One Short #1– Dark Chocolate (not done yet, will update soon)

Title:  Dark Chocolate

Characters: Latte, Keith, Chocolate, Parkinsons, Janice, Joseph


Nice to meet you, I’m Latte and this year I’m 14. I’m a psychic, by the way.

I see through eyes that are not of my own… I feel pain; pain from deep within my heart, not my own, but belonging to others. It’s just my ability. It hurts my body, just a little when someone out there dies, but otherwise I’m all numb to it.

Sheesh, my heart’s so cold I think it must’ve been buried deep beneath the permafrost. I see myself in the mirror: the eyes that stare back to me are lifeless, like that of a stray that longs for death to end its suffering.

How I wish that were true.

Ch1: How it all began.

The blonde trudged down the alley, her hands on the wall to support herself and then she vomited. A hangover obviously. Rather miraculously, her eye shadow is still intact but the rest of her isn’t. She reaches for the hipflask on her garter, carefully hidden behind her slinky red dress and takes a sip of the amber liquid. Then another. A small bulge below her thigh betrays my unborn brothers; from a one-night stand on god-knows-when. I’ve watched this scene countless times in my dreams; my stillborn brothers, who’d later die never having opened their eyes. So many have died the tons of unborn siblings I have are due to sudden infant death syndrome or stillborn. My biological mother died giving birth to Keith.

Ch2: The story of a man and a woman

I knew a man. He grew up in a normal family, but he had excellent grades. It led him to enter a university and find a bride. The bride would be the only person he ever loved. Yet all she gave him were 2 children. He loved her but deep down, he wasn’t satisfied. Then he met her, the other woman. Their chemistry went pretty well, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty as he saw his pregnant wife carrying twins. He already had a son. Now he was going to have 2 more angels to brighten up the mansion he lived in.

Yet to imagine the sadistic joy he felt when his wife died. The only woman he had loved and would ever love. He was torn apart from going insane from grief or simply re-marrying; after all, hadn’t they promised back when she was alive to get along without her? He chose the latter, it led to him divorcing another four times and going on honeymoon five times in total. Still, he missed her, his wife, his bride, his childhood friend. Most importantly, the only woman he had ever loved.

Then the unbelievable happened. Still, he claims it to be the blonde’s fault. He had entrusted the only two heirs of his business to her after several sessions of failed trickery. He was defenceless, as usual, to her petty advances. He hated himself, since there was no way to face her when he died. So he drowned himself in sorrow, after having realised the steel-coldness of their relationship and losing the last remains of his heaven to her. Imagine the desperation he had felt at that moment and then the anger. He hurriedly rang up his lawyer and within 3 months, they were divorced.

Without her meal ticket, the blonde took to overboard dating, yet she paid the children no heed. She fed them, provided them with the necessities to survive and that was all. She wasn’t home a lot, so the older child became the parent to the younger. Still, at times they were sick, their neighbours took care of them. This way of growing up led the older child to multitask a lot of things; cooking while studying for tests, watching television while patching clothes, thus becoming the ideal future reverse-housewife.

Nice, isn’t it? Then I’d applaud your sick humour then. The man was my father. The father that both Keith and I shared. The blond bimbo’s almost insane ever since we got called back to the household this year as per request from yours truly and his wife.

Amazing, how having a slacking parent produces such a child. I was that child, with added supernatural ability aforementioned. I see through eyes that are not of my own, I feel the pain of others and I can delve into the minds of anyone I wanted to, though only in dreams. Conscious, I can summon objects and heal myself without any medication. The first and third ability comes naturally, the second only awakened after the blonde got drunk and beat me up. Then there’s also the empty sinking feeling I have whenever someone dies; I just know it and it feels as though I was standing in a room lit by countless candles and suddenly one goes out. I’ve also felt the pain of childbirth once when I went to the hospital; it feels like a winter gale so strong that it racks your bones, almost to the extent of tearing flesh from bone.

But sometimes I just don’t know what to call myself; cursed or blessed? I can feel pain, yet my heart is always empty, always cold. It hurts more than anything I’ve felt, that black hole in my heart.


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