eyed the young lad from his stall that greeted the visitors immediately at the entrance of the town.

"Where are you from?" asked an Old Man who had slits for eyes, eye sags for eye lashs, a big nose for a big nose and he wore a nice red cloak. His wrinkles protrude out of his forehead and looked like scars that never healed. But his mouth was wide with smiles, his presence seemed only capable of loving another and his tone was soft and gentle.

"I am from the lands of the forsaken, my good sir. I do not deserve the welcome of this town. I am scarred with too many pains of the world to feel at ease. I feel like a vermin who will only cause discomfort to you." said the boy almost patiently, but in a muffle.

A frail hand found its way onto a nervous young lad's shoulder and squeezed it to give reassurance that a visitor, no matter his background, was always welcomed into their lands.

"Promise me, we walk without pre-conditions and baggages of the past. For these are all i ask of you and no more, 'An'."


"It is the word for friend in my village, if you allow me to call you as such."

"Yes of course, and I will try my best.." the boy, sad but still loving, understood his words and tried to put on a faint smile that seeped of sorrow but nonetheless, a start..

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

I stared sorrow in the face and blinked

The night was dark and stars were out. The crescent was so bright it illuminated the dark canvas around it. The numerous flickering embers danced around the moon and at the same time, there was a campfire outside a tent somewhere which bore a languishing flame that eked out warmth as if forced to as it was too little for comfort. Everyone shivered and huddled around the flame and their gazes set on the burning mess in front of them. None dared to set eyes on the trees as too many stories have been told about the trees around them being the pontagonists of horror and shapes of all evil seem to converge with every tree and every branch linked together. Between moments, cold wind blew into the campsite and into their faces as they faced a wind hell bent on grabbing every item off the site and hurling them into the oblivion of darkness amidst the horrifying entities amidst the trees.

The girl without a face

In this world, pretense is a word brimming with irony. We associate it with fake and negativity but on the other hand, we behave as 'professionals' in front of others, pretend to be brave in the face of adversity and other positive outlooks that do not pull at the heart strings. Somehow, pretentious is bad whereas being professional is good and then we go and admire actors who pretend their entire lives away.

Why is this world so self-contradicting? We believe in theories, but theories are seldom right. We believe in love, but love is a non-existent yay nay. We believe in god but he is never physically there. And we condemn others who share the same mentality as us for reasons beyond my understanding. Reasons so absurd you just don't want to repeat it out because you sound foolish even by saying it out loud.

This girl wore a mental mask in a mental world. Everyone was faceless in this world. She wore a good heart but wasn't popular. The girls who were popular had colours to their faceless faces. The girl was lost in this world. This was a world that rejects and yet stays alluring enough for you to not let go. Dinner after dinner, a young faceless girl went around typing to whoever would see that she was only being herself. But in a faceless world, people are still superficial. Surely she cannot be beautiful with her lack of cunning and smart! They only want results. They only want themselves. The girl was a fool who thought that hard work was the first step to acceptance.

Another girl wore a faceless mask and roamed in said world. She had colours to her faceless mask and makeup to make her stand out. Beauty! They exclaimed. Is it even important? And then they look for ways to put her down, just as they did for everyone else. The girl became a diva she wanted. Every girl wanted to be important and paid attention to. The first girl also walks the path, thinking that the futility of life is bogus. She finds love bumping her way around..

We live in this world. Acceptance is probably the only way to live a perfect life. But what is acceptance? Giving up yourself or accepting yourself and others for who you and they are..? Do we have to change ourselves just so that others will accept us? Or do we accept others and hope others accept us for who we are.

Hope is scarce in a real world. I still hope.

Monday, December 1, 2008

A mesmash of thoughts

You give yourself away like you are a machine till your innocence bleeds out. After which, you look in the mirror and all you see is a shrivelled prune, not the fairy tale you had imagined, not the love that resonates for ages to come. This is a consequence of a crowd follower, a person scared of loneliness, decisions, futility that is, sadly, inevitable. Loving oneself never seemed so tough till i met your kind.

Death cannot be dealt with an ace. Death is just death. Your soul leaves your cacoon and you become part of the Earth you exploit. I know its tough to realise the insignificance not only of us, but of the entire human race and that it is tough to reconcile with the fact that we are just living on borrowed time, but its a truth of life. Recognition is only fleeting, for attention never lingers indefinitely. The only truth you can give yourself is to be yourself. Consequences are a certainty that slaps us in the face for we are the sum of our actions..

You want to be loved, but you do not love yourself. You want to be free but you trap yourself. Humans, borned with intellect and self-awareness, are still confounded by their own stupidity and actions. Well, I can only look upon you dearly as I know you are just bamboozling your way in your life. I wouldn't have it any other way.

After all, who is to say significance is bore by one and not the other. We are all mere mortals of flesh and any presumed certainty is uncertain in an uncertain world. Keeping factors constant and certain is but a way to deceive self and others.