#jennifer tolentino

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 4: Manic Pixie Dream Girl

Florante is having trouble telling reality from fantasy at this point. Does he even want to be involved with Jenny’s angel and demon nonsense? 

Which side should he choose? You’d think the angels’ side is the right path, but he has enough darkness in him to go demon too.

You can also find more chapters of my original fiction here. Please enjoy.

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Dismissal time came and went.

The friendless, listless Florante Galang shuffled towards his school service—a public utility jeepney (PUJ) turned private vehicle—in order to repeat the Groundhog's Day loop of him going home from class, waking up again to return to the same class, and having no one to talk to as he ended up scoring mediocre grades on his quizzes and quarterly exams.

Oh joy. It was like he was stuck in Groundhog's Day. The same day repeating over and over.

But the same could be said of every other student in Fatima School of Mandaluyong. He couldn't really complain.

He was neither the first nor last kid to be bored of the repetitiveness of school. Socially awkward kids were born every day.

Also, it wasn't as if the Philippines had its own version of the Groundhog's Day holiday either. Florante just liked that particular Bill Murray movie enough to reference it in his mind monologue; it was his closest point of comparison.

The only other metaphor he could think of was the eternal afterlife punishment of the Grecian mythological figure Sisyphus endlessly rolling a rock up a hill only for it to roll back down by the end of the day so he had to roll it back up again the next day. Forever.

He looked up. The ominous skies were in a dark mood, with the gloomy clouds looking particular dense and opaque. However, at least it hadn't wept out a dreary downpour.

He felt his spine tingle as he walked inside a parking lot that, just yesterday, served as a battleground against an indescribable floating monstrosity. The stuff that nightmares were made of.

He reassured himself that it didn't really happen anyway. It was all just a dream. Like him killing his bullies with special powers and whatnot.

Florante Galang pushed his idle musings of his friendless existence to the back of his mind as he skipped going to his school service and decided to ride the UV Express Toyota Tamaraw FX (a metered taxi) from Mandaluyong to Makati instead.

His body moving on its own.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

How far will Florante's delusions take him this time?

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 4: Manic Pixie Dream Girl

***

As the Philippines' financial center, Makati served as the city with the highest concentration of local and multinational companies in the nation. It was filled to the brim with banks, department stores, malls, and corporate offices as well as foreign embassies galore.

In particular, Makati's Ayala  Avenue contained the Philippine Stock Exchange's biggest trading floor. The city also ended up becoming Metro Manila's major entertainment and cultural hub for good measure.

As far as Florante Galang knew, Makati was the city of rich kids, business people, and trust-fund babies. Their biggest problem there was finding parking for their cars, since most of its residents owned their own car and rarely used public transportation (mostly taxis and buses).

Galang exited the FX and ended up wandering around the streets of Makati, with only one particular destination in mind.

His own gut feelings or instincts guided him through the unfamiliar labyrinth of an urban jungle.

Dully, with his body on autopilot, he asked around for the street where Jennifer Tolentino or the Tolentino Family lived. Remembering the first time he met her, with her telling him she lived in Makati.

He talked to tricycle drivers, passersby, and security guards in private subdivisions, asking where Jenny's address was (as indicated by a Post-It note he found in his bag), stopping to eat at the local 7-Eleven as a light squall of rain made the pavement glisten from neon lights.

Before Florante knew what had happened, he ended up in front of Jennifer's apartment in Makati again.

Like he sleepwalked over there. Or rather, commuted there instead of went straight back to his home.

Wait, again? Was he there before…? How did he even know it was Jenny's apartment?

Jeez. What was wrong with him?

***

Florante's blurry eyes cleared, only for him to see an apparition of the glasses-wearing girl in the horizon, her hair blowing from an unseen wind.

"Flor," she beckoned him after reaching him, holding a plastic bag containing what he presumed was her dinner.

"It's Florante," he said without thinking.

"I don't care," she answered back with a pout before smirking. "You look like a 'Flor' to me. Be mad. I'm still gonna call you Flor from now on."

"O-Okay." He felt his cheeks grow warm in spite of himself. Yeah, she did kind look cute in this light, didn't she?

He pushed back such nonsensical thoughts, with him trying to remember why he went there in the first place.

"So what brings you here? How'd you know my address? Or my phone number? Did you ask one of our classmates for it?" she asked, which made him become defensive.

Oh right. He called her first before going there. Right? Did he or didn't he…?

"No, no! It's not what it looks like! I mean, I…!" he stammered before blurting out how he found out about the address, not knowing how else to broach the subject of him seeing her name and face on all those older yearbooks in the library.

He became a stuttering mess. Their meeting didn't pan out as smoothly as it would've on T.V. and the movies, with them coming to a mutual understanding of what had happened after the jig was up.

She didn't even bring up how he told her that he remembered their fight with the spaghetti monster. This further convinced him that his fever dream of murdering his classmates was actually just that. A dream.

A bad dream. A nightmare. A power fantasy. That was just him blowing off steam from being bullied by using his own imagination.

His real self could never do such a thing. Right?

Oh wait, why'd he go there at Jenny's place in the first place? He had to explain himself!

He unzipped his bag then produced the photocopies of the yearbooks he got a hold of. One was her graduating in the 1960s. Another was her address from the yellow pages. Another, a Post-It note of her same address.

"I didn't believe the dreams I had were just dreams until I saw this," he said, finding the courage to speak and confront Jenny about his recent discovery, his mind a white haze.

Jennifer palmed her face. "I sure hope you realize just how bad this looks, right? You got my address and phone number from the yellow pages without me knowing then you went to my apartment unannounced."

"…I-I'm sooo sorry," he apologized profusely.

"…You just won't leave things well enough alone, can you?" Jenny said with a resigned sigh. "Come with me, then. Let's talk."

***

She led him to her apartment. They took the stairs instead of the elevator to get there since it was just located on the third floor.

He panted from the effort of climbing stairs but put up a brave front.

He kept his asthmatic wheezing to a minimum after realizing something that sent shockwaves to his whole body.

Florante's heart skipped a beat. This was his first time going to a girl's home.

Or even a classmate's home, to be honest. He didn't have any friends to speak of back in Fatima High, after all.

Florante entered the small rental apartment Jennifer Tolentino lived in, thinking it was about twice the size or more of his bedroom.

He excused himself as he stepped within the threshold of the apartment, looking around for Jenny's parents. However, they weren't there.

'Where are her parents?' he wondered. Were they away on a business trip? Was she sent to live in Makati to get her closer to school? Or maybe she was living with an aunt and uncle? A guardian?

Did her family live in the province? Did she live alone? Were they alone right now…?!

Florante gulped hard before he became aware of his wheezy breathing again. He took out the asthma inhaler inside his bag and took a puff. He then started breathing manually to calm himself down.

'Relax,' he told himself.

Oh boy. What'd he gotten himself into? At the back of his mind, he vaguely wondered if any of what was happening was normal. Wasn't he stalking her by doing this? She mentioned that was the impression he gave.

He then remembered he didn't really call her. That was also a daydream. Why did she somehow expect him to get there…?

Déjà vu filled him inside to the brim. Did he somehow end up here in her apartment because he went there before or something?

"Gabriel," she called out, which awoke him from his stupor.

Gabriel? Oh, right! That was what she called him back in his dream. Or was it a dream? Or was he dreaming right now?

Like he did when he wrote her address on a Post-It note and jumped on the roofs of houses and buildings from Pasig to Makati like he was Spider-Man? Wait, did that even happen?

He struggled to speak and stumbled upon his words.

"Gabriel? As in the Archangel Gabriel?" he asked her without thinking. "Why are you calling me by that name? Isn't he a legendary angel?"

Had he asked the same question before?

Jenny shook her head and patiently smiled, motioning for Florante to sit on the couch of her living room while she made some tea. "You're so picky with names. You don't want to be called Flor or Gabriel. But you're the same guy, in the end."

It was easier to hold a conversation with her in his imagination because in reality he was usually alone and barely talked to anyone.

He went straight to the point, saying things that would've embarrassed him in real life.

"I saw you in my dreams lately."

An awkward pause passed between them, making him regret saying anything.

"Oh. Is that so?" she asked, her lips as flat as a line as she blinked at him several times. Or she was batting her eyelashes at him?

He presumed she had just teased him with a nice dollop of sarcasm. Damn his inability to read social cues!

"Um, I didn't mean it like that," he clarified, feeling his cheeks grow warmer by the minute. "I mean, uh... I'm having déjà vu all over again. I've seen this dream before. We've talked inside your apartment before."

"Really now," she said, taking a sip of the tea she had laid out for the two of them on the table, her hazelnut eyes penetrating through him like the concentrated beam of sunlight from her magnifying lenses for glasses.

Florante turned away, his hand covering his mouth. His face on seeming fire.

A few weeks or months ago, he'd think his capricious feelings for Jenny was a betrayal of his crush on Laura Reyes, the prettiest girl in their class. However, that ship had long ago sailed.

Perhaps him moving on from Laura to Jenny was why he "saved" Jenny from his wrath in his other dream/nightmare where he murdered all his bullies with magical/supernatural powers?

Or maybe he should stop being so shallow? Honestly, falling in love with any pretty girl that treated him nice was pathetic. Ah, who knew? He should get his head out of the gutter. What was he doing there anyway?

More importantly, did they really just fight a gigantic spaghetti monster using elemental superpowers and, uh, super-fast germinating moss?

"Why'd you visit me from out of the blue, Flor?" Jenny asked, with her using that irksome nickname again. However, Florante ignored it.

"…Y-You're much older than you look, right?" he blurted out.

She raised an eyebrow at that statement. "Pardon me? What do you mean?" she asked, adding, "Don't you know it's rude to ask a girl her real age?"

'Only if you're talking to a middle-aged woman,' he thought to himself. However, he could feel the onset of a wheeze in his asthmatic breathing.

"It's true, isn't it? You're not a real teenager."

She dwelled on his words. "What if I'm not?" she asked gently, her voice barely above a whisper. Her dulcet tones sent tingles down his spine.

"So how old are you really? Was that really you in the 1960s yearbook? Are you an immortal? Am I an immortal too?"

"You could say that," she said, to his surprise. "Yes, that is a picture of me. I'm amazed I was able to get away with enrolling in the same school too, but the registrar never bothered checking who the other Jenny Tolentino is."

He shivered in spite of himself.

"They must've thought it's just a funny coincidence. Or that she was a relative of mine with the same name. Or they simply don't remember," Jenny explained.

Florante then asked, "Am I like you? Since you called me an Ophanim back then. I knew that wasn't a dream! You really did pretend to be a high school teen! We're both…!"

He gasped then let out a long exhale to prevent himself from hyperventilating.

"Did what happen the other day… yesterday… whenever it happened, really happen? You remember it too, right? The spaghetti monster?" he dared ask.

She must've known. She just said she received his call, even though he could've sworn he only called her in his dreams. He didn't have the courage to call her for real! Or visit her apartment for real. But here he was now.

Unless this wasn't real either.

Florante racked his brain of vague, forgotten memories of his past dreams, unsure of he was inside yet another dream, only this time more lucid. How lucid was he anyway?

Him mentioning the spaghetti monster incident made her snap back into attention, which jolted him backwards and made him murmur an apology by reflex.Was it something he said?

"So you remember me calling you an Ophanim, huh?" she asked.

He nodded slowly, with him not quite looking at her while he recalled their last significant interaction with one another.

"What's an Ophanim again? A wingless angel, was it? Is it that monster I transformed into where I could see everywhere because I had a hundred eyes or something? Just like that spaghetti monster we fought?"

He tugged at his collar, squirming in his seat at the intense gaze Jennifer gave him. Like fawn shrinking back at the headlights of a speeding truck.

Was he not supposed to carry on their conversation from last time? Did he do something wrong?

She softened her stare, the glint from her glasses disappearing, revealing her almond eyes. "That's right. You and the monster we fought are both Ophanim, Gabriel."

"There you go again," he said. "My name isn't Gabriel. Or Flor. It's Florante. And who are you supposed to be? Michael? Uriel? Or maybe…?"

"I'm Raphael," she said, confirming his suspicions.

"The ninja turtle?" he joked, but he then bowed his head and looked away when he saw her deadpan poker face, murmnring an apology for his lame joke.

"Well, that's… cute," she said of the joke, then asked, "What do you want, Gabriel?"

"…What do you mean?" he asked, inching away from her.

Instead of answering his question, she took another sip of her tea. "Fine. What else do you remember, Florante?"

Her using his full name caught his attention. He answered her question after a deep breath, sensing that she was testing him somehow.

So he told her everything.

***

Florante told Jennifer that he remembered his fever dream of murdering his whole class and destroying most of the school before facing off against Laura Reyes, who also somehow also got her own angelic powers.

This made him idly wonder if she were a wingless angel too. Wait, she had wings, right? She might even be a winged angel instead. He also recalled that Geronimo "Gerry" Jacinto faced off against him with his own superpowers too.

Gerry couldn't be an angel. He was more of a devil. A monster. A demon. His bully and daily tormentor being a holy being of light and goodness just didn't sit well with Florante.

Wait, didn't Jenny refer to the spaghetti creature as a demon instead of an angel…?

Then he talked about how he and Jenny ended up fighting against the tentacled monster from out of nowhere at the school parking lot, with her killing it with enchanted(?) moldy bread with mold that spread across its body like gangrene.

He then finished with him dreaming about going to her place before he ended up doing so anyway at the spur of the moment, resulting in déjà vu.

He left off the part where he wasn't sure if what he saw right then was itself a lucid dream or reality. Maybe because he feared this would result in the dream ending like before, so he kept that last bit to himself.

Let him dream this particular dream of him talking to a girl and being alone with her in her apartment for a little while longer.

"Well…?" he asked. She'd been listening in silence the entire time, with only occasional nods and sips of tea to break his long monologue. "What do you think? Did what happen the other day… yesterday… whenever, really happen? You remember it too, right?"

She then told him, "I'll be honest. I'm not sure if you're Gabriel just yet."

What she just said made Florante even more confused than before; like he was talking some sort of oral exam and happened upon a trick question.

"Pardon me? What do you mean?"

"I suspected you're Gabriel but I'm not yet sure because you're just an Ophanim right now."

He pondered her words. "Meaning?"

With steepled hands, she said, "You're a newborn angel. We call newborn angels Ophanim or Thrones. Your multi-eyed self is your true form for now."

"What do you mean true form? Stop joking! Am I Gabriel or not?"

"Newborn angels don't necessarily have famous identities. However, the truly exceptional ones might graduate to Cherubim or Seraphim level. Based on what you've accomplished before, I suspected you've become the newest avatar of Archangel Gabriel."

Her answer gave him a headache. "So you think I'm Gabriel but you're not sure?"

She shrugged. "You may or may not be the Archangel Gabriel. Right now, you're just a wingless Ophanim who could use your angelic powers while in human form. An egg but not quite the chicken."

"…And you're not an Ophanim yourself?" he asked.

"I've already gotten my wings," she answered with a shrug and a wink. "You still need to earn yours."

"…So what are we exactly?" he dared ask. "What are angels supposed to be?"

Jenny took her time sipping her tea. Since she was about to proverbially spill it.

"Angels. Demons. Devils. Monsters. Deities. Demiurges. Higher beings. Celestials. Different cultures call us different names. We might even be considered gods. Or superheroes."

"Really? Superheroes?"

"…Nah."

"Oh."

Jenny took another sip of her tea with a small smile. She murmured something under her breath that Florante couldn’t quite catch.

"What was that, Jenny?" he asked.

"So did you really intend to kill your classmates back then?" The bespectacled girl asked, the hair on her head starting to dance and twirl from an unseen gust of wind. Weird. "Even if it was a dream, no person normally dreams of something so grisly."

"This again? It's not my fault! It was the dream me that killed Laura! And the rest of our classmates! I would never do that in real life! Stop blaming me for something I subconsciously did!"

"Is that so?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I swear if I knew my dreams had real consequences, I wouldn't even imagine doing that to anyone," he said. "Look at me. I'm pathetic. I wouldn't even hurt a fly or a cockroach."

She sighed and let the awkward silence linger between them for five minutes that felt like eternity.

Not that the squirming, gulping Galang counted the seconds or anything.

"Fine. Screw it. It's my turn to tell you everything. Florante Galang, you're a candidate to becoming the Archangel Gabriel. Congratulations."

***

From a distance, Florante heard the rumble of thunder. He shuddered, but it felt like the rest of the room shuddered with him, which made him wonder if he had just felt an earthquake as well… or was it just him? He couldn't tell.

Did the drizzle outside become a downpour? Oh my. He should've brought an umbrella with him.

"A candidate?" Galang repeated. "Like a presidential candidate? I could be Gabriel or not?"

"Or you could be Schrodinger's Gabriel," Jenny said, giggling. "You're Gabriel and not Gabriel at the same time!"

"Shredder… what?" he asked, unfamiliar with the reference.

She cleared her throat. "Never mind."

"N-No. Tell me what you meant!" he insisted.

"I mean, just read about Schrodinger's Cat from a trivia book, man," she said. "Anyway, we're getting off-topic. Yes, you're a candidate. An avatar. You could become Gabriel. Or some other famous angel. And Ophanim like you can become Gabriel too."

Florante clasped his hands in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. "In my dreams, several of my classmates manifested powers of their own. Are they also angels? Or Ophanims?"

"Very good, Florante," she said, which made him frown at her condescension. "Yes, they're also wingless angels. They're also candidates to becoming Gabriel. If they develop their powers correctly, they could end up awakening as Gabriel themselves, if not other angels, gods, or deities of history."

"Wait, wait, wait. Aside from Gabriel, they… we could become famous angels like Michael, Raphael, or Uriel? Also, by gods and goddesses, do you mean Greek or Roman ones? An Ophanim could become Zeus or Jupiter? How about the Norse All-Father Odin?" Florante queried.

"More or less," came "Raphael's" unhelpful answer.

"And what makes you so sure I'm a Gabriel candidate?"

Jenny shrugged. "I can tell. Or at least the Raphael within me can recognize him from inside you. Whether or not you're worthy to bear his name shall be seen later on."  

The thunderous rumblings arouind them grew louder and harsher, producing a droning sound. However, for some reason, the two both ignored the rampaging elephant in the room.

"Wait," Florante said, his mind going a mile a minute but his mouth still stuck at the starting line. "What must I do to win the, uh, candidacy?"

"Evolve from an Ophanim to a Cherubim and then a Seraphim," Jenny replied. "You must evolve the right way to, or else…"

"…Or else the other candidates will end up winning? Is that it?" he finished her sentence for her. "So how do I evolve to become Gabriel?"

As he said the words, he wondered if he even wanted to become the avatar of an ancient archangel in the first place.

To himself, he wondered, 'Do I even want to be Gabriel?'

It sounded like so much responsibility to live up to the Archangel Gabriel.

Another thing occurred to him. He asked, "And that spaghetti monster you called a demon. Can he become a candidate for Gabriel too? Or is he supposed to be the avatar for Satan, Lucifer, or whoever instead?"

"Ah. You figured that one out too, huh?" she said with a sage nod. "You're quick on the uptake, kid."

"So…?" Florante urged.

Jenny said, "W-ell, in the case of that spaghetti monster, he might've been an Ophanim at one point, but because he let his powers control him instead of the other way around, he ended up becoming demonic instead. A Minion instead of a Throne."

"Minion?" Florante repeated. He didn't like the sound of that. "What the hell are minions? Wait, don't tell me. They're like Ophanims. They're baby demons!"

"That's exactly what they are," confirmed Jenny, who got up from her seat in excitement. "Good call. So there you go. You have the potential to become either a demon or an angel. An Ophanim or a Minion."

Galang then asked, "How can you even tell when, um, someone is an Ophanim or Minion? A demon or angel? They're both monstruous, to be honest."

He also got up from his seat, which made him stumble and grab hold of the nearest furniture to steady himself. Was it vertigo or did the room spun on its own?

He didn't know what was going on.

To be quite frank, his head throbbed with the information overload. So he was an angel that could also be a devil? What? Or rather, the avatar of biblical angels who somehow ended up here in the Philippines? Really?

"I guess that's the point?" Jenny said with a shrug. "A demon is just a fallen angel, after all. Whether they have bird wings or bat wings. Halos or ox horns."

"…Monsters by any other name, am I right?" they heard someone say, like it had access to the P.A. system in their minds.

The two shuddered, feeling a chill deep down their spine. They looked at each other, realizing they both felt and heard the same thing.

"Did you hear that?" asked Jenny.

"Yeah," acknowledged Florante. "What was that?"

Jennifer looked him straight in the eyes. "A demon."

They felt the presence of another. Another one of them. Or perhaps more than one? They couldn't tell.

Unbeckoned, they stood up and headed out of the room, following that dreadful feeling from its source.

***

Just like in Florante Galang's nightmare of decimating Fatima High School and killing all of his bullies—or fellow Gabriel candidates (which included collateral damage like Laura Reyes)—the skies grew dark once more.

As the cliché went, it was a dark and stormy night.

The rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it got checked by a violent gust of wind that swept up the streets—rattling along the apartments, condos, and housetops, and fiercely agitating the fluorescent bulbs of the lamps that struggled against the ominous darkness, its fuses ready to burst.

The two angel avatars also heard rumblings from the epicenter from which people on foot and inside vehicles as well as vermin like mice and roaches avoided, resulting in a chaotic mess of a traffic jam and a fleeing crowd on the verge of a stampede.

"Let's go," said Jennifer Tolentino, who took hold of Florante Galang's hand to accompany him towards the horrible something that had caught their attention.

The demonic presence that acted like the source or fault line of an earthquake that shook the world itself right at its core.

Rather than get repelled by the negative vibrations that reverberated into their very bones the closer they got to them like the rest of the living things in flight mode that surrounded them like a sea of humanity or an ocean of life, the two angelic avatars felt somehow magnetized by the dark presence, their heads glowing with an aura unseen by others like ultraviolet light.

An inner brightness spilling over their heads and spreading out from the center like the nuclear fusion of a star, thus making their heads glow with a spherical aura. The corona of the sun. A literal angel halo.

Jennifer's halo glowed a greenish blue hue while Florante's glowed a fluorescent white and sky blue color instead.

This inexplicable aura was what allowed them to part the living sea of mice and men, with people unconsciously or subconsciously avoiding them. This allowed them to make their way to the demonic presence they felt and heard.

To the voice that talked to them right inside their heads.

They ran towards oblivion and uncertainly in an adrenalin rush, but somehow, the virgin Florante couldn't he happier.After all, he was running hand-in-hand with a cute girl. What was there to complain about?

Jenny, whose first impression on Florante was that of a timid mouse, perhaps a talkative gerbil, had always made his heart flutter but in a way that one would find a kitten or puppy adorable.

He wasn't sure what he felt for her now was necessarily a crush.

However, she somehow looked different to him now, with her heaving bosom, glistening face, and reddened cheeks as she brushed her slightly damp hair to the side while running with him.

Like she suddenly transformed into a hot librarian right before his eyes.

In the middle of their sprint, an out-of-breath Florante said from out of the blue, "Thank you."

"…Huh? For what?" Jennifer asked.

"For humoring me and listening to what I have to say," he said in candid honesty. "I appreciate it."

She smiled. "No problem. We're both angel avatars, right? We might as well stick together."

"You bet! I like a girl who understands me but I can confide to as well," he blurted out without thinking, only for him to realize what he just said a little too late. Not knowing how to take it back.

"How am I supposed to respond to that?" asked the sheepish Jenny, who looked away and hid her eyes with the glint of her glasses.

She then stopped running hand-in-hand with him and let go of his hand, which startled him.

However, before he could apologize (again), she beckoned him to keep following her before she began running again, which he did.

He kept trailing her from behind as he resisted the urge to keep looking at her behind.

Soon, they realized there were no longer any people around them. Or any signs of life. No birds. No bugs. No signs of life. Nothing.

The stalls and stores were empty. Completely evacuated. No one dared remain in the exact direction they went: A pulsating pitch blackness.

"Do you feel that?" asked Jenny. "The heat from your face? Your head?"

"Y-Yeah," said Florante, but he had another type of hotness in mind, his eyes avoiding the jiggle of her heaving bosom as she ran towards the black maelstrom.

He had a feeling she had just changed the subject from what they were talking about earlier.

"That's your halo. Your spiritual energy. Your aura. That's where your powers come from as an avatar of Gabriel," she explained. "You weren't able to detect it before, but you can feel it now, right?"

"Yeah, I think I can," he said with a wheeze and a gulp that turned into a coughing fit, unable to meet Jenny's curious gaze.

"It's because you're getting used to your powers now… Wait. We're here."

He then looked up after she stopped from her run. They'd reached their destination: A church.

"Where are we? What church is this?" Florante asked.

"Guadalupe Church," Jenny answered.

The Guadalupe Church or Parish, also known as the Nuestra Señora de Gracia Church, was a Baroque Roman Catholic church located in Makati City, Philippines.

Florante would later learn that the building was once occupied by both the Filipino revolutionaries of the 1890s and American forces of the 1900s during the Philippine-American War. In World War II, it served as the garrison for the Japanese invaders.

It now currently stood as one of Makati's premier tourist attractions as well as one of Metro Manila's most popular wedding destinations. Had Florante learned of this earlier, it would've made his head spin. He certainly envisioned marrying Jenny in the middle of their run.

However, something more noticeable than the church itself caught the pair's attention.

A tornado of blackness, ash, and what could be best described as tendrils of sentient smoke moved between them and the church ruins.

A crawling chaos. A grotesque mockery of reality beyond comprehension.

Again, like before with his confrontation with Laura Reyes or the parking lot spaghetti monster, Florante was at a loss for words describing what was before him.

This new creature was another indescribable eldritch abomination straight out a child's nightmares. Or even man's primal fears.

The formless, mindless disaster then coalesced into what looked like a tall, lean man made of shadow. He, if it were a he, had neither beard nor hair. He was instead an ebony cesspool. The Black Death personified. A humanoid typhoon.

His own tarry aura melted into a shapeless robe made of a heavy dark fabric. Like his aura had become his own clothes that converged unto him into the singularity made from a dying star.

His dense living black hole seemed to drown out and absorb what little light surrounded them, like waves of the Dead Sea or nimbus clouds blocking sunlight or moonlight. This made the comparatively faint halos of "Raphael" and "Gabriel" stand out more.

Although he was as horrible in appearance as an Ophanim, Florante couldn't even begin to imagine describing the shadowy tendril man as anything other than demonic. A Minion.

"H-Hey, you wouldn't happen to have one of those moldy pieces of bread with you by any chance, right?" Florante half-joked, half-expecting himself to need to transform into a Throne to match the power of this Minion before them.

The disembodied voice from before then spoke, but both Jenny and Florante realized somehow that it didn't enamate from the creature before them. Rather, it came from some other source.

"Pardon me, but I can't stand to look at this farce anymore," said a sharp-dressed foreign man—a Caucasian person with a sharp nose, even sharper spectacles,  and auburn hair—in English.

"Who are you?" Florante called out, surprising himself with his own bravery when talking to the scary foreign stranger.

The man in the business suit—formalwear known to Filipinos as an Americana—ignored him, though. This businessperson that looked like a Makati expatriate or even a visiting company CEO addressed Jennifer instead.

"Are you honestly indulging the boy's delusions until now, Raphael? How cruel of you. You know he's no angel. He's actual more of a demon, to be honest. With destructive power like his, he should be on our side."

"Mammon," said Jennifer, naming the demon before them. "Stay out of this. He's mine."

This made Florante jerk his head and stare at Jenny by reflex, his cheeks burning at her bold proclamation. 'I-I'm hers?!' he thought.

Aloud, Galang asked her, "You know him? Wait, his name is mamon (Filipino sponge cake)? Seriously?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not mamon. Mammon. The demon Mammon."

"Tell him the truth about himself already or I will," Mammon threatened with a smirk. "I'm getting impatient."

Thusly, Florante shot a Thunderbolt at Mammon.

A pinprick or lasebeam of light producing a vaccuum of emptiness around it, rendering the surroundings into rubble with a loud sonic boom.

The businessman cackled and stopped the supersonic assault with one hand, transforming to a huge-headed goblin with a long nose, ram horns, and a stogie for the briefest of instances before returning to his avatar's human form.

"Flor!" exclaimed Jenny in spite of herself. "What are you doing? You're no match for him right now!"

"Well now. I see you've convinced the young lad to side with you using your avatar's… feminine charm, Raphael! Bravo. You're quite the devilish temptress, if I do say so myself. Like Jezebel. You'd make a fine demoness yourself.."

Despite being fully clothed, Jennifer covered herself with her hands by reflex and shame after hearing Mammon's remark. "You're such a pig."

"Well of course, I am!" said Mammon with a smug grin. "I'm a demon."

The halo of the Archangel Gabriel's avatar flared like a ring of fire or a celestial ball of gas and plasma, his bright corona traveling all over his body and enveloping him in a white and blue light while he crackled with arcs of electrity.

Finally, the demon Mammon addressed Florante. "I don't blame you for siding with her, kid. Raphael's avatar is a pretty little thing, not going to lie. However, you were born ten thousand years too early to take on the likes of me. I've forgotten more than you can even remember."

With his arms crossed, Mammon floated away. Barely baring his fangs at Florante's best shot. None the worse for wear.

No wait, he hadn't hit him with his absolute best shot yet.

Galang then summoned a bolt of lightning at himself to reenergize his body with millions of volts of electricity while increasing the potency of his offense. Remenbering how to control his powers from his dream of destroying his bullies and taking on a flying spaghetti monster that was apparently an Ophanim/Minion like himself.

A wingless angel or a hornless devil. Good or evil. Those were the two choices for a Throne such as him.

Just then, as suddenly as him shooting a Thunderbolt at Mammon like an arrow, the hornless devil in the form of a personified maelstrom of pulsating darkness diverted its full attention towards Florante and unleashed its irresistable might unto him like an endless deluge.

Unlike Mammon, this shadow man came at him in full force.

'…Oh boy. Here we go.'

He was making the correct choice siding with Jennifer Tolentino, right?

She was an angel. One of the good guys. And the demons were the bad guys every time since the beginnning of time.

Right?

***

The lean, mean shadow man with gangly spider limbs and a pulsating aura that emanated from his head to toe like smog or smoke made strange clicking noises as he shifted positions with his strange jittery dash.

The crawling chaos didn't speak and bore no trace of an expression on his dark face. This belied the whirlpool of bone-crushing force he brought with him as his mere dash forward sent the Gabriel avatar buckling and reeling.

Fortunately, Galang's halo of blue-white light created a dome-shaped wind shield composed of gyroscoping jetstreams and slipstreams that absorbed the brunt of the Minion's force. Vacuum tornadoes ripped apart the church along with blockbuster ligtning strikes.

This tall man whom Florante bore no ill will towards. This Minion of the Archdemon he truly wanted to blast to Kingdom Come, Mammon. This Ophanim. This Minion. This was a fellow… angel/demon avatar. Just like him.

Who was to say he wouldn't end up like him? A mindless beast to be hunted down by angels. A fallen angel. A demon. A devil.

Was this really his war to wage anyway? Did it even matter if he chose the side of the angels or the demons? Was this what he asked for after esentially committing social suicide? Wasn't he biting off more than he could chew, foolishly facing off against devils and demons?

Florante charged bolts of high-voltage lightning on one hand and bolts of thunder-inducing energy bullets on the other hand then hurled them one after another at the tentacled ebony monster.

Biting his lower lip at the frustration of not being able to shoot that manipulative bastard Mammon instead.

Why were they fighting again? To become avatars to millennia-old angels and demons? To become pawns on a chess game they didn't ask to be a  part of?

They were practically just the same pawns, right? It was implied that this crawling chaos was also human before, like him.

If his dream of killing his bullies wasn't a dream—if none of these fantastic events were dreams—then his wish to be helpless no more just came with a heavy caveat. A Monkey's Paw wish, if you would.

Unlike the flying spaghetti monster that could regenerate itself endlessly, the crawling chaos before them and its black pulsating mass of tendrils responded quite differently to Florante's typhoon onslaught.

Even though he showcased denseness as black and bottomless as the ocean depths, his great mass or "halo" of tidal waves that densely compacted themselves into humanoid form remained unmoved by Galang's cyclone winds and plasma blasts.

No wonder Jenny didn't use quick-growing mold spores or an acorn to attack this Minion. How could any of those weaponized plants stand a chance against this force of nature?

Maybe this time, Florante had no choice but to revert to his true Ophanim form and face off against the Minion as force of nature against force of nature. Monster against monster.

"No, Florante! Don't…!" said Raphael's avatar to Gabriel's avatar, her body seemingly pinned to the wall. "Don't change into your Ophanim form and lose yourself! Or you might become a Minion yourself! A mindless beast controlled by your own powers! That's what Mammon wants!"

The bespectacled young (or young-looking) girl's hair ended up toussled by unseen winds or some sort of force of nature like gravity that blew everyone else away like a hurricane.

And indeed, before Florante noticed it, he had started to transform, his human form disappearing and reforming into a gyroscope filled with rings adorned with flaming eyes once more.

"Since Eden, no more could man have wings to bear him to paradise. Henceforth, he walked," said Mammon telepathically to both Jenny and Florante.

The two looked heavenwards at the smug demon watching over them from high above his proverbial pedestal. Right now, he lived in their heads rent-free and they loathed having him invade their thoughts like that.

"However, this man has discovered the path to recovering his lost wings. Will he rise to paradise or be another fallen angel, his feathered bird wings turned into leathery bat wings? His halo turned into horns?"

God dammit. How was Florante supposed to fight against this monster any other way than become a monster himself?

On that note, why shouldn't he be a monster? What was wrong with becoming a Minion over an Ophanim anyway? What was the difference between one monster over another?

Nevertheless, because Jennifer told him not to transform into his Ophanim form, he didn't.

The shadow creature then came upon Galang's dithering, fluctuating form that went from human to Throne and back agaain like a flickering light with his own crashing black waves of dense aura, threatening to swallow Florante under its immense mass compacted within a lean form of a tall humanoid tentacle being.

Galang resisted the irresistable, turning his sky-blue halo into a country-sized pacific storm that made the crawling chaos' oceanic depths roil, churn, and bubble. Like the desperate cyclone howling back at the black sea, which only made its angry waters angrier.

Florante didn't ask for this. He wanted to stop being socially awkward, make friends, and for his bullies to leave him alone, not get new supernatural enemies to fight and deal with the burden of waging someone else's war!

Meanwhile, Mammon again spoke to their minds. Toying with them.

"Asking a woman if she lives nearby is often a predatory tactic. That info can expose so much. If you're around the area a lot, especially alone. Or if you're isolated and from out of town and vulnerable."

Both Florante and Jenny said, "What?" at the same time, their heads turning to look at Mammon again.

"LIGHT ARRAY!"

The embarrassment Florante Galang felt from being called out by the devil himself fueled his halo enough to finally release the much-delayed pinpoint bursts of concentrated pure energy he'd been gathering all that time.

The energy projectiles shot out like explosive bullets from his five fingertips, which finally decimated the humanoid maelstrom off of him.

Unlike with the regenerating spaghetti monster, his Light Array shots actually obliterated the maelstrom of shadows, turning them into stains on the pavement from the purifying brightness of his holy light.

That was Florante's best shot. The special technique he created from scratch to shoot at all his bullies at the same time with a wave of his hands and fingers.

At least now he could use his powers in a less shameful way: To defeat a monster that threatened to destroy the city instead of petty yet deadly revenge against his meanest classmates.

***

Florante screamed to the heavens and the unseen Mammon, "I didn't stalk her! O-Or I didn't mean to! I was following a lead on why I've been dreaming the nightmares I've been dreaming, okay!? Seeing her face on an old yearbook was suspicious! I had no malicious intentions!"

They both couldn't see Mammon at that point—the coward made himself scarce—but they could hear the smirk in his voice. "But I didn't specifically say you stalked Raphael, Ophanim. You came up with that conclusion. Methinks the lady doth protest a bit too much."

Galang's head almost twisted off of his neck like a bottle cap as he shot a glance at an out-of-breath Jenny, her hair a mess and her clothes disheveled. Meanwhile, his own stomach was in knots.

He gulped and muttered, "I meant no harm, Jenny! I didn't want to kill our classmates, believe me. I-I didn't intend to stalk you either! I-It just… came off that way. B-Because I wanted to know more about what's going on with me, and you're the only other person I know who's like me…!"

Mammon then added, "Literally you cannot risk divulging such information to him, Raphael. A man is a threat. A man approaching you alone is a threat. You should've known better. This is a woman's constant reality."

After a deep breath, Jenny adjusted her glasses, which magnified her hazel eyes. She then smiled at Florante and said, "Don't worry, Flor. I understand. You didn't mean any harm, right? It was all a harmless dream to you."

That smile. That damn smile. Florante wanted to protect that smile.

Mammon's disembodied voice then snarled at the pair.

"…You actually believe his lies, Raphael? He thought it was all a dream, so that makes it okay? By now, he should've figured out that it was more than a dream. That it wasn't manslaughter, it was murder with intent. A massacre. He's also a stalker for good measure. Stop excusing his crimes."

"I've just about had enough of you, man! SHUT UP!" said Florante, his fingertips again burning with blue and fluorescent white electric light.

"Stop lying to yourself first, kid. You wanted to kill your classmates. You reveled in every death. Even the ones who weren't your bullies. If you weren't sick in the head, you would've just humiliated them as revenge for them humiliating you. That's why you dreamed that dream. It was the first time in your pathetic life that you felt in control. Give in to that desire and set yourself free!"

"Show yourself, demon!" Just one shot (or five or ten shots) of the Light Array was all he needed. He just wanted to land just one right on Mammon's smug, beak-nosed face.

"Look at you go. You feel brave now, don't you? Like you're Raphael's personal Knight in Shining Armor. Or her lost puppy. But she knows the truth about you. How dangerous you are. So she's telling you everything you want to hear for now."

"Stop being such a pathetic coward and fight!" Florante said. Not really listening to a word Mammon said while he continued to gather energy from his fingertips in concentrated pinpoints of light.

"Kid, you've got it bad for her, don't you? But she's just using you. She'll learn soon enough that you can't have sympathy for the devil. That what you did is unforgivable. Don't you know, kid? We live in a society—" Mammon started.

"No, you live in a society! I live in my meticulously crafted daydream universe that I've been using as a coping mechanism since childhood!" said Florante.

Mammon chuckled. "No. You're a back-of-the-class loser who has gone on a power trip and became mad with power."

Alas, the demon's plan of buying the crawling chaos time to recuperate worked. The shadow man returned in full force. Or rather, the shadow men cometh.

The tall, dark, and devilishly bleak Minion manifested himself into multiple avatars of all shapes and sizes.

When he got aethered by Gabriel's embarrassment-fueled Light Array, he regrouped his atomized particles and spread them across Makati towards the nearest of its fleeing denizens, turning them into his own avatars.

What the crawling chaos lacked in healing powers, he more than made up for his ability to take over the bodies of others like some sort of black lung virus. The black plague made flesh and bone.

Florante willed himself to shoot at the numerous avatars, even though when they got blown apart, they didn't atomize into tendrils but instead burst like sacks of blood and guts.

The Light Array made short work of most of them, but that technique took too long to recharge, so he had to settle for Lightning Strikes, Lightning Bolts, and supersonic Thunderbolts for the rest of the avatar army.

He soon realized he wasn't killing the crawling chaos but innocent people.

These new avatars of the crawling chaos were collateral damage. Men, women, the elderly, and children—entire families—running for their lives up until the humanoid typhoon took over their bodies and turned them into shadow people like him.

They'd been morphed into blackened homunculus or zombies puppeteered by the crawling chaos himself.

At first, dealing with the "infected" avatars of the crawling chaos felt like shooting fish in a barrel, but then they displayed bizarre attributes.

Some flew with hand glider wings. Others crawled into corners like roaches. There were those that merged to form a super muscular shadow avatar that tanked Florante's Light Array, Thunderbolts, and Lightning Bolts.

From there, Florante understood.

This man-shaped maelstrom. This walking void containing the vast cosmos unto himself who could affect mystic energies, both demonic and cosmic, on an undefined level.

As World War II veteran and American civil rights activist Medgar Evers said,  "You can kill a man but you can't kill an idea."

This Minion was as unkillable as an idea. And just as dangerous.

"When a man possesses this much power, he does not seek redemption," said Mammon of the crawling chaos before Florante.

***

"Susmaryosep!"

Florante had just told Mammon he wasn't an intentional murderer (or stalker), but now here he was again, forced to murder innocents to keep this shadowy humanoid typhoon in check.

He clung to the vague hope that like with the flying spaghetti monster incident, everything would go back to normal after the crawling chaos's defeat. That everything could be undone. Like waking from a bad dream. Like all of this wasn't really real.

If he beat the Minion, he could revert everything back to their original state, like it didn't actually happen, and save the people he'd just killed to get to the humanoid typhoon. Or the walking typhoid fever.

However, that was all one big "if".

"Change into your Ophanim form. As you are now, you're no match against the Minion," teased the coward Mammon. "Unleash your full power like he has. I dare you, Gabriel."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You dumb bastard," cursed Florante. "You can't fool me! I bet you convinced this poor Ophanim to turn himself into a Minion the exact same way!"

"So?" said the brazen Mammon. "What if I did? The results speak for themselves. You can't even touch him. Face him with your full power or never wake up from this nightmare."

After deftly avoiding hit after hit from the shadow avatars, Galang got clipped by a five-clawed strike. That was all it took. It went downhill from there.

The distraction made him miss several of his shots, which allowed a number of the shape-shifting zombies of darkness to evade his suppressive fire so as to claw, stab, and bite at him.

Desperately, he wielded a lightning bolt like a sword whip, slicing and dicing the nearest of the undead horde of the crawling chaos's hive-minded avatars.

He pushed them back with his halo's electric vacuum shield, only to buckle under the pressure of an outright stampede of shadow creatures. The weight of hundreds felt like the weight of millions due to the densely packed particles of the Minion's cosmic selves.

His panicked wheezes became a full-blown asthma attack as he drowned in black avatars that clawed, grabbed, bit, slashed, stabbed, and lacerated him to helpless shreds.

At this point, even if he willed himself to turn into his "Be Not Afraid, Child!" form of a frightful multi-eyed Ophanim, it'd be too late.

Then, just as Florante was about to get swallowed by the oily tidal wave of inhumanity that the Minion of Maelstrom mind-controlled like individual puppets, a mango tree suddenly grew and blocked their upsurge in a landslide of broken branches, splinters, leaves, and mango fruits.  

Once again, Raphael's human avatar Jennifer Tolentino saved Florante's life.

She jumped and slid across the unbroken branches of the giant mango tree that served as her wooden barrier between them and the Minion's horde of mind-controlled minions (ironic) that he turned into clones of his wriggly dark self.

"Are you okay, Flor?"

"Y-Yeah, th-thanks for saving me. Again."

How shameful. He was supposed to be her Knight in Shining Armor, and here he was serving as her Damsel in Distress instead.

He didn't even have the energy to correct her nickname of him. He might as well be a "Flor". He might as well have that girly name.

She turned towards him, her green halo and her hazel eyes shining like gems full of light, and unfurled two green-feathered bird wings from her back. The thing that caught Florante's eyes though was her smile.

A sad smile that could break anyone's heart in two.

"Flor, don't be a hero. You don't have to force yourself just to make people acknowledge you," she said.

"W-What…?" he trailed off. "B-But I thought that's what I'm supposed to do as an angel! An Ophanim! I'm one of you, right? Why can't I be a hero?"

She shook her head. "When you do that, you end up blaming yourself, blaming other people, and feeling jealous of everyone. But still, it doesn't have to be like that. Even if people don't acknowledge you, you just need to be someone that you can be proud of!"

"I don't understand," he said.

She silenced him with a quick peck on the forehead.

"You don't have to fight. This isn't your war. You have no quarrel with this Minion, don't you? Even with Mammon, you're only picking a fight against him for my sake. Just be a good boy, okay? Maybe this time, when you wake you up from this dream, you'll decide to forget about all this nonsense and move on with your life."

"…." He could only stare at her cherubic, angelic form, dumbfounded into silence. He later realized that her kiss had healed all the wounds he'd sustained from battle and reenergized him at the same time.

Like man-sized termites, the shape-shifting avatars of the crawling chaos scratched, gnawed, masticated, ripped, tore, and outright drilled right into the gigantic mango tree trunk they'd crashed into, turning it into sawdust in their wake.

She then fell like a hatchling from her nest, her green feathers flying everywhere as she let the horde tear her apart in Florante's stead. Cannibalizing her, to his horror.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Galang screamed himself raspy, his eyes flooded with tears, his fingertips glowing with rivulets of bright-blue energy, his halo shining with multiple arcs of electrical power so elaborate they looked like ancient root systems.

***

Florante Galang realized early on that he really was no hero, much less a superhero.

The first chance he got superpowers, he used it for petty revenge against his bullies, his mindless massacre resulting in his high school crush becoming collateral damage.

He really shouldn't be entrusted with destructive abilities like the Light Array, really.

The realization horrified him, but he honestly wouldn't get any real satisfaction from beating a stronger foe like the crawling chaos or the flying spaghetti monster like he did when he killed his bullies in a fever dream.

He was a coward who used his powers against bullies who couldn't fight back as vengeance to how they bullied him into submission when he couldn't fight back either.

He was no better than the bullies who picked on him.

When faced with the prospect of sacrificing life and limb against a monster that threatened the lives of the whole city of Makati, he came up short.

He had no personal stakes on the matter, so he wasn't as motivated to becoming a hero.

This dark creature didn't bully him so he had no quarrel against him. He had no driving force to beat him. They were actually the same—an Ophanim and a Minion thrust into a fight they had no dog in.

Even when the Minion began using innocent bystanders against Florante, this merely horrified the young Ophanim instead of build his heroic resolve.

Ultimately, Galang was a selfish person who only cared about himself. He was an even bigger coward than Mammon, who became a disembodied voice in their heads that mocked them all the while.

Jenny was right. He didn't have to fight. He had no personal stakes here.

However, there was something she said before she did her own heroic sacrifice that stuck with him.

"Even if people don't acknowledge you, you just need to be someone that you can be proud of!"

Someone he could be proud of, huh? How could he do that? How could he become someone he could be proud of even without the acknowledgement of others? Should he become a martyr?

Florante looked down from his perch atop the gigantic "rotting" mango tree that Jenny had used her life and healing factor on to induce its gigantic growth. Saw the avatars eat Jenny so that not even her bones were left.

There it was. There was his personal stakes. With tears in his eyes, his powers began to grow anew. He knew what he must do.

Like a dying typhoon turning into a low pressure area, only to get a second wind and become a super typhoon as it moved into the moisture-rich tropics that enhanced its shower and thunderstorm activity.

He then saw that the avatars that consumed Raphael's avatar had the dark presence of the crawling chaos leave them. Evicted or otherwise exorcised out of them. Her green aura spread across them all, healing them of the Black Plague that infected them.

This maelstrom of darkness then converged into a singular man. The original avatar that served as a candidate for whoever demon wanted to take control of him.  

Before this living, walking shadow creature could get his hands on more avatars, Florante struck at the unkillable thing as immortal as a concept.

How did one kill an idea or a movement before it could spread across the populace like wildfire?

Practical application. A dose of reality.

Ideas never panned out without a hitch in real life. Let it naturally progress and die in absurdity when applied to reality.

"Light Array!"

Thusly, Florante and Jennifer killed the idea of this Minion by not letting its dark influence spread across anymore innocent bystanders and victims then isolating him inside his one avatar, feeding it with energy until it burst.

Like letting a fire burn itself out before it could spread and raze everything in its path.

"Light ARRAY! LIGHT ARRAY! LIIIIIGHT ARRAAAAY!!!"

The blasts of energy chipped away at the concentrated density of the indefinable cosmic mass densely packed into the shape and sentience of a tall, lean man.

The glowing, electrified Florante then pierced through the layers and layers of negative energy in order to scream at the maelstrom, "Who are you? What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Do you really want to hurt all these people? Did Mammon put you up to this?"

The pacific storm that was Florante blasted the nimbus man with lightning and thunder, converging around him like he was the low pressure area about to become a typhoon himself.

"Did you think the same thing I had when we started fighting? Did you also wonder why we're fighting and if it's worth doing this in the first place?"

After blowing through layer upon layer of darkness and density, like a self-contained black hole made flesh, Galang then went face-to-face with… a kid. Just another kid like him. A tall kid, but a kid nonetheless.

They floated there in the eye of the storm that was Hurricane Galang.

A Minion facing an Ophanim, with both of them wondering what exactly was the difference between them.

Florante grinned at the stranger and said, "Let's stop this nightmare, okay? Maybe it's about time you woke up."

The darkness that surrounded them then shattered like glass, revealing an untouched city and a perfectly intact Guadalupe Church. Just like what had happened with the defeat of the spaghetti creature.

…Become a person he could be proud of, huh? Maybe he could try becoming that after all.  

***

Flor awoke outside the village or street where Jenny's apartment was located. He hadn't met up with her yet or gone to her apartment. Everything that had happened so far was just a fantasy.

Dammit. So even that was just a dream? A daydream, this time.

He then remembered the "last time" they ended up in her apartment and what they were talking about before they were cut off.

Oh, did he have one of those lucid dreams again? The ones you could control consciously? Or was he even awake now?

He'd been having all sorts of dreams lately, probably to escape the hell that was his teenage life as a bullied boy.

The dreams were happening more and more often. It was harder and harder to tell what was real and what wasn't until he did so in hindsight.

"Wait. What the hell am I doing?" he said to himself aloud, shook his head, and left without going to Jennifer Tolentino's apartment.

"Susmaryosep," he murmured under his breath, feeling like he'd somehow dodged a bullet for some reason.

***

The next day went on easier than the last, but only because Florante Galang knew what to expect of today this time around.

His classmates would either avoid him like the plague or talk behind his back as he went about his friendless existence in First Year Section St. Francis of Assisi at Fatima High School.

Oh well. At least his fantasies and fever dreams were interesting enough to jut down in a dream journal, right? Even though his reality was as banal as it could be.

Jennifer Tolentino and Laura Reyes used to sit near him in class, but they now sat elsewhere once their homeroom teacher and class advisor rearranged their seats.

He ended up with some dude who never talked to him sitting in front of him.

During recess, he went to the library instead of the cafeteria today because he usually sat in his lonesome these days.

His usual friends… acquaintances perhaps… well, the people he sat with every lunch, the Dead Kids… were off doing their own things separately. Weirdoes being weirdoes.

He should speak though. He went to the library during lunch. He was a weirdo himself.

He also tended to avoid bumping into the group consisting of Laura and her friends or, much worse, Gerry Jacinto and his barkada (gang).

He was used to classmates and the student body at large looking through him as though he weren't there, like he were a ghost.

However, for some reason, he felt like he had eyes all around him today, but whenever he stared back at people instead of the floor or his feet as usual, they ended up looking elsewhere. As if averting his gaze.

Was there something on his face or uniform? He hoped he didn't do anything embarrassing again. However, such concerns left his mind after his trip at the library.

He had one thing in mind. One person. Jenny Tolentino.

Granted, Florante still had his photocopies of the phone book page full of "Tolentinos" and other "T" names as well as the yearbook page featuring a look-alike Jennifer Narcissa Tolentino.

…Man, he was acting really creepy again, wasn't he?

How shallow was his crush on Laura Reyes that he ended up pining for Jenny Tolentino instead? Ah, whatever.

Crushes were supposed to be shallow attraction, right? You needed to really know someone to develop deeper feelings for them. Or so he heard. He didn't believe in love at first sight, although he had his share of, uh, infatuation at first sight.

Florante simply found Jenny cute because he knew her and they shared something in common. Also, she had puppy dog eyes behind those wide-rimmed glasses.

Why hadn't he looked at her that way before? Must be because of Laura. And because she might be a fellow angel.

Or at least his imagination viewed her as such.

Maybe this was him finally giving up on Laura in favor of Jenny. Maybe.

***

To Be Continued…

Florante starts having issues in being able to tell what's real and what's fantasy as he continues to dream up plot scenarios for his comic book and uses it to retreat from how miserable his real life has gotten.

Farewell, Abdiel

[jeanmoreaux]

*✧ — may 2023 wrap up

you know how i said the things i said last month. yeah lmao my reading went up while my mental health declined 😬✌️ anyway, here we are. it is what it is, even though my thesis is no where near where it should be. welp.

2023 goal: 99/100 books

as alway, feel free to drop book recs, questions, or opinions in my inbox; i am always happy to talk to you about books!

* –> newly added to my favorites shelf

follow my goodreads | follow my storygraph | previous wrap ups

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The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by S.A. Chakraborty | 4.5★ 

Atalanta by Jennifer Saint | 3.75★ 

Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo | 3.5★

Ayiti by Roxane Gay | 3.5★ 

Fledgling by Octavia E. Butler | 4★ | review

The Lives of Saints by Leigh Bardugo |  3.5★ 

My Annihilation by Fuminori Nakamura | 4.5★ | review

Writers & Lovers by Lily King | 4.5★ | review

Jacob's Room by Virginia Woolf | 4★

* Happy Place by Emily Henry | 5★ | review

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino | 5★

I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid | 3.5★

Dinosaurs by Lydia Millet | 2★ | review

Spell Bound by L.F. Lukens | 3.75★ | review

Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf | 4★

Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu | 3.5★

Passing by Nella Larsen | 5★

Orlando by Virginia Woolf | 4.25★

A Room with a View by E.M. Forster | 4.5★

Tell Me I’m Worthless by Alison Rumfitt | no rating | review

You've Lost a Lot of Blood by Eric LaRocca | 3★

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rereads

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo | 2.5★

Why God is a Woman by Nin Andrews | 4★ | review

In. by Will McPhail | 5★

In My Dreams I Hold a Knife by Ashley Winstead | 5★ | review

[oatmilkenjoyer69]

March 2023 Media Breakdown

Movies:

Honor Among Lovers (1931) - Dorothy Arzner

One Week (1920) - Buster Keaton, Edward F. Cline

The Goat (1921) - Buster Keaton, Malcolm St. Clair

Hard Luck (1921) - Buster Keaton, Edward F. Cline

The Stunt Woman (1996) - Ann Hui

Clue (1985) - Jonathan Lynn

The Slumber Party Massacre (1982) - Amy Holden Jones

The Velvet Vampire (1971) - Stephanie Rothman

Inside Women Inside (1978) - Christine Choy & Cynthia Maurizio

Clotheslines (1982) - Roberta Cantow

La cigarette (1919) - Germaine Dulac

Falling Leaves (1921) - Alice Guy-Blanché

My Scientology Movie (2015) - John Dower

Silence of the Lambs (1991) - Jonathan Demme

The Aristocats (1970) - Wolfgang Reitherman

The Matrix (1999) - Lilly Wachowski & Lana Wachowski

Suspense (1913) - Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley

Cocaine Bear (2023) - Elizabeth Banks

Fruit of Paradise (1970) - Věra Chytilová

Worlds of Ursula K. Le Guin (2018) - Arwen Curry

I’m Not There (2007) - Todd Haynes

65 (2023) - Scott Beck & Bryan Woods

TV Shows:

The Last of Us - Season 1 (2023)

Books: Completed

Bitterblue (2012) - Kristin Cashore

Hitler's American Friends: The Third Reich's Supporters in the United States (2018) - Bradley W. Hart

Blindsight (2006) - Peter Watts

Coraline (2002) - Neil Gaiman

Love on the Brain (2022) - Ali Hazelwood

Crime and Punishment (1866) - Fyodor Dostoevsky

A Far Wilder Magic (2022) - Allison Saft

Whose Names Are Unknown (2004, but was originally written in the 1930s. Steinbeck used her notes for WNAU to write The Grapes of Wrath, which is ultimately why this book wasn’t published until the 21st century.) - Sanora Babb

Books: In Progress

River Woman, River Demon (2022) - Jennifer Givhan | DNF

The Once and Future Sex: Going Medieval on Women’s Roles in Society (2023) - Eleanor Janega | 41%

Trick Mirror (2019) - Jai Tolentino | 63%

This is How You Lose the Time War (2019) - Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone | 30%

Top 3 Albums:

Melodrama - Lorde (2017) | pop/art pop

five seconds flat - Lizzie McAlpine (2022) | indie pop

Landmark - Hippo Campus (2017) | indie rock

Honorable Mention Album: So Much (For) Stardust (2023) - Fall Out Boy | pop rock/pop-punk

Crafts:

Worked on my scrap yarn blanket

[shouldntbeaskingmyselfwhy]

Reading List 2024!!!

Trick Mirror* by Jia Tolentino

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

Bliss Montage* by Ling Ma

Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros

All Systems Red* by Martha Wells

The Violin Conspiracy by Brendan Slocumb

A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair

King of Battle and Blood by Scarlett St. Clair

Wild Women and the Blues* by Denny S. Bryce

The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady* by Elizabeth Stuckey-French

A Touch of Ruin by Scarlett St. Clair

A Touch of Malice by Scarlett St. Clair

From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Queen of Myth and Monsters by Scarlett St. Clair

A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

One's Company* by Ashley Hutson

The Crown of Gilded Bones by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Daisy Jones and the Six* by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Severance by Ling Ma

The Other Half* by Charlotte Vassell

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson

The Martian by Andy Weir

The Liars' Club* by Mary Karr

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir

Artificial Condition by Martha Wells

Sourdough by Robin Sloan

A Darker Shade of Magic* by V.E. Schwab

Beautyland by Marie-Helene Bertino

The Secret Life of the Universe: An Astrobiologist's Search for the Origins and Frontiers of Life by Nathalie A. Cabrol

My First Book by Honor Levy*

An Academy for Liars by Alexis Henderson

Faebound by Saara El-Arifi

Rogue Protocol by Martha Wells

Extremely Online: The Untold Story of Fame, Influence, and Power on the Internet by Taylor Lorenz*

When Among Crows by Veronica Roth

Fire Exit by Morgan Talty

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia*

Mickey7 by Edward Ashton

Bride by Ali Hazelwood

A Fire in the Sky by Sophie Jordan

Darling Days by iO Tillett Wright*

* books for my zoom book club

my favorites are in bold :)

[animis]

My work and a plethora of other wonderful pieces are up this week only for the show: Daydream Doodle orcaspaley In honor of wandering minds, wild tangents, and the exquisitely incomplete. Experience Daydream Doodle at our HQ on the main floor of Pacific Place, Oct 14-30. https://www.orcaspaley.com/ FEATURING... Allison Arth Linda Beaumont Ursula Brookbank Virginia Bunker Louise Burgess Bette Burgoyne Eve Cohen Joel Colvos Karen Jo Combs Nancy Deal Michael Doyle Janice Findley Curtis Frye Janet Galore Jurgis Gaučys Nijole Gaučys Lauren Grossman Via Hedera Jennifer Hough Serafine Lea Nate Lippens Shelli Markee Rachel Maxi Gene Gentry McMahon Jesse Miller Saya Moriyasu Bob Nielsen Sarah Norsworthy Vinnu Dochoan Robert Peterson Sonja Peterson Daniel Riner Sue Rose John Shlichta Coleman Stevenson Lisa Stewart Mark Sullo Angelina Tolentino Alexa Villanueva Lisa Whitsitt Curated by Peter Gaučys #daydream #doodle #daydreamdoodle #orcaspaley #jessepaulmiller https://www.instagram.com/p/CkJcEL5P0av/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[thediverismylove]

fave books of 2019!!!

adult fiction

the dreamers by karen thompson walker

daisy jones & the six by taylor jenkins reid

a man called ove by fredrik backman

we have always lived in the castle by shirley jackson

my best friend’s exorcism by grady hendrix

my lovely wife by samantha downing

the death of mrs. westaway by ruth ware

a ladder to the sky by john boyne

lock every door by riley sager

the turn of the key by ruth ware

red, white, and royal blue by casey mcquiston

sleepwalking by meg wolitzer

carrie by stephen king

jane eyre by charlotte brontë

trust exercise by susan choi

conversations with friends by sally rooney

on earth we’re briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong

little women by louisa may alcott

ya/middle grade fiction

girls of paper and fire by natasha ngan

girl made of stars by ashley herring blake

sawkill girls by claire legrand

the gilded wolves by roshani chokshi

what girls are made of by elana k. arnold

ivy aberdeen’s letter to the world by elana k. arnold

on the come up by angie thomas

the poet x by elizabeth acevedo

the past and other things that should stay buried by shaun david hutchinson

the truth about keeping secrets by savannah brown

damsel by elana k. arnold

you must not miss by katrina leno

hot dog girl by jennifer dugan

the mighty heart of sunny st. james by ashley herring blake

this darkness mine by mindy mcginnis

the weight of the stars by k. ancrum

wilder girls by rory power

the griefkeeper by alexandra villasante

the kingdom by jess rothenberg

a heart in a body in the world by deb caletti

call down the hawk by maggie stiefvater

nonfiction

hunger by roxane gay

becoming by michelle obama

shrill by lindy west

educated by tara westover

i like to watch by emily nussbaum

trick mirror by jia tolentino

catch and kill by ronan farrow

in the dream house by carmen maria machado

the collected schizophrenias by esmé weijun wang

poetry

i gave birth to all the ghosts here by lyd havens (@heartmagician)

sink by desireé dallagiacomo

night sky with exit wounds by ocean vuong

plays

the importance of being earnest by oscar wilde

the seagull by anton chekhov

[duncanwrites]

All the books I read in 2020, reviewed in two sentences or less

My 2020 in reading was, naturally, a little strange. I had lots of long pauses, did a bad job of keeping track of everything I read, used an e-reader for the first time, and read more for work than I usually do.

So these may not be in strict chronological order as they usually are, and there may be a few missing, but here’s the list, as per tradition:

Rising Tide - John M. Barry: This history of the Mississippi floods of 1927 and the resulting changes in how the US deals with natural disasters is one of those stories about how politics and personality can become a part of the concrete world, and essential for understanding the racial dynamics of disaster response. Well-told, and worth reading. 

The Consultant's Calling - Geoffrey M. Bellman: A very useful recommendation from a trusted friend that now has a long-term spot in my office shelf. This book isn't only about consulting, it also offers great thoughts about finding your place and impact in organizations in general.

Range - John Epstein: I think Range is the nonfiction book that had the second- greatest impact on my thinking about myself this year (stay tuned for number 1!): I've always approached my professional and political work as a generalist, and for a long time I felt like that approach was leading me to a dead end. Reading this convinced me that I could be effective and even more useful with my fingers in a lot of different pies, and nudged me to keep searching for my most effective place in the movement.

The Accusation - Bandi: A harrowing work of realist fiction from North Korea that shows the toll authoritarian hero-worship takes on the soul.

The Underground Railroad - Colson Whitehead: I found that the quality of The Underground Railroad did not quite match its notoriety. It felt like two books awkwardly joined, where the more grounded approach to the emotional and interpersonal stakes of slavery and freedom was attached to a poorly-explored fantasy device.

Maus - Art Spiegelman: So much more than a book about the Holocaust, Maus is about parents and how pain is handed down between generations.

I Love Dick - Chris Kraus: After a long enough time, it becomes hard to evaluate books that are meant as a provocation as well as storytelling, but even 20 years on, it's not hard to see why I Love Dick brought us so much of the style and voice of feminist writing on the internet. A unique, itchy, sticky piece of work.

Bloodchild - Octavia Butler: Whenever I see an Octavia Butler book in a used book store, I buy it. This collection of short stories is a fantastic example for what transgressive, visionary speculative fiction should aspire to.

King Leopold's Ghost - Adam Hochschild: What I love about this book and the other I've read by Hochschild (Bury the Chains_ is that he very carefully merges deep explorations of systems of violence with the way that they can be undone by the people who participate in them. King Leopold's Ghost is as much about Belgium's murderous plunder of the Congo as it is about the successful global movement against it.

Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon: Priory of the Orange Tree is built on a strong foundation, melding Eastern and Western dragon stories into one universe, but couldn't seem to tie all of its threads together in a compelling way by the end.

Desiring the Kingdom - James K. A. Smith: Smith's point about meaning and desire being embedded in every day practices is a valuable one, but I think I may be just too far outside of his target audience of religious teachers and thinkers to get the most out of his explorations here.

City of Brass, Kingdom of Copper, Empire of Gold (The Daevabad Trilogy) - S. A. Chakraborty: This series is exceptional, and some of my favorite books of any kind that I read this year; I certainly think I recommended them more often than anything else I read in 2020. A high fantasy built on Islamic and Arab cultural iconography, the characters are insightfully developed, the world building grows with precise pacing, and the themes of intergenerational trauma, and sectarianism are handled with expert delicacy.

Leadership and the New Science - Meg Wheatley: While I appreciate the effort to apply metaphors developed from scientific paradigm shifts to provoke paradigm shifts of thinking in other areas of work, I think this book strains its chosen metaphors a bit too far to be useful.

The American Civil War: A Military History - John Keegan: I appreciate that there's a value to these kinds of military analyses of conflicts, but I found this book's neutral tone - and sometimes admiring takes - towards the Confederacy off-putting. Two things I did take from it: the outcome of the war was not certain at the beginning, and speed is truly a critical part of winning conflicts.

To Purge This Land with Blood - Stephen Oates: This was the first substantial reading I had ever done about John Brown, and Oates' book made it very clear why he is still one of the American historical figures most worth talking about today. The contradictions, complexities, and unimpeachable truths caught up in his raids are almost too many to name, but I think he is one of the people most worth thinking about when considering what actually changes the world.

Normal People - Sally Rooney: Anyone who denies that this book is anything less than a truly great novel is not telling the truth, or does not actually care about the feelings people feel. It is a work of keen emotional observation, and perfect, tender language, as well as a pleasingly dirty book -- and there is nothing I would change about it.

Conversations With Friends - Sally Rooney: Still a banger, I think Conversations with Friends struggles somewhat to get to its point, and has less of the pleasing depth and ambiguity of Normal People. Still worth your time and attention, I think.

The Glass Hotel - Emily St. John Mandel: I loved Station Eleven, and I can't imagine having to follow it up, and I unfortunately think The Glass Hotel doesn't quite accomplish all it set out to do. It wandered, hung up on a few strong images, but never progressed towards a point that needed to be made, and I finished it feeling underwhelmed.

The Water Dancer - Ta-Nehisi Coates: Coates is an essential nonfiction writer who can turn a phrase to make devastating, memorable points - but I thought his novel failed to do very many of the things that make his nonfiction great.

A Visit From The Goon Squad - Jennifer Egan: Someone once recommended this book to me as a way to study voice in character development - it is certainly that, as well as a brutally efficient window into hope, fame, and aging.

Trick Mirror - Jia Tolentino: The best parts of Trick Mirror show why Jia Tolentino is one of the writers most worth reading today: she knows how to find the experiences and people that wormhole you into dimensions of American culture that you might not otherwise think carefully about. While I think some of the essays in the book are weaker than her usual work, overall it is still terrific, and her essay on Houston rap, evangelical culture, and drugs is one of the best anythings I read all year.

My Dark Vanessa - Kate Elizabeth Russell: I feel like I'm on very shaky ground making any definitive takes about a book like this that is so fundamentally about gendered violence and what it means to be a victim of that violence. But I will say that I think it's important to recognize how power and charisma can be used to make you want something that actually hollows out your soul.

Prozac Nation - Elizabeth Wurtzel: Without a doubt, this is the nonfiction book that had the greatest personal impact on my life in 2020, and I have much longer things I've written about it that I will probably never share. While I've not ever been to the extremes she describes here, Wurtzel describes so many things that I clearly remember feeling that the shock of recognition still hasn't worn off.

The New Jim Crow - Michelle Alexander: In truth, we should all be shaking with rage at the American justice system every single day. This is certainly not the only book to explain why, but it does a particularly good job of explaining both the deep roots, and rapid expansion of the system we need to dismantle.

The Martians - Kim Stanley Robinson: Getting another little taste of the world Robinson built in the Mars Trilogy only made me want to drop everything and read them again. Well-made, but not stand-alone short stories that are worth reading if you've finished the novels and aren't ready to leave the formally-Red yet.

The Wind’s Twelve Quarters - Ursula K. Le Guin: One of the things that makes Le Guin so special is the sparseness of her prose and world building, and her genius is very much evident in her short stories.

Matter - Iain M. Banks: This is the second Culture series book I've read by Banks, and once again I thought it was inventive, satisfyingly plotted, but not so heady to be imposing. A very solid read.

Ogilvy On Advertising - David Ogilvy and Ogilvy On Advertising in the Digital Age - Miles Young: The original Ogilvy on Advertising is  frustratingly smug but at least delivers plain and persuasive versions of advertising first principles. Ogilvy on Advertising in the Digital Age is also frustratingly smug, but is mainly useful as an example of the hubris and narcissism of contemporary advertising executives.

Goodbye to the Low Profile - Herb Schmertz: Schmertz was the longtime public affairs director for Mobil Oil, and in this book he talks about how they worked to manage public debate about the oil industry, without realizing that he's writing a confession. Reading this it is abundantly clear how the oil industry's commitment to making deception respectable led to the collapse of the American public sphere.

The Lean Startup - Eric Ries: I was surprised by how much I liked this book, and wish more people who wanted to start political projects would read it. The Lean method is a way of building organizations that are ruthlessly focused on serving their base of supporters, and evaluate their work against real results - and I think we all could use more of those.

Zero To One - Peter Thiel: Another book that reads like a confession when perhaps not intended to, Zero To One's main point is that the point of building businesses should be to build monopolies, and that competition is actually bad. A great starting point for understanding what's gone wrong in America's tech economy.

The Mother of All Questions - Rebecca Solnit: Of the many things to cherish about Solnit as a writer, the one I needed most when I re-read this book is her ability to gently but doggedly show other ways of imagining the world, and ourselves in it.

Native Speaker - Chang-Rae Lee: I think this is the third time I've read this novel, and the time I've enjoyed it the least: somehow on re-re-reading, the core metaphors became overbearing and over-used, and the plot and characters thinner.

Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller: There are several excellent entries in the sub-genre of classic tales re-told from the perspective of silent women characters, but this is the first I've read re-told from a man's perspective - in this case, the likely-lover of Achilles in the Iliad, Patroclus. While not necessarily a groundbreaking work of literature, it is a very well-executed one that tells a compelling story about how violence can destroy men who carry it out.

Uprooted - Naomi Novik: What makes Uprooted so engrossing is that its magical world feels grounded, and political: magic has consequences for the individuals who use it, and further consequences based on their place in the world. What makes it frustrating is the overwhelming number of things the author has happening in the story, and the difficulty they have bringing them to a conclusion.

[italianartsociety]

A Case of Teenage Diplomacy: Galeazzo Maria Sforza’s First Impression of the Medici Palazzo

In the Spring of 1459, the teenage Galeazzo Maria Sforza (heir to the Duchy of Milan) was present in Florence, being one of the members of a dignified retinue that would escort Pope Pius II onwards from Tuscany to Mantua. The Medici had apparently played an important role in financing the neophyte Sforza dynasty, as Galeazzo Maria’s father Francesco, a former mercenary, was keen to simultaneously modernise and beautify the city of Milan (by way of magnificent expenditure) and legitimise his de facto position within the duchy as the Sforza dukes would not obtain official investiture until the quattrocento was coming to a close. 

Accordingly, when Galeazzo Maria Sforza wrote to his parents concerning the newly constructed Medici palazzo, the praise levelled at the Cosimo “il Vecchio” de’ Medici’s new home may well have been a veritable recollection of youth. However,  it was also perhaps a politely diplomatic response that reflected the extent of the Sforza’s financial reliance on this Florentine clan. 

I took leave of their lordships and finally, accompanied by the above mentioned crowd of gentlemen and peopl, all of whom were on holiday by public proclamation as if it were Easter Day, arrived here at the house of the magnificent Cosimo, where I discovered a house that is both in terms of the beauty of its ceilings, the height of its walls, the high finish of the entrances and the windows, the number of bedchambers and reception rooms, the ornateness of the studies, the worth of the books, the neatness and gracefulness of the gardens, and in terms of the tapestry decorations, chests of inestimable workmanship and value, majestic sculptures, designs of infinite kinds as well as of priceless silver, the most beautiful I may ever have seen, or believe it possible to see... 

I visited the esteemed Cosimo who I found in one of this chapels which lacked nothing of the ornateness and beauty of the rest of the house...

On return to the house I dined in the garden of the esteemed Cosimo under a loggia. In fact it gave me the greatest of pleasure to see this garden again. In my opinion it is the most beautiful and most ornate I have ever seen. 

The images below represent a small portion of the architecture and objects that Galeazzo Maria may have seen and been impressed by. It must be stressed however, that there have been many additions and changes made to the palazzo and its internal decorations since the quattrocento. Furthermore, some artworks that were once housed within the confines of the palazzo in Cosimo “il Vecchio’s” era, can now be located in other civic settings. Further still, some of the internal decorations may still have been in progress during the 1459 visit. 

Images: 

Image of the Palazzo Medici Riccardi: Courtyard by Michelozzo di Bartolomeo, 1445-60, Palazzo Medici Riccardi, Florence. Web Gallery of Art. 

Piero del Pollaiuolo, Portrait of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, c. 1471, tempera on panel, Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence. Web Gallery of Art. 

View of the Chapel with frescoes by Benozzo Gozzoli, 1459-60, Palazzo Medici Riccardi, Florence. Web Gallery of Art. 

A Further View of the Chapel with frescoes by Benozzo Gozzoli, 1459-60, Palazzo Medici Riccardi, Florence. Web Gallery of Art. 

The Palazzo Medici Riccardi at Night. Wikimedia Commons. 

Donatello, David, 1430s, bronze, height, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence. Wikimedia Commons.

Donatello, Judith and Holofernes, 1455-60, bronze, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence. Wikimedia Commons.

Giovanni di Ser Giovanni Guidi (called Scheggia), Birthing Tray of Lorenzo de’ Medici showing The Triumph of Fame, c. 1449, tempera, silver and gold on wood, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Purchase in memory of Sir John Pope-Hennessy: Rogers Fund, The Annenberg Foundation, Drue Heinz Foundation, Annette de la Renta, Mr. and Mrs. Frank E. Richardson, and The Vincent Astor Foundation Gifts, Wrightsman and Gwynne Andrews Funds, special funds, and Gift of the children of Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Logan, and other gifts and bequests, by exchange, 1995. Public Domain. 

Image of The Walled Garden at the Palazzo Medici Riccardi. Wikimedia Commons.

Fra Filippo Lippi, Adoration of the Child, c.1459, oil on panel, Staatliche Museen, Berlin. Web Gallery of Art. 

Paolo Uccello, Niccolò da Tolentino Leads the Florentine Troops, 1450s, tempera on wood, The National Gallery, London. Web Gallery of Art. 

References:

Jardine, Lisa and Brotton, Jerry, Global Interests: Renaissance Art Between East and West, London: Reaktion Books, 2000.

Kent, Dale V., Cosimo De' Medici and the Florentine Renaissance: The Patron's Oeuvre, London: Yale University Press, 2000. 

Neville, Jennifer, Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy, Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indianapolis University Press, 2004.

https://www.palazzomediciriccardi.it/en/

Sforza, Galeazzo Maria, “Letter to His Parents (1459).” In Peter Elmer, Nick Webb and Roberta Wood (eds.), The Renaissance in Europe: An Anthology, London: Yale University Press in association with The Open University, 2000, p. 226. 

Trexler, Richard C., Public Life in Renaissance Florence, London: Cornell University Press, 1980. 

Posted By Samantha Hughes-Johnson. 

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 6: It Wasn't All Just a Dream…?

Wait. What if it wasn’t all a dream? What will Florante do now?

You can also find more chapters of my original fiction here. Please enjoy.

First | Previous | Next

Back in Fatima High School's science laboratory…

The Biology teacher of Florante Galang and Isaiah Pascual—the soft-spoken Miss Isabelle Del Mundo, known by the faculty by her nickname "Belle" a la the protagonist of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast"—looked over their shoulders to glance at their laboratory work.

After staring intently to check their answers, Ms. Belle Del Mundo said to Florante, "Mr. Galang, don't you think Mr. Pascual should get a chance at looking into the microscope?"

The two former best friends exchanged glances. Pascual was the first to speak.

"We're just about to finish up, Ms. Del Mundo," he said to the soft-spoken teacher before taking the last slide and putting it onto the microscope so he could peer at it.

"Well," she said after a moment of deliberation, "then go ahead, boys. Remember, this is a cooperative exercise between lab partners, okay?" She then walked away.

After she left, Florante began doodling on his notebook.

"Florante," said Isaiah in an almost whiny manner. "I don't know what I'm looking at. Help."

With a sigh, Florante whispered, "The last two we haven't found are prometaphase and telaphase. Telaphase is easy because it's the cell splitting into two. If it's not split into two, it's probably prometaphase."

"How do you spell that, bro?"

"Come on, man."

The two exchanged glances again.

"I'm just kidding, Florante."

"Haha. Funny stuff. Can you spell it or not?"

"Yeah, of course. It's something like 'Pro' as in 'Pro-wrestling', 'Meta' as in 'Metal', and then P-H-A-S-E for 'Phase', right?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"The slide I got is probably the pro-something one, by the way. The cell hasn't split."

"Gotcha," said Florante as he took the slide out to label it. "The last one's probably telaphase but look at it just in case."

"Yep, it's a split cell," Isaiah confirmed after changing microscope slides. "You saved my bacon, bro. Thanks," he added.

Florante harrumphed. "I saved the both of us. You're not going to drag my grade down with you."

And, just as Galang was about to wave off how Pascual talked about his fever dream as his imagination running wild, his imagination apparently chose that moment to run wild again.

"You remember killing me, don't you?" said the pokerfaced Pascual in a deadpan monotone. "You blew my head off. You did all sorts of nasty things to our classmates too."

Isaiah sounded like something out of a horror story. Thusly, Florante resisted the urge to scream, his blood running cold once again.

Was Galang going mad? This wasn't happening, was it? Or was he in a dream again? He hadn't gone off the deep end yet, had he?

He should check out his dream journal when he got home, just in case. It helped him differentiate when something was a dream and wasn't.

It was his sole tether to sanity and objective reality at this point.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

Who keeps dream journals of their nonsensical dreams as though they have any bearing with reality? Florante does, but his is a special case.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 6: It Wasn't All Just a Dream…?

***

Sometimes, Florante Galang wondered if he got bullied because he deserved it.

Nine times out of ten, he'd say no. Like that one dentist who didn't recommend this or that brand of toothpaste even though nine others did.

No one deserved to be bullied the way he got bullied. However, one of those ten times he might reconsider that maybe he got what was coming to him because he did something wrong.

His feeling of inadequacy and insecurity haunted him. Maybe he had it coming. Maybe he was asking for it.

Maybe nines times out of ten, he had a brief moment of self-awareness. He got bullied because he committed the grave sin of social ineptitude.

Maybe he just needed to fit in with his classmates better. Maybe, even though they were mean to him, they were mostly excellent to one another, so there must've been something wrong with him instead.

Maybe he should be the one to adjust to them instead of the other way around.

Was he victim-blaming himself? Maybe. Or maybe he was a narcissist manipulating others to his will only to face karma from his bad behavior.

Maybe a large portion of his life leading up to this moment was a series of huge mistakes of which he learned nothing.

Maybe he should emulate their behavior except for the part where they were being jerks to him.  

Or maybe he should be a jerk to other weirdoes while imitating the manly behavior exhibited by the jocks and tough guys in his class. Find someone weaker than him to pick on so he wouldn't be the one picked on by everyone.

Maybe he simply needed to fit in with his bullies and coexist with them in the social food chain. Maybe he merely needed to grow up like his asshole classmates, who themselves were already having hookups, parties, and girlfriends.

Meanwhile, like a child, he couldn't even hold a romantic conversation with a girl his age, with him stuck in the Friend Zone for all of the girls he was actually in good terms with. Or worse.

He might even have the E.Q. (emotional quotient) of a child too, or at least that was what his mother and teachers kept telling him. Arrested development, if you would.

Outside the Dead Kids, he simply couldn't find a clique to belong with in Fatima School and its roughly 800 high school students, specifically the 200 or so students in the same year.  

He rationalized that he couldn't relate to people his age. Despite what his mother suggested, he was friendlier towards people who were older than him, like college-aged students, teachers, or other grownups.

However, even then he wasn't really all that close to anyone in school. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that he couldn't relate to people period and he was a gigantic weirdo, dork, or wimp.

A wimpy kid with no friends.

Anyway, at least he had an okay I.Q. (intelligence quotient). He sometimes made it to the Top 10 of the class. Sometimes. Bottom three of ten, usually. So at least he wasn't completely pathetic academically.

He was back to his usual ritual of barely eating lunch and finding ways and places to hide himself inside the school every recess and lunch break so he wouldn't look like (more of) a total loser to his peers.

He'd end up eating alone outside the cafeteria, near the boiler room, or under the mango trees with the circular concrete seats surrounding them time and time again. Or reading in the library until his hunger passed.

He was skin and bones practically. The wimpiest of kids. Certain sporty girls in the varsity team could probably outdo him in athletics, he was so pathetic.

So it was probably this insecurity that led him to dream the dreams he dreamt. He had also called them nightmares because it involved him murdering his bullies.

However, if it were proverbial rather than literal murder—like him imagining their murder to let off some steam from their bullying without ever daring to murder them for real—he'd understand how these dreams could be considered as the power fantasies of the powerless.

Like parents tempted to kill their misbehaving children without really meaning it.

Or maybe his being a terrible person who deserved all the bullying he ever got was just the dose of self-awareness he needed.

Maybe he should stop being so dependent on what other people thought. As long as he followed his own moral compass, they had no business dictating how he lived his life!

If he left them alone then they should leave him alone too. Right?

As long as he didn't hurt anyone else—so again, he crossed his fingers that his dream murders were nothing more than dreams—he didn't need anyone's approval.

***

As the class returned from the lab to the classroom to further discuss cell mitosis or whatever, Pascual played catch-up with Galang, walking beside him and asking him how he'd been doing.

Or more like Isaiah talked and Florante half-listened, waiting for the other shoe to drop in regards to them sharing memories of something that only happened in his, well, their dreams.

Maybe Florante misheard him the first time? And the second time? He didn't know. Isaiah didn't press the matter.

He merely asked him for the time instead, wishing to change the subject. "What time is it?"

"Let me see. It's skin thirty," Pascual said with a straight face while pointing to his bare wrist.

It took Florante a minute to get it.

"Oh."

They then both shared a hearty laugh, with Florante laughing in spite of himself. A cathartic laugh from all the stress he felt.

Dammit, Galang kind of missed this. He missed talking to his former best friend like this.

Too bad their friendship went south in the end.

Pascual then told Florante about the rumors he heard about him. How Florante had ended up joining the infamous Dead Kids of Fatima High.

How he finally got his bullies to let up with their bullying by listing their names and sending them to his teacher. A teacher that actually did something after catching Florante's bullies in the act.

How he started wooing(!?) their classmate Jennifer Tolentino.

"I wasn't wooing anyone, don't be weird," Florante told Pascual off. "I just want to be better friends with her, that's all."

Or be friends again at all. They were supposed to be friends when they first met during the first day of school, but they then drifted apart. Kind of like the situation between Pascual and him, to be honest.

Florante avoided eye contact with Isaiah all this time out of embarrassment of being told loads of gossip, rumors, and half-truths about himself.

At the same time, he had to also avoid getting caught stealing glances at Jenny from time to time as she walked on ahead of them alongside Laura Reyes.

Her bespectacled face was such a distraction that he tried not to look at her as much as possible, only to end up staring back at Pascual and his nonsense.

It didn't help that Laura was there too. They still had an awkward air about them when they were near one another.

He didn't know where to look. The floor, perhaps? Or how about the ceiling?

There he was again, falling in love with another girl who gave him an ounce of attention. Or kissed him in his dreams.

On second thought, yeah. He was dreaming, wasn't he?

Once they were back in the classroom, Florante returned to his seat and tried to listen to the rest of Ms. Del Mundo's lecture, who used an overhead projector to project transparencies onto the blackboard with the windows and shades closed.

He couldn't manage his thoughts. Was he hearing things with Pascual? Did he really say what he thought he heard him say?

***

For a change, as the bell rung and Biology class ended, Pascual continued talking to Galang. Usually, no one bothered to do so in their class.

As of late, before she went absent for a week, it had been Jenny who talked to him, but only sometimes.  

"Jenny seems friendlier to you now than before," was the icebreaker Isaiah went with. "You even had lunch with her and your gang."

'Humph. My gang, huh?' Florante thought, with Pascual avoiding calling them by their infamous name of "Dead Kids".

To Isaiah, Galang went with, "Yeah, I guess," while also wondering aloud, "I wonder why she was absent for so long."

"There's been a cold bug spreading. Must've been the change in weather."

"Yeah, that must be it."

Florante frowned, though it felt more to him like the petulant pout of a child. He looked away while resisting the urge to stick his tongue out childishly at Isaiah for good measure.

He couldn't focus on his former best friend's chatter as they grabbed their bags with their P.E. (Physical Education) uniforms and proceeded to have P.E. class at the gymnasium.  

Mixed-gender volleyball at the gym didn't catch much of Florante's attention either. He ended up playing with Pascual and his friends though, which was a relief for him.

Usually, their P.E. teacher had to force one of the multiple cliques or groups in Section St. Francis to include Florante with them. Or he ended up with the rest of the social outcasts who couldn't find a group to team up with.

He was always left out whenever the gym coach instructs the class to group themselves into four or five people.

After doing warm-up exercises and partner drills, they had a simultaneous mini-tournament of sorts. Multiple five-member teams ended up doing a set of games until the end of P.E. period.

Florante ended up in a team composed of four guys—two of them Isaiah and Florante himself—and one girl up against a team of three guys and two girls.

Naturally, Florante Galang sucked at P.E. in general and volleyball in particular.

Most of his volleyball returns resulted in shots that went outside the court, so his teammates covered his position so he wouldn't bungle more shots.

However, strangely enough, both Isaiah and even Jenny (who played against another team at an adjacent court) cheered him on, leading him to surprise himself by serving the volleyball decently, even scoring an ace or two.

Sure, their team lost in the end, but at least the unathletic Florante was able to somewhat contribute when normally he couldn't.

Well then. The day ended up better than he expected!

***

Inside the boys' locker room, while the class either changed back to their regular uniforms or just gathered their belongings to head out of the school for dismissal time, Pascual continued talking to Florante, making him self-conscious.

The introvert felt tired from all that talking—well, half-listening and barely answering—he did for so long. His social "health bar" was spent.

To explain, introverts tended to shy away from social gatherings because being in such situations took a toll on their energy. They could only take so much before becoming anxious or nervous wrecks.

Even though Pascual and Florante were having mostly one-on-one (or rather, one-sided) conversations instead of a more open social encounter with multiple people, Pascual's sudden over-friendliness after they'd acted like strangers for so long had depleted Florante's tolerance for the social situation.

"…Oh, I remember that one time, in the grade school playground, you were playing alone, pretending to be Rambo or something, tying an imaginary bandanna on your forehead…!"

"All right, ALL RIGHT! That's enough," said Florante, who now focused his full attention on his ex-friend Pascual. "I get the picture."

By the way, his bullies had caught him playing alone as a high school kid, since he spent his grade school in Makati.

"Sorry," apologized Isaiah. "You're not going to zap my brain to mush again like before, are you?"

This jolted Florante awake from any more random thoughts. He hoped the earlier declarations from Pascual was just his imagination, but no such luck.

He'd been actually delaying any potential confrontation as long as he could.

Galang's eyebrows knit together in concentration for the first time the whole day, like he had just suddenly noticed that the things happening around him didn't make sense because he was merely dreaming.

Like someone between the verge of sleepiness and wakefulness.

He then exhaled, mumbled, "Susmaryosep," under his breath, and said, "No. I only have those powers when I'm dreaming, not in real life."

The daydreaming asthmatic didn't want to look like a fool and attempt to shoot nonexistent laser bullets at one of his bullies, thank you very much.

Isaiah gave him a quizzical look. "You can totally shoot your power beams or whatever right now."

Florante scoffed at the idea. "No, I can't. That's not how this works. I need to be dreaming in order for me to use those powers. Because none of it is real."

Pascual raised an eyebrow at that. "You sure about that?"

Galang also raised an eyebrow in kind. "What do you mean?"

So Isaiah clarified. "You don't need to dream to use your powers."

What. Now hold on a minute there! "No, I can't. That wasn't real. That was just a dream," Florante dismissed the very notion until something else occurred to him.

"Hey, Pascual. How'd you know what happened in my dreams?"

Although Isaiah had been talking up a storm since Biology class, Florante just now noticed his ex-friend's hands gripping the edge of the bench they sat on in the locker with immense tension.

Like a squashed bed spring ready to uncoil.

Had Isaiah been acting this nervous around him this entire time, unbeknownst to him? Was he talking nonstop to help calm his nerves?

Why was he so afraid of him…? Oh. Right. The murders.

No, please. Not this again. Not him questioning whether his dream happened or not again! Anything but that!

"Florante Galang," Isaiah Pascual said. "That wasn't a dream. You really did kill us all."

No. NO. That couldn't be. No, no, no. Shut up, Pascual.

Pascual continued. "Was that how you were able to cope with what happened? You waved off everything as a dream? You avoided accountability that way?"

"NO! What happened was a dream!" exclaimed Florante.

"You always had the power. To destroy. To kill. It's as plain as the nose on your face," said Isaiah.

"But you can't see the nose on your face unless you look in a mirror," said Galang.

"Then let me be that mirror to your face. Let me prove it wasn't a dream," said Pascual.

Florante productively released his anger, malice, and frustrations in that dream because he was powerless in real life! Also, who had superpowers in real life? How absurd!

"Just because you were somehow able to reset everything back to the way things were doesn't mean you've completely undone what you did."

"SHUT UP!"

It was then that Florante noticed how Isaiah hadn't taken off his P.E. uniform yet even as the introvert immediately took those clothes off and changed into his school uniform.

"We remember everything. I remember everything you've done. And what a monster you were back then."

No no no nonono. Florante was not the monster Mammon accused him of! None of it was real! This wasn't real either! He was dreaming again, wasn't he?

His fever dream was supposed to be catharsis so he could successfully avoid committing a murder in real life! Or at least wish-fulfillment because he was never a violent or particularly powerful person either!

The bullies in his life had always silenced him but the one time he struck back and silenced them instead, he was the bad guy?

How was that fair? He was solely responsible for losing control? They could do whatever they wanted with him but he couldn't to them in turn?

Before the asthmatic could let out a wheezy exhale, Isaiah disappeared from view.

Then the whole world became a blur.

***

The drizzle had become mist by the time they ended up suddenly in the streets, leaving a trail of devastation behind them.

It took a minute before a bleeding Florante Galang realized that Isaiah Pascual had just pushed him from the gym lockers all the way through the soccer field, right past part of the high school building, to the back of the school wall, right into open traffic, with one hand to his chest.

They busted through wall, brick, concrete, and plaster like a bulldozer through Styrofoam.

It all happened within a second. Or a fraction of a second. Before Galang's eyes could even blink or his mind could register what had happened.

Wait. So Pascual was actually an angel too? Or maybe even a demon? An Ophanim or a Minion? Like the spaghetti monster or the maelstrom man?

The impact should've caved Florante's chest in. Not to mention broke and dislocated his bones in 30 different places.

He might've even ended up like roadkill too, if not for his Ophanim halo that served as his shield.

Thankfully, a combination of light energy and gale winds formed a protective vacuum cocoon around Galang's body that kept him safe from harm. His own halo effect, if you would.

Isaiah just looked at the (mostly) untouched Florante, his palm outstretched, his jaw agape, before he gave him a sheepish grin. "Hehehe. Didn't expect that, did you?"

"You have superpowers too?"

"Yep. See? And so do you… AH! Please don't blow my brains out!"

Isaiah flinched or perhaps even overreacted at Florante stepping towards him, with him unleashing a flurry of punches.

"I wasn't! OW! Stop punching me!" One of the fists hit Florante's nose before he could summon his light wind dome again to block the rest of the blows.

Something else then dawned to Florante as he surveyed how far they went out. "You… you almost killed me!" He considered taking a swing at his former friend, but settled with attempting to catch him.

However, Isaiah disappeared the instant Galang tried grabbing his arm. Like a fly disappearing before the fly swatter could hit it.

By instinct, Florante jumped back into the sidewalk as a car beeped at him.

He then looked around. Several onlookers began gathering around the scene of devastation, particularly near what was left of what was once a wall and a planter's box.

Isaiah ran away and Florante was about to chase him when he felt something coming at him from behind. 'What…?'

Instead of multiple supersonic punches, Galang got hit by a single spine-tingling punch that actually blew away his halo shield and rattled him to the bones.

Then it hit him again. And again.

"…Catch me if you can, Slowpoke!"

Multiple Pascuals kept appearing and disappearing, punching his weakening halo shield with supersonic punches that came at Florante stronger and faster by the second.

What was this? In spite of his panic, Florante figured what Isaiah did. He ran in a tight circle at supersonic speeds and incrementally increased the momentum of his punch until it reached an irresistible power at an unstoppable level.

Sneaky bastard.

Pascual ran at the supersonic speed of a racecar going through a racetrack, crashing through Galang's halo shield bit by bit.

The more time passed, the faster the momentous punch got and the harder it was for Florante's halo aura to resist it. Isaiah might actually break through his hallowed field. What was he supposed to do now?

"…Lightning BOLT!"

Florante thusly summoned lightning from the drizzling overcast skies just as the infinite mass punch shattered his halo vacuum field, which electrocuted Pascual while energized Galang.

This jolted and froze Pascual, but his forward momentum remained, which prompted Florante to finally dodge one of the continuous punches.

The resulting blockbuster explosion blasted both of them thirty or so feet clear into the gray heavens.

***

The next thing Florante knew, he'd landed on the roof(?!) of the Fatima High School Building.

What the hell.

He looked around him to see where he was. He felt a tingling sensation travel across his extremities. His acrophobia (fear of heights) had acted up again.

Or maybe that was the millions of volts of electricity he'd just absorbed before making the electrocuted Isaiah miss, resulting in a blast from his massive punch that jettisoned them from the streets of Mandaluyong to the rooftops of Fatima High.

It was times like this that convinced him that the time when he jumped from rooftop to rooftop in order to experiment upon using his powers was just a dream. An acrophobic would never do anything as crazy as that for real. Also, he had superpowers. Of course it was all a crazy dream.

He looked around to make sure he was indeed where he was. That was when he noticed the still figure of Isaiah Pascual beside him.

Huh. He survived the fall too, huh?

"Dammit, you weren't this powerful before," was what Florante thought Pascual murmured under his breath.

'Before…?' thought Florante. What did he mean by that?

However, as Galang braced himself for another assault, he realized Pascual's stiff body still hadn't recovered from the electrocution.

Also, because they were on the roof deck of the building, his former best friend has less running room for his supersonic punch.

Most importantly, Florante still had enough energy left from absorbing the millions of volts of electricity from the lightning strike. Perhaps 1.21 gigawatts of power. Perhaps even more than that.

A billion joules of electricity. Enough to power dozens of homes for a day. Or 10 million light bulbs at the same time. Maybe even a flux capacitor on a time-traveling DeLorean.

Should he do it? Should he test out whether this was a dream or not?

Should he hit him with his five-fingered Light Array bullets, which was now practically his finishing move? Or he could use both hands and fire all ten shots?

Nah. That was overkill. Instead, he elected to focus his accumulated power on one closed fist, cocked his arm back, and then shouted, "Thunder BOLT…!"

It made sense. Even though the high school building had a narrow roof deck, Isaiah could still dodge. So Florante might as well shoot his thread-thin concentrated laser that cut through the air and produced a powerful "thunder" or "sonic boom" shockwaves with a wider destructive area.

However, he hesitated at the last minute when he heard Pascual ask, "Thunder Bolt? So what's different between that and the Lightning Bolt you shot earlier?"

Florante couldn't help himself. It had been his pet peeve ever since he saw "Thunder Bolt" and "Lightning Bolt" used interchangeably in anime, manga, action games, and RPGs.

"…Well, obviously, a Lightning Bolt is the bolt of electricity. The thunder comes after the lightning bolt, correct? It's the rumbling sound from the shockwaves of a sonic boom. So to me Thunder Bolt is basically just a sonic boom."

"Oh, I see. I never thought of it that way."

The two then just stared at each other for a hot minute, with Galang allowing the rivulets of electric might fade away as he relaxed his shoulders and stopped cocking back his fist.

Pascual himself relaxed as well, the paralyzing effects of Florante's electric shocks finally wearing off.

***

The two former best friends sat down on the roof deck overlooking Fatima High while the rest of the world stood still.

The damage they'd wrought on the rooms, walls, and streets earlier slowly but surely disappeared, as though they didn't even touch anything.

Curious. Then again, this only affirmed Florante's stance that his supernatural actions originated from dreams. Perhaps extra-lucid dreams than normal, but dreams nonetheless.

Florante sat beside Pascual, with both doing the "Indian sit" or "Indian style" sitting position with their legs crossed underneath them, which was often linked to stereotypical portrayals of Native Americans.

It was also believed to be rooted on a meditation or yoga pose from India known as the "Lotus Position".

They shared a hearty laugh, with Isaiah stating, "Of course only you can come up with something as nerdy as making a Thunder Bolt be different from  a Lightning Bolt!"

Meanwhile, Florante himself protested, "You're the one to speak! You were the one who gave me the idea!"

Pascual blinked three times then tilted his head to the side. "I did? I don't remember."

"You totally did! That's why I made it a point to use a different kind of attack when doing a Thunder Bolt and Lightning Bolt!" said a grinning, nostalgic Galang. "You once brought the topic up to me."

"Maaan, I can't believe you've grown this strong already," said a wistful Isaiah while scratching his cheek. "I guess I should've expected it. You were among the first to awaken, weren't you?"

"…I guess? What do you mean by awaken, though?" Florante asked.

"Just what like it sounds like," Pascual said. "It's when you awaken your powers."

Oh right. It wasn't just him who awakened. There was also Gerry Jacinto. And Laura Reyes. And now, Isaiah Pascual. They all "awakened" to having their own superpowers along with Florante.

"Hey, Pascual," Florante called out, "you're an angel too, aren't you?"

"…Angel?" Isaiah repeated.

"That's what Jenny Tolentino called us," Galang continued, brushing his damp hair bangs back and heaving a heavy, asthmatic wheeze. "Angels. Demons. Either or."

"Demons, huh?" Pascual rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess you can call her that. Maybe even a monster."

"…Her?"

Pascual hesitated from revealing anything more. "Sooo how does Jenny know about all this?"

Florante replied, "She's one of us. She's also an angel."

Pascual smirked. "Isn't that just your crush on her talking?"

"What? No," Florante denied, but he has second thoughts. So far, everything tracked. Jenny confirmed they were angels then they fought against multiple demons.

She was telling him the truth, right? She must've told them the truth. He trusted her.

"I meant she has powers like ours and she awakened her powers long before we have, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt," said Florante.

Why shouldn't he trust the girl whose (alleged) back story of being much older than she looked, he found out for himself, without her prompting? He already did the background check himself!

A second later, he asked, "Wait, she hasn't talked to you about it?"

"No, it's the first time I've even learned she even has powers like us," said Pascual.

"That's strange," said Florante. "So you didn't know we're angels and demons?"

"Not a clue," said Pascual. "For all I know, we've become like the X-Men or something. Mutants who've awakened our superpowers, you know?"

"That also makes sense," said a wistful Galang. "We might be the next evolution of man. Deities. Or gods. Or heroes."

"Or villains. Or demons. Or monsters…" Isaiah trailed off.

"What happened?" Florante asked, sensing Pascual's foul mood. "Is something wrong?"

"I-It's nothing," Isaiah said, but then exhaled and shrugged. "It's about Regina…"

"Regina Mariano?" Florante repeated, remembering the girl as the one who said he had fetal alcohol syndrome.

He also remembered blasting her until she turned to ash in his fever dream.

"What happened to her?"

***

By the time Florante and Isaiah left the rooftop (via the staircase), everything went back to normal.

No hole in the wall. No broken glass windows. No interrupted traffic outside of the school. It was if they'd never fought.

Another reset or "Ctrl + Z" had happened, which made Galang presume that his fever dream was one of those resets. Nevertheless, he had to face facts.

He unfortunately did kill his classmates, but something occurred to "undo" the event, making it fade away like a dream. Was this the power of angels in action again?

Regardless, Isaiah gave Florante the lowdown on what happened to Regina. She had awakened her powers like Isaiah, Jennifer, and Florante did.

Long story short, Regina transformed into a mindless Ophanim or perhaps even a Minion. Like the crawling chaos or the spaghetti monster from before, she ended up becoming an out of control monster that Isaiah couldn't stop.

Come to think of it, Florante left out that little detail of him visiting Jenny's apartment in his dreams after seeing her name-alike in a yearbook at the library.

However, because of recent events, he had an inkling suspicion that his visit to the Tolentino abode actually happened. Like how his brief battle with Isaiah actually happened before their collective lucid fantasy disappeared right in their very eyes.  

God dammit all to hell. So he really did kill his classmates. He really did kill Laura.

He felt terrified and confused, but mostly ashamed by the fact.

A wave of guilt washed over him. What he thought was him releasing pent-up stress harmlessly was actually him harming his bullies as revenge. Like a school shooter run amok.

If everything hadn't reset back to normal with everyone still living and their school left in one piece, he'd be no better than the bullies he so hated.

No, he'd be worse than them. He'd be a murderer.

He turned what was supposed to be an eye for an eye revenge plot and instead took an arm and a leg as payment for his social humiliation.

Never mind, "An eye for an eye makes the world go blind". The term, "An eye for an eye" was created with people like him in mind: Vengeance seekers who went overboard with their revenge.

He didn't know what to feel.

On one hand, he felt horrified, guilty, and ashamed after realizing he had hurt his classmates for real.

On the other hand, shamed as he was to admit it, he felt a measure of Schadenfreude or catharsis for mostly, um, unleashing his frustrations on his tormentors back to them.

However, he wanted to crawl under a rock and die over the realization that he really did kill his former crush, Laura Reyes, as collateral damage for his mad killing spree. Ditto his teacher who merely got in his way.

They didn't deserve to die like his bullies. However, did even his bullies deserve death over humiliating him in school? Why couldn't he simply humiliate them in return? An eye for an eye?

Sure, everything went back to normal and everyone ended up alive, but he still felt dirty realizing he really did all those things. He wasn't so innocent after all.

No wonder Jenny kept acting so guarded and awkward around him. On top of him stalking her. Damn, he needed to have more self-awareness!

The more he thought about things, the more he realized he was screwed.

What he originally thought was harmless stress relief was now considered something beyond the pale. He felt like someone pulled the rug from under him.

What if he had no reset button? What if they stayed dead? He would have ruined their lives, the lives of their loved ones, and his own life forever.

He didn't mean to. He just wanted them to leave him alone. Even if they didn't end up friends or acquaintances in the end, just let him be. Let bygones be bygones, dammit.

***

The next day…

That breakfast, Florante ate his sandwich and drank his orange juice in a hurry.

For once, he felt somewhat excited to go to school. Not because he was some nerd looking forward to tests and quizzes or something.

He certainly didn't go there to meet up with any friends save for his Dead Kids acquaintances. No, if he was being honest with himself, he knew his eagerness to get to school was to see Jennifer Tolentino again.

No, no. Well, yes. He did want to see his crush again.

But aside from that, he was looking forward to using his powers for good instead of evil.

For once, he would used his dream abilities to help a (former) best friend in need save his new girl friend (not girlfriend, a friend who was a girl, Isaiah insisted) from herself.

If anything, this was his way of alleviating his guilt and shame over actually killing his classmates for real. He owed it to all the bullies he killed, even though they didn't stay dead.

Hmmm.

So if memory (of his vague dreams) served him correct, the angels who'd been chosen as candidates for the position of Archangel Gabriel was Florante, Isaiah, Regina, Gerry, and  Laura.

Maybe also Mark Zuniga? No, no. Mark only stabbed Florante. Gerry was the one who awakened his own powers, followed by Laura. In his "fever dream" that wasn't really a dream.

***

Back at Fatima High…

Regina Mariano appeared normal enough when she got to school. However, as Isaiah Pascual would explain later, she'd actually gotten mixed up with a "bad crowd".

If Florante could hazard a guess, she must've ended up being manipulated by another full-fledged demon avatar like Mammon.

They all attended classes like usual, with Isaiah giving Florante looks here and there to remind him of their plans to, uh, "save" Regina after school.

From how Isaiah described her transformation, her Ophanim/Minion form or biblically accurate angel/demon body was reminiscent of a geometric polygon. Or pyramids glued together at the bottom.

An object instead of an organism. An abstraction instead of something living.

Isaiah admitted he was no match against her and her growing power, but he thought that maybe with Florante's power and help, they could beat the sense back into his estranged girl friend.

Galang then told Pascual about how Ophanims were actually awakened with the purpose of becoming avatars of famous angels or demons like Gabriel or Raphael.

However, it hadn't quite sunk in that Isaiah, Regina, and Florante were bound to fight for the position of Gabriel's avatar sooner or later.

Florante wasn't too clear on how this avatar business worked himself. He made a mental footnote on asking Jennifer more about it later.

Oh right. Jenny. Should Florante end up facing off against her too? She was already the Raphael avatar, so it should be okay.

However, he ended up breaking his promise to her to forget about this angel and demon business.

He felt at times that Jenny acted too guarded around him. Even hostile at times. Seeing that he had every intention of breaking his promise to her, maybe her behavior was warranted.

No. He had to do this favor to Isaiah. To make it up for what he did to his bullies.

He'd apologize to Jenny later. For now, he had to concentrate on Isaiah's friend Regina.

Sure, Regina wasn't the most pleasant of classmates to Florante himself, but he really wanted to make up for the sins he committed that haven't actually been erased.

Some of his bullies actually remembered him killing them. Remembered his past sins.

His sins that actually happened and were real, despite them disappearing from reality like forgotten dreams.

***

After dismissal time…

It rained particularly hard that afternoon, such that it took every ounce of the clumsy Florante's concentration to make it out of school without slipping on a puddle or getting the hem of his pants wet from wayward splashes.

He even managed to cling to the nearby chain-link fence of the school's entrance and exit to save himself from falling.

He shook his head, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. As amazing as he and Pascual probably looked earlier with their superhuman feats, he looked downright pathetic without his powers and with his actual clumsiness.

If he were a girl, perhaps he'd look more endearing instead of pathetic, like a cute klutz. As it was, he felt less of a man for being an uncoordinated goof with not a single athletic bone in his body.

It was times like this that made him doubt (perhaps hope) that his imagined sins or dark fantasies against his classmates remained as such.

Not that hoping for their misfortune subconsciously was any better, but at least it didn't really happen.

Anyway, Regina Mariano had been hanging out with these shady people after dismissal time and her friend circle—of which Isaiah was a part of—was getting worried about it.

Appropriately enough, she seemed like the poster child for an after-school special on wayward kids who hang out with the wrong crowd.

As typical of such specials, Regina was your average tomboyish girl next door who wore a ponytail haircut and sported a dyed brunette hair that stood out from her tan skin.

Regardless, Pascual insisted that her meetings with these questionable and suspicious persons had something to do with both him and her awakening their angelic powers.

So what was Regina's deal? Pascual alleged she got into contact with some talent agency and they were going to make her into a star. However, they instead awakened her angel self and turned her into an outright monster with their schemes.

Pascual attempted to save her, with the stress of her awakening also triggering his own angelic transformation, but she proved too powerful for him.

As her guy best friend, Isaiah followed her to their talent offices, feeling that something was afoot. From what Florante could surmise, Regina was a bit of a naïve country bumpkin and the agency was taking advantage of her and various other talents.

That was news to Florante, who only knew Regina for her mean girl antics with him whenever they came across each other.

Then things got weird from there.

For his part, Galang could only wonder if his other encounters with Ophanims or Minions involved such schemes.

The spaghetti monster seemed to fly out of nowhere at the school parking lot. Meanwhile, the indefinable shadow man was someone he and Jenny detected along with Mammon in the middle of Makati.

Jeez. Florante could only shake his head.

That American(?) white guy in a formal attire was Mammon? The infamous demon Mammon? Or at least an avatar of his. Wild. And Florante himself was supposed to be the avatar of the world-famous Archangel Gabriel to boot.

Or he would become Gabriel's avatar once he went past being an Ophanim and evolved into a Cherubim then a Seraphim.

Regardless, Florante skipped his school service ride home to (again) commute elsewhere, this time with Isaiah, to Ortigas on Isaiah's dime.

They considered using their powers to get there, but they decided against it to conserve their energy and use their powers on saving Regina instead.

***

The duo sneaked (snuck?) around the conference hall leading to an amphitheater where a seeming talent show took place. Some were on stage singing and dancing. Others served as the audience.

On the front row were some well-dressed judges, including a drop-dead gorgeous Caucasian lady who had the looks of a Hollywood actress.

She had blonde hair complimented by her blue eyes. She also wore a flashy blue gown and shoes that matched her dress yet seemingly decorated a closed heart.

At the back of the stage were various contestants with numbered sashes, among them was Regina herself.

What was all this now? A talent show? Star Search? Tanghalan ng Kampeon (Contest of Champions)?

Or perhaps it was a beauty pageant like Miss Universe or Binibining Pilipinas (Miss Philippines)? No, there were dudes there too.

'What are they planning?' Florante wondered. The setup seemed far too elaborate just to awaken the angel (or demon) within Regina. What was this supposed to accomplish?

Using Pascual's teleportation-like speed, they both got passed through the security guards and ended up at the back of the conference room's audience, with all of them none the wiser.

It was actually pretty packed in there. Standing room only. So Isaiah and Galang stood and observed what was happening.

In front of them was an ordinary talent show. They witnessed acts like an amazing male singer who sung a Whitney Houston song while sounding nearly exactly like Whitney with his impressive falsetto or female "head voice" range.

A minute later, there was a group of break dancers on stage. From there, a long-haired musician with an electric guitar did a three-minute guitar solo. Afterwards, another singer, a girl who was classically trained in opera, sung an operatic version of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody".

They even featured drag shows with male cross-dressers who could pass for women.

The pair of classmates stood there, mesmerized by the amount of talent before them. Applauding along with the rest of the audience.

Then it happened. Just like with Mammon's Minion, both Florante and Pascual felt the presence of their fellow angel. Or demon. Celestial being, perhaps.

The curtains parted and then they saw Regina arrive on stage. It was apparently her turn to sing in the talent show. However, instead of singing, she instead began to transform.

They then heard a high-pitched screech, like metal crunching on metal, that became fast and painfully loud.

Startled, Florante looked around him. He saw several things at the same time.

Nothing moved in slow motion the way it did in movies. Rather, his brain felt like it worked overtime due to an adrenalin rush, allowing him to absorb multiple scenes and have them register in his brain at once.

Maybe it wasn't the same case with the speedster beside him who stared at what happened before him with dilated eyes and an unhinged jaw. Florante couldn't tell.

Regina obviously stood out from the sea of faces staring back at her since she was at center stage in this talent show and all, with them wearing the same faces of horror that Pascual did. That Florante probably did as well.

The contestants of the talent show then glowed, as though they themselves had a halo of aura like angels would.

The tendrils of this bright energy got sucked into Regina's body, who herself begun singing a Regine Velasquez song that Florante couldn't quite place.

He also idly wondered if Regina was named after Regine, a famous Filipina singer.

Florante feared that the violently winding soundwaves from Regina's song would converge into a climactic ante, like rapids to a huge waterfall, but then it became a calm lake  that only produced ripples.

Just the purest song.

The fainter variegated spirit energy from the audience swirled along with the more vibrant multicolored auras of the contestants, all converging together into Regina's aura.

This made everyone act lethargic, with the seated viewers slumping down on their seats and the standing contestants plus stage crew crumpling down on the floor in a dead faint.

All of them did so except the two angels at the back—Regina's classmates—and the judges near the front of the stage. Particularly the pretty woman who looked like a Tinsel Town goddess.

"…Pascual?" Regina said, waking from her reverie and breathing into her microphone.

Her eyebrows then furrowed as she squinted and focused them on the person beside Pascual. "Wait. Is that… Florante Galang? Why is he with you, Isaiah?"

"Ay palaka! (Frogdammit!) She caught on to us! The jig is up!" exclaimed Pascual, which only pissed Florante off.

"Susmaryosep, Pascual! What's the plan now?" complained Galang. "You do have a plan just in case she noticed us, don't you?"

"I didn't think things through! Sue me!" said Isaiah. "Just… help me rescue her, okay?! Use your powers or something!"

The Hollywood beauty took a cursory look at the two high school students in uniform and then asked Regina, "Friends of yours?"

Regina stared back and forth between the svelte woman and her classmates then nodded, "They're my classmates, Miss Spelvin," she said aloud, through the microphone.

"Please. Call me Georgia," Georgia Spelvin do declared.

It was then that Florante realized that Miss Spelvin didn't open her mouth when speaking. Like with Mammon, she communicated telepathically. On a frequency only fellow angels and demons could listen to.

Daring to be brave and remembering his former best friend's request to save Regina from the influence of literal demons, Galang shot a Thunderbolt at Georgia instead of his other bully classmate.

The spellbinding Spelvin swatted the Thunderbolt away, which created an ear-splitting sonic boom that made the whole place rumble.

For his part, Florante had already covered his ears, but soon Pascual and even Regina followed suit and did the same.

The three then bore witness to Spelvin changing form from a beautiful blue-eyed blonde in a blue dress to a sultry red-skinned demoness with bat wings, fingernail claws, the wild hair of a harridan, and a black dress seemingly made of the darkest starless night.

An improvement from Mammon's squat gremlin form that Florante and Jenny got exposed to back in Guadalupe Church for sure, but still! Her true form was a She-Devil?

Georgia Spelvin's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Now who told you that's my true form, li'l boy?"

"Wait, you and Jenny fought another demon like her?" asked Isaiah, startling Galang. This telepathic communication between fellow angels and demons was more trouble than it was worth!

As Spelvin strode towards Regina, the two judges beside her turned to dust, which made the hairs at the back of Florante's neck stand on end while beside him, Isaiah turned blue in horror.

Georgia then told Regina telepathically without regard to the two angels who'd overhear, "Now's your chance to use the power you've absorbed from everyone in this talent show to take control of your Minion form."

And soon both Galang and Pascual saw clear as day the literal talent flow like neon tendrils of spiritual energy from the unconscious contestants to Spelvin's hand into a floating sphere of energy. Like an aurora borealis.

The demons had weaponized their passion and used it to their abusive advantage. How devilish of them to do so, but that was to be expected.

Quite a bit of the metaphysical ball of talent then got transferred unto Regina in the form of a seeming solar flare.

Then, like a ghost, the demonic Spelvin vanished and faded into existence.  

From there, Regina opened her mouth, resisted the urge to transform into her geometric self, and sung a song to end the world.

***

Dammit.

Why did it feel like the world was always at stake when Florante dealt with an awakening angel? Or demon?

Regina sang a lyricless hymn of the damned that warped their perception of reality. The sound waves from the song kept Florante's attempts at shooting her down with projectiles from hitting her. They kept missing or dissipating around her.

Meanwhile, on Isaiah's part, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt his friend and classmate. He certainly didn't wish to use that momentum-filled punch on her.

However, she might become even more powerful now than she was when she went berserk with her first awakening.

So Mr. Pascual bravely ran away.

…What?

Regina took a break from her singing that rendered every energy projectile Florante shot at her into harmless heat and light. "What are you doing even here, you fetal alcohol syndrome baby?"  

"AH! You called me that again! Even after I told the teacher on you for bullying me!" exclaimed Florante, who doubled his efforts by shooting Lightning Bolts at himself and storing enough power inside his body to resist Regina's repellant sound waves.

"You're such a li'l snitch, you dork," Regina said with a roll of her eyes. "You're a wimp and a coward to boot. Shame on you."

She then started humming at a specific frequency that resonated with the rest of the building.

Florante considered asking her if she remembered him killing her in his fever dream, but he pushed such thoughts away before they could fully form into words in his head, fearing she'd overhear him telepathically.

The sound waves from her voice came at a shorter-wave vibrato, almost like a bird's trill, which echoed across the amphitheater then transmitted unto the rest of the structure, making its very foundations shake and dance to the beat of her wordless song.

And so the room and the building started to rumble and shake from the droning hum of Regina's powerful singing pipes.

Soon, all the glass panes and mirrors nearby broke or went on the verge of shattering. Deep faults and hairline cracks appeared from the windows to the plaster walls while the floor below them and the ceiling above them trembled like scared children.

Florante hesitated, with him second-guessing himself now that he realized his past dreams weren't dreams and he and everyone else could die for real if the whole building were to collapse upon them.

However, just in the nick of time, Pascual returned, blasting through the wall from behind Miss Mariano instead and pushing—not punching or striking—her forward.

It took the next second for Florante to realize Pascual might've probably run the entire block or even globe and back to produce enough kinetic energy to penetrate through Regina's melodic defenses with supersonic might.

Regardless, that momentous push did the trick. It stopped the building from crumbling to dust just in time.

However, to Pascual's horror, he went overboard and built up enough momentum to push Mariano away with the strength of a freight train.

"AAHH…! Pascual…!?"

"Oh no! GINA…! I'm SORRY!"

For a split-second, the sonic siren changed into the geometric object Isaiah described from before. She was hard to miss, with her occupying most of the amphitheater.

She probably shifted into that form for self-preservation's sake. Otherwise, she would've turned into a messy red stain of blood and guts on the ceiling and walls.  

Florante couldn't believe what he just saw. He also couldn't react in time before the geometric fallen angel did a banshee shriek that blew him away and shattered his eardrums.

"AUGH!" Galang cried out, and when he gnashed his teeth in pain, he felt the enamel on them crack as well, thus worsening his agony.

The supersonic screech of her Minion self lacked the controlled nuance of her human form's song for sure.

However, for Pascual's part, he couldn't be happier. He grinned and exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank goodness, Gina! You're not dea… URK?!"

Regina Mariano finally shifted back to her human form, her hands throttling Isaiah by his neck. "You almost killed me, you jerk!"

"Wait (cough), I-I didn't mean to…!" Isaiah choked out.

"Whatever. I'm going to control this power and become queen of this world. Just you wait and see," she said, dropping Pascual to the floor before she picked up the microphone and began singing again, her heel firmly stepping on Isaiah's face.

A half-conscious Florante thought, "Rule the world…?"

Huh. Why didn't he think of doing that when he first got his powers?

He was too shortsighted with this angel and demon avatar thing that he didn't realize the full implication of his gifts. He'd rather pettily get back at his bullies than aim at something higher. Like world domination.

But to be honest, why would he want to conquer the world? What good would that do? So he'd become President of Earth? A clueless teenager like him should have that responsibility?

Meanwhile, the compromised position Pascual had with him getting stepped on by Regina also made Galang's cheeks warm up.

Mariano kept Isaiah pinned down to the ground by stepping on his face, huh? Florante wished it were him instead.

He shook his head to wave off such sordid thoughts. He needed to set his priorities straight.

Galang attempted to get up and move, but the ground started shaking again. The building creaked and swayed, like a house of cards about to topple over.

What was he supposed to do now? Her singing served as her shield against 100 percent of Florante's myriad of projectiles. His own halo shield couldn't block off Regina's sound waves either. He was a sitting duck.

Also, if he didn't feel like killing the crawling chaos Minion from before, that went double or even triple for his classmate. Not that he could at this rate, but he definitely didn't want to.

Whatever rage he felt for his bullies back in his fever dream had faded away, replaced with shame and embarrassment after he realized he killed them for real back then.

He could only helplessly stare as the ceiling plaster cracked and buckled while bits of dust, rock shards, and debris fell on the unconscious contestants and audience.

They were about to serve as more collateral damage from the awakening of yet another (fallen) angel. Just like Laura Reyes.

According to Pascual, the people who died when he first tried stopping Regina's rampage the first time she awoke remained dead.

They didn't revert back to normal like with what happened when Jenny and Florante defeated the spaghetti monster and the living maelstrom.

Where was Florante's great power and creativity in using them when saving lives? Was he only useful against helpless people, like his powerless bullies before some of them discovered they too had powers?

He was so helpless against Regina that he might as well turn into an Ophanim himself to battle her full force. He didn't remember his monstrous gyroscopic and multi-eyed form having ears, after all. Just endless revolving eyes on fire.

"Wait, you have an monster form too?!" said Isaiah without thinking after hearing Florante's thoughts, as though forgetting (or not believing) Florante claiming they were angels with alternate, monstrous "true" forms.

Oh, right. Angels and demons could sense and communicate telepathically with one another. Florante should keep his thoughts to himself. Isaiah accidentally overheard his thoughts again.

Hold on a minute. He could project his thoughts to those two, couldn't he?

He got it all wrong. He had his priorities straight from the start!

So he stared and focused on his classmates while making his concrete thoughts known to them even as he, a socially awkward teenager, would normally have trouble expressing himself.

The two seemed unaware of how they looked, what with Regina stepping on Isaiah but hesitating to hurt him or finish him off while Isaiah himself didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Also, from the angle where Pascual lay, he could totally look up from under Regina's dress.

The two received the message loud and clear.

Regina screamed and covered herself up while an apologetic Isaiah reassured it wasn't what it looked like.

Mariano did a swift stomp at Isaiah's head that would've squashed it like a watermelon had he not stood up in time. "Manyakis ka! (You pervert!)" she exclaimed. "You're both perverts!"

"You really are a snitch, Florante!" shouted Pascual at his former best friend while backpedaling deftly across multiple unconscious contestants and audience members.

For that fraction of a second though, Regina left herself wide open. So Florante shot her full of light bullets to force her to change into her Ophanim/Minion form.

"LIGHT ARRAY!"

All ten of Florante's energy projectiles hit their target, with each going off like the electromagnetic pulse version of blockbuster bombs.

It wasn't the most honorable tactic, but it worked.

Also, Galang had the presence of mind to envelop himself in his electric wind halo sphere and push Regina backwards from the stadium through several walls up until they were outside the building to save the unconscious people inside the amphitheater from harm.

"Ah! Florante, you bastard…!" the backpedaling Pascual, uh, forward-pedaled towards the pair. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm saving everyone before… AH!"

Then, from outside the venue, right in the middle of Ortigas, Regina Mariano began to change and shift forms herself. Like with the flying spaghetti monster, Regina's true angel/demon form towered over Florante and Isaiah like a gigantic geometric monument.

A floating blue pyramid that might as well be an alien ship. Or a tinted Star Destroyer from Star Wars.

'Now what?' thought Florante, which only made Pascual scream at him harder. 'Oh right. You can still hear me, huh?'

"Now it's you who hasn't thought things through!?" Isaiah screeched. He then saw images from Galang's memory flash before his eyes.

Of Florante killing both him and Regina.

She actually forced him to act because she was about to kill all those people back in the amphitheater herself.

With misty eyes and a sniffle, Florante said, "I don't want to kill her again, Pascual. Or hurt her any further."

***

To Be Continued…

The first incarnation of "Fantasy of Evolution" in my mind back in the early 2000s  involved Gabriel De Angeles (currently Florante Galang) ending up seeing his best friend J.D. (reminiscent of Isaiah Pascual) dying because of the War of Angels and Demons.

Also, yes. The Ophanim/Minion form of Regina Mariano is reminiscent of Ramiel the Geometric Angel from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Fascinating how stories and creations change as you yourself develop into a person and as an author, huh?

Farewell, Abdiel

[akadaniel]

film & tv & lit & livemusic log Oct19

Knife+Heart [Un couteau dans le coeur] (Yann Gonzalez, 2018) [Kanopy] The Cars That Ate Paris (Peter Weir, 1974) [Criterion Channel] Jennifer’s Body (Karyn Kusama, 2009) Train to Busan [Busanhaeng] (Yeon Sang-ho, 2016) [Netflix]

started & finished Mindhunter (S2) [Netflix] started & finished Succession (S1) [HBO] started Room 104 (S1) [HBO] started Succession (S2) [HBO] started BoJack Horseman (S6A) [Netflix]

continued The Autograph Man (Zadie Smith, 2003) continued Palestine (Joe Sacco, 1993-95) started Trick Mirror (Jia Tolentino, 2019)

[childlikemperor]

im at the very end of my vacation period so ive just been reading compulsively these past few days… heres a list of what ive read in the past month

Ariadne by Jennifer Saint

Out of the Sun: On Art, Race, and the Future, by Esi Edugyan

The Dinner, by Herman Koch

The Other Black Girl, by Zakiya Dalila Harris

Eileen, by Ottessa Moshfegh

My Body, by Emily Ratajkowski

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion, by Jia Tolentino

eileen was such an unexpected favorite i really didnt think id like ottessa’s writing wkdhwjhdjeh

[animis]

Very happy to be included in this exciting group show! . In honor of wandering minds, wild tangents, and the exquisitely incomplete. Experience Daydream Doodle at our HQ on the main floor of Pacific Place, Oct 14-30. FEATURING... Allison Arth Linda Beaumont Ursula Brookbank Virginia Bunker Louise Burgess Bette Burgoyne Eve Cohen Joel Colvos Karen Jo Combs Nancy Deal Michael Doyle Janice Findley Curtis Frye Janet Galore Jurgis Gaučys Nijole Gaučys Lauren Grossman Via Hedera Jennifer Hough Serafine Lea Nate Lippens Shelli Markee Rachel Maxi Gene Gentry McMahon Jesse Miller Saya Moriyasu Bob Nielsen Sarah Norsworthy Vinnu Dochoan Robert Peterson Sonja Peterson Daniel Riner Sue Rose John Shlichta Coleman Stevenson Lisa Stewart Mark Sullo Angelina Tolentino Alexa Villanueva Lisa Whitsitt Curated by Peter Gaučys #daydream #doodle #daydreamdoodle #orcaspaley #jessepaulmiller #painting https://www.instagram.com/p/CjYcLVvpZ-m/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[thediverismylove]

every book i read in 2019

full list under the cut! faves are bolded and books read for school are starred

Hunger by Roxane Gay (4/5 stars)

Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan (4/5 stars)

Who Is Vera Kelly? by Rosalie Knecht (4/5 stars)

History of Wolves by Emily Fridlund (3.5/5 stars)

Becoming by Michelle Obama (5/5 stars)

Girl Made of Stars by Ashley Herring Blake (5/5 stars)

The Wicked King by Holly Black (3.5/5 stars)

Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand (5/5 stars)

The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi (5/5 stars)

What Girls Are Made Of by Elana K. Arnold (4.5/5 stars)

I Gave Birth To All The Ghosts Here by Lyd Havens (5/5 stars)

Tyler Johnson Was Here by Jay Coles (4/5 stars)

Our Year of Maybe by Rachel Lynn Solomon (4/5 stars)

Shrill by Lindy West (5/5 stars)

Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi (3.5/5 stars)

The Perfect Nanny by Leila Slimani (4/5 stars)

Ivy Aberdeen’s Letter to the World by Ashley Herring Blake (5/5 stars)

Like Water by Rebecca Podos (4/5 stars)

The Disasters by MK England (3/5 stars)

On The Come Up by Angie Thomas (5/5 stars)

The Falconer by Dana Czapnik (4/5 stars)

The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan (4/5 stars)

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo (5/5 stars)

The Dreamers by Karen Thompson Walker (4.5/5 stars)

The Fever King by Victoria Lee (3/5 stars)

*Symposium by Plato (4/5 stars)

The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried by Shaun David Hutchinson (4.5/5 stars)

Educated by Tara Westover (4.5/5 stars)

My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite (4/5 stars)

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel (3.5/5 stars)

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero (3/5 stars)

Beloved by Toni Morrison (4/5 stars)

The Truth About Keeping Secrets by Savannah Brown (5/5 stars)

Sink by Desiree Dallagiacomo (5/5 stars)

When The Sky Fell On Splendor by Emily Henry (3/5 stars)

They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us by Hanif Abdurraqib (4/5 stars)

Damsel by Elana K. Arnold (5/5 stars)

*The Aeneid by Virgil (2/5 stars)

Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid (4.5/5 stars)

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (4/5 stars)

A Queer Little History of Art by Alex Pilcher (3.5/5 stars)

King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo (4.5/5 stars)

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin (3.5/5 stars)

The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls by Anissa Gray (4/5 stars)

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (2.5/5 stars)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by Caitlin Doughty (4/5 stars)

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (4/5 stars)

*The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (3.5/5 stars)

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (4.5/5 stars)

The Gypsy Moth Summer by Julia Fierro (3/5 stars)

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson (4/5 stars)

My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix (5/5 stars)

Beartown by Fredrik Backman (4/5 stars)

Her Royal Highness by Rachel Hawkins (5/5 stars)

You Must Not Miss by Katrina Leno (4.5/5 stars)

Mermaid in Chelsea Creek by Michelle Tea (2/5 stars)

My Lovely Wife by Samantha Downing (4.5/5 stars)

The Devouring Gray by Christine Lynn Herman (3/5 stars)

Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong (4.5/5 stars)

Hot Dog Girl by Jennifer Dugan (5/5 stars)

There There by Tommy Orange (4/5 stars)

The French Girl by Lexie Elliott (3/5 stars)

I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver (4/5 stars)

Dead Girls by Alice Bolin (3.5/5 stars)

The Mighty Heart of Sunny St. James by Ashley Herring Blake (5/5 stars)

Foolish Hearts by Emma Mills (5/5 stars)

Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh (1/5 stars)

Dress Codes for Small Towns by Courtney Stevens (3.5/5 stars)

With The Fire on High by Elizabeth Acevedo (3/5 stars)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett (3/5 stars)

The Gloaming by Kirsty Logan (3/5 stars)

This Darkness Mine by Mindy McGinnis (4.5/5 stars)

The Weight of the Stars by K. Ancrum (4/5 stars)

These Witches Don’t Burn by Isabel Sterling (2.5/5 stars)

Normal People by Sally Rooney (3.5/5 stars)

The Death of Mrs. Westaway by Ruth Ware (5/5 stars)

The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen (3.75/5 stars)

A Ladder to the Sky by John Boyne (5/5 stars)

In A Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware (3.75/5 stars)

My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry by Fredrik Backman (3/5 stars)

The Woman in Cabin 10 by Ruth Ware (3/5 stars)

Women & Power by Mary Beard (4/5 stars)

The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden (4/5 stars)

The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager (4/5 stars)

Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector (4/5 stars)

Fantasyland: How America Went Haywire: A 500-Year History by Kurt Andersen (3/5 stars)

Wilder Girls by Rory Power (4.5/5 stars)

Murder, Magic, and What We Wore by Kelly Jones (2/5 stars)

The Kingdom by Jess Rothenberg (4.5/5 stars)

The Grief Keeper by Alexandra Villasante (5/5 stars)

Lock Every Door by Riley Sager (5/5 stars)

I Like to Watch by Emily Nussbaum (5/5 stars)

Gingerbread by Helen Oyeyemi (2/5 stars)

A Heart in a Body in the World by Deb Caletti (5/5 stars)

In the Neighborhood of True by Susan Kaplan Carlton (3/5 stars)

The Way You Make Me Feel by Maurene Goo (3/5 stars)

Tell Me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi (4/5 stars)

The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware (5/5 stars)

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino (5/5 stars)

Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup by John Carreyrou (4/5 stars)

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki & Rosemary Valero-O’Connell (4/5 stars)

The Whale: A Love Story by Mark Beauregard (3/5 stars)

Not the Girls You’re Looking For by Aminah Mae Safi (3/5 stars)

Very Nice by Marcy Dermansky (2/5 stars)

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (5/5 stars)

The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger (2.5/5 stars)

How (Not) to Ask a Boy to Prom by SJ Goslee (4/5 stars)

We Sold our Souls by Grady Hendrix (3/5 stars)

The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren (4.5/5 stars)

Natalie Tan’s Book of Luck and Fortune by Roselle Lim (4/5 stars)

*Othello by William Shakespeare (4.5/5 stars)

*Lysistrata by Aristophanes (3.5/5 stars)

How It Feels to Float by Helena Fox (4/5 stars)

The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris (2/5 stars)

The New Me by Halle Butler (4/5 stars)

*Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe (2/5 stars)

Midnight at the Electric by Jodi Lynn Anderson (4/5 stars)

Sula by Toni Morrison (3.5/5 stars)

*Emma by Jane Austen (4/5 stars)

Sleepwalking by Meg Wolitzer (4.5/5 stars)

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (4/5 stars)

Carrie by Stephen King (4.5/5 stars)

*Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (4/5 stars)

Catch and Kill by Ronan Farrow (5/5 stars)

Trust Exercise by Susan Choi (4/5 stars)

*The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (4/5 stars)

*The Seagull by Anton Chekhov (4/5 stars)

Call Down The Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater (5/5 stars)

In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado (5/5 stars)

*Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (3.5/5 stars)

Well Met by Jen DeLuca (2.5/5 stars)

Soft Science by Franny Choi (4/5 stars)

Conversations With Friends by Sally Rooney (5/5 stars)

To Night Owl From Dogfish by Holly Goldberg Sloan and Meg Wolitzer (3/5 stars)

*Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys (3/5 stars)

The Bookish Life of Nina Hill by Abbi Waxman (4/5 stars)

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (5/5 stars)

*Small Island by Andrea Levy (3.5/5 stars)

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (4/5 stars)

One Day in December by Josie Silver (1.5/5 stars)

The Collected Schizophrenias by Esmé Weijun Wang (5/5 stars)

Final Girls by Riley Sager (3/5 stars)

Milkman by Anna Burns (5/5 stars)

Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell (4/5 stars)

Famous In A Small Town by Emma Mills (4/5 stars)

Blud by Rachel McKibbens (4/5 stars)

[popradar]

Film Independent Spirit Award Nominees Announced

ICYMI: The Film Independent Spirit Awards nominations were announced last week, with Eliza Hittman’s drama Never Rarely Sometimes Always leading with seven nominations. For the first time in Spirit Awards history, five new TV award categories were announced: Best New Scripted Series, Best New Non-Scripted or Documentary Series, Best Male Performance in a New Scripted Series, Best Female Performance in a New Scripted Series and Best Ensemble Cast in a New Scripted Series.

Winners, who are selected by Film Independent Members, will be announced at the Spirit Awards on Thursday, April 22. The awards ceremony is also changing this year from a live daytime event on a Saturday afternoon to prime time on  Thursday, broadcast live exclusively on IFC at 10 pm ET / 7 pm PT.

FILM CATEGORIES

BEST FEATURE (Award given to the producer. Executive Producers are not awarded.)

First Cow Producers: Neil Kopp, Vincent Savino, Anish Savjani

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Producers: Todd Black, Denzel Washington, Dany Wolf

Minari Producers: Dede Gardner, Jeremy Kleiner, Christina Oh

Never Rarely Sometimes Always Producers: Sara Murphy, Adele Romanski

Nomadland Producers: Mollye Asher, Dan Janvey, Frances McDormand, Peter Spears, Chloé Zhao

BEST FIRST FEATURE (Award given to director and producer)

I Carry You With Me Director/Producer: Heidi Ewing Producers: Edher Campos, Mynette Louie, Gabriela Maire

The Forty-Year-Old Version Director/Producer: Radha Blank Producers: Inuka Bacote-Capiga, Jordan Fudge, Rishi Rajani, Jennifer Semler, Lena Waithe

Miss Juneteenth Director: Channing Godfrey Peoples Producers: Toby Halbrooks, Tim Headington, Jeanie Igoe, James M. Johnston, Theresa Steele Page, Neil Creque Williams

Nine Days Director: Edson Oda Producers: Jason Michael Berman, Mette-Marie Kongsved, Matthew Lindner, Laura Tunstall, Datari Turner

Sound of Metal Director: Darius Marder Producers: Bill Benz, Kathy Benz, Bert Hamelinck, Sacha Ben Harroche

JOHN CASSAVETES AWARD – Given to the best feature made for under $500,000 (Award given to the writer, director and producer. Executive Producers are not awarded.)

The Killing of Two Lovers Writer/Director/Producer: Robert Machoian Producers: Scott Christopherson, Clayne Crawford

La Leyenda Negra Writer/Director: Patricia Vidal Delgado Producers: Alicia Herder, Marcel Perez

Lingua Franca Writer/Director/Producer: Isabel Sandoval Producers: Darlene Catly Malimas, Jhett Tolentino, Carlo Velayo

Residue Writer/Director: Merawi Gerima

Saint Frances Director/Producer: Alex Thompson Writer: Kelly O’Sullivan Producers: James Choi, Pierce Cravens, Ian Keiser, Eddie Linker, Raphael Nash, Roger Welp

BEST DIRECTOR

Lee Isaac Chung Minari

Emerald Fennell Promising Young Woman

Eliza Hittman Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Kelly Reichardt First Cow

Chloé Zhao Nomadland

BEST SCREENPLAY

Lee Isaac Chung Minari

Emerald Fennell Promising Young Woman

Eliza Hittman Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Mike Makowsky Bad Education

Alice Wu The Half of It

BEST FIRST SCREENPLAY

Kitty Green The Assistant

Noah Hutton Lapsis

Channing Godfrey Peoples Miss Juneteenth

Andy Siara Palm Springs

James Sweeney Straight Up

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY

Jay Keitel She Dies Tomorrow

Shabier Kirchner Bull

Michael Latham The Assistant

Hélène Louvart Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Joshua James Richards Nomadland

BEST EDITING

Andy Canny The Invisible Man

Scott Cummings Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Merawi Gerima Residue

Enat Sidi I Carry You With Me

Chloé Zhao Nomadland

BEST FEMALE LEAD

Nicole Beharie Miss Juneteenth

Viola Davis Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Sidney Flanigan Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Julia Garner The Assistant

Frances McDormand Nomadland

Carey Mulligan Promising Young Woman

BEST MALE LEAD

Riz Ahmed Sound of Metal

Chadwick Boseman Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Adarsh Gourav The White Tiger

Rob Morgan Bull

Steven Yeun Minari

BEST SUPPORTING FEMALE

Alexis Chikaeze Miss Juneteenth

Yeri Han Minari

Valerie Mahaffey French Exit

Talia Ryder Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Yuh-jung Youn Minari

BEST SUPPORTING MALE

Colman Domingo Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Orion Lee First Cow

Paul Raci Sound of Metal

Glynn Turman Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Benedict Wong Nine Days

ROBERT ALTMAN AWARD – Given to one film’s director, casting director and ensemble cast

One Night in Miami… Director: Regina King Casting Director: Kimberly R. Hardin Ensemble Cast: Kingsley Ben-Adir, Eli Goree, Aldis Hodge, Leslie Odom Jr.

BEST DOCUMENTARY (Award given to the director and producer)

Collective Director/Producer: Alexander Nanau Producers: Hanka Kastelicová, Bernard Michaux, Bianca Oana

Crip Camp Directors/Producers: Jim LeBrecht, Nicole Newnham Producer: Sara Bolder

Dick Johnson is Dead Director/Producer: Kirsten Johnson Producers: Katy Chevigny, Marilyn Ness

The Mole Agent Director: Maite Alberdi Producer: Marcela Santibáñez

Time Director/Producer: Garrett Bradley Producers: Lauren Domino, Kellen Quinn

BEST INTERNATIONAL FILM (Award given to the director)

Bacurau Brazil Directors: Juliano Dornelles, Kleber Mendonça Filho

The Disciple India Director: Chaitanya Tamhane

Night of the Kings Ivory Coast Director: Philippe Lacôte

Preparations to be Together for an Unknown Period of Time Hungary Director: Lili Horvát

Quo Vadis, Aida? Bosnia and Herzegovina Director: Jasmila Žbanić

PRODUCERS AWARD – The Producers Award, now in its 24th year, honors emerging producers who, despite highly limited resources, demonstrate the creativity, tenacity and vision required to produce quality independent films.

Kara Durrett

Lucas Joaquin

Gerry Kim

SOMEONE TO WATCH AWARD – The Someone to Watch Award, now in its 27th year, recognizes a talented filmmaker of singular vision who has not yet received appropriate recognition.

David Midell Director of The Killing of Kenneth Chamberlain

Ekwa Msangi Director of Farewell Amor

Annie Silverstein Director of Bull

TRUER THAN FICTION AWARD – The Truer Than Fiction Award, now in its 26th year, is presented to an emerging director of non-fiction features who has not yet received significant recognition.

Cecilia Aldarondo Director of Landfall

Elegance Bratton Director of Pier Kids

Elizabeth Lo Director of Stray

TELEVISON CATEGORIES

BEST NEW NON-SCRIPTED OR DOCUMENTARY SERIES (Award given to the Creator, Executive Producer, Co-Executive Producer)

Atlanta’s Missing and Murdered: The Lost Children Executive Producers: Jeff Dupre, Joshua Bennett, Sam Pollard, Maro Chermayeff, John Legend, Mike Jackson, Ty Stiklorius

City So Real Produced by: Zak Piper, Steve James Executive Producers: Jeff Skoll, Diane Weyermann, Alex Kotlowitz, Gordon Quinn, Betsy Steinberg, Jolene Pinder

Immigration Nation Executive Producers: Christina Clusiau, Shaul Schwarz, Dan Cogan, Jenny Raskin, Brandon Hill, Christian Thompson Co-Executive Producers: Andrey Alistratov, Jay Arthur Sterrenberg, Lauren Haber

Love Fraud Executive Producers: Rachel Grady, Heidi Ewing, Amy Goodman Kass, Vinnie Malhotra, Jihan Robinson, Michael Bloom, Maria Zuckerman

We’re Here Creators/Executive Producers: Stephen Warren, Johnnie Ingram Executive Producers: Eli Holzman, Aaron Saidman, Peter LoGreco Co-Executive Producers: Erin Haglund, Sabrina Mar

BEST NEW SCRIPTED SERIES (Award given to the Creator, Executive Producer, Co-Executive Producer)

I May Destroy You Creator/Executive Producer: Michaela Coel Executive Producers: Phil Clarke, Roberto Troni

Little America Executive Producers: Lee Eisenberg, Joshuah Bearman, Joshua Davis, Arthur Spector, Alan Yang, Siân Heder, Kumail Nanjiani, Emily V. Gordon

Small Axe Executive Producers: Tracey Scoffield, David Tanner, Steve McQueen

A Teacher Creator/Executive Producer: Hannah Fidell Executive Producers: Michael Costigan, Kate Mara, Louise Shore, Jason Bateman, Danny Brocklehurst Co-Executive Producer: Daniel Pipski

Unorthodox Creator/Executive Producer: Anna Winger Creator: Alexa Karolinski Executive Producer: Henning Kamm

BEST FEMALE PERFORMANCE IN A NEW SCRIPTED SERIES

Elle Fanning The Great

Shira Haas Unorthodox

Abby McEnany Work in Progress

Maitreyi Ramakrishnan Never Have I Ever

Jordan Kristine Seamón We Are Who We Are

BEST MALE PERFORMANCE IN A NEW SCRIPTED SERIES

Adam Ali Little America

Nicco Annan P-Valley

Conphidance Little America

Amit Rahav Unorthodox

Harold Torres ZeroZeroZero

BEST ENSEMBLE CAST IN A NEW SCRIPTED SERIES

I May Destroy You Ensemble Cast: Michaela Coel, Paapa Essiedu, Weruche Opia, Stephen Wight

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 6: The Dream Journal of a Wimpy Kid

Man, this took quite long to write. Had to adjust my time table to accommodate this. 

I’ll still trying to get the hang of writing original characters as opposed to already established templates when I write fanfic.

This can make them nebulous in characterization. I also have to remember what I’ve established previously before adding anything to their history. 

You can also find more chapters of my original fiction here. Please enjoy.

Back in Fatima High School's science laboratory…

The Biology teacher of Florante Galang and Isaiah Pascual—the soft-spoken Miss Isabelle Del Mundo, known by the faculty by her nickname "Belle" a la the protagonist of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast"—looked over their shoulders to glance and their laboratory work.

After staring intently to check their answers, Ms. Belle Del Mundo said to Florante, "Mr. Galang, don't you think Mr. Pascual should get a chance at looking into the microscope?"

The two former best friends exchanged glances. Pascual was the first to speak.

"We're just about to finish up, Ms. Del Mundo," he said before taking the last slide and putting it onto the microscope so he could peer at it.

"Well," she said after a moment of deliberation, "then go ahead, boys. Remember, this is a cooperative exercise between lab partners, okay?"

She then walked away.

After she left, Florante began doodling on his notebook.

"Florante," said Isaiah in an almost whiny voice. "I don't know what I'm looking at. Help."

With a sigh, Florante whispered, "The last two we haven't found are prometaphase and telaphase. Telaphase is easy because it's the cell splitting into two. If it's not split into two, it's probably prometaphase."

"How do you spell that, bro?"

"Come on, man."

The two exchanged glances again.

"I'm just kidding, Florante."

"Haha. Funny stuff. Can you spell it or not?"

"Yeah, of course. It's something like 'Pro' as in 'Pro-wrestling', 'Meta' as in 'Metabolic', and then P-H-A-S-E for 'Phase', right?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"The slide I got is probably the pro-something one, by the way. The cell hasn't split."

"Gotcha," said Florante as he took the slide and labeled it. "The last one's probably telaphase but look at it just in case."

"Yep, it's a split cell," Isaiah confirmed after changing microscope slides. "You saved my bacon, bro. Thanks," he added.

Florante harrumphed. "I saved the both of us. You're not going to drag my grade down with you."

And, just as Galang was about to wave off him hearing Pascual talk earlier about his fever dream of massacring students as his imagination running wild, his imagination apparently chose that moment to run wild again.

"You remember killing me, don't you?" said the pokerfaced Pascual in a deadpan monotone. "You blew my head off and did all sorts of nasty things to our other classmates."

Isaiah sounded like something out of a horror story. Thusly, Florante resisted the urge to scream, his blood running cold once again.

Was Galang going mad? This wasn't happening, was it? Or was he in a dream again? He hadn't gone off the deep end yet, had he?

He should check out his dream journal when he got home, just in case. It helped him differentiate when something was a dream and wasn't.

It was his sole tether to sanity and objective reality at this point.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

Who keeps dream journals of their nonsensical dreams as though they have any bearing with reality? Florante does, but his is a special case.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 6: The Dream Journal of a Wimpy Kid

***

Sometimes, Florante Galang wondered if he got bullied because he deserved it.

Nine times out of ten, he'd say no. No one deserved to be bullied the way he got bullied. However, one of those ten times he might reconsider that maybe he got what he deserved because he did something wrong.

Like that one dentist who didn't recommend this or that brand of toothpaste even though nine others did.

His feeling of inadequacy and insecurity haunted him. Maybe he had it coming. Maybe he was asking for it.

Maybe nines times out of ten, he had a brief moment of self-awareness. He got bullied because he committed the grave sin of social ineptitude.

Maybe he just needed to fit in with his classmates better. Maybe even though they were mean to him, they were mostly excellent to one another, so maybe there was wrong something with him instead.

Maybe he should be the one to adjust to them instead of the other way around.

Maybe a large portion of his life leading up to this moment was a series of huge mistakes of which he learned nothing.

Maybe he should emulate their behavior except the part where they were being jerks to him.  

Or maybe he should be a jerk to other weirdoes while rewarding manly behavior exhibited the jocks and tough guys in his class. Find someone weaker than him to pick on so he wouldn't be the one picked on by everyone.

Maybe he simply needed to fit in with his bullies. Maybe he merely needed to grow up like his asshole classmates, who themselves were already having hookups, parties, and girlfriends.

Meanwhile, like a child, he couldn't even hold a romantic conversation with a girl his age, with him stuck in the Friend Zone for all of the girls he was actually in good terms with.

He might even have the E.Q. (emotional quotient) of a child too, or at least that was what his mother and teachers kept telling him. Arrested development, if you would.

Outside the Dead Kids, he simply couldn't find a niche or clique in Fatima School and its roughly 800 high school students, specifically the 200 or so students in his year.  

He rationalized that he couldn't relate to people his age. Despite what his mother suggested, he was friendlier towards people who were older than him, like college-aged students, teachers, or grownups.

However, even then he wasn't really all that close to anyone in school. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that he couldn't relate to people period and he was a gigantic weirdo or doofus.

He'd end up eating alone outside the cafeteria, near the boiler room, or under the mango trees with the circular concrete seats surrounding them again.

Anyway, at least he had an okay I.Q. (intelligence quotient). He sometimes made it to the Top 10 of the class. Sometimes. Bottom three, usually. So at least he wasn't completely pathetic academically.

He was back to his usual ritual of barely eating lunch and finding ways and places to hide himself in the school every recess and lunch break so he wouldn't look like (more of) a total loser to his peers.

Like eating inside the boy's bathroom or spending time at the computer lab or library instead of eating.

This was probably why Mark Zuniga—one of Gerry Jacinto's closest friends and right-hand man, also one of the guys Florante had difficulty killing in his oft-referenced nightmare—had always teased him of having the figure of a 9-year-old girl instead of a 14-year-old boy.

He was skin and bones practically. The wimpiest of kids. Certain girls in the varsity team could probably outdo him in athletics, he was so pathetic.

So it was probably this insecurity that led him to dream the dreams he dreamt. He had also called them nightmares because it involved him murdering his bullies.

However, if it were proverbial rather than literal murder—like him imagining their murder in his hands to let off some steam from their bullying without ever daring to do it for real—he'd understand how these dreams could be considered as the power fantasies of the powerless.

Like parents wanting to kill their misbehaving children without really meaning it.

Or maybe his being a terrible person who deserved all the bullying he ever got was just the dose of self-awareness he needed.

Maybe he should stop being so dependent on what other people thought. As long as he followed his own moral compass, they had no business dictating how he lived his life!

If he left them alone then they should leave him alone. Right?

As long as he didn't hurt anyone else (so again, he crossed his fingers that his dream murders were nothing more than dreams), he didn't need anyone's approval.

***

As the class returned from the lab to further discuss cell mitosis or whatever, Pascual played catch-up with Galang, walking beside him and asking him how he'd been doing.

Or more like Isaiah talked and Florante half-listened, waiting for the other shoe to drop in regards to them sharing memories of something that only happened in his, well, their dreams.

Maybe Florante misheard him the first time? He didn't know. He merely asked him for the time instead, wishing to change the subject.

"What time is it?" said Florante, who forgot to wear his watch.

"Let me see. It's skin thirty," Pascual said with a straight face while pointing at his bare wrist.

It took Florante a minute to "get it".

"Oh."

They then both shared a hearty laugh, with Florante laughing in spite of himself.

Dammit, Galang missed this. He missed talking his former best friend; this endearing guy and his sharp wit. Too bad their friendship went south in the end.

Pascual then told him about the rumors he heard about him.

How Florante had ended up with the infamous Dead Kids of the Fatima High School campus.

How he finally got his bullies to let up with their bullying by listing their names and sending them to his teacher. (A teacher actually did something after catching Florante's bullies in the act).

How he started wooing(!?) their classmate Jennifer Tolentino.

"I wasn't wooing anyone, don't be weird," Florante told Pascual off. "I just want to be better friends with her, that's all."

Or be friends again at all. They were supposed to be friends when they first met during the first day of school, but they then drifted apart. Kind of like the situation between Pascual and him, to be honest.

Florante avoided looking Isaiah in eye all this time out of embarrassment of being told a multitude of gossip, rumors, and half-truths about himself.

At the same time, he had to also avoid getting caught stealing glances at Jenny from time to time as she walked on ahead of them alongside Laura.

Her bespectacled face was such a distraction that he tried not to look at her as much as possible too, only to end up staring back at Pascual and his nonsense.

He didn't know where to look. The floor, perhaps? Or how about the ceiling?

There he was again, falling in love with another girl who gave him an ounce of attention. Or kissed him in his dreams.

Once back in the classroom, Florante returned to his seat and tried to listen to Ms. Del Mundo's lecture, who used an overhead projector to project transparencies onto the blackboard with the windows and shades closed.

He couldn't manage his thoughts. Was he hearing things with Pascual? Did he really say what he thought he heard him say?

***

For a change, as the bell rung and Biology class ended, Pascual continued talking to Galang. Usually, no one bothered to in their class.

As of late, before she went absent for a week, it had been Jenny, but only sometimes.  

"Jenny seems friendlier to you now than before," was the icebreaker he went with. "You even had lunch with her with your gang."

'Humph. My gang, huh?' Florante thought, with Pascual avoiding calling them their infamous name of "Dead Kids".

To Isaiah, Galang went with, "Yeah, I guess," while also wondering aloud, "I wonder why she was absent for so long."

"There's been a cold bug spreading. Must've been the change in weather."

"Yeah, that must be it."

Florante frowned, though it felt more like the petulant pout of a child. He looked away while resisting the urge to stick his tongue out childishly at Isaiah for good measure.

He couldn't focus on his former best friend's chatter as they grabbed their bags with their P.E. (Physical Education) uniforms and proceeded to P.E. class at the gymnasium.  

Mixed-gender volleyball at the gym didn't catch much of Florante's attention either. He ended up playing with Pascual and his friends though, which was a relief.

Usually, their P.E. teacher had to force one of the cliques or groups in Section St. Francis to include Florante with them.

Or he ended up with the rest of the social outcasts who couldn't find a group to team up with.

After doing warm-up exercises and partner drills, they had a simultaneous mini-tournament of sorts. Multiple five-member teams ended up doing a set of games until P.E. period was over.

Florante was in a team composed of four guys—two of them Isaiah and Florante himself—and one girl up against a team of three guys and two girls.

Naturally, Florante Galang sucked at P.E. in general and volleyball in particular.

His volleyball returns resulted in shots that went outside and teammates that covered his position so he wouldn't bungle the shot.

However, strangely enough, both Isaiah and even Jenny (who played against another team at an adjacent net) cheered him on, leading him to surprise himself by serving the volleyball decently, even scoring an ace or two.

Sure, their team lost in the end, but at least the unathletic Florante was able to somewhat contribute when normally he couldn't.

Well then. The day ended up better than he expected!

***

At the locker room, while the class either changed back to their regular uniforms or just gathered their belongings to head out of the school for dismissal time, Pascual continued talking to Florante, making him self-conscious.

The introvert felt tired from all the talking—well, half-listening—he did for so long. His social "health bar" was spent.

To explain, introverts tended to shy away from social gatherings because being in such situations took a toll on their energy. They could only take so much before becoming anxious or nervous wrecks.

Even though Pascual and Florante were having mostly one-on-one (or rather, one-sided) conversations instead of a more open social encounter with multiple people, Pascual's sudden over-friendliness after they'd acted like strangers for so long had depleted Florante's tolerance for this very social situation.

"…Oh, I remember that one time, in the grade school playground, you were playing alone, pretending to be Rambo or something, tying a bandanna on your forehead…!"

"All right, ALL RIGHT! That's enough," said Florante, who now focused his full attention on his ex-friend Pascual. "I get the picture."  

By the way, his bullies caught him playing alone as a high school kid, since he spent his grade school in Makati.

"Sorry," apologized Isaiah. "You're not going to zap my brain to mush again, are you?"

This jolted Florante awake from any more random thoughts. He was hoping the earlier declaration from Pascual was just his imagination, but no such luck.

Galang's eyebrows knit together in concentration for the first time the whole day, like he just suddenly noticed that the things happening around him didn't make sense because he was merely dreaming.

Like someone between the verge of sleepiness and wakefulness.

He then exhaled, mumbled, "Susmaryosep," under his breath, and said, "No. I only have those powers when I'm dreaming, not in real life."

The daydreaming asthmatic didn't want to look like a fool and shoot nonexistent laser bullets at one of his bullies, thank you very much.

Isaiah gave him a quizzical look. "You can totally shoot your power beams or whatever right now."

Florante scoffed at the idea. "No, I can't. That's not how this works. I need to be dreaming in order for me to use those powers. Because none of it is real."

Pascual raised an eyebrow at that. "You sure about that?"

Galang also raised an eyebrow in kind. "What do you mean?"

So Isaiah clarified. "You don't need to dream to use your powers."

What. Now hold on a minute there!

"No, I can't. That wasn't real. That was just a dream," Florante dismissed the very notion until something else occurred to him.

"Hey, Pascual. How'd you know about my dreams?"

Although Isaiah had been talking up a storm since Biology class, Florante could now notice his hands gripping the edge of the bench they sat on in the locker with immense tension.

Like a squashed bed spring ready to uncoil.

Had Isaiah been acting this nervous around him this entire time? Was he talking nonstop to help calm his nerves?

Why was he so afraid of him…? Oh.

No please. Not this again. Not Florante questioning whether his dream happened or not again! Anything but that!

"Florante Galang," Isaiah Pascual said. "That wasn't a dream. You really did kill us all."

No. NO. That couldn't be. No, no, no. Shut up, Pascual.

Pascual continued. "Was that how you were able to cope with what happened? You waved off everything as a dream?"

"NO! What happened was a dream!" said Florante.

"You always had the power. It's as plain as the nose on your face," said Isaiah.

"But you can't see the nose on your face unless you look in a mirror," said Galang.

"Then let me be that mirror on your face. It wasn't a dream," said Pascual.

Florante was a good person. Or so he told himself. He didn't really kill all his bullies. He only imagined he did using the silliest and most childish of fantasies.

"Just because you were somehow able to reset everything back to the way things were doesn't mean you've completely undone what you did."

"SHUT UP!" Florante productively released his anger, malice, and frustrations in that dream because he was powerless in real life! Also, who had superpowers in real life? How absurd!

It was then that Florante noticed that Isaiah hadn't taken off his P.E. uniform yet even as the introvert himself immediately took those clothes off and changed into his school uniform.

"We remember everything. I remember everything you've done. And what a monster you were back then."

No no no nonono. Florante was not the monster Mammon accused him of! None of it was real! This wasn't real either! He was dreaming again, wasn't he?

Florante was bullied all his life and had never stood up for himself because he was scared that he'd get humiliated emotionally, tortured mentally, ostracized socially, or beat up physically.

The bullies in his life had always silenced him but the one time he struck back and silenced them instead, he was the bad guy?

How was that fair? He was solely responsible for losing control? For going werewolf? They could do whatever they wanted with him?

Before the asthmatic could let out a wheezy exhale, Isaiah disappeared from view then the whole world became a blur.

***

The drizzle of rain had become mist by the time they ended up suddenly in the streets, leaving a trail of devastation behind them.

It took a minute before Florante Galang realized that Isaiah Pascual had just pushed him from the gym lockers all the way through the soccer field, right past part of the high school building, to the back of the school wall, right into open traffic, with one hand to his chest.

They busted through wall, brick, concrete, and plaster like a bulldozer.

It all happened within a second. Or a fraction of a second. Before Galang's eyes could even blink or his mind could register what had happened.

Wait. So Pascual was actually an angel too? Or maybe even a demon? An Ophanim or a Minion? Like the spaghetti monster or the maelstrom man?

The impact should've caved in Florante's chest. Not to mention his bones broken and dislocated in 30 different places.

He might've even ended up like roadkill too, if not for his Ophanim halo that he learned to control back when he faced against the eldritch shadow man.

Thankfully, a combination of light energy and gale winds formed a protective vacuum cocoon around Galang's body that kept him safe from harm. His own halo effect, if you would.

Isaiah just looked at the untouched Florante, his palm outstretched, his jaw agape, before he gave him a sheepish grin. "Hehehe. Didn't expect that, did you?"

"You have superpowers?"

"Yep. See? And so do you… AH! Please don't blow my brains out!"

Isaiah flinched or perhaps even overreacted at Florante stepping towards him, with him unleashing a flurry of blows.

"I wasn't! OW! Stop punching me!" One of the fists hit Florante's nose before he could summon his light wind dome again and blocked the rest of the blows.

Something else then dawned to Florante as he surveyed how far they went out. "You… you almost killed me!"

He considered taking a swing at his former friend, but settled with attempting to catch him.

However, Isaiah disappeared the instant Galang tried grabbing his arm. Like a fly disappearing before the fly swatter could hit it.

By instinct, Florante jumped back into the sidewalk as a car beeped at him.

He then looked around. Several onlookers began gathering around the scene of devastation, particularly near what was left of what was once a wall and a planter's box.

Isaiah ran away and Florante was about to follow suit when he felt something coming at him from behind. 'What…?'

Instead of multiple supersonic punches, Galang got hit by a single spine-tingling punch that actually dented his halo shield and rattled him to the bones.

Then it hit him again. And again.

",..Can't catch me, Slowpoke!"

Multiple Pascuals kept appearing and disappearing, punching his weakening halo shield with a punch that came at Florante stronger and faster by the second.

What was this? In his panic, Florante figured what Isaiah did. He ran in a tight circle at supersonic speeds and incrementally increased the momentum of his punch until it reached an irresistible power at an unstoppable level.

Sneaky bastard.

The more time passed, the faster the momentous punch got and the harder it was for Florante's halo to resist it. Isaiah might actually break through his hallowed field. What was he supposed to do?

"…Lightning BOLT!"

Florante thusly summoned lightning from the drizzling skies just as the infinite mass punch shattered his halo vacuum field, which electrocuted Pascual while energized Galang.

This jolted and froze Pascual, but his forward momentum remained, which prompted Florante to finally dodge one of the continuous punches with the speed of racecar going through a racetrack that he'd been absorbing all that time with his halo.

The resulting blockbuster explosion blasted both of them thirty or so feet clear into the gray skies.

***

The next thing Florante knew, he'd landed on the roof(?!) of the Fatima High School Building. What the hell.

He looked around him to see where he was. He felt a tingling sensation travel across his extremities. His acrophobia (fear of heights) acted up again.

Or maybe that was the millions of volts of electricity he'd just absorbed before making Isaiah miss, resulting in a blast from his massive punch that jettisoned them from the streets of Mandaluyong to the rooftops of Fatima High.

It was times like this that convinced him that the time when he jumped from rooftop to rooftop in order to experiment upon his powers was just a dream.

An acrophobic would never do anything as crazy as that for real. Also, he had superpowers. Of course it was a crazy dream.

He looked around to make sure he was indeed where he was. That was when he noticed the still figure of Isaiah Pascual.

"Dammit, you weren't this powerful before," was what Florante thought Pascual murmured under his breath.

'Before…?' thought Florante. What did he mean by that?

However, as Galang braced himself for another assault, he realized Pascual's body still hadn't recovered from the electrocution.

Also, because they were on the roof deck of the building, his former best friend has less running room for his running punch.

Most importantly, Florante still had enough energy left from absorbing the millions of volts of electricity from the lightning strike. Perhaps 1.21 gigawatts of power. Perhaps even more than that.

A billion joules of electricity. Enough to power dozens of homes for a day. Or 10 million light bulbs at the same time. Maybe even a flux capacitor on a time-traveling DeLorean.

Should he do it? Should he test out whether this was a dream or not?

Should he hit him with his five-fingered Light Array bullets, which was now practically his finishing move? Or he could use both hands and fire all ten shots?

Nah. That was overkill. Instead, he elected to focus his accumulated power on one closed fist, cocked his arm back, and then shouted, "Thunder BOLT…!"

It made sense. Even though the high school building had a narrow roof deck, Isaiah could still dodge. So Florante might as well shoot his thread-thin concentrated laser that cut through the air and produced a powerful "thunder" or "sonic boom" shockwaves with a wider destructive area.

However, he hesitated at the last minute when he heard Pascual ask, "Thunder Bolt? So what's different between that and that Lightning Bolt you shot earlier?"

Florante couldn't help himself. It had been his pet peeve ever since he saw "Thunder Bolt" and "Lightning Bolt" used interchangeably in anime, manga, action games, and RPGs.

"Well, obviously, a Lightning Bolt is the bolt of electricity. The thunder comes after the lightning bolt, correct? It's the rumbling sound from the shockwaves of a sonic boom. So to me Thunder Bolt is basically just making creating a sonic boom."

"Oh, I see. I never thought of it that way."

The two then just stared at each other for a hot minute, with Galang allowing his rivulets of electric might from his fist fade away as he relaxed his shoulders and stopped cocking back his fist.

Pascual himself finally relaxed his own stance, which looked like a runner who was ready to turn and bolt out of there.

***

The two former best friends sat down on the roof deck overlooking Fatima High.

Florante sat down beside Pascual, with both doing the "Indian sit" or "Indian style" sitting position with their legs crossed underneath them, which was often linked to stereotypical portrayals of Native Americans.

It was believed to be rooted on a meditation or yoga pose from India known as the "Lotus Position".

They had shared a hearty laugh, with Isaiah stating, "Of course only you can come up with something as nerdy as that!" while Florante himself protested, "You're the one to speak! You were the one who brought that up to me!"

Pascual blinked three times then tilted his head to the side. "I did? I don't remember."

"You totally did! That's why I made it a point to use a different kind of attack when doing a Thunder Bolt and Lightning Bolt!" said a grinning, nostalgic Galang.

The two pals then sat down while the rest of the world stood still. The damage they'd wrought on the rooms, walls, and streets earlier slowly but surely disappeared, as though they didn't even touch anything.

Curious. Then again, this only affirmed Florante's stance that his actions were from dreams. Perhaps extra-lucid dreams than normal, but dreams nonetheless.

"Maaan, I can't believe you've grown this strong already," said Isaiah with a scratch of his cheek. "I guess I should've expected it. You were among the first to awaken, weren't you?"

"I guess? What do you mean by awaken, though?" he asked.

"Just what like it sounds like," Pascual said. "It's when you wake up your powers."

So it wasn't just him. It was also Gerry Jacinto. And Laura Reyes. And now, Isaiah Pascual. They all "awakened" to having their own superpowers along with Florante.

"Hey, Pascual," Florante called out, "you're an angel too, aren't you?"

"…Angel?" Isaiah said.

"That's what Jenny Tolentino called us," Galang continued, brushing his damp hair bangs back and heaving a heavy, asthmatic wheeze. "Angels. Demons. Either or."

"Demons, huh?" Pascual rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess you can call her that. Maybe even monster."

"…Her?"

Pascual hesitated from revealing anything more. "Sooo how does Jenny know all this?"

Florante replied, "She's one of us. She's also an angel."

Pascual smirked. "Isn't that just your crush on her talking?"

"What? No," Florante denied, but he has second thoughts. So far, everything tracked. Jenny confirmed they were angels then they fought against multiple demons.

She was telling him the truth, right? But then again, Pascual seemed unaware of the origins of their powers as he was before he met up with Jennifer.

She must've told them the truth. He trusted her.

"Wait, she hasn't talked to you about it?" asked Florante.

"No, it's the first time I learned she even has powers like us," said Pascual.

"That's strange," said Florante. "So you didn't know we're angels and demons?"

"Not a clue," said Pascual. "For all I know, we've become like the X-Men or something. Mutants who've awakened our superpowers, you know?"

"That makes sense," said a wistful Galang. "We might be the next evolution of man. Deities. Or gods. Or heroes."

"Or villains. Or demons. Or monsters…" Isaiah trailed off.

"What happened?" Florante asked.

"I-It's nothing," Isaiah said, but then exhaled and shrugged. "It's about Regina…"

"Regina Mariano?" Florante repeated, remembering the girl as the one who said he had fetal alcohol syndrome. He also remembered blasting her until she turned to ash in his fever dream. "What happened to her?"

***

By the time Florante and Isaiah jumped out of the rooftop, everything went back to normal. No hole in the wall. No broken glass windows. No interrupted traffic outside of the school. It was if they'd never fought.

Another reset had happened, which made Galang presume that his fever dream was one of those resets. Nevertheless, he had to face facts.

He unfortunately did kill his classmates, but something happened so that it never happened and faded away like a dream.

Regardless, Isaiah gave Florante the lowdown on what happened to Regina.

She had awakened her powers like Isaiah, Jennifer, and Florante did. In Jenny's case, she awoke as an angel avatar many decades ago, in the 1960s.

Long story short, Regina had awakened as a mindless Ophanim or perhaps even a Minion. Like the crawling chaos or the spaghetti monster from before, she ended up becoming an out of control monster that Isaiah couldn't stop.

Come to think of it, Florante left out that little detail of him visiting Jenny's apartment in his dreams after seeing her name-alike in a yearbook at the library.

However, because of the nature of their powers, he had an inkling suspicion that his visit to the Tolentino abode actually happened.

Like how his brief battle with Isaiah actually happened before their collective lucid fantasy disappeared right in their own eyes.

God dammit all to hell. So he really did kill his classmates. He really did kill Laura.

A wave of shame washed over him. What he thought was him releasing pent-up stress harmlessly was him actually harming his bullies as revenge. Like a school shooter run amok.

If everything hadn't reset to normal with everyone living and their school left in one piece, he'd be no better than the bullies he so hated.

No, he'd be worse than them. He turned what was supposed to be an eye for an eye revenge and took an arm and a leg as payment for his social humiliation instead.

Never mind, "An eye for an eye makes the world go blind". The term, "An eye for an eye" was created with people like him in mind, who went overboard with their revenge.

He didn't know what to feel. On one hand, he felt horrified, guilty, and ashamed after realizing he had hurt his classmates for real. On the other hand, shamed as he was to admit it, he felt a measure of schadenfreude for mostly, um, unleashing his frustrations on his tormentors.

However, he wanted to crawl under a rock and die over the realization that he really did kill his former crush, Laura Reyes, as collateral damage for his mad killing spree. Ditto his teacher who merely got in his way.

Everything went back to normal and everyone ended up alive, but he still felt dirty realizing he really did all those things. He wasn't so innocent after all.

No wonder Jenny kept acting so guarded around him. On top of him stalking her! He needed to have more self-awareness!

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was screwed.

What he originally thought was harmless was now considered beyond the pale. He felt like someone pulled the rug from under him.

What if there was no reset button? What if they stayed dead? He'd have ruined their lives and his own life forever.

He didn't mean to. He just wanted them to leave him alone. Even if they didn't end up friends or acquaintances, just let him be. Let bygones be bygones, dammit.

That breakfast, he ate his sandwich and drank his orange juice in a hurry. For once, he felt somewhat excited to go to school. Not because he was some nerd looking forward to tests and quizzes or something.

He certainly didn't go there to meet up with any friends save for his Dead Kids acquaintances. No, if he was being honest with himself, he knew he was eager to get to school to see Jennifer Tolentino again.

No, no. Well, yes. He did want to see his crush again. But aside from that, he was looking forward to using his powers for good for once—to help a (former) best friend in need save his new girl friend (not girlfriend) from herself.

If anything, it was his way of alleviating his guilt over actually killing his classmates for real! He owed it to all the bullies he killed.

Hmmm. So if memory served him correct, the angels who'd been chosen as candidates on the position of Archangel Gabriel was Florante, Isaiah, Regina, Gerry, and  Laura.

Maybe also Mark Zuniga? No, no. Mark only stabbed Florante. Gerry was the one who awakened his own powers, followed by Laura. In his "fever dream" that wasn't really a dream.

***

Regina Mariano appeared normal enough when she got to school. However, as Isaiah Pascual would explain later, she'd actually gotten mixed up with a "bad crowd".

If Florante could hazard a guess, she must've ended up being manipulated by another full-fledged demon avatar like Mammon.

They all attended classes like usual, with Isaiah giving Florante looks here and there to remind him of their plans to, "save" Regina after school.

From how Isaiah described her, her Ophanim/Minion form or biblically accurate angel/demon form was reminiscent of a geometric form. An object instead of an organism. An abstraction instead of something concrete.

Isaiah admitted he was no match against her and her growing power, but he thought that maybe with Florante's help, they could beat the sense out of his friend.

Galang told Pascual about how Ophanims were actually awakened with the purpose of becoming avatars of famous angels or demons like Gabriel or Raphael. However, it hadn't sunk in that Isaiah, Regina, and Florante were bound to fight for the position of Gabriel's avatar.

Florante wasn't too clear on how this avatar business worked himself. He made a mental footnote on asking Jennifer more about it later.

Oh right. Jennifer. Should Florante end up facing off with her too? He ended up breaking his promise to her to forget about this angel and demon business.

He felt at times that Jenny seemed so guarded around him. Even hostile at times. Seeing that he had every intention of breaking his promise to her, maybe her behavior was warranted.

No. He had to do this favor to Isaiah. To make it up for killing two of his bullies for real in his fever dream.

He hadn't quite figured out how their powers worked or why things went back to normal after one of them was defeated, but… he was totally doing this right now.

He'd apologize to Jenny later. For now, he had to concentrate on Isaiah's friend Regina.

Sure, Regina wasn't the most pleasant of classmates to Florante, but he really wanted to make up for the sins he committed that haven't actually been erased.

Some of his bullies actually remembered him killing them. Remembered his sins.

His sins that actually happened and were real, despite them disappearing from reality like forgotten dreams.

***

After dismissal time…

It rained particularly heavily that afternoon, such that it took every ounce of the clumsy Florante's concentration to make it out of the school without slipping on a puddle or getting his pants wet from wayward splashes.

He even managed to cling to the nearby chain-link fence of the school's entrance and exit to save himself from falling.

He shook his head, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. As amazing as he and Pascual probably looked earlier with their superhuman feats, he looked downright pathetic with his actual clumsiness.

If he were a girl, perhaps he'd perhaps look more endearing instead of pathetic, like a damsel in distress even. As it was, he felt less of a man for being an uncoordinated klutz with not a single athletic bone in his body.

It was times like this that made him doubt (perhaps hope) that his imagined sins or dark fantasies against his classmates remained as such.

Not that hoping for their misfortune subconsciously was any better but at least it didn't really happen.

Regina Mariano had been hanging out with these shady people after dismissal time and her friend circle—of which Isaiah was a part of—was getting worried about it.

Appropriately enough, she seemed like the poster child for an after-school special on wayward kids who hang out with the wrong crowd.

As typical of such specials, Regina was your average tomboyish girl next door who wore a ponytail haircut and sported a dyed brunette hair that stood out from her tan skin.

Regardless, Pascual insisted that her meetings with these questionable and suspicious persons had something to do with both him and her awakening with their angelic powers.

So what was Regina's deal? Pascual alleged she got into contact with some talent agency and they were going to make her into a star.

However, they instead awakened her angel self and turned her into an outright monster with their schemes.

Pascual attempted to save her, with the stress also triggering his own angel self, but she proved too powerful for him.

As her guy best friend, Isaiah followed her to their offices, feeling that something was afoot. From what Florante could surmise, Regina was a bit of a naïve country bumpkin and the agency was taking advantage of her and various other girls.

That was news to Florante, who only knew Regina for her mean girl antics with him whenever they came across each other.

Then things got weird from there.

For his part, Galang could only wonder if his other encounters with Ophanims or Minions involved such schemes.

The spaghetti monster seemed to fly out of nowhere at the school parking lot. Meanwhile, the undefinable tall shadow man was someone he and Jenny detected along with Mammon in the middle of Makati.

Jeez. Florante could only shake his head. That American-looking white guy was Mammon? The Mammon? Or at least an avatar of his. And Florante himself was supposed to be the avatar of the Archangel Gabriel to boot.

Or he would once he went past being an Ophanim and evolved into Cherubim and Seraphim.

Regardless, Florante skipped his school service ride home in order to commute with Isaiah to somewhere in Ortigas on Isaiah's dime.

They considered using their powers to get there, but they decided to save their energy and use it on saving Regina from herself instead.

***

The duo sneaked (snuck?) around the conference hall where a seeming talent show took place. Some were on stage singing and dancing. Others served as the audience.

On the front row were some well-dressed judges, including a drop-dead gorgeous Caucasian lady who had the looks of a Hollywood actress.

She had blonde hair complimented by her blue eyes. She also wore a flashy gown and shoes that matched her shoes yet seemingly decorated a closed heart.

At the back of the stage were various contestants with numbered sashes, among them was Regina herself.

What was all this now? A talent show? Star Search? Tanghalan ng Kampeon (Contest of Champions)? Or perhaps a beauty pageant like Miss Universe or Binibining Pilipinas (Miss Philippines)?

'What are they planning?' Florante wondered. The setup seemed far too elaborate just to awaken the angel (or demon) within Regina. What was this supposed to accomplish?

Using Pascual's teleportation-like speed, they got through the security guards and ended up at the back of the conference room's audience, with them none the wiser.

It was actually pretty packed in there. Standing room only. So Isaiah and Galang stood and observed what was happening.

In front of them was an ordinary talent show. Like an amazing male singer who sung a Whitney Houston song while sounding nearly exactly like Whitney Houston with his impressive falsetto or female "head voice" range.

A minute later, there was a group of break dancers on stage. From there, a long-haired rocket with an electric guitar did a three-minute guitar solo. Afterwards, another singer, a girl, who was classically trained in opera and sung an operatic version of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody".

The pair of classmates stood there, mesmerized by the amount of talent before them. Applauding along with the rest of the audience.

Then it happened. Just like with Mammon's Minion, both Florante and Pascual felt the presence of their fellow angel. Or demon. Celestial being, perhaps.

The curtains opened and they saw Regina arrive on stage. It was apparently her turn to sing. However, instead of singing, she instead began to transform.

They then heard a high-pitched screech, like metal crunching on metal, that became fast and painfully loud. Started, Florante looked up, startled.

Galang saw several things at the same time.

Nothing moved in slow motion the way it did in films. Rather, his brain felt like it worked overtime due to an adrenalin rush, allowing him to absorb multiple scenes register in his brain at once.

Maybe it wasn't the same case with the speedster beside him who stared at what happened before him with wide eyes and an unhinged jaw. He couldn't tell.

Regina obviously stood out from the sea of faces staring back at her since she was center stage in this talent show and all, with them wearing the same faces of horror that Pascual did. That Florante probably did as well.

The contestants of the talent show started glowing, as though they themselves had a halo of aura like angels would.

The tendrils of this glowing energy then got sucked around Regina, who herself begun singing a Regine Velasquez song that Florante couldn't quite place.

Florante thought the violently winding soundwaves from Regina's song would converge into a climactic ante, like rapids to a huge waterfall, but then it became a calm lake  that only produced ripples. Just the purest song.

The energies from the audience swirled along with the brightness of the auras of the contestants, but they were weaker comparatively weaker.

This made everyone act lethargic, with the seated viewers slumping down on their chairs and the people standing crumple down on the floor in a dead faint.

All of them did so except the two angels at the back—Regina's classmates—and the judges near the front of the stage. Particularly the pretty woman who looked like Hollywood actress.

"…Pascual?" Regina said, waking from her reverie and breathing into her microphone. Her eyebrows then furrowed as she squinted and focused her eyes on the person beside Pascual. "Wait. Is that… Florante Galang? Why is he with you, Isaiah?"

"Ay palaka! (Ah frog!) She caught on to us! The jig is up!" exclaimed Pascual, which only pissed Florante off.

"Susmaryosep, Pascual! What's the plan now?" complained Galang. "You do have a plan just in case she noticed us, don't you?"

"I didn't think things through! Sue me!" said Isaiah. "Just… help me with her, okay?! Use your powers!"

The Hollywood beauty took a cursory look at the two high school students in uniform and asked Regina, "Friends of yours?"

Regina stared back and forth between the svelte woman and her classmates then nodded, "They're my classmates, Miss Spelvin," she said aloud, through the microphone.

"Please. Call me Georgina," Miss Spelvin do declared.

It was then that Florante and Pascual realized that Miss Spelvin didn't open her mouth when she spoke. Like with Mammon, she communicated telepathically. On a frequency only fellow angels and demons could listen to.

Daring to be brave and remembering his former best friend's request to save Regina from the influence of literal demons, Galang shot a Thunderbolt at Miss Spelvin instead of his other bully classmate.

The spellbinding Spelvin swatted the Thunderbolt away, which created an ear-splitting sonic boom that made the whole place rumble.

For his part, Florante had already covered his ears, but soon Pascual and even Regina followed suit in covering their ears as well.

The three then bore witness to Spelvin changing form from a beautiful blue-eyed blonde Hollywood actress in a blue dress to a a sultry red-skinned demoness with wings, fingernail claws, the wild hair of a harridan, and a black dress seemingly made of the darkest starless night.

An improvement from Mammon's fat gremlin form that Florante and Jenny exposed back in Guadalupe Church for sure, but still. Her true form was a She-Devil?

Georgina Spelvin's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Now who told you that's my true form, li'l boy?"

"Wait, you and Jenny fought another demon like her?" said Isaiah, startling Galang.

This telepathic communication between fellow angels and demons was more trouble than it was worth!

As Spelvin strode towards Regina, the judges beside her turned to dust, which made the hairs at the back of Florante's neck stand on end while beside him, Isaiah turned blue in horror.

She then told her telepathically without regard to the two angels who'd overhear, "Now's your chance to use the power you've absorbed from this talent show to take control of your Minion form."

And soon both Galang and Pascual saw clear as day the literal talent flow like neon tendrils of spiritual energy from the unconscious contestants to Spelvin's hand into a floating sphere of power.

They'd weaponized their passion and used their love to their abusive advantage. How devilish of them to do so, but that was to be expected.

Quite a bit of the metaphysical ball of talent then got transferred unto Regina in the form of a seeming solar flare.

Then, like a ghost, Spelvin vanished. Fading into existence.  

From there, Regina opened her mouth, resisted the urge to transform into her geometric self, and sung a song to end the world.

***

Dammit.

Why did it feel like the world was always at stake when Florante dealt with an awakening angel? Or demon?

Regina sang a lyricless hymn of the damn that warped their perception of reality. The sound waves from the song kept Florante's attempts at shooting her down with projectiles from hitting her.

Meanwhile, on Isaiah's part, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt his friend and classmate. He certainly didn't wish to do that momentum-filled punch on her.

However, she might even be more powerful now than she was when she went berserk with her first awakening.

So Pascual ran away.

…What?

Regina took a break from her singing that rendered every energy projectile Florante shot at her into harmless heat and light. "What are you doing even here, you fetal alcohol syndrome baby?"  

"AH! You called me that again! Even after I told the teacher on you for bullying!" exclaimed Florante, who doubled his efforts by shooting Lightning  Bolts at himself and holding enough power inside his body to resist Regina's repellant sound waves.

"You're such a li'l snitch, you dork," Regina said with a roll of her eyes. She then started humming with a specific frequency that resonated with the rest of the building.

Florante considered asking her if she remembered him killing her in his fever dream,  but he pushed his thoughts away before they could fully form into words in his head.

The sound waves from her voice came at shorter-wave vibrato, almost like a bird's trill, which echoed across the amphitheater room then transmitted to the rest of the structure, making its very foundations shake and dance to the beat of her wordless song.

And so the room and the building started to rumble and shake from the droning hum from Regina's powerful singing pipes.

Soon, all the glass panes and mirrors on the amphitheater cracked and went on the verge of shattering. Hairline cracks appeared everywhere while the floor below them and the ceiling above them moved.

Florante hesitated, with him second-guessing himself now that he realized his past dreams weren't dreams and he and everyone else could die for real if the whole building were to collapse on them.

However, just in the nick of time, Pascual returned, blasting through the wall from behind Miss Mariano and pushing, not punching or striking, her forward.

It took the next second for Florante to realize Pascual might've probably run the entire globe and back to produce enough kinetic energy to penetrate through Regina's melodic defenses with supersonic might.

Regardless, that momentous push did the trick. It stopped the building from crumbling just in time.

However, to Pascual's horror, he went overboard and built up enough momentum to push Mariano away with the strength of a freight train.

"AAHH…! Pascual…!?"

"Oh no! GINA…! I'm SORRY!"

For a split-second, the sonic siren changed into the geometric object Isaiah described her as. She was hard to miss, with her occupying most of the amphitheater.

She probably shifted into that form for self-preservation's sake. Otherwise, she would've turned into a messy red stain of blood and guts on the ceiling and walls.  

Florante couldn't believe what he just saw. He also couldn't react in time before the geometric fallen angel did a banshee shriek that blew him away and shattered his eardrums.

"AUGH!" Galang cried out, and when he gnashed his teeth, he felt the enamel on them crack as well, thus worsening his pain.

The supersonic screech of her Minion self lacked the controlled nuance of her human form's song for sure.

However, for Pascual's part, he couldn't be happier. He grinned and exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank goodness, Gina! You're not dea… URK?!"

Regina Mariano finally shifted back to her human self, her hands throttling Isaiah by his neck. "You almost killed me, you jerk!"

"Wait (cough), I-I didn't mean to…!" Isaiah choked out.

"Whatever. I'm going to control this power and become queen of this world. Just you wait and see," she said, dropping Pascual to the floor before she picked up the microphone and began singing again, her heel firmly stepping on Isaiah's face.

A half-conscious Florante thought, "Rule the world…?" Huh. Why didn't he think of doing that when he first got his powers?

The compromised position Pascual had, with him getting stepped on by Regina also made Galang's cheeks warm. Mariano kept Isaiah pinned down to the ground by stepping on his face, huh? He wished it were him instead.

He shook his head to wave off such sordid thoughts. He needed to set his priorities straight.

He was too shortsighted with this angel and demon avatar thing that he didn't realize the full implication of his gifts. He'd rather pettily get back at his bullies than aim at something higher.

But to be honest, why would he want to conquer the world? What good would that do? So he'd become President of Earth? A clueless student like him would have more responsibility? Who'd want that?

Galang attempted to get up and move, but the ground started shaking again. The building creaked and swayed, like a house of cards about to topple over.

What was he supposed to do now? Her singing served as her shield against 100 percent of Florante's myriad of projectiles. His own halo shield couldn't block off Regina's sound waves either. He was a sitting duck.

Also, if he didn't feel like killing the crawling chaos Minion from before, that went double or even triple for his classmate. Not that he could at this rate, but he definitely didn't want to.

Whatever rage he felt for his bullies back in his fever dream faded away, replaced with shame and embarrassment after he realized he killed them for real back then.

He could only helplessly stare as the ceiling plaster cracked and buckle while bits of dust and debris fell on the unconscious contestants and audience.

They were about to serve as more collateral damage from the awakening of yet another (fallen) angel.

According to Pascual, the people who died when he first tried stopping Regina's rampage the first time she awoke remained dead.

They didn't revert back to living like with what happened when Jenny and Florante defeated the spaghetti monster and the living maelstrom.  

Where was his power and creativity when saving lives? Was he only useful against helpless people, like his bullies before some of them discovered they too had powers?

He was so helpless against Regina that he might as well turn into an Ophanim himself to battle her with full force. He didn't remember his monstrous gyroscopic and multi-eyed form having ears, after all. Just endless revolving eyes.

"Wait, you have an monster form too?!" said Isaiah without thinking after hearing Florante's thoughts, as though forgetting (or not believing) Florante claiming they were angels with alternate, monstrous "true" forms.

Oh, right. Angels and demons could sense and communicate telepathically with one another. Florante should keep his thoughts to himself. Isaiah accidentally overheard his thoughts.

Hold on a minute. He could project his thoughts to those two, couldn't he?

He got it all wrong. He had his priorities straight from the start.

So he stared and focused on his classmates while making his concrete thoughts known to them even when he, a socially awkward teenager, would normally have trouble expressing himself.

The two seemed unaware of how they looked, what with Regina stepping on Isaiah but hesitating to hurt him or finish him off while Isaiah himself didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Also, from the angle where Pascual lay, he could actually look up from under Regina's dress.

The two received the message loud and clear.

Regina screamed and covered herself up while an apologetic Isaiah reassured it wasn't what it looked like.

Mariano did a swift stomp at Isaiah's head that would've squashed it like a watermelon had he not stood up in time. "Manyakis ka! (You pervert!)" she exclaimed. "You're both perverts!"

"You really are a snitch, Florante!" shouted Pascual at his former best friend while backpedaling deftly across multiple unconscious contestants and audience members.

For that fraction of a second though, Regina left herself wide open. So Florante shot her full of light bullets to force her to change into her Ophanim/Minion form.

"LIGHT ARRAY!"

All ten of Florante's Light Bullets hit their target, with each going off like the electromagnetic pulse version of blockbuster bombs.

Also, Galang had the presence of mind to envelop himself in his electric wind halo and push Regina backwards from the stadium through several walls up until they were outside the building to save the unconscious people inside the amphitheater from harm.

"Ah! Florante, you bastard…!" the backpedaling Pascual, uh, forward-pedaled towards the pair. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm saving everyone before… AH!"

Then, from outside the venue, right in the middle of Mandaluyong, Regina Mariano began to change and shift forms.

Like with the flying spaghetti monster, Regina's true angel/demon form towered over Florante and Isaiah like a gigantic geometric monument. A floating blue pyramid that might as well be an alien ship. Or a tinted Star Destroyer from Star Wars.

'Now what?' thought Florante, which only made Pascual scream at him harder. 'Oh right. You can still hear me, huh?'

"Now its you who didn't think things through!?" Isaiah screeched. He then saw images from Galang's memory flash before his eyes.

Of Florante killing both him and Regina.

With misty eyes and a sniffle, Florante said, "I don't want to kill her again. Or hurt her any further."

She actually forced him to act because she was about to kill all those people back in the amphitheater herself.

"Florante, look out!" a voice from behind them said.

Their world went topsy-turvy again, and Galang wasn't sure if the Minion form of the demonic and geometric pyramid Regina was responsible.

The next thing he knew, he saw darkness just before he heard the shattering crunch of a car folding around a truck bed. He then realized he'd been wrapped in a cocoon of vines from head to toe.

The green tendrils receded from his person before he attempted breaking free of them. He then got up in time to see Jennifer Tolentino entangling Pascual with those same vines, a trickle of blood flowing from her forehead, her signature glasses missing.

"Jenny…!" blurted out a confused Florante, not knowing what to say.

"You broke your promise, Flor," whispered Jenny, the words filling Galang with shame. "We'll talk about this later."

Then, from right beside them, Florante saw double. Two Pascuals.

"Wha…?" Galang trailed off, at a loss for words. The second Pascual, he realized, was the one who asked him to watch out. So who was the first Pascual…?

The vine-entangled Isaiah Pascual smirked and changed back to the Hollywood beauty from before. Miss Georgina Spelvin, if Florante recalled correctly.

He didn't have the chance to notice anything else when he realized a van was headed their way. The geometric form of Regina had started singing again, and things beyond Galang's ken started happening all around them.

The vehicle spun and slid, on the verge of colliding with them all—Florante, Jenny, and the two Pascuals.

Without looking, Jenny

"Asmodeus," was what Jenny called the Pascual imposter instead. The imposter who could do somehow also mimicked the real deal's abilities.

The fake Isaiah cackled then shifted form back to the gorgeous blue-eyed blonde from before. "Raphael. I've heard you're in town from Mammon."

"What are you doing with my classmates?" Jenny the Raphael avatar demanded.

Spelvin smirked a spellbinding sneer. "I'm doing to them what you should've done a long time ago. I'm rousing them from their slumber, Raphael."

One thing was for sure. It was about time Florante took a second look at that dream journal of his.

***

To Be Continued…

The first incarnation of "Fantasy of Evolution" in my mind back in the early 2000s  involved Gabriel De Angeles (currently Florante Galang) ending up seeing his best friend J.D. (reminiscent of Isaiah Pascual) dying because of the War of Angels and Demons.

Also, yes. The Ophanim/Minion form of Regina Mariano is reminiscent of Ramiel the Geometric Angel from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Fascinating how stories and creations change as you yourself develop into a person and as an author, huh?

Farewell, Abdiel

[billyagogo]

Coronavirus has claimed more than 90,000 lives in Mexico, muting the country's iconic Day of the Dead

New Post has been published on https://newsprofixpro.com/moxie/2020/10/31/coronavirus-has-claimed-more-than-90000-lives-in-mexico-muting-the-countrys-iconic-day-of-the-dead/

Coronavirus has claimed more than 90,000 lives in Mexico, muting the country's iconic Day of the Dead

He arrived, as he does every year in this season, to adorn the grave of his mother with what were her favorite flowers. He carried a bouquet of red roses and a plastic bag filled with orange petals from the cempasúchil, a marigold profoundly linked in Mexican culture to mourning and remembrance.

The gates of the San Nicolás Tolentino cemetery were closed.

“This virus is truly a tragedy,” said a disheartened Javier Suárez, 68, who had traveled an hour and a half from his home outside the capital only to be denied access to the burial ground. “It kills thousands of people. And it leaves those of us left alive filled with fear. … But now this COVID is destroying our traditions.”

The ongoing pandemic has felled more than 90,000 Mexicans, ranking the country fourth worldwide in the number of coronavirus-related deaths.

It has also achieved another doleful feat: muting one of the country’s signature holidays — Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, when Mexicans honor deceased loved ones in often-boisterous fashion, converging on cemeteries with flowers, candles, food and beverages, and leaving ornate altars in memory of the departed.

Javier Suarez came to leave flowers at a Mexico City cemetery but found it closed.

( Cecilia Sánchez / For The Times)

This year, the vibrant amalgam of Christian and pre-Hispanic rites — coinciding with the Roman Catholic holidays of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day on Sunday and Monday — will be a lonesome affair, more private reflection than collective tribute.

Seeking to hinder the spread of the virus, authorities have moved to curb public gatherings. Officials in the capital and elsewhere have banned cemetery visits, dealing a civic and emotional blow to millions of Mexicans. People have been asked to remember their loved ones at home. Some residents managed to get to cemeteries and pay respects before closures began in the last week.

Having heard of the shutdown, Suárez and others decided to venture to gravesites in the days before the official Day of the Dead holiday begins. But many cemeteries were already shut. People were forced to stand outside locked gates, unable to tidy up the graves and festoon them with flowers.

“One comes here with the hope of being able to greet our dear loved ones,” said a disillusioned Suárez. “And now they won’t let us pass.”

He went home, forlorn, with his flowers.

Many in Mexico have noted the harsh paradox: The rites of mourning and remembrance have been quashed in a year when people need them most.

A musician carries his instrument through the Valle de Chalco municipal cemetery on the outskirts of Mexico City, where he is hired to play songs by families who are decorating graves ahead of Day of the Dead.

(Marco Ugarte / Associated Press)

In many cases, health and safety restrictions in hospitals meant that kin were not even allowed to share final moments with gravely ill relatives and friends. Traditional wakes and funerals were also barred. Most victims were cremated as a safety precaution, instead of being interred in traditional burials.

María López Velázquez, 61, a house cleaner in Mexico City, lost her husband in September to what doctors suspect was COVID-19. She is still pained that he was cremated and not buried. She plans to set up a Día de los Muertos altar at home in his honor.

“This ugly disease has come to torment us in so many ways,” she said.

Relatives bury Isaac Nolasco at Valle de Chalco cemetery.

(Marco Ugarte / Associated Press)

Apart from the emotional toll, the dampened Day of the Dead signals additional economic distress for the millions of Mexicans who rely on street commerce.

The pandemic has already forced thousands out of business, and sales of Day of the Dead paraphernalia this year will probably plunge 70% or more, merchants predict. Markets, shops and roadside kiosks normally do a brisk seasonal business hawking special sweets and flowers and materials for homemade altars, along with the costumes that many young people don in a fusion with Halloween.

An ice cream vendor walks through the Valle de Chalco municipal cemetery as he sells to families decorating graves ahead of Day of the Dead.

(Marco Ugarte / Associated Press)

“We are not selling anything right now,” lamented Evangelina Salazar, 73, who runs a flower stand outside the San Lorenzo Tezonco cemetery in the capital along with her husband, Francisco García, 75. “We are dedicated to selling flowers all year, and even if business is weak, we always make it up on the Day of the Dead. But now hardly anyone is buying anything.”

Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador has declared three days of national mourning starting Saturday. for the 90,000-plus cornavirus fatalities. Flags will stand at half-staff.

Beyond time-honored rites of closure and the graveside holiday festivities, the pandemic has forced the cancellation of the capital’s annual Day of the Dead parade, which draws hundreds of thousands of revelers to view floats with giant skeletons and other depictions of stylized death, along with dancing troupes and other attractions. The event has been moved to a stadium without spectators and will be available for online viewing. Other performances marking the holiday have also gone virtual, or will be open only to limited audiences.

Last week, authorities removed 50 large sculptured calaveras, or decorative skulls, that had been placed along central Reforma Avenue. The colorful sculptures had been drawing crowds.

“We are taking [the skulls] away so that they don’t become a factor that promotes the contagion,” explained Mexico City Mayor Claudia Sheinbaum.

Visitors to Valle del Chalco cemetery clean the grave of a family member.

(Fernando Llano / Associated Press)

Four days later, the mayor announced that she had tested positive for the virus and had gone into quarantine.

The most dramatic blow is the closing of the cemeteries, the focal point of Day of the Dead.

The day is less a communal lament about death than a kind of celebration of life and of lives past. It signals a spiritual union between the living and dead.

According to tradition, souls of the deceased share moments of intimacy on these days with loved ones who remain. Families bring tamales, pan de muerto (sweet bread) and sugary candy calaveras to gravesites. They tell jokes and recite stories about the deceased. Drinks, both the sweet and alcoholic variety, are consumed and left at tombs.

Gerardo De Los Angeles Gomez, 52, a plumber who brought flowers to the San Lorenzo Tezonco cemetery.

(Cecilia Sánchez / For The Times)

“I understand about the coronavirus, but how is it possible that we cannot see our dead?” asked Gerardo De Los Angeles Gómez, 52, a plumber who brought flowers to the San Lorenzo Tezonco cemetery, planning to leave them at the graves of his parents. “Our beloved dead come to visit us every year at this time. Who will they have with them this year? Their graves will be abandoned. Without a flower. Without a candle.”

At the San Nicolás Tolentino cemetery, Carmen Chávez, 37, implored that she be allowed in with her daughter, Jennifer, 10, to visit the grave of her husband. He died three years ago in a car crash.

“Please, my daughter was very excited about leaving flowers for her father,” she pleaded with a caretaker. “We won’t be long.”

The caretaker, Juan Rojas, 59, said he could not relent. He, too, appeared devastated. He recalled last year’s festivities.

A newly dug grave at the Valle de Chalco municipal cemetery.

(Marco Ugarte / Associated Press)

“There were mariachis and norteño bands going from tomb to tomb, singing the favorite songs of the deceased,” Rojas remembered. “The cemetery was full of color with all the flowers that people brought, with the beautiful decorations on the tombs. … It is such a pleasure to see how the people come to be with their departed loved ones.”

Now, he added, “it’s so sad to know that, on this Day of the Dead, all will be abandoned. In silence.”

McDonnell is a Times staff writer and Sánchez is a special correspondent.

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