If I leave this earth before you…
I will send you an Angel to replace me, so that you will never be lonely or hurt again.
Wild and Free
Vincent White Knight, i love the way you are because you don’t try to control me, or tame me, you just accept my nature for what it is… a wild stallion. You accept me completely, in my quest to control you, seduce you, consume you, you let me into your world… as you let yourself be free…. and let go.. in the fantasy i created for us.
My Final Words
You turned my advice into your own device.
Finding yourself in your own arrogance
Feeling it all when there is nothing at all
A poet who has not been in love you are
Naive. foolish. young. minds.
Testing the Limits
Today represents a breaking point for me, mentally. I am asking myself how far I will go for love, but it seems, the very answer to this very strange question, is that there are no limits actually. I have tried to imagine almost every scenario I can possibly do for my lover, like working as a stripper, or selling my soul for x amount per hour, or taking care of him if he turns into a vegetable. I don’t know what can be any worse, than the worst possible case scenarios I had imagined and replayed in my mind repeatedly. How far will I go… for someone I barely know.
It is strange, this love that I feel. That I can’t comprehend the very fact why did I give up filming the Scarlet Queen (which is midway in production) to be in this minus ten degrees icy snow city to be with this strange man I met on new year’s eve. I cannot comprehend the magnitude of my decision to miss lunar new year with my family, and just put my career/personal life and familiarities aside to be with him and wait for him at home each day. The very fact is that I have no keys out of the apartment complex as the main door keys are not duplicatable. That makes me a trapped full time domestic cat. I don’t know. But I am indeed trapped in my illusionary world of white knights and fairy tales along with what is happening in real life, that I don’t know what is real or am I living a dream itself in my own self constructed reality in my disillusioned world to protect myself from the truth of what reality is.
I am losing touch with myself, or rather, i am losing grasp of the world, as I diverge deeper and deeper into uncovering the truth beneath all the lies, and the deception that the media has taught us to believe in. Maybe by losing myself in this fantasy, I might regain more of my identity and find myself in this journey into the abyss or the unknown. Or the oasis in the dessert. Or.. the kingdom of light.
As fiction takes its hold on me, I can only share my secrets in between the lines of you and I, as you read my works and try to understand the mystery behind the Scarlet Queen, I can only enlighten you on a facade of my true character, for I am forever hidden. forever, in control. of the outcome and endings… of every story you read in this page.
As you lose yourself completely in my works, I can only ask of you… to try to find yourself in me, as I find myself in you. We are reflections of each other, writer and reader, architect and patron, supply and demand. I am you and you are me. We are one.
Kingdom of Light
The more I look into Vincent’s eyes, the more I fall into his kingdom of light. In his kingdom, there is only hope and faith, there is no fear or despair.. only pure bliss and happiness… he promises me the world into the light and beyond, as his Ice Queen. He offers to take me… into his world of happy endings and fairytales… in my dreams and reveries… I see his kindness in redeeming the lost essence of myself… the young girl that I had tried to killed long ago… is starting to emerge from the oasis. The oasis of hope. With each passing day, she reveals herself slowly, as the Angel of Hope. There is only one reason to explain this all – the work of god… or meeting is not by chance, its by fate, that linked us together this very moment.. this time… I will be the one to save you out of your darkness. I will… take the bullet wound for you, like I did before in our previous lifetime. I will… protect you as the king on my chess board… for I am your Queen.
Sincerely,
Scarlet Queen
Essence and Plot
The elusive question.. what plagues me about plot? Personally, I don’t think plot plagues my writings at all. Maybe because I have been writing poetry forever. If I don’t have a plot or conflict, or some inner desire for my character in question, I would not write about it.
When I set about designing my characters, I always link them with a conflict, some inner desire to prove themselves or just be awesome or badass (in their heads) and in reality, they are just insignificant humans, like animals. That kind of gives me a drive to develop them further, to make them even more conflicted with their ideals and what reality throws at them, which is the harsh big fat ugly world out there destroying all their fantasy dreams. *laughs like an evil witch*
Usually when I do not sense a tension in a story, I would not finish reading a novel. I am a very pragmatic reader, the story either connects with my psyche, or I dump it. In that sense I am more drawn to thrillers and erotica. Fifty shades in my opinion, has a huge vast gulf of mainstream standards from Anne Rice writings.. and it erks me.
Of course, it is hard to merge literary writings into the mainstream, and like wise. Its like telling the mainstream peasants to eat cake, when they cannot understand the delicate taste of icing and cream on delicious soft creamy cakes. It is like telling the aristocrats to eat bread, when they are used to eating cakes the moment the are born to their social class.
What is lacking in most novels and stories nowadays is the inner desire/drive the internal (i). I feel that it should be the core of the story, the essence of what makes it readable… so we can learn something from it. I did not learn any thing from Fifty shades except that Anna Steele is a weak submissive brainless woman.. (her inner desire to submit to some random dude she just met without even reading the contract) and it is penerating mainstream for women to behave like that… looking for Mr Rich Handsome Dominant Christian Grey. Gosh.
Plot is the essence. Characters are the oil on top of the essence. Only with a strong plot of essence, characters can come shimmering alive on top like boiling oil on a stove top.
Mum, feed me some essence now!
Writing is Seduction
Writing is seduction, quessentially. It is the art of seduction of drawing the reader into the universe of the master architect, who is the writer at play. I love openings that tease and promise something, but yet, you have to unfold the pages to discover the thrill of the chase. The masterful art of drawing you in, deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole…. Will you fall like Alice? Or will you discover some secret aspect of yourself after reading the novel? The subtleties of the craft is hard to master or comprehend, but delightful to… victimize the unaware reader into your universe and consume him/her into your bidding as you twist and turn their brains into bits and pieces till they lose themselves completely in you – and your story. That is… what I feel writers should aspire.
The examples listed above are indeed seductive to the senses, no matter how mundane a boiling pot or tea, or death at a pot roast can be, we have to create a parallel universe that draws the reader into an alternate reality or dimension. That is, the masterful art of imagination, and creation.. That we have to possess in our design. The design of new worlds and characters, new conflicts and plots.. To diverge from the norms, to reveal the truth in the lies, in the lies of the truth. Who knows what is real and what is not real…? The lines are blurry in the world of fiction and reality.
Heartbeat
These words will never reach you…
As I laid bare on your chest, listening to your breathing… I cry a sorrowful song while imaging the music of your soul in my mind. As you hold my hand tightly in your grasp, I feel that we are linked in lifetimes before. That we are threading this earth, over and over again, going through so much pain and suffering, the down trodden war scars from your previous life… I can feel the old scars on your chest. As I hear your heartbeat weakening, I could only cry to sleep, hoping… you will still be alive tomorrow.
Back in the days of the French Revolution, you were Redmayne and I was Eponine. You promised… you would marry me, but you met someone else more worthy of your affections. More worthy than the destitute that I am. To please your family, you decided.. to marry for convenience. You said that you loved me with your eyes as you put that ring on her finger on your wedding day. I took that bullet shot for you, when someone tried to assassinate you as a revolutionary during the French Revolution. As I died peacefully looking at you… feeling you beside me… that is all it mattered… my love for you… now eternal.
Back in the days of the Tang Dynasty… you were a scholar and I was a dancer in court. You wanted my affections, but we could not be together because you had a wife. You took me in as your mistress. You never loved your wife you said, you only loved me… the dancer that I am. As I poisoned your tea in jealousy, after watching you kiss another dancer; for not having you fully committed to me… as I am to you… I cried the same tears lifetimes after.
Back in the days of the Roman times, you were a general and brilliant strategist. You won many wars by devising plans and expanded the empire with your intelligence. You saw a glimpse of me in my home, with my gold long hair and airy white robes… I was your brother’s wife. You wanted to tell me, you loved me. Our communion was not possible… unless your brother was dead. You sent your brother out on a war, that you knew he would never come back from, killing my husband. I never forgave you. I resented you. I swore that you will never have my heart, despite all your pleas for forgiveness and honesty, you never won my heart by being so evil. You swore that in the future lifetimes to come, you will show that your heart is true and pure.
….
As we thread on this earth this lifetime again, will you be true as I am to you?
I can no longer tell…
But I choose… to believe… in love.
Spontaneity and Control in Dance
I am at a crossroads. I don’t know what to do, or what to predict. I don’t know what to think, or to reason. I am quite an obsessive control freak when it comes to “planning”. It is part of my nature to ensure “things” go according to “plan”. However, as much as I would like to plan outcomes and control the future, I realised that I am losing the essence of the being in the present.
To regain my spontaneity in life, I picked up West Coast Swing (WCS) . You see, WCS is a improvisation social dance, that is danced according to the music. It is when your body loses control to the music, and you become a living instrument. A living piece of artwork. It has helped me tremendously in stopping my obsessive thoughts on controlling the outcome of my performance. In fact, the whole series of the Scarlet Queen on YouTube is done spontaneously, without much planning. Only an outline. The lines and scripts are said on the spot. There is no preparation. It is all live. There are no cuts, no edits, it is true blue spontaneity in action.
I try to imagine the message and artistic direction I want to convey, and after imagining for some time, I execute it with the best of my abilities given the resources I have in my immediate environment. You see, we humans evolved from monkeys. A few thousand years ago, we were on treetops, swinging around, using our motor and visual skills to navigate lush forests for berries and fruits. The ones who could possibly survive this “treetop” environment, were the ones who had sharp observational skills on detecting food sources and of course, fine motor ability so that one does not fall down from the trees onto the oncoming path of a tiger! In dance, we are using these primal skills in motor coordination and self awareness to execute dance steps. Not for the usage of retrieving food from treetops , but for sport and art (we had evolved from primates!).
As modern day humans, we had lost the connection to forests (which we are originally evolved to fit into), and are now perpetually connected to electronic devices 24/7 the moment we wake up and turn on the alarm clock to dusk when we switch off the lights. We are “electrified” by magnetic fields of radio and internet communication lines, and in transported in metallic vehicles and planes. We are slowly, but surely, evolving to become trans-human – where technology merges with our biological selves to become a mixture of a robot – human, basically.
Before this change takes place and we lose our hearts and emotions to the numbness of scientific evidence and coldness of technology, we have to regain some sort of essence within ourselves. Something… animalistic. Something… primal. Something… that wants to come out. We have not discarded our old ancient brain totally despite how much we want to disown the animalistic side of our natures, we are still – human – not trans-human.
The more we try to align ourselves with angels, the more we fall back into disappointments that we are merely animals. We still need – food, sex and shelter. We can’t live like flying angelic beings who have no need for food or material comforts. There is a old chinese saying. “Love does not quench your thirst when you are thirsty.” As much as we try to aim for the stars, we are still at the mercy of nature.
In dance, we might regain a certain connection with our animal selves. Our instincts. Our biological urge to express ourselves freely, to move wildly, like the days in the tree tops. To feel alive, to feel the connection with nature, with others, with the earth. To attract a mate, to impress others, to show our fine motor skills for a chance of propagation. To be free and wild… away from the constraints of society and social norms. It is … one of the remaining outlets of self expression in a “controlled” illusionary man made environment. That is… the beauty of illusion and control in dance.
Last Valentine’s
Dear Vincent,
I don’t know if you are real or unreal. I don’t know if I am the only woman in your life, or I am just… the other woman. I don’t want to be lied or deceived to. I had enough.
Last Valentine’s Day, I received a gift. A gift of a ring. He said it was a proposal. I was so happy. He got a friend to witness the whole event. I was in joy for a week, in total bliss and relaxation. I could see a future for us. I spent the week looking at the ring on my finger and daydreaming about the home I would like to decorate with objects that I fancied. I dreamt of a safe heaven, a little world, where I can create for my family. A week later, he said, it was not an engagement. Although he did put the ring on the fourth finger on my right hand, it was not an engagement. It was just. a… gift.
I saw my dreams of the future crushed in an instant, all ruined and trashed… the porcelain and furniture of my dream Victorian home turned upside down and broken. I felt my soul sinking into an ocean, deeper and deeper… as I close my eyes… watching the last remaining rays of light filtering through the ocean depths. I had a recurring dream that I am sinking endlessly into the depths of the unknown… and that dream could not end. I just want it to end. I don’t want to dream of this sinking feeling no more. I want to escape this hell.
After that incident, my heart was crushed completely. I no longer had the energy to aim for anything in my life. I felt my life is completely meaningless. It is utterly pointless for me to go on living, and trying to prove my existence is something worth living, when in fact there is nothing to live for when all evidence points at hopelessness. There are so much holes in my soul, the holes inflicted by those who can’t care less, who do not recognize that they are dealing with another human being. After all, I was treated like an object. An object of fancy, used because it looks pretty, thrown away when it loses its functionality. Like a toy.
Till today, I feel my life had been sapped out of my being. I had been through so much, so much… disappointments. On some days I feel despondent. On some days, I feel a a tinge of hope. Some days I imagine that I would live in my old age with cats. Maybe. One thing I never gave up believing in is, love that transcends the material.
The big question I had yet to answer myself, is what is love? To me, love is all consuming. It kills yet it renews, it destroys yet energizes. It is something that can be helpful or harmful. It is how we use this energy to create something beautiful.
I have yet to create this new world of beauty, and had lived in despair for so long because of all the deception and pain. I still believe in love and beauty. I never gave up believing. I was on the verge of giving up. I was on the verge of submitting to my fate as a trophy wife or being a mistress. I rarely, and still rarely, do see today – the happy endings that my friends deserve. I see them in practical living arrangements, for convenience, for practicality. I don’t see the love in their eyes when they look at each other, I don’t feel their emotions when they kiss. I don’t feel them. They are just together, because the society forces them to be together, for survival.
I never wanted to submit myself to such a fate, or such an arrangement that my soul deeply abhors. Countless of times, I was asked if I wanted to be in an open relationship, or just be friends with benefits… but i have rejected all this absurd requests because I believe in love. Unfortunately, most people don’t understand this. They don’t understand that they are defiling their soul by separating lust and love. They are numbing themselves further by not knowledging their deepest insecurities and are closing their hearts to what is actually good for them.
I still do, and will forever believe in love and marriage.
Yours Sincerely,
Scarlet Queen
About AVER LIM
AVERRAL - The assertion of the truth. The creator behind The Scarlet Queen YouTube and Red Hourglass Novel Series.
She does experimental flash fiction on this blog, along with song, movies and character analysis using historical and literature references.
