Machete coated in the essence of the forest, paving a clear way for me to tread across it. I had to get to the heart of the forest, to meet my loved one. Something called out to me, a voice, a gentle, delicate one. It was hers. I came to the forest because of her. She was a villager in the isolated land of this forest.

We met in a destined serendipity, she saved me from a disaster that wiped away my entire trekking squad except me. Her boldness against my futility, that was the glimmer that I got to catch before I was left at the skirts of the forest, soddened in water, and her scent. Her complexion was pristine enveloping the audacity in her, fair swarthy skin which shone in the dark, her arms were strong and secured, my heart dived straight into her embrace, her simple act of love.

After I recovered from the disaster, a blessing in disguise. Her face kept swirling in my head, buzzing me into a daze. Years past, her complexion never waned away, yet it remained as if that moment was relived by me, every time. I never felt a hint of sadness, all I knew was the beauty of her boldness, and my love for her.

The moment was replayed in me, I could not imagine if my time ticked away into the next second, it happened when I saw she mouthed to me the words wake up. My eyes, my conscience kicked me up, the florescent glare of the hospital lights blinded my sight. Multiple medical support were attached to me, I could not move my body at all.

“He’s up.” there was a figure standing in front of me, I was sad when that moment ended with a wake-up call. I summoned some energy to my limbs to no avail. “Increase the dosage to fifty percent, commence test round one hundred and sixty-five.” The static air filled my lungs.

now.” The sting hit me, dissolving into her familiar complexion once more. All I knew was that Cupid struck me hard, nothing about being used as an experiment subject. I was back at the forest, with the same motive, the same flashback, the same dosage of joy, and oblivion.


Craving for more? Down below:
A True Malaysian For Malaysians
Close, But Not Close Enough (Rewritten)
Sinking Soil
The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side
Getting My Shit Together

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

17 thoughts on “Stung

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