Portrait or landscape really doesn’t matter so long as the essence of the picture sings
By: Aniki del Valle
She lost her grip of her handbag as his words echoed inside her head. She was in shock but nonetheless, she tried to regain her calm. It was too late though for he already noticed this. Actually, he was expecting this from her—this very reaction. He was also expecting something else.
Any moment now.
“You could be wrong.” She braved to let go of these words. Stammering wasn’t really a popular way of claiming confidence.
He just smiled at her. He wanted to answer immediately but he was feeling mixed emotions inside him. He wanted it to end now; and he wanted to kid some more. But being a man doesn’t entitle you to behave like a gentleman.
He just sighed under a quiet smile and let her speak.
“You could be wrong,” she said once again, now with more confidence than before. It seemed that, after saying that a while ago, she has already created an escape from the truth; a haven that could calm her.
He still remained silent.
“I mean, what is your proof? Did…did you see? Did you hear?” She was continually waving her hand in the air, swatting it with a quick swoosh and blending unseen particles with violent shaking of her hands.
He continued to say nothing while throwing at her awkward smiles. He wasn’t sure whether these smiles were anymore comforting but he was quite sure that it was adding fuel to the already growing fire.
Well, if it’s crackling nicely, it’s music to my ears.
There was now a long and prickly silence. He looked at her intently. Her eyes were rolling in different directions. Up, down, left, right—everywhere except towards his direction.
What could she be thinking right now?
“You’re just messing with us. You want us to break apart!” She finally yelled—a sign that she’s already losing control. Now, he has got himself a nice bonfire in front of him, rising rapidly, building up heat as it consumes all its internal fuel. And he was the oxygen that blows it ever brighter.
Her eyes were now filled with tears, flooding her vision in a mortifying way. Suppressed anger, perhaps indignation, fear, sadness were all welling up from her eyes, like water that dribbled heavily from being hurriedly drunk from a pitcher. There was no more space to place all that volume of water yet, she needed to empty the whole container if she was to live with it.
The almost silent sobs and wails should have been ailing and disquieting, had it been a normal situation, but every broken frequency of sound that harbors that room is being translated by my ears into a smooth and swaying music—that’s it! Pachabel’s Canon.
Then she laughed. She just continued laughing for some time, dousing away his fine bonfire little by little. She looked at him, for the first time after loosing her calm.
Not good.
“You have no evidence!” A finger was aiming at him like a bullet that’s suspended in mid-air, impossible to divert, with all murderous intents at its tip.
He looked at her eyes.
This wasn’t even worth worrying.
This time he flashed a triumphant smile.
That finger in front of him began to twitch in despair. It curled back and retreated along with its vessel in utter defeat.
“That’s a lie.” She whispered.
He shook his head.
She clamped her face with her hands, her nails digging through her face, scratching, damaging that once prestigious visage. “THAT’S A LIE!” she shrieked.
She ran towards the back to an isolated room and disappeared from his sight.
About time.
Pachabel’s Canon was playing again. There were loud crashings, breaking of things, moving of furniture and hysterical screams. And in an abrupt moment, Canon ended.
I walked towards the door and opened it. The room was lighted dimly from the street lamps outside. I took my cellphone out and switched to camera mode.
He was more anxious than he ever was in his life. It was during that small span of time that he sweated more than ever. Everything ended when his cellphone rang. But it was not a call. His screen read, “1 multimedia message received.” With clammy hands, he opened it and saw a pair of familiar feminine feet hanging in the air. It was titled
picturesque with a message at the bottom:
We’re free.
...lol, i have OCD too...but with my hands....i can't stand getting my hands dirty....in fact i run to the sink right after touching money....i also carry alcohol with me wherever i go....
...weird... as for starthip troopers goes, it's not based on the movie...rather the book.
i like your stories, good job 
Either CW10 or LA (Landscape Architecture - the super GE!! 
i need a diploma....
