Look at the pretty brownie :)


I do have another account which I guess I’ll use for writings. But this blog is kind of different because, It is mostly for pictures, videos and art (Which I do a lot) I will probably do  reflections for the art pieces that I do but, you can mostly expect pictures, just a lot of pictures. I’m not really good with words so this is how I choose to express myself.


Death And The Strange Love Part 4

He was jealous. He could admit it to himself. She got all the attention, however, which child wouldn’t? She was lovely and was always dressed in beautiful clothing. Every day was like a fashion show when her Mother picked out her clothes and tried them on her. Her first words were “Mama” and “Papa”. He liked it as much as her parents did. He loved the sound of her voice, it sounded like little bells. Although he wished that her first words were something more interesting like “sky” or “Moon”, something out of the ordinary just like her.

But, he was jealous. She had gotten more attention than he ever did in his entire lifetime. It actually pissed him off. On the day that she was brought home, her cousin sneaked into her room and planted kisses all over her without her Mother’s knowledge. He never got kisses like that from anyone, not even his Mother who was always busy dealing with the trouble his other siblings caused. This jealousy grew throughout her toddler years and he almost wished that she would get into trouble or get scolded by her parents. His jealousy often got the better of him though, because when she started to learn to walk he would quite often make her trip and fall. She wouldn’t cry but it somehow satisfied him. One day while she was playing in her crib, he appeared before her and told her. She was so distracted by her toys she didn’t even realize he was standing there until he cleared his throat. Once he had gotten her attention, he inched his face closer to hers and stared straight into her deep brown eyes and said it.

“I Hate You.”

She just continued to stare at him. He waited. He wanted her to respond to him. They continued their staring contest until she finally cracked a smile and started laughing hysterically at his face. He rolled his eyes and sighed before disappearing before her eyes, to which she had squealed in delight and clapped her hands. Now, up to this point, we have not discussed, where Death lives. The reason why is because he doesn’t really have a house, in fact, he lives wherever he pleases. The world IS his home. He was a wanderer after all and wanderers didn’t have a fixed place to live.  So after the failed attempt to antagonize the toddler he sat on the roof of her house and vented out his frustration. How could she not find that scary? How could she not find him intimidating? “Such a strange child” he muttered under his breath. He slumped against the rooftop tiles and stared out into the dark night sky. It made him think about his Mother, was she aware of the fact that he was turning into a creepy child stalker? He shook his head, laying back against the tiles and closed his eyes.

Death And The Strange Love Part 3

Her little pudgy hands more often than not touched everything. The furniture, her Mother’s makeup, and even her Father’s shorts. She would hold the edge of his shorts and follow him wherever he walked. She also had a fetish for underpants. It was strange. She would grip the edges of unused underpants and feel the material between her fingers as she drank her milk or ate her food. Her Mother was the second person to notice it apart from Death, though some parents would have stopped their child, she let it be.

Death watched as the infant grew each day, she was a fast learner with a sharp mind. She could have very well been gifted if not for her worrisome nature. She had potential; a lot of it to be exact and it may or may not go to waste. There were times, however, when he was angry with himself, for taking an interest in a lesser being, he was a being of a higher power with immense recognition and was highly feared by all. What was he doing watching over a human? Why was he drawn to her? Why her? He couldn’t find an absolute answer to this mind-boggling problem. It made him angry, he was outright angry about the fact that he didn’t understand why he felt this way about this baby. He wanted, needed, to tell someone. Life would laugh at his face, his brother Dream would concoct an extra-strong sleeping potion to help him sleep it off, probably and his Mother, Night would simply tell him to get a grip and carry on. One reason why he never asked his Father for advice was that they just could not see eye to eye on many things. Darkness was a rather eccentric man with absolutely no sense of humor and he was the kind of man who could turn a friendly discussion into a full-on fistfight and he would almost always win.

Death liked to think of himself as a self-made individual. One who grew up based on his own rules and never had to depend on anyone for help, not even Dream, his twin. Dream was a softy, forever concerned about his twin. They had had a kind of connection since birth. They could just sense when something was wrong with the other. But he didn’t want to bother his Brother with something as silly as this. As for the rest of his siblings, probably not, considering they were very much like their Father, dark and sinister. Furthermore, he didn’t want the infant to have to face anything adverse that would cause her to do drastic things.  For his siblings were some of the most dangerous beings known to mankind.

Death And The Strange Love Part 2

He followed her. Everywhere. From the time she came home from the hospital to the very minute she could crawl, he was there. He recorded her every movement so carefully in his mind and whenever he was bored or done with whatever task he had he would go back to her. Almost eager to see the little triumphs she had as a toddler.

The more he watched her the more attractive she seemed to appear to him. Her hair was always cut into a pixie cut with loose curls cascading her forehead. Her eyes were brown, the deepest brown, just like the coffee he got at the coffee shop. He knew she had height even before she had her growth spurt. Her baby fat would fade away as she aged and her body would grow into a womanlier figure. Her mouth was pink and rather tiny like a baby bird and it often remained closed but whenever she smiled, oh her smile. He longed for her to smile, for her mouth to quirk up and for her dimples to appear. It did something to him as if he was lit up from the inside. He had never felt that way in centuries and this little human had managed to do it.

He witnessed her laughter and her tears. He saw that she was special. Not that everyone had similar opinions about her. Some adored her whereas some had a sort of resentment towards her. He saw the jealousy surrounding the infant and for the first time in a long time felt concern for another. She was to face a lot of obstacles in her life he concluded and she was to face them in her own way which meant that for half the time she remained alive nobody would fully understand her inner struggles and nobody would be aware of them. She had learned to speak at about two years old, everything she saw she spoke out loud like all “Innocent” children. He came before her just to see if she would scream or run away in fear, though he hoped she wouldn’t. To his surprise, she didn’t, all she did was point straight at him and yell “Monster!” This for some reason made him panic as if his cover was blown, but he slowly regained his composure and stood firmly in front of her. This time she stumbled toward him and looked up into his eyes. The minute he laid eyes on her brown ones he saw everything. She would become an emotional person whose emotions would probably get the better of her on most days. But what made him even more worried was her heart. It was prone to break, not by love, loss or tragedy but by fear. He saw everything when he looked at her, it was tragic and beautiful but it was real.

Death And The Strange Love Part 1

The little girl was the spitting image of her Mother, yet when she got angry she seemed to have the temperament of her Father. Most people would think this was great because children are supposed to have similar traits as their parents. But from the time she was aware of her surroundings, the little girl had always wanted to stand out. She wanted to be her own person and that was one the most challenging things to be.

She had first child syndrome. The need to impress people, to show that she was special. It didn’t really help that she had a considerable amount of shyness. Yes, unfortunately, she was incredibly shy, too shy to do anything and yet she appeared the exact opposite. She would sing, dance, yell and laugh. She was trying, maybe, to overcome it in her own way. But as far and she was aware of it, she was shy. The truth was, was that she wanted to be noticed; she wanted people to respond to her. She enjoyed the attention and it made her want to do better. And pay attention they did. People found her incredibly adorable (not exactly what she was expecting). She had so much life, so much so, that she caught the attention of an unlikely character. Death.

Death was a wanderer. That was all. That was all he did, just wander around and wait for a soul to collect. This ancient being took an interest in an ordinary and painfully shy human being. He came across her at the hospital she was born in. He had been watching. He had been drifting through the corridors of the labor wards and caught the site of an unusual labor. The Mother was breathing from an oxygen mask and trying to push her baby out. It was an amusing situation. He paused at the doorway and waited to see the child take its first breath. Life must be somewhere around here, she was always difficult to catch. They had had coffee a couple of times but that was it. She didn’t really take much of an interest in him. Nobody did.

When the moment came for the child to be born, he watched as the doctors scrambled to get into position. He watched as the Mother’s face crumpled in agony, as the child moved through her womb slowly. Droplets of sweat trickled down her lovely pale cheeks and neck. He thought of all the statues he had come across in Paris once, as he continued to stare at her. He felt the tearing of the vagina and the intense pain and discomfort it brought the woman in labor. In that moment, he thought about all the tireless acts of sacrifice women went through, thoughts were random and they often came to him one after another whenever he watched humans carry out their lives. Death was a deep thinker. He finally saw the tiny, hairy head of the baby as it was pushed out of her opening. He held his breath in anticipation as he waited for it to cry out. Signaling its arrival into the world. Once the doctors cut its umbilical cord and wiped it clean, both parents looked anxiously at the sound, the cry. But, nothing could be heard. The Mother looked at the doctor nervously but he just smiled at her amused and slapped its bottom, to which the infant let out a slight whimper before going back to sleep.

Death stood there watching everything. Confused. It was sleeping? Strange child. It wasn’t very often he came across infants who didn’t cry when they were born.

From that moment on, Death the wanderer whom nobody was particularly interested in, took an interest in a living breathing human being.