Chaos Inside A Pen

  A realm is a reflection of what kind of entity dwells on it. This explains why the mortal realm, in essence, is the perfect model of a melting pot world due to the extreme diversity of humankind. Even all are subjected and bound by their own flesh, no human is exactly the same when it comes to their soul thus you will find an assortment of areas that mirrors the identity of the people who live there.  This principle applies also to the creatures from Biringan. And since the entities are formed from the strongest desires of humankind in a twisted and chaotic fashion, chances are that anyone who has the guts to enter their world but lacks the mental fortitude will always be good as insane for they will never comprehend the purest strain of hate, fear, hunger, lust and other desires that manage to take their own shape and forms inside Biringan. Of course, that also depends if they can get out of that place that is known to trapped souls for eternity. Thus, hell in another guise...

  “Ugh. What a wasted beauty. She got some good racks isn’t Paulo?” “Affirmative sir. Too bad she’s not warm anymore…” “Bah! Just take some pictures and just do the usual in the comfort room!” The police officers who are the first to arrive in the room of Cheska laugh with their dirty jokes as they a photo of the now lifeless body of Cheska. With her pajamas removed, nearly torn shirt, and a gaping mouth with volumes of drippings on it, it's easy to jump to a conclusion that the one who enters her apartment was aiming for her and not for her belongings. The apartment is perpetually untouched without even a hint of intrusion save by the open doors which also shows no signs of any forceful entrance. “Hey Paulo, once you’ve done with those photos, make some copy of it. I know some who is working on a new porn site who has some fetish with dead bodies. I hope the lady won’t mind her photo being sold around the globe.” Paulo chuckles while listening to her senior. Of course, the dead wo...

“You look awful,  apo. Didn’t you get a  good sleep?” Nightmares are typical to Denzel. Ever since he was still a child, most of the dreams that visit him in ungodly hours range from bizarre to something that will leave him clutching his heart as if he was about to have a heart attack upon waking up. When he starts to have a growth spurt, he manages to learn a kind of dreaming technique taught by her Lolo Virtudazo to pacify the demons of her slumber. Yet from time to time, some fragments of the diabolic dreams still manage to slip past through his mental defense. And whenever that happens, he knows it's another omen that he must take careful notice of; something awful is about to happen, and whether he likes it or not he will get involved in it. After all, that is his job as a freelance occult investigator. “As usual, another bad dream Lo…so bad I want to puk--” And without even finishing his sentence, he started to throw up on his bed due to the astronomical disgust that sti...

Cans of red horse beer littered all over the floor of Cheska’s bedroom. Some are empty while others wait for their turn when her throat becomes dry again. Tonight was Friday which means she can stay up until 4 AM without getting bothered by any calls from her clients if she already finished her overdue graphic designs. They can wait for sure but her hormones don’t. That is why to set the mood, she turns off the lights and wears nothing on top of her bed but her oversize shirt, underwear, pink socks, and her thick-rimmed eyed glasses so she can watch clearly the erotic scene unfold right before her hungry eyes Her laptop, despite the 10% battery warning, continues to play a particular scene that she intentionally kept on loop on her video player. The scene where the young maiden will be stripped from head to toe. Once naked, her body that bears that shape of hourglass will be deflowered not by thick calloused hands of man but of tentacles; green, slimy tendrils that wrapped around her w...

Armed with S-Grade Kevlar suit and sub-machine guns that pack firepower without any recoil which is perfectly made for all-out assault; the 7th Unit lead by Chief Sakamoto stormed the former nest, Maximillian Fernandez before he went out of their radar.   The White Mansion, as coined by junkies and punks in the street, has lost its former glory and beauty. Its gates and walls are now draped with dead vines and vandalized by street urchins with puerile images of dick and pussy   It’s infamous gold and yellow paints are now like faded urine-stained all over its facade while its large iron-wrought gate has gone missing.   However, despite the dilapidated condition, testosterone boys and wild girls are now flocking inside the huge three-story mansion. Maximillian promises them that not just booze will flood his crib tonight; crystals, poppers, and other extreme party drugs will be available with the exact amount of cash.   But many from the underground is also expecting ...

Chief Sakamoto’s face was utterly at loss as he listens for the third time the audio file that Draymon has given to him. Instead of a resolution, the case that they are working on plunges into the depths of the unknown, and what awaits them might be the end not just for their career but also of the world. “What do you think Chief?” Draymon looks worried as he rarely sees their chief without its usual humor and wit. The wrinkles on the face of the Sakamoto suddenly increase while massaging his temple. The revelation of the angel clearly stressing him out. The answer they’ve been looking for give them more questions and problems instead of the other way around. “Honestly Dray, this is beyond us. Beyond even for anyone.” He sighs while wiping the sweat on his brow after finishing the whole audio again. “The angel tells me that I need to...” Draymon can’t say the exact words of what is the sky maiden demands for him. It's bizarre and at the same time too surr...