Phantasmagoria

By Gina Gabrielle and Sky Nakayama

As an introverted boy, Jason Bourne is nothing more than a speck of dust in Kayla Klauss fast-spinning world. Although Kayla is one of the very few people who know about the dark tragedy in Jasons life, she never once shows her sympathy toward him. Envied yet adored by the whole school, Kayla is his antithesis in every way imaginable.

But then, one night, something happens. Kayla approaches him out of the blue, and she shares the most magical story that Jason has never heard before. After hearing that story, strange things begin to take place. Jason and Kayla are about to embark on a journey that will change their lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Dec 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479760893

Gina Gabrielle

Sky Nakayama is a photography student and a writer with a Japanese-Indonesian root. She has an MA in Media and Communications from Swinburne University Melbourne. Her biggest dream is to be able to work together with Kim Ki-Duk and Wong Kar Wai. Gina Gabrielle graduated from Monash University with a Bachelor of Arts, double-majoring in Behavioural Studies and Communications. Co-founder of http://gadispenjajakata.wordpress.com, where she writes for the sanity of her mind. Loves beautiful sentences, cosy blanket on rainy nights, tortoises, and the lingering feeling after a good read. Drop her an e-mail at [e-mail]. Twitter: @ominousky @gina_gabrielle

Book preview

Phantasmagoria

Sky Nakayama

&

Gina Gabrielle

Copyright © 2013 by Sky Nakayama & Gina Gabrielle.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4797-6088-6

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4797-6089-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Designed by:

         Alex Mazurov

http://www.flickr.com/photos/allmythoughts/

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-800-618-969

www.Xlibris.com.au

[e-mail]

502383

Contents

The First Dream

   One   

   Two   

Three

Four

Five

   Six   

Seven

Eight

Nine

   Ten   

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

The Final Dream

Reality can destroy the dream; why shouldn’t the dream destroy reality?

(George Moore)

The First Dream

IT WAS an obscure dream.

He was back again at that dreadful night. Muffled voices were swirling around him. Jumbled scenes—memories—flashed.

Light steps scurrying on the stairs. His heartbeat fastened. Opened door. A hand lying on the floor.

His heart skipped a beat—or maybe two—and then there was a pang in his heart. Not again. It wasn’t a dream he wanted to be in. In fact, it wasn’t a dream at all.

It was a nightmare.

He tried his best to wake up, or at least to run away from that scene, but someone put a blanket over him and told him to sit put.

Help, he could feel his heart’s desperate plea. Help. I’m trapped here.

And suddenly an ethereal, glistening air of hope came. It was breezing, floating toward him, lifting his head up.

A little girl was standing there; telling him it would all be alright, that he wasn’t alone. But her image was somehow blurred, and the air was blowing to another direction.

And there she was, the girl of his dream.

He didn’t know why, but he directly brought his pointer and middle finger together to his forehead.

You are never out of my mind.

Then she answered, pressing her pointer and middle finger toward her heart.

My heart never stops yearning to be close to you.

Their gestures seemed foreign to him, but he understood them somehow. It’s the Wordless Greeting, said a small voice inside his head. He then stepped forward, but the girl didn’t move at all. She burst into tears, but she still tried to smile.

No. Please don’t say goodbye.

She brought her two fingers, now wet with tears, back to her heart. A singing voice was then heard. Faintly, but it was there in the back of his mind.

Each one of us, broken, half-winged.

Covered in dust, woe by Fate stringed.

Trapped forever is our entire kin

Shadowed by what could have been

Pray, do tell us which is worse:

Not knowing until the day we die,

and by foot through life traverse . . .

Or to be winged but unable to fly?

And she began to fade, that girl he saw. They loved, but were unable to be in love.

No!

Jason wakes up, drenched in sweat. Why did he dream about her that way? He can still feel how he was so in love toward her, how his heart was aching when she started crying, how he was so desperate of wanting to be with her.

The fact is, they don’t have that kind of relationship. And those gestures… He knows nothing about them. How strange, though. Traces of love are still lingering inside his heart.

It was an obscure dream.

But yet it felt so real.

Phantasmagoria (noun): a constantly changing medley of real or imagined images (as in a dream)

   One   

JASON BOURNE just wants to go home.

Amidst the blaring beats of Nicki Minaj’s song, creases on his forehead grows deeper as the voice of Veronika Dalmatin, his friend and only companion at France Prešeren Memorial Boarding School, taunts him in his head.

Are you crazy? Do you know how many people, right this moment, are madly envious of you because you can go to Kayla’s sweet seventeen? chides Veronika in his head.

Jason is certain that Veronika would lash out, completely pissed, if that best friend of his knows that he has been invited by the most beautiful and popular girl at their school to go to her sweet seventeen party at Columbvs Hotel’s rooftop, which is a classy hotel situated at the centre of Ljubljana, Slovenia.

Unfortunately, Veronika doesn’t have the chance to nag at his stupidity because the girl absolutely has no idea about the invitation that Kayla secretly gave him. Jason knows that he should just be honest with Veronika, but he knows his best friend too well, and he wasn’t in the mood to argue with Veronika about the behaviour of the over-privileged kids who dominate their school. He’s certain that if he was being honest and asked Veronika to come along, that girl would spend all her time making cynical remarks about everyone that Kayla invited to her party. Truth be told, however, Jason knows that Veronika secretly wishes she could be a part of Kayla’s clique.

Who on Earth doesn’t want to be in Kayla’s circle of friends? She rules the whole school, and those who are not circling in her friendship orbit are often the subjects of her pranks.

The playful lighting system over his head makes the scenery in front of Jason look like a slow-motion scene. Jason briefly catches glimpses of cheerful faces that belong to his friends. The blasting music muffle their laughs.

Jason tries to adapt his eyes to the scant lighting that illuminates that rooftop room. He is trying to find the party’s owner, who is somewhere beneath these glass ceilings and walls. With so many people crowding on the dance floor and at every corner of the room—plus the masks they’re wearing—it looks like he’ll have a hard time finding the one he’s looking for. His eyes catch figures, all bathed in the lighting’s dance that is choreographed so stunningly. These bodies swirl and dance alongside the rhythm of Nicki Minaj’s song coming from the DJ’s both.

Jason’s heart stops beating for a split-second when he finally succeeds in finding the one he’s looking for, standing in the middle of the room. She is laughing about something that Mari Birgisson said.

Kayla Illeana Klaus.

Jason observes Kayla from the corner where he stands. Correction: from the corner where he hides seems more appropriate. Somehow, this type of crowd makes him even jumpier than usual. And because Veronika isn’t by his side to keep him company, he feels even more uncomfortable and so out of place. He has no one to chat with. Jason pushes away the discomfort that is nesting at the bottom of his stomach and focuses his attention at Kayla.

At the beginning, Jason thought that Kayla’s sweet seventeen party invitation that he received was a prank from one of his classmates. He wasn’t even sure that Kayla noticed that they both had been placed in the same class for almost 10 years. That is the only written proof that they both attend the same school. As for every other thing, Jason and Kayla don’t own, let alone share, the same world.

Kayla—who is famous not only for her beauty but also for her ability to make anyone obey her—makes Jason—who would rather be quietly reading classical novels alone at the class’ corner—a tiny little spot that is easily forgotten in Kayla’s fast-spinning world. He even doubts that Kayla has ever laid her grey beaded eyes on him. So, when he found Kayla’s birthday invitation between the pages of Anna Karenina that he was reading, his forehead automatically frowned deeply. He looked around his class in suspicion, trying to guess who was trying to pull a prank on him. As usual, they ignored him. Considering the fact that Kayla’s birthday party was just around the corner, they had even more reasons to ignore Jason’s existence.

At first, Jason did want to trash that lollipop-themed invitation. He was so sure that someone had purposely put the invitation in his book as a prank. The culprit would have been one of Kayla’s gang member. Jason knows best that they most like to fake kindness to their victim-to-be. They only pretend to be nice to be able to dig up dirt on those people. In his eight years of sharing the same class with the girl, Jason has been a witness of how Kayla could be so heartless as to laugh light-heartedly at her victims. And during that period of time as well, Jason has witnessed how Kayla can always escape from the problems she has caused.

Kayla is the girl who the whole school fear and adore at the same time. An enigma. Every guy wants to kiss her, and every girl wants to be her.

Once, a few months ago, suddenly Kayla and her gang invited London Janez—the shy girl who was famous for being the champion of Slovenia’s nationwide science competition—to eat lunch at their table. They treated London so sweetly, evoking envious glares from the other girls who wished that someday Kayla would pay attention to them too. But of course, it was all Kayla’s rouse to gain London’s trust, until finally London softened and opened up to her.

A few days later, London found mixtures of odd and playful stares being thrown at her when she walked down the school corridors. London thought that perhaps something was wrong with her appearance. She rushed to the restroom, and then checked if something was stuck between her teeth. She didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. She was still her usual self, with her long ponytail and a pair of walnut-shaped, bright blue eyes.

When London finally entered her classroom, she was again greeted with that peculiar stares from her classmates. Some were even blatantly laughing at her. So London stood in front of her desk, her face burning red. Her body started shaking greatly. She tried to remember what it was that she had done recently. Her stomach churned when she realised that lately, she had shared too many stories with Kayla and her minions. Her knees went jellylike in an instant. She then also realised that they were just pretending to be nice to her.

London’s face grew pale the second she turned her head and found her entire diary entries written on the whiteboard. Tears welled up on her eyes when she saw that Kayla—in her handwriting—wrote about how London had a huge crush on their school’s ice hockey team captain, Anton Öye. The next second, London rushed out from the classroom. And along the way, people were pointing their fingers and laughing at her. Jason could only watched when Kayla and her friends joined in the laughter, no guilt whatsoever.

Jason knew that one of London’s friends should chase after her and console her, but all they could do was stand on the corner, pale-faced. They were too frightened of being Kayla’s next target if they stepped up for London in front of her.

Coincidentally, Kayla’s eyes met Jason’s, and for a split-second Kayla held on and stared, as if challenging Jason to chase after London and console that poor girl. But in the end, Jason turned his face away and went back to his seat. He felt sorry for London, but he also didn’t know what to say to her if he decided to console her. His whole life was practically spent alone behind the pages of his books.

Murakami, Tolstoy, Nabokov, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Chekhov, King… they were Jason’s world. Jason grew up to be a loner, an expert in avoiding the spotlight.

But then something extraordinary happened to him.

Jason closes his eyes, chasing away the deafening sound of the music. He inhales deeply, and in a blink of an eye he returns to that day.

The day when that extraordinary thing happened.

   Two   

A few months ago . . .

September

FRANCE PREŠEREN Memorial Boarding School stands on the quiet outskirt of Vrba, Žirovnica. Situated on a hilltop, the school owns five old buildings with ancient European architectures. The first—which takes up almost three-quarter of the hillside land—is called Eleanor Stavba, a four-storeyed building in which classes take place. The second building, which is right next to Eleanor Stavba, is Nightingale Stavba. It serves as the teachers’ dormitory and also as nursing rooms for students who are feeling under the weather. A wooden structure, much alike to a ranch house, stands next to Nightingale Stavba. That nameless building is a 24-hour cafeteria. Students are allowed to order food from their rooms all night long at weekends. The third building, France Stavba, is located to the North and served as a dormitory for the boys. To the South, stands Marjolein Stavba, dormitory for the girls. And near the lake at the school’s backyard, there lays a non-functioning building called Jonsi Stavba. Apart from those, there is also a small chapel near Eleanor Stavba where the school holds morning assemblies.

The rain that has been pouring since morning subsides, leaving behind a thin layer of fog on the night’s sky. The pale moon hangs between flickering stars, trying to peep through the fog.

Slovenia’s summer this year is almost non-existent, except for that one week full of sunlight in early July. The sky is always filled with troops of dark rain clouds, ready to pour marble-sized raindrops onto the ground. Cold wind shamelessly blows all day long, bringing along humidity and wetness that make summer feels like a long forgotten dream.

The iron-cast door creaks when Jason opens it, breaking the night’s solitude. His dark brown hair is messy—thanks to the blowing cold breeze—but he’s too preoccupied with his own thoughts to care about it. He looks at the empty tennis court and decides not to turn on the court lamps so that no one would find him there.

Jason zips his jacket up and walks towards the spectators’ benches on the slopes of the courtside. The beginning of I Don’t Like It Like This from The Radio Dept. starts playing from his iPod’s earphone when his foot steps on the highest bench, giving him unrestricted view of the night’s sky. This is the only place at school where he could freely stargaze through his telescope without having his view blocked by treetops or buildings.

Jason drops his backpack on the bench and starts assembling his telescope’s tripod carefully. If he’s lucky, he might have a chance to see Perseids—the meteor shower.

Once his telescope is ready, Jason finds himself tingled with a feeling of reminiscence. Without him realising, it has been almost fourteen years since he first entered this school. In less than a few short months, he would leave this place. He would take off the uniform of France Prešeren Memorial, which consists of dark blue blazer with red linings, long-sleeved white shirt, dark blue tie with red stripes, and dark blue pants.

All this time, he has been too busy with his world of literature. He has buried himself in his lonely world. He frowns, squinting his dark blue eyes. Jason finds himself questioning about what would happen after he graduates from France Prešeren.

He has been officially accepted as a freshman at Paris-Sorbonne University, which was also his mother’s alma mater. But—what then?

Every time the question approaches him, he finds himself staring blankly into a dark vacuum that traps him inside. Practically, he has spent his life at this college. He couldn’t even imagine the day when he’d finally go away from this place and never return.

But you don’t even like it here, that little annoying voice from the vacuum space inside Jason’s head reminds him.

Jason frowns again, realising that the voice is right. He’s supposed to be happy that he’d soon graduate from France Prešeren, right?

Suddenly, he hears yet another creaking sound from the iron door he previously opened. Jason turns his head to the direction of the court’s entrance. Under the illumination of the very dim moonlight, he sees a tiny figure. It is draped in dark blue trench coat, and it is moving slowly across the tennis court towards the spectators’ bench. Jason squints his eyes, trying to get a clearer view, but the moon is still hiding behind the fog, making it hard for him to see who that person is.

Hi. A coarse voice of a girl greets him.

Um, hi. Jason replies stiffly.

The figure is still surrounded in thick darkness. But finally, when that girl’s boots step on the middle bench, he’s able to catch a glimpse of her.

Suddenly, Jason’s throat feels dry. He swallows, trying to convince himself that the girl standing a few metres from him is really Kayla.

The cold wind breezes through again, blowing curly strands of Kayla’s strawberry blonde hair that was let loose over her shoulder. The girl throws a hesitant smile towards Jason from where she is. Apparently, she could sense that Jason isn’t expecting any guest for the night.

Slowly, Jason stretches his thin lips, forming a faint smile that only lasts for a brief moment. And even though the night is quite cold, Jason finds that his face grows hot when Kayla stares at him like that.

Am I disturbing you? asks Kayla. She crosses her feet while putting her hands deep within her coat’s pocket. Her greyish blue eyes glisten softly under the moon, reminding Jason of his Siberian Husky.

Jason shakes his head without a sound. His hands automatically land on his telescope, and he focuses his eyes on his shoes. He can’t stare at the girl any longer without his face blushing like boiled crabs.

What is it that you’re looking at? Kayla asks him one more time. She hasn’t moved an inch.

Jason looks up and finds that Kayla is staring at his telescope with curiosity. A hint of smile is lurking somewhere between her pale, pink lips. The cold breeze that has been blowing leaves behind some kind of reddish glow on Kayla’s pale skin. The girl looks like a little kid who’s playing with her parents’ clothes.

The Perseids, Jason answers. His voice is not much louder than a murmur.

A tiny crease appears on Kayla’s forehead. The Perseids? she repeats, white vapours emanating from her mouth.

Jason nods briefly, feeling hesitant. Finally, he decides to explain what The Perseids really is.