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Secret Scripts
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  The  M’s Secret   Scripts   BY: CLAUDINE PETROVNA   CHAPTER ONE: MINIMAL MANIAC’S BREAKFAST It is a sunny yet chilly morning, “ stop oh yes wait a minute Mr. postman …’’ music rolls from the only radio inside the café. As Ienter, I was greeted by the strong smell of roasted coffee beans witha hint of cinnamon, some boiled pastas and fried egg in butter thatmakes my stomach crumble in hunger. There are only few people thatcome in this place, that makes it eccentric as its classy indoordesign. The other reason of me liking this place is because of thewaitress. Her semi-angular face, round brown-colored eyes, pale skin,and light blonde hair makes her profile pop out from the rest like thepop outs from an old story book. Her name is Alyssa. She is talented,she even had a part-time job once. Singing in clubs. She is the typeof girl who is a closet party- girl, a mystery box that is full oftwisted personalities.My eyes finally found her, elegantly poised in her high waistskirt, white blouse and heels while taking the other customer’s order.I sat three tables away from her, enough for me to observe her beautywithout being noticed. She finally turned her attention to me. “ May I take your order? ”, she said in a mid-high-pitched and angelic tone asshe walk towards me. I love it. “ the usual ”, I replied nonchalantlywhile fake reading the newspaper. The cafe's coffee and cinnamon rollis my favorite. They roast the coffee bean precisely 78.5 degrees andpour a creamy milk making the coffee mild without a trace of a bitteraftertaste. Their cinnamon roll sure is like a bread fused with strongaroma of cinnamon and roasted brown sugar, an aroma bomb inside yourmouth. My order at last arrive, as she put my cup of coffee and a rollof bread on the table gracefully, what a long lash, presumptuous chin,her pinky stretched out a bit for support while putting down aporcelain on the glass table without making any sound. Her handholding the porcelain cup. As her finger slowly touched the hardglass, closing the gap between the bottom of the cup and the glasstable...her finger slowly touched the hard glass...her finger...slowlytouched the hard glass. During that moment as if hypnothized, herevery motion slowed. My focus was on the great contrast of her, the  things she’s holding and the things around. Her fingers look so soft,making me wonder how it feels to hold her hand. “ thanks you ”, I said.“ thankyou ”, I corrected myself. Shit!.After eating breakfast, things are finally getting real.Breakfast is the only moment where I can enjoy a free-stressenvironment, because after breakfast means I must go now for work. CHAPTER TWO: THE MATRON “ Good morning mademoiselle, thanks for the daily butt view”, oneof the females inside the prison cell said. It’s their casualgreetings during my every patrol. Strolling between metal bars is myjob as a guard in a local female prison. It’s always a mess. Catcalling, lesbians brawling, stinky water closet, and glaring. I can’teven have a stick of cigarette. It’s not that I must work hard for myfamily since my only family is my 20-year-old son who already had ajob and a daughter. Yes, I’m already a grandma and nope, I’m not thatold. I’m still in my late 20’s. I was raped when I was 9. My parents were embarrassed and decided to leave the countrywithout me. I never once loathe them, we never once had a so-calledfamily-love-connection. The only person who cared and helped me isAmandine. She is my mother’s close friend and our neighbor. She didn’thave any child nor a husband and decided to adopt me since I have norelatives within the country. I was happy living with her. I alwayswonder why she didn’t have any lovers or husband, although I sometimescaught some men stalking. She is literally gorgeous. Her piercinggreen eyes, long lash, oval-shaped face, visible cheekbone, freckles,and thin lips that can complete any abstract puzzle. I washomeschooled, I never once want to interact with other kids in my age.I felt I am already complete with her. She treated me like her ownchild.After giving birth, she decided to hide the truth and adopt myson. She said that I must keep it a secret and act like his elder  sister. I was still naïve, didn’t care that much and always agrees towhat she is saying. I later then found that she is my mother’s lover. Inappropriatepictures of my mom were found at the house's attic. CHAPTER THREE: THE MADMAN Dear readers, I have already taken off my two masks: Minimalmaniac and Matron for you. As we converse skin to skin of thesepapers, let me ask you questions, During crisis, when can a lizard beconsidered as a coward? when it sacrifice its own tail just to runaway? or When it wont cut its own tail because it hurts?    Some ofyou might fail to see the bigger picture and left my questionsunanswered. It wont hurt when the lizard cut its own tail. It is theirdefense mechanism their nature and nurture to cut their tail as adivergent .  Yes, just like them we wont feel any pain to sacrificesomething during crisis. It would become a necessity.I think have unconsciously taken off my Madman mask too for youthen let us continue, for my other mask wants to be taken off too.-Claudine Petrovna (2019)֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍ SAYS THE MANIPULATOR: I will make no haste to crack thy skull for I will justsimply sip through thy mind holes and hollow dreams so make haste toprepare a grand welcome for I bring with me a basket of sweetlesssugarcubes for our every afternoon tea. -Claudine Petrovna (2019)֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍  ֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎ The Man Eater: How I love to fill my thirst with thy warm flowing life of youth.How I love to devour thy thoughts of craft and borderless sense tofeel love and pity. OH! if only I can absorb thy identity likenutrients, thy achievments as mine, for thy flesh can only fill my bagof emptyness.-Claudine Petrovna (2019)֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍֍  Maiden of Adamantine:  
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