Brenna+K

__**In Memory of the Wild Flower**__



__**A Song for the Silent**__ //"Erin's wail turns to a full scale cry of agony and despair; demolishing the peaceful atmosphere and the abscence of speech."//

“Oh, those memories are still clearly surrounding my head like a midnight haze. Those days have imprinted a stigma on my heart as if it is an indelible stain,” a dark, slim figure illuminated against the darkness of his library whispers softly in his breath as he leans against his curtained windowsill. Gazing back at the full moonlight, the young man forms a grievous smile which is shared privately between him and a small, tender sprout of evergreens peeking its juvenile foliage out into the eerie air of constricted silence. The full moon shining beneath the velvet curtains secretly gazes upon the communion of the two valuable lives.

“You shall be a strong flower someday,” he murmurs gently while flicking the leaf petals lightly, “just like her who is still alive and well inside my memory from four years ago…” ...

Inside a particular Italian airplane four years ago, people are buzzing about in a bustling heap from left to right, continuously gossiping and bragging about their expensive souvenirs bought in all sorts of luxurious Italian metropolis. There are only four silent individuals within the plane who does not seem to stand out despite their virtue of solitude while the others spit and babble on excitingly related to the amount of expense they are saving to enjoy the extravagance of their next destination, Mexico. Yes, this is the business class where only the privileged can toast their designer labeled behinds in. The four rather tacit, timid passengers form a group as an unlikely pair. Two women who seem no older than twenty-five are rather comfortably ensconced on a couple of cushiony chairs, yet they share no means of conversation between them. The one who is settled on the right tries to bring up some kind of communication with an uneasy grin while drumming her fingers awkwardly against her brunette curls, but the other pays no notice of her companion’s disquiet since she is staring intently on a handsome pilot who is heavily occupied by a crowd of flirtatious women who are dominating his attention by using the benefit of having the front seats. Seething under her shadowy sunglasses and overgrown blonde bangs like a hawk targeting her prey, the lady on the left feels the seat sizzling with anger beneath her as she hungrily eyes a silver watch hanging loosely around the pilot’s masculine wrist and his golden tooth glistening under the dimly lit bulb. Also, to add to her anticipated prize filled with fresh promises, no rings can be found that might have been dragging down the gorgeous aviator’s sturdy fingers. After rechecking to confirm that the pilot was a bachelor, the blonde reassures herself as she pulls down the lever under her armchair to have her beauty sleep before sunset when she will begin her hunt under the night sky.

Perceiving that the young blonde dame is in her frivolous dreamland by curling up inside her leopard printed fur coat, the brunette sighs in a crestfallen manner and wanders her attention around other areas of her circumference to search for a sense of belonging. The first one to catch her radar is a stern looking youth who is intently studying a thick book behind his reading glasses. Despite his stoic disposition, the young maiden cannot help but smile with an unknown air of kinship when she discovers that this man and she are the only ones inside this portion of the aircraft who do not have any accessories to symbolize their wealth and indulgence. When she peers around her spot to observe this young stranger, another being captures her scrutiny that is the exact opposite to the man who has such a grim feature despite his boyish appearance. That “being” is a relatively aged person who is an owner of a sickly balding head, a protruding beer belly, and large, beefy hands that are stroking a quite miniature, sparkly object. As a psychologist, she immediately notices that this elderly senior, unlike the rest of the party, is not talking with another person but to himself. With passionate curiosity, she tucks both of her irritating brown strands behind her ears to listen carefully about what he is murmuring so surreptitiously to himself yet fails miserably as the plane signals for take-off and the horrendous, ear-splitting sound reverberates throughout the vicinity. Hours pass and the disheveled psychologist is once again roused from her lethargic slumber when she feels someone pass by with an irritating sound made by the heckler’s high-heeled stilettos. Yawning with a lazy hand drawn to her wide opened mouth, the last thing the young brunette can conceive in her head is the slender form of the blonde; the damsel who is covering her whole body with designer clothes from head to toe striding leisurely up to the front, towards the direction of the cockpit with darker, seductive shade of lips and an enthusiastic swing of her hips. Even in the ominous obscurity, the eagerness for a grand award or a golden treasure hidden deeply could be identified. After the diminishing image of the blonde, everything goes opaque in everyone’s mind. Some people shriek in fear while others, including the psychologist, the old elder, and the aloof man desperately grapple for a life jacket or anything that can float on water in dear life. The plane crashes down along with the passengers’ glittery baubles, jewelries, and expensive attires towards the deep aqua kingdom of ocean. Then, as the great vehicle smashes down to the embracing waves, everything plunge into a dismal reticence like an infant in its mother’s womb. It is as if every single atom in her body is about to shatter and scatter apart while screaming for comfort ,yet before it can do so, before she can let go of the thin string of life, something or someone roughly shakes her shoulder in order to bring her back to reality, away from the welcoming apathy of death. “Hey, are you alive? If you are, then answer me, right now!” A husky, baritone voice booms loud within her ear before she can cough up the salt water and hurriedly shake her mousy brown head from the yellow sand. “Wha, what?” is her empty-headed answer as she stupidly rubs her heavy eyelids. “Thank God you are alive since I was having so much trouble carrying around this old guy by myself. Come on, help me here.” With a grunt, the tired woman reluctantly heaves herself up from the sandy beach and blinks her eyes to adjust to whom she is speaking to. “The name is Rayman Mann, but please call me Ray,” her partner of helping the injured senior adds brusquely while avoiding his distant gaze, “and this dude here is Marco, Marco Laurier. It seems there aren’t many survivors who reached this island from the plane’s ruins.” Nodding without comprehension, the young woman licks her dry lips together in advance of answering her own name_ “My name is Erin Hunt,” and that is the moment when she realizes that Ray is the youth with the remote expression and Marco is the fat man whose interest is only concentrated on a typical golden object.

“Oh, look! Another survivor!” Erin yelps with glee when she detects a fair head bobbing among the waves and leaves poor Ray to stumble along with an unconscious Marco in order to stray ahead to save the drowning creature.

Yet when she pulls out the yellow head, Erin’s nose crinkles with recognition since the whole body below the blonde mass of wet locks is owned by the proprietor of one of Erin’s last unforgetful memories. Suddenly, every series of events prior to the plane accident start to unravel them inside Erin’s mentality as all her misfortunes click into pieces as if a number of puzzle pieces will form a certain picture. The back of the seating partner’s dissolving posture, weird noises from the cockpit as the plane slowly begins to descend, and the finale of hundreds of people sinking, yelling, and choking among the endless scenery of complete blue which all come down to the result of the four of them, the ones who keep their different aura of reserve. Staring around the scenery before her, reality and acceptance of her current, ill-fated state creep within her as Erin pulls back her wet tresses and wails in the open air. Clutching on the oblivious, fainted woman who is soaked to her bones, Erin’s wail turns to a full-scale cry of agony and despair; demolishing the peaceful atmosphere and the absence of speech. The macabre lull of the tropical island is now taken possession to the four creatures’ intrusion as the damsel’s pitiful cries are lost in the stentorian roar of the waves. ... While Ray is biting on his lower lips to cease himself from being emotional like the passionate woman, Marco slowly wakes from his trance and weeps serenely with trickles of salty water dripping down his cheeks, camouflaged from Ray’s cool glare due to his droplets of sweat clinging on to his aged skin. Listening to Erin’s despondent howl, Marco sniffles quietly to himself, keeping his own silence while making sure that both of his rings are in their place and his golden locket strung around his fleshy neck. Unfastening the clasp of his locket, Marco hopelessly gazes down blankly at the smiling portrait of his beloved wife within the golden frame, and he hums an ambient tune for those who search for consolation; ignoring Ray’s astounded gawk. Along with the crashing resonance of the synchronizing tides, Erin’s desolated sobs, and Marco’s gentle tune swishing along with the calm zephyr, the island sings a lonesome yet a compassionate song for the future of the four stranded visitors.



__**Scattering Innocence**__ //"protected and embraced me from the continuous waves of danger rushing towards me."// Days pass since the plane crash yet the hopes for a rescue do not seem to die down among the four survivors just yet. For the past couple of days, Ray and Erin form a theory that the aircraft plunged into the ocean floors not far from the island’s location since Ray noticed beforehand huge clumps of debris from the airplane floating in a relatively close distance. Anyhow, survival is not as difficult as they imagined because several materials in which they possess are quite useful that must have drifted from the flight’s remains. To their utter surprise, there are a half-soaked basic first aid kit, a tarp to sleep in, a knife that uneasily catches a vulture’s gleaming eye, a mirror to produce a fireplace, and a bucket to collect rain water for drinking.

Therefore, life still goes on as Erin regains her cheerfulness, and Ray displays his full potential in the means of practical and logical sense of endurance. Still, the other two individuals who are by now categorized as the fat dwarf and the blonde bimbo do not happen to lift a finger in any of the chores such as lighting a fire or gathering tropical fruits with two very different reasons. The spoiled brat who is apparently the owner of the blonde mass of hair that Erin spotted at the first day on the beach rants on about not having a hand-sanitizer with her and refuses indignantly to cooperate with the rest of her “degrading” crowd. She even rebukes and stubbornly abstains for an entire day from giving her name, and finally when Erin politely inquires after it later does she quit her pointless struggle by flaunting out the single syllable of her name, ‘Kat’. The chubby elder in the name of Marco has a heart problem which constrains him from any manual labor due to his poor health and old age. Even though lounging around the sandy beach under a palm tree shade is all that he do, he is a friendly company for the two diligent youths, cracking jokes and telling interesting tales of the times when he used to be a soldier in the Vietnam War.

“There was the smell of death and blood which took ownership of the whole jungle, and the whole territory we were supposedly guarding from the Northern Vietnamese reeked with human flesh and decaying corpses of both our enemies and allies,” Marco will often murmur in a haunting manner with his husky voice dropped down to a low baritone. But, he will always end his story with a smile by adding, “But you know what youngsters, I just had to live on. Something within me compelled me, drove me, and even forced me to keep my heart beating despite all the inhuman shouts, men slaughtering men, and in the end, transforming into barbaric beasts.” Then, he will point his bulky index finger to the golden locket dangling in his neck and a pair of resplendent engagement rings on his wedding appendage while resuming his speech with a hint of wonder and awe, “These wonderful legacies from my dearly cherished wife protected and embraced me from the continuous waves of danger rushing towards me like a guardian angel from those splendid glass-paned walls in ancient cathedrals.”

Normally, only Erin listens intently to the old man’s reminiscence by replying back about how she is currently studying about human nature from being a civilized, cultured person to a ferocious, vulgar savage during a major catastrophe such as a war. As for Ray, he endeavors to the best of his unsocial abilities in order to muffle his occasional chuckles whenever Marco comments on an amusing memory of his, pretending he is sleeping under his tarp. However, this night, the toll of the fourth night ever since they land on this vast, humid island is slightly or should one say, slyly altered because of a certain outsider’s queer spark of sinful curiosity.

Tonight, Marco allows Erin to open his locket to reveal a mild, docile looking lady’s elegant countenance. The pair of gleaming blue eyes sparkling like icy spears in the murky gloom are therefore, unnoticed by the two friends who are quickly forming an affable intimacy as genial comrades, but there is a third pair of skeptical, piercing circles flickering under the shady tarp. The hunger-stricken avarice pooling in the midst of Kat’s greedy eyes directed towards the plump senior’s jewelries may fool Erin and Marco’s naïve and compassionate persona, but in the case of Ray’s own suspicious and distrustful glare, nothing penetrates through its clear intellect. ‘The name follows its master. How can everyone be so daft and tactless? She isn’t just some tamed Persian cat who fusses over her nails! That stuck-up princess is trouble for all of us, a fierce wild cat who preys in the obscurity so that no one can truly perceive what is within that rapacious expression of hers.’ Ray conjectures to himself as he beholds the pre-crime scene, and he replays the image of the foxy demeanor pasted firmly on Kat’s horrifically flawless, tanned face, unable to allow a simple repose to control his mind. The next morning is no more distinctive than the previous one. Like a soothing gesture, the calm gust of wind trails the salty smell towards the make-shift abode for the four stragglers to wake up for another tedious yet valuable day flourished with undiminished hope. Yet before any of them can be roused from their awkward sleeping positions, Ray awakes first and saunters towards where Erin is drifting off since it is her turn to watch the fire over the night. Letting out a displeasured groan to find the dozing woman not carrying out her task properly, Ray’s unbelieving scrutiny catches something quite out of the ordinary among Erin’s surroundings as he roughly shakes his companion back to reality.

“Hey, Erin, wake up! God, get your eyes open, woman! Where the heck did the knife go? Weren’t you supposed to be on watch last night?” Ray interrogates angrily as he busts open the first aid kit, lifts the bucket, and digs the sand under the mirror hopelessly.

While wiping her eyes drowsily, Erin cannot speedily grasp the severity of the situation unlike Ray, so she just shakes her messy head and responds in a haze, “What is wrong, Ray? Sorry I fell asleep, I just felt so tired after chatting with Marco for hours on end, and…” But the desperate bearing displayed clearly and forthright on Ray’s concerned presence cannot stress his meaning more than a thousand words since it interrupts Erin from her trance. ‘Disappearance of a knife? What could that possibly mean?’ As these thoughts flit through Erin’s tangled, confused mentality, Ray is already thrusting open the other two tarps that belong to Marco and Kat which appear to be completely and utterly empty. Due to this shocking, appalling sight in which they view, both Ray and Erin share a dreadful, knowing glance at each other and immediately speed toward the looming jungle shouting their companions’ names with absolute despair and apprehension. With the worst situations expected in their psyche, Erin almost feels tears welling inside her eyes when she hears someone meekly calling out among the prickly bushes some few feet distance away from her. “Erin… Erin, is that you?” The voice calls delicately as Erin rushes towards the owners’ aide in haste as soon as she realizes that the owner of the timid intonation was none other than the sociable old man, Marco himself, but when she seeks for Ray for assistance, Marco stops her with the motion of silence and beckons her to lean closer as if he is in grave need of notifying someone an awful secret.

“Please, do not request for the young man. Listen, Erin, there is not much time for me to go on. Death is waiting for me just around the corner, so just please, do not interrupt me. Death would have known its patience if it wasn’t for that mangy, horrid woman!” Marco whispers into Erin’s ear in a perilous undertone. “What? What do you mean, Marco? Of course you are not going to perish right now, are you? Come; let me help you get back to the beach. Ra…” Yet before Erin can wave off Marco’s rants as a fat man’s way of nonsense humor, she is disrupted with a grave urgency. “Erin, if you don’t take my statement seriously, I assure you that you would be in my shoes within a day. So just shut up and pay attention, young lady: that blonde woman called Kat, you see, is a gold digger. Last night she begged me if I could company her to the jungle since she was too ‘afraid’ to enter it alone in the early morning darkness when she was in dire indigence of going to the loo. A simpleton I was to actually believe her when she abruptly and without a reason threatened me to hand over my rings and locket to her care with a knife suddenly revealed from her back pocket, shimmering under the merciless, cold moonlight. But before she could obtain my wife’s legacy and my blood, I sprinted while she chased, and I hid beneath this undergrowth for your help,” Marco now speaks as if he is vomiting out each declaration with disgust while he adds, “Kat is a psychopath, Erin, and she is running wild in this vast island like a mad animal. And I have a favor to ask you, would you please protect it or even at least hide these bequests for me? Please, Erin… We were wrong about these people; no one can be trusted except for you… Plea…” But in advance of the finality of his speech, Marco’s last breath hitches in his throat from too much exertion of exercise as he slowly succumbs to the welcoming coma of his demise.



**__Fallen__** //"The world is not merciful to vulnerable ones like you...How touching. How silly. How thoughtless and vain."// Erin weeps meekly for hours on end as she quietly picks a few wild flowers among the grassy cliff. The two of them decide to burn the deceased man’s body on the scar since there is not much appropriate space to bury and honor the victim in the island. Before Ray can light the corpse on fire, Erin hurriedly places the bouquet in Marco’s arms so that he seems to be smiling while breathing in the deep, tantalizing aroma of the flowers. Just like that, Marco Laurier’s flesh and blood dance with the flames while they fly among the breeze along with the dainty wild blossoms Erin has gathered. Both Ray and Erin do not make any sound as they watch the ashes scatter in the distance in utter tranquility. Marco’s death might have been terror stricken with barbaric atrocities of the island’s predator, but his final end is peaceful as the burnt remains of his empty, soul-less body soar freely like a wise eagle, surrounding the whole island with its blessing. Making sure that Marco’s rings and locket are still tied under the cliff’s rocks where she hid for safekeeping, Erin breaks the silence from her indescribable grief. “You know Ray, Marco told me due to Kat’s recent outrageous actions that I shouldn’t be naïve if I want to survive this turmoil, but no, I am still going to be naïve, and be myself. I don’t want that cat lady to affect me in this weird, inhumane way because that would be the same thing as giving in to her, giving in to whatever sufferings this island has sent to us. So I am going to trust you, just like I’ve always done since now that Marco is gone, you are the only one left to me, and I cannot bear to lose you,” Erin murmurs as she motions to the edge of the cliff to let Ray perceive the glinting ornaments under the blazing sunlight. “See that, I hid Marco’s keepsake under the scar so that if Kat finds them, she would not dare to approach so close to the end of the steep precipice,” she adds with a finality in her tone as she goes back to hugging her knees while rocking her body back and forth. Betraying the hidden inner gratitude he feels for his companion’s doubtless faith, Ray cannot leave his stare from the gleaming pair of golden trinkets as his usually light brown eyes transform into a pair of lustful orbs glazed in a stringent yet desiring way. “Why are you telling me this?” Ray asks at long last as he shakes his head from appalling thoughts penetrating his innocent mind. “Because I know you are not the person who would attempt such a sadistic act that Kat has performed,” Erin replies genuinely, as she gazes straight towards Ray’s eyes that are scrutinizing her in a queer, curious manner. “You still trust me despite what just happened to Marco? I can always turn out like Kat! You can always turn out like Marco! There is no guarantee that I will stay on your side and defend those golden nuggets against the mad woman. How are you so sure that I would not end up like her?” Ray queries earnestly with a hint of suspicion while he searches for a deeper meaning under the brown swirls within Erin’s sober look in her eyes. For a moment, Erin is at a loss of words as she picks a tuft of flowers at her side aimlessly, searching for an appropriate answer, a clever comeback to secure her alliance with Ray. However, when she comes up with none, she just merely smiles at him and say, “I just know. I just have a pleasant feeling that you won’t betray me. We are going to survive this island, Ray. We are going home,” Erin adjoins her speech as positively as she can muster. Still, she cannot dismiss an ominous mood creeping upon her when the wind snatches the flower in which she is fumbling with her fingers and throws it towards the unpromising and discouraging atmosphere.

“Then you are a fool, a complete idiot who cannot learn from your mistakes. You should have stuck to Marco’s advice, woman. Why can’t you be more selfish and defensive?” Ray makes his outburst with an unexplained fury pulled over in order to conceal his guilty blush as he places a palm over his forehead to mask his tears from falling openly on to his pink tinged cheeks. “Oh man, what are we going to do with you, foolish woman…?” With that ultimate closing of his outrage, Ray leaves the clearing in a huff as if he wants to depart from the scene of his embarrassment. Yes, he is embarrassed alright since he is angrier to himself than to her for his own lack of compassion and trust for his fellow comrade. Before Erin can reply, Ray rushes through the undergrowth towards the beach where he cries and let his tears run down freely across his own shameful, disgraceful self. He purposefully steps over some prickly thorns and sharp twigs as a punishment to himself and for the ends of his virtue and self-control. Of course, Ray realizes and knows well enough about what passed through his mind when Erin showed him the costly objects attached securely around a protruding rock face at the edge of the crag. Also, he recognizes the dark voices ringing inside his head; the temptation, the lust, and the forever alluring promises of wealth.

‘What a contemptuous man I am now when I consistently prided myself for my strict moderation and ambition for perfection and purity. I considered myself as a virtuous flower, and due to that forthright, proven evidence within me, I am now a poisonous, dangerous snake hidden behind that flower.’ And in the meantime, he regrets his own being for even thinking about them as he grudgingly saunters around the sandy beach before he feels something hard bump into his head. ‘Was I in a daze to the degree that I don’t even know where I am heading towards? I must be out of my mind,’ Ray groans painfully as he stumbles to stand upright. Yet when an unfamiliar human hand grabs his, a shock goes through his spine like a burst of lightening. “Excuse me, sir, but are there any more of you folks in this island? You must be a refugee from the accident. We heard that a plane crash occurred near this location and came to investigate.” A marine captain with his smart, white uniform questions as he glances at Ray, sizing him up and down. Stunned beyond belief, Ray stares speechlessly at the tall military officer and notices a relatively moderate number of sailors piling out from an enormous ship docked at the outskirts of the lagoon. Then, an unbelievable thought hits him like a firecracker. A rescue! At last, both he and Erin can finally return home, and Kat can pay the price in front of the judge for her malicious crimes. With a jump of joy and relief, Ray cleans off the dirt stained tears from his scraggly face and tries his best to sober up in front of his lifesaver. “Please sir, if you could wait here for a moment, I’ll bring down the rest of the crew in a jiffy,” Ray cries out with glee. He sprints through the jungle towards the cliff as a rush of hope blows towards him. He will apologize to Erin for his meaningless wrath, and after they escape from the horrors of the island and Kat herself, they can be friends by keeping in touch with each other. How great and merry will life be if he have a true, good-willed friend like Erin? Why didn’t he understand the value of a sincere friendship before? Now, he shall change from an aloof, detached fellow with a sour look as his trademark to a sociable and an affable man with an open heart. It was an important lesson Erin taught him just this morning. He will bring down all his insecurities and tear down the towering wall that obscures his true feelings from others. Ray feels like a new man. He really do, but a part of his radiant hope dims like a switched out light bulb when he figures that the sea cliff is completely, utterly vacant except for a pool of fresh spilt blood at the centre of the cliff’s surface. In a panic, Ray leaps down to the border of the vertical cliff while ignoring the fact that his shirt and shorts are being soaked with crimson blood. And there she is, down below the cliff, Erin Hunt lying with her face and hair splattered with red liquid which is oozing out from the opened skull of Kat who is lying close beside her. Unlike Kat, who fell face first to the jagged clump of rocks, Erin lies in a patch of sand and seaweed next to her fellow victim with her visage towards the sky and her eyes clearly opened. As he beholds the terrible sight spread in front of him, Ray shakes violently with grief and despair. His legs fall beneath him. “Told you so, Erin. I was right. You were wrong. People like you, people like Marco, there is only one end. The world is not merciful to vulnerable ones like you. You felt guilty to possibly kill her, didn’t you? You should’ve, you should have… She deserved it, Erin. She deserved to die. You chose to perish alongside her rather than live with the guilt of murder. How touching. How silly. How thoughtless and vain!” The woeful boy sits pitifully on the ground and screams out to the haunting whistle in the air as a wolf would have done under the moonlit sky. The wind blows aimlessly around him like a translucent ghost and picks up the last few petals of the flowers that the living Erin have collected previously to blow them downward towards the two broken bodies below.

When Ray finally finds what consciousness the situation can offer, he crawls like a stepped upon worm with what energy is left in his legs and endeavors to untie the ropes holding on to the three golden jewelries at the tip of the sheer wall of rock. Careful not to let himself fall to the path of the two women’s demise, Ray succeeds in taking possession of the sparkly valuables, and after staring at them with a hint of repulsive anguish, he throws all three of them to the deepest parts of the ocean without a hesitation before he alone, walks down the cliff.