by R. K. Star
“You shall see!” The third shadow man spoke. “Writhe in agony and fade to the black, become nothing,” he spoke in a creepy croaky voice. A darkness came from his body and floated above as he disintegrates into it.
Isvara could feel a strong presence now. There was a strong energy signature with this darkness that extruded from him. In the darkness, she could see horrid creatures of twist limbs and rotting flesh. Bones protruded from the flesh and scales that dug into the corpse. These creatures were no longer recognizable as humans. She could smell the scent of gangrene and decaying flesh.
“I am the power; your darkness has no influence over me.” Isvara had a strong affinity with light and she had her placid look on her face again. They would not take her the way they took Sami. She slammed her staff on the ground and a light emitted from the head of the staff. The light radiated brilliantly and pushed against the darkness. The darkness screamed and backed away.
“Writhe in agony, suffocate in obscurity at the eclipse.” The second shadow man spoke while his body disintegrated, a darkness emerged from his body. The darkness combined together to form one. They pushed against the light but darkness had a natural weakness against light.
“Writhe in agony in the darkness of the shadows.” The final shadow man spoke still coughing up blood. He cried in pain as his body disintegrated. The darkness slowly combined together.
Isvara felt the presence of the three men in this darkness. This shadow form was new to her. In her millenniums years of life, she has never witness someone take such a form. She saw many horrid creatures in the darkness floating around just waiting to get at her. One came directly at her. It had sharp protrusion for claws and was missing its lower half with its spine flinging around. Its eyes were pitch black. Some of its fangs were supra erupted and others were missing or decayed. Parts of its skin was ripped off and the flesh decomposed. It still had all of its hair and was overgrown all the way to its spine. Its nose was cut off and the nasal bone was visible. The creature screamed in hunger as it flew towards her. She brought her staff up towards the creature and the light overwhelmed it. The light roasted its necrotic flesh and the creature shrieked in pain and backed off.
The darkness was pitch black but quickly got blacker and blacker. It was a nonexistent shade of black, a black that was never seen before not even Isvara had seen something so void of chroma or hue before that it lacks any sense of imagery.
The voices in the darkness spoke together in a raucous tone, “Writhe in agony.” The word agony echo continuously in the same tone but more silent.
“You cannot imprison me,” the light from her staff grew brightly, more radiant then the sun.
“Feed the dark.”
The darkness crept closer to her. It extinguished her lustrous light. It made a complete circle around her, cloaking around. She couldn’t see anything anymore, not the weeds on the ground, not the birds in the forest, not the clouds in the sky. She only saw this black and the horrid creatures that was swimming around. She felt alarmed and a sense of urgency. Never had she seen her death before but she felt it, she could taste death in her lips and it almost made her gag, she almost had to vomit. She felt anxiety and her heart began to race, it hammered against her chest and she could feel her muscles moving because of it. Her body had not flooded with adrenaline in thousands of years but now it was telling her to run she had to get away. Her body could feel the impending doom. The dread left her conscious body uneasy, it was acting on its own. Her legs were shaking, she couldn’t move and tears came down her face. She was trapped in a nightmare with a horrible feeling of despair. She had to fight this if she wanted to survive.
“I am the power! The star of light! No darkness can contain me!” She shouted and raised her staff in defiance.
Light burst from the staff and sent the creatures screeching away in agony. The light broke through the cloak of darkness that was surrounding her. Bright rays of light shot through and ascended towards the heavens. She stopped shaking for a moment, she was having a victory moment in the battle. The light was winning and pushing the darkness back away. She felt confidence and raise her staff as high as she could and let the light emanate outwards. A smile crept up on her lips. The adrenaline rush started to subside and she found her breath again.
Suddenly three voices spoke in unison in a disgusting and ghoulish voice. “This darkness can…”
The darkness became even more black and oozed forward, it closed around the light that had broken through, sealing her in darkness again. The agony of the black weakened her body and her knees buckled causing her to kneel. She raised her staff above her but she could feel the strength from the darkness pushing against her light and slowly growing stronger and stronger.
1
Beginning
Life for me was unique. My mother was pregnant with me when she was sixteen and gave birth to me at the age of seventeen. I never met her as she passed away after I was born. She didn’t get to hold or see me. My foster parents James and Alice Nito got the information from the Christian orphanage that raised me for the first three years of my life. I have no recollection of my time at the orphanage. I was told my mother health was poor, she had a heart defect known as aortic valve stenosis. When she was pregnant with me it was an ectopic pregnancy where the embryo is implanted outside the uterus. My mother was advised to have an abortion because of possible complications. Usually the parent would be consulted in the case of a minor but because my mother was an orphan that left her foster home long ago she had no legal guardian. She had a false identity that she bought from someone on the street. The ID had her face on it with a fake name stating she was twenty-one years of age. She looked younger then eighteen but with her fake ID she was able to get around fine. She was homeless for most of her life but she had a strong will and she knew what she wanted and wouldn’t be deterred by anyone. And she was determined to bring me to this world despite the significant risks.
On August fourth, I was born and my biological mother died. After she gave birth to me she had uncontrollable bleeding and was hemorrhaging from the inside. Her major organs went into shock. Everyone in the emergency room scramble trying to keep her vital signs under controlled. They planned and prepared for an emergency in the case that after the delivery things may have a sudden turn for the worst. Despite being prepared they weren’t able to save her. Her blood pressure plunged, it was record that it dropped to 54mmHg/41mmHg for her systolic and diastolic levels. She went into shock and was declared brain dead. The doctor did several tests, they check her reflexes, check her response to pain. They check if her brain responded after carbon dioxides level rose in her blood, if it would cause any stimulus to the brain. These tests were confirmed by another doctor and because my mother had no guardian to make the decision to keep her on life support or pull the plug. The state step in and made the choice for her. They took her off life support after her organs were harvest. I would like to believe she was a kind woman base on the very few things I knew about her. The fact that she wanted to give birth to me even if that put her life at an incredible risk. The fact that she wanted her organs to be donated so other people could benefit.
Since my mother passed before she named me the orphanage church had the pleasure. They gave me the name Mary. My mother’s surname Systani was used. That’s how Mary Systani was put on the orphanage website adoption site. When I was three years old my picture was taken and posted with some information. I was labelled as mixture of Caucasian and other. They couldn’t figure exactly where my original nationality was. My mother appeared of mixed racial features and no one knew who was the father, my mother never mentioned him. I had light reddish-brown hair. With a very light shade of green eyes. Luckily, I had fair white skin without freckles that plagued red heads. It wasn’t long before I was adopted. When I look at my baby picture I was cute and adorable.
My father Jinlian Nito or James as he preferred, was from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. He always talked fondly of Malaysia besi
des the job prospect. Everyone dropped out of school at a young age to help at the family farm or go out to work. He realized early he was making little money and would never get out of poverty. He gave most of the money he made to his parents, throughout the years of working from a teenager to becoming a young adult. But he always saved a little bit for himself and stowed it away, never spending it on candy, toys, or prostitutes that young boys of his age were fond of. Once one of his friend lost his virginity to a prostitute, he came back and told him and his group of friends how great it felt to feel a woman’s breast and to be inside her. From then on, they all been hooked, visiting the brothel houses every pay day. Brothel houses and gambling shacks were the common places young men visited. When he was nineteen he left his parents, three brothers, two sisters and move to American for better opportunity. He didn’t arrive in America through legal immigration but through an illegal seafarer. He bargained with the seafarer for months before he got it down to a price he could afford. It was all the money he saved throughout the years and it got him a small corner spot in the lowest deck of the ship next to the lavatory. He smelled the vomit and fecal matter for the entire duration of the ride. Luckily, if it could be considered so, after the first couple of days he got used to it and could no longer smell the pungent odour. He arrived starved and wasted away, losing almost ten kilograms over the weeks it took the ship to make the voyage. He left the ship with the same shirt he had on smelling of piss and shit.
Once he got to America his life changed quickly. He stumbled upon a river where the water was crystal clear. He quickly undressed and scrubbed his clothing why squatting naked by the river. He had brought a small bar of soap with him that he used to wash his shirt, pant, sock and underwear. The sun was hot that day and he laid his washed clothes on some large rocks while he jumped into the river. He vigorously scrubbed against his skin and removed a thick layer of dead skin, revealing a brand-new layer of soft smooth pink skin. Then he used what was left of his soap to give himself a final wash that removed the stubborn grease and dried sweat.
It wasn’t hard for him to find a job as he was physically fit and willing to accept a lower wage and wasn’t afraid of greasy and dirty jobs. He built himself from the bottom up, first getting a place to stay then getting a fake identity. Frequently he would send any extra money he had back to his parents.
A couple years later he met his wife, Alice Nito who was from Moscow, Russia. She left because she was depressed but never clearly specified exactly what made her want to leave. Nito was actually Alice surname. Because she came to American legally, James decided to switch his surname to her to help mask his illegal immigration. Although nobody ever came questioning him, after all those years had passed he wasn’t worried about being found out or being deported.
They tried but were unable to have any kids naturally and that’s where I came in. They tried for over three years then sought professional help. A special case involving my parents made it biologically impossible for the two of them to have children. Although separately they were both fertile but didn’t want to separate or have a child with someone else so I was adopted. They change my name to Layana Nito. My name was changed as a symbolic means, a new person with a new beginning. Honestly, I hated the name Layana and I wasn’t fond of the surname Nito or Systani. However, I respected my parents and love them as they treated me kindly with compassion and their hearts. I always thought I would change my name at a later date to something that resembles me. Why do we have to be stuck with a name not of our choosing. I want a name that was gentle yet strong something that wasn’t common and that would speak me.
Since I was just a little girl I knew I was different. I can recollect back to when I was around five years of age. I could sense the mood of my parents, especially in cases where they were particularly happy or angry. Usually my parents are happy people but I remember one time my mother was upset and later I realize my dad forgot their anniversary date. My mom could never stay mad at my dad and similarly my dad could never get mad at my mother. I could sense how deep their love was for each other. I could feel they had a similar love for me as well and it made me appreciate them more. I told my parents I could sense what they were feeling. They told me they could do the same, they could tell my mood by facial expression. I tried explaining to them mines were different and I could actually sense their minds. They laugh at me, gave me a crazy look and said I was just reading their expression. As I aged I started hearing voices and I thought I was going bonkers. I was different. I never bother explaining to anyone since I felt others also thought I was not quite normal. It was probably the reason why I didn’t have many friends.
One time I heard my dad say “74aug24,” the year he was born follow by the month and day he was born. I saw him doing online banking and I realize he hadn’t said a word but I read what he thought.
Telepathy the transmission of information without using any sensory perception of physical means.
It was something new that frighten me but eventually I was happy I was capable of.
2
Schooling
I had a cheerful time in elementary school, every day was ecstatic and blissful. Classes was so much fun and I had so many friends to play with during morning and afternoon recesses. Colouring was my favourite part of the day. I would draw pictures of what I want to become when I grew up and each day I want to be something different. During gym, the teacher would create fun games for us to play. My friends would always team us and go against our classmates. Dodgeball was so much fun, we would try to keep each other safe by watching each other’s backs. We chucked the ball as hard as we could however we weren’t very strong and the ball never travelled to the other side of the wall. Our chance of hitting the opponent came when they went to the centre, trying to throw the ball at us. I would stand sideways to make a smaller target while returning fire when they retreated after they threw their ball. I had good reflexes and I dodged most of the balls that came at me.
Birthday parties and sleep overs on the weekend were the best. We always play make belief and talk about silly things. Sometimes we would even talk about boys and giggle the night away until nine at night and were forced to go to bed. Days went by so quickly with playdates and summer adventures and before I knew it I was starting junior high.
Everyone matured in the flash of a moment. People that were friends with me in childhood started distancing away from me. I could hear them think I was weird. My ex-friends thought I was strange and they talked amongst themselves about how peculiarly atypical I was. They started off not inviting me to their parties and sleepovers, then to outings like movies, parks or the beach. Over the next year they spoke to me less frequently, the odd hello in the hallway and bye at the end of classes. New students viewed me as a loner and talked to me less and less. I was amongst the uncool and unpopular kids.
When next school year started, people began to tease me and bully me instead of only avoiding me. They were in big groups and picked on the weaker individuals to make themselves feel strong and powerful. I could hear in their minds they very self-conscious and uncertain of themselves. All bullies were weak in the mind but I was too scared to stand up for myself, I was weaker. One time I was caught in this fight with three other girls. They pushed me around and hit me, I had no idea why as I’ve never done wrong to them. I tried to hold the tears within but I could feel my eyes getting watery. I tried to stand up for myself and demanded them to stopped and pushed back at them. They only laughed and got more worked up. They pushed harder and with more malicious intent to harm me. I can’t remember who shoved me and I lost footing causing me to fall. The side of my temple on my forehead got cut that left me with a scar. The girls saw I was bleeding and tears were running down my face at this point. Although I stayed as strong as I could. I refused to whimper as the tears ran down. I glared back at each of the girls in their eyes and they walked off snickering. The other students nearby who witness the whole ordeal didn’t come and help me up,
they slowly walked away as if nothing happened.
When my mother saw me, she was so angry and went to see the principal. The three girls said we were playing around and I tripped and fell. I told the principle that many of my classmates saw what happened. When the principle called them in to ask about the event none of them told the truth. They all said they didn’t see what happened. In truth, I could understand why they lied, they were scared. They want to attend classes safe from humiliation and physical harm. Who wouldn’t be scared, some teenage adolescents can be so vicious. Ultimately the principal closed the case, he couldn’t find any just cause to punish any of the girls, so nothing came of it besides my mother raging with anger for the next month.
Lisa, Stephanie, and Joan were the three girls that gave me the scar. I detested them, I despised them but part of me wished I was in their circle of friends. If one day they invited me to hang out, I would accept and probably forgive them the same day. Acceptance and love is a universal desire and the three girls had all the acceptance of their peers. They were already applying heavy makeup and dressing up in designer clothing very tight and revealing but looking very chic. Fake eyelashes that were long and thick. They displayed themselves as wealthy and seemed to have everything. You could tell they were high maintenance from their personalities.
Every time I saw them I had an urge to walk up and clobber them in the face for giving me this scar. The scar bothered me every time I saw myself in the mirror and lowered my self-esteem. It reminded me I was worthless and unimportant. As much as I had wanted to, there was nothing I could do to the girls. I was too frightful they may hurt me again. When I saw them, especially Lisa who was the head of the group and the cruelest, I coward away. In grade seven they hardly noticed me and in grade eight they didn’t bother me much but grade nine was horrible. I was in the same class as them, I tried to sit away from them but sometimes the teacher had pre-arranged seating and I was stuck with them. They would make fun of my first name then make fun of my last name. They teased me and said Layana is a stupid name and I had a stupid last name. Sometimes they called me Banana Nito or Banana Nono was their favourite. I remember the phrase they would chant at me: ‘stupid Layana, stupid Layana, no no, she never says no to the banana. Sucking the banana, banana up her pussy and up her ass. You can hear the whore always moaning for more.’
