Scraps (1) Black Widow

I was rummaging around my files in my laptop when I happened to stumble on a folder labeled "stories".  Curious, I opened it and lo and behold! some unfinished writing attempts that I made to let out creative-writing efforts some years ago.

Here's one example:

Black Widow

“Coming to me is but a portent of doom, Lady Seal,” the Dark Mother said as she caressed her young, placing them on intricate webs of silken thread spun from her hands.  She was arrayed all in black to honor her surroundings – or was it to mourn her dead husbands who met their deaths in her loving hands.  Her hair was adorned with her own weaving, complimenting the shock of white peeping through her hair.

“I came to see what is in store for the future,” replied Alyxandria.  “My future.  I do not seek what I already know.”

“Future, you say?” asked the Widow, “Why not asked your sister, Yukino?  Her visions are as potent as mine.  Maybe even more so.”

“I do not consider her as a friend anymore,” she replied, irritated, “Let alone as a sister.  She betrayed me when she turned her back on me.”


“Yes, betrayed!”she shouted, “All of my so-called friends turned their backs on me the day they found out that I was the catalyst, the one who would destroy the world!  I was afraid….  I did not want to be the reason of the annihilation of the ones I love.  When the darkness started to whisper, when the shadows began to stalk my every step, I went to them, to confide in them that I was beginning to suspect myself as the very creature that we were so afraid to meet and to ask them to help me.

She sighed, “Yet, they spurned me and I cannot forgive them.”

The Widow looked at her thoughtfully, eyes glowing with knowledge: “The webs of the fates of the Seals are tangled and I only weave them as a reflection of the threads they, themselves, weave.  I can show you things that were, things that are and some things that have not yet come to pass.  Choices are, ever, set before you.”

Mwahaha. I think this story was conceptualized one lazy afternoon with my college roommate. We were just there, immersed in ennui,when out of boredom I suggest we make up a story about four, young, girls - their fates intertwined, the world in their shoulders, with crazy things happening to them. I remember we made such a complicated history for their ancestors that we, ourselves, were getting dizzy as to who's who and what happened to whom and who killed whom.

Good times. We did not write any of it. We just chatted, kept the ball rolling, bouncing plots to and fro, adding, subtracting, and modifying every day when we just happened to be in the room during our vacant periods.

This is one of those times I attempted to write some it. LOL

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