calistademente

[calistademente]

BARE, UNPROTECTED.

2021.11. 22 at 11:33 p.m. Sunset Apartments

A stream of water from the sink, a lady in silent tears and mumbled cries, hoping the incidents from a few minutes ago was all just a dream. But it was not. It was real, as real as the bloody knuckles she has been washing aggressively with soap.

I AM TERRIFIED.

Never in my life had I been paralyzed of the fear I felt inside, not even when I had received of the news that my mother had gone missing. I felt like the living soul inside of me has been sucked out from my body. I had not left my apartment for more than a week now.

And the only time I decided to bravely face the storm in the form of zombies, was the only time I also got myself in a dilemma. Just a few minutes ago, I was cautiously making my way back to my apartment from a full day’s worth of work. I managed to arrive at the Sunset Apartments safely unscathed and saw a drunk man passed out by the front door. Thinking that he was harmless, I tried to wake him up and realized that it was my neighbor a few floors up my own. I tried to wake him up and help him reach his apartment door. He was a nice fellow when sober afterall.

But then he started convulsing. I thought he was having a seizure. I tried to secure his head from being conked on the wall, or worse, the floor. His eyes suddenly opened but it was all white. I scrambled with one hand over my bag to get a hold of my phone. I needed to call an ambulance. I was not trained for seizures.

Then he started grunting then snarling. Something about it sounded off to me. Then his mouth opened widely, aiming straight at my arm. I instinctively let his head go and rushed myself inside the apartment. I pushed the main door open and turned myself to close the door. But he managed to stick his head in. He was growling at me at this point, and he wasn’t bulging. I did not know what to do. I had to get rid of him. I wrapped my four fingers around my thumb, and said, “I’m so sorry.” I closed my eyes and made a decisive swing of a punch at his face. It was enough to made him stumble back. I hurriedly closed the door shut and ran up my apartment.

It was only when I was safely inside that I realized my knuckles were bleeding. I rushed to the sink, hoping that this was just nothing but a scratch. However, I saw teeth marks. It was not a bite mark, but the teeth went deep. It explained the stingy feeling on my knuckles. I was bitten.

I let this fact sink in. Perhaps this was nothing, I pray it was nothing.

A few minutes later, a knock was heard on my apartment door. A concerned neighbor was calling my name. I followed where the voice was coming from and that person’s scent overwhelmed my senses. I snarled. My body instinctively rushed and rammed the front door.

-----------------------------

2021.12. 04 at 05:49 p.m. Salvatore Medical Center

In hushed voices, they discussed her case. Out of the many whom were afflicted with the virus, she was one of the few who still has yet to awaken.

They found her wandering around the streets of New Orleans. Unlike the usual trend of zombies having mob mentality, she was quite unique having to roam the streets by herself. Her white dress was now spoilt with mixture of dirt and blood. Her hair was loose and tangled. She was holding a half-eaten stale baguette in one hand while her mouth is full of the rest of the baguette. It seemed like someone managed to stuff the baguette in her mouth to stop her from biting anyone.

It also seemed that she had no intention of biting anyone. It was easy for the research team to capture her and made her one of the few experimental zombies to test their antidotes with. Out of the many, she seemed to be immune to most of their antidotes made. After a few more hours and too many trials, the team managed to revert her back to her human self. She was medically stable and was onto her road to recovery.

It had been more than a week since she was transferred to the Salvatore Medical Center. There was still no sign of her waking up.

Her identity remained anonymous as no one has yet stepped up to identify her. Although revered as the as a skilled patissier, Calista's identity remained to be a mystery only few had known as she rarely shared her portrait photos in social media.

The doctors had been trying to identify the cause of her comatose. Their main culprit is that she might have sustained brain injury while being afflicted by the virus. Little did they know that although the antidote managed to eliminate the virus in her system, the prolonged presence of the antidote in her system is now doing an adverse effect.

Her bodily organs are slowly malfunctioning. She was now heavily reliant on the oxygen machine to pump the air in and out of her system. The doctors were yet to discover that the arteries of her heart were now starting to form clots, blocking the blood flow.

Yet, Calista was fighting on. The entire medical staff in the intensive care unit were at awe at how this young woman is managing to stay alive despite the odds against her.

The police had arrived to check on her. Her identity was now finally on the list of their priority.

Their were two officers sent by the City Police Department to check up on her. They have managed to interview the medical staff attending to Calista and was now observing the unconscious young lady who was one step closer to death.

"Isn't this Sage's ward?" one of the officers wondered. "You know, the baker at Cafe Du Monde?"

#vagabondawakening #insidious

[calistademente]

INTO THE FOREST

2021.07.01 at 6:28a.m. Calista’s POV

Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. I am not going to lie; I am nervously excited right now like a thrilling shiver is running down my spine. I am a few feet off the ground, following a tiny pixie down the forest. I swear, I would recommend flying to anyone who wants to visit the Wanderlust Forest. Everything is majestic in this point of view compared to hiking an hour ago.

He told me to walk ahead. He said he will be right with me as soon as he parks the car safely. I was expecting a six-footer big burly man to approach me, what I get was his six-inch tiny pixie form. His wings shimmering like dew drops on a spider web in the early dawn. It was nearing daybreak; I can see the first rays of sunlight peeking through the dense forest. I have been walking for a good 20 minutes before my pixie father caught up with me. You might think that I am a pixie myself but unfortunately (or fortunately, looking at it on the bright side) I am a human being. Let me break my origin story down for you.

My father here is a muse pixie. A muse pixie is a sub-species of pixies that is talented in all fields of art. In short, my dad loves to assist other people with their creative abilities. He worked for a solid two decades with the Brooklyn Museum as a curator, has a good eye on artistic individuals, and most of the time, he helps them overcome their creative block.

My late mother (bless her star) was the previous bloom pixie princess. Yes, my mother was part of the royal family of the pixies before she gave it all up to live with my father. But before she did, she developed her own kind through her strength and passion so basically, there are bloom pixies still around to do her work until a new royal is crowned. As a bloom pixie, my mother's touch alone can bring a wilting flower back to life. She was a renowned wedding florist all-over NYC. She was also the reason why baking cakes and pastries became my own personal passion.

My pixie parents met here in New Orleans upon my father's visit with The Queen, Her Majesty the Queen of the Pixies. That was when he met my mother and they fell in love. Unfortunately (or fortunately, as my father would like to insist) pixies are born from a true love’s first kiss but they cannot be conceived. So, when my pixie parents mated, they begot me, a human child. Thus, despite my pixie origins, your girl is just as human as everybody else. The only thing that is a little different with me is my amount of luck (which my parents call a blessing). Not that I am bragging but I must admit I always have beginner's luck in everything I do. I have a green thumb and an artistic eye; my parents can certify on that.

This was not my first flight with fairy dust. I had that an eon ago when I was six years old. My parents had sprinkled few handfuls of fairy dust on the top of my head, and I found myself lightly lifted off the ground in a featherlike pull. This was after my parents told me about them being pixies and the Wanderlust Forest and I insisted that I should fly too. What they did not tell me, until recently, is the dangers one is subjected to by simply being a pixie. It was the very reason why we lost my mother. The NYPD could not locate her whereabouts and she left no traces of herself. It broke my father to pieces to a point of becoming a shell of his past self. We would drove to Brooklyn Bridge Park, and he would just stare at the stars like a dazed madman. This went on for two years and it almost drove me insane too until one day dad had a eureka moment and screamed bloody murder in the middle of the park on the night of my graduation day (coincidentally, my birthday). At first, I felt so embarrassed the grass could eat me as their fertilizer but as I look up the night sky, a solitary tear came down my cheek as I remembered my mother's words, "When we die, we become stars. That way we'll always be with you." She told me this one night after I woke up from a nightmare when I was a child. I was so guilty that I had forgotten she told me that.

What felt like an eternity of a roller coaster ride finally came to an end as we approached an old oak tree that at first gave me the impression that it was dying. It turned out to be the most beautiful and largest tree I have ever seen. As I was flying to it, it felt like it was welcoming me with open arms. The restlessness inside me dissipated, I could only feel a sense of inner peace. It was the most indescribable feeling I have ever felt in my three and two decades of living. It felt like home. It felt like mom.

#introductory post

[calistademente]

#blossom pixie #muse pixie