© 2021 Agbaje Michael Adeyinka/ TheBlackbird/ Ravenaelwood

All rights reserved. Agbaje Michael Adeyinka is the exclusive owner of this book 'Fallen Lotus: The legends of Xiao Xue'. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. For permissions contact, send a mail at: [email protected] or [email protected]

Publishing or distributing this book without written permission from Agbaje Michael Adeyinka, the creator of this book, constitutes copyright infringement, and legal action can be taken.

Any perceived slights to specific people or organizations are unintentional.

“Aeons gone rogue. The gloom and cold stratus,

A world of Chaos, gales of mortality overrule.

Zephyr, then tumble, A pure lone drifting lotus,

Falls and soaks maroon, in a roadside pool.”

“…Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,” Chris recited, muttering the meandering sonnet under his breath as he flipped a filleted fish in a pan. Hot oils sizzled within. “Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight. Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem’d it winters still, and, you away, as with your shadow I with these did…”

He trailed off.

Did it end with lay or play? Chris asked himself. Eh, he shrugged, I’d figure it out later.

He flipped the fillets a second time, watching it for a moment before removing it to the serving platter. He turned off the heat with one hand, and with the second he whisked a tablespoon of butter into the hot skillet. A dash of lemon juice, capers, liquid and all, he whisked before serving the meal with a thin sauce.

“Bon Appetit,” he mumbled to himself as he walked out of the kitchen with his meal. His muffled footsteps echoed off the wooden floorboards.

With a slothful grace, he flopped unto the couch, meal in hand as he reached for the TV remote beside him.

He tapped on the power button expecting the TV to turn on, but surprisingly it didn’t. Tapping twice again and getting no response, he sighed, tossing the remote aside.

“Guess the TV is broken as well now,” he muttered spitefully, glancing at the dude sprawled uselessly on an adjacent couch. The individual’s nose twitched at the smell of Chris’ food as they stirred on the furniture but failed to awaken.

Chris shook his head and sighed, annoyed, but too lazy to get angry. He lifted his hips, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers to pull out his cell phone.

Forking a fillet into his mouth, his other hand fiddled idly with the device.

Ignoring the snoring in the background, the room gained a somewhat relaxing atmosphere as he enjoyed his meal.

A while later, the door clicked open and a girl around his age walked in. She was of average height, slightly overweight with her brown hair tied up in a messy bun. Her bluish eyes squinted in a scowl.

His housemate’s gaze scanned the living area as she walked in. Her edgy gaze skimmed over Chris and hovered on his half-finished meal for a moment, before settling on her boyfriend snoring on the couch.

Chris noted her scowl deepened somewhat at the sight.

“The TV is broken,” Chris announced offhandedly, forking another fillet into his mouth.

He could have sworn her scowl deepened even more as she gazed at her boyfriend, but he wasn’t sure himself if even that was physically possible to achieve given how scrunched up her face already was.

She held the expression for a few seconds before sighing, giving up.

“Flounder?” his housemate asked. turning towards Chris. Her gaze fixated greedily on his meal.

“Yes?” Chris asked in return, moving his meal warily to his other side. “So, what if it is?”

The two held each other’s gaze for a few seconds.

“Ah… Fine,” he sighed, relenting. He reluctantly handed over his leftovers which she snatched and dug into with great gusto.

“You look starved,” he deadpanned as she inhaled the food.

“I am,” she replied between bites, “this is the only real meal I have had all day. That bitch Sasha decided to bail on us today, so—”

“I never asked,” Chris deadpanned again, cutting her off as he picked up his cell phone and left for his room.

“You’re a dick, you know?” his roommate shouted behind him as he jogged up the stairs, inadvertently waking up her boyfriend.

“Oh, Ann,’ he mumbled in a daze from where he laid. “You’re back?”

“Yes, I am back!” she lashed out at him in annoyance. “I am not blind; I can see that.”

“Hey!” he protested. “What was that for?!”

Whatever argument that came afterwards was lost to Chris as he scampered away, not wanting to be dragged into whatever was brewing between the couple.

He entered his room and locked the door behind him before making a beeline for his desk. Sliding into the seat, he tapped on his keyboard. The computer hummed to life, the screen brightening with the appearance of a lock screen. The machine’s internal fan whirred softly in the background.

With a flare of his fingers, he unlocked the computer and opened a search engine. Pausing for a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a milky bead-like object before examining it under the afternoon sun leaking through the window.

“Hmm,” he hummed contemplatively as he placed it aside before turning back to his computer.

Pearls, he typed into the search engine as images of pearls popped up on the screen.

“Close enough,” he mumbled after comparing the milky bead to the images on his screen. How much is a single pearl worth? He typed, deleting his previous search, several results popping up.

Scanning through the results he paused, a thought crossing his mind. Do flounders eat pearls?

The search results were… Unsatisfactory.

Undeterred, he continued his search, falling deeper and deeper into a sinkhole known as the internet.

A while later…

After finishing an impromptu course on flounder biology and the origin of pearls, Chris looked up to discover two very important things.

One, he had spent three hours on a completely pointless endeavour and two, his migraine had begun to rear its ugly head again due to his foolishness.

He froze, staring blankly at his screen for a few minutes, thoughts empty. Then with a heavy sigh, he turned off the computer before reaching for a bottle of Excedrin on the lampshade by his bed.

He shook the plastic bottle to discover he was out. Again. The fuckin’ third time this month, he thought, I swear they don’t make these things like they used to anymore…

With another heavy sigh, he stood up from the seat with a stretch, before reaching for a jacket and car keys on his bed. He walked towards the door before pausing, hesitantly turning back to the ‘pearl’ he left on the table.

Better safe than sorry, he thought, stuffing the object in his trouser pocket.

He opened the door and walked out of the room. In the living area, he found his housemate fiddling with the TV. He raised a brow curiously at the sight. His gaze reflected his desire to seek understanding of what she planned to achieve by doing that, but he was too lazy to act on the impulse.

He looked around to find that her boyfriend was nowhere to be found, probably off on some ‘real estate business’ again. Chris sighed, hoping not to be forced to have another argument with him on the issue of bringing his drug stashes into the house… Or anywhere within fifty meters of the building.

Chris walked out of the building towards the driveway where he hopped into a red Toyota.

He pulled out to notice the gas tank was almost on E again.

Well, of course, it is, he thought to himself. It’s too early to tell, but I am having a feeling that this is going to be a bad day.

“Guess I probably should stop at the gas station,” he mumbled, tapping a finger on the steering wheel before turning on the radio. He tuned the channels before settling on one that was currently playing lo-fi music.

He took a right and pulled up to a pump. While he was pumping, he glanced at his ashtray, remembering he also need to get cigarettes. Anything that helps my mental state.

He parked and walk inside before pausing. I might also need to grab something to eat and drink, I guess. Maybe a bag of chips and a can of cola? Or should I get a cocoa bar? Hmm…

Chris walked to the candy aisle his eyes scanning the shelves as he reached out, grabbing a few snacks. He turned around towards the fridge, pulling out a can of cola and bottled water.

Tossing everything into a basket, he heard someone yell at the front of the store.

Probably just a homeless guy getting bored, He thought with a tired sigh.

“Man, I should probably lay off the calories for a while after this,” he said out loud to himself as he shut the fridge’s door.

Then he turns around and walked towards the counter.

With his drinks and snacks in hand, he hears, "Hey, open up the drawer!"

Curious, he peeks around the aisle. The cashier had his hands in the air and a masked man pointed a gun to the fellow’s forehead.

Chris backpedalled behind cover. His heart pounding.

“What to do? What to do?” he muttered to himself, trying not to shake.

Where’s my cell phone at? He asked himself as he searched his pockets, only the ‘pearl’, his car keys and ATM card were on him. Did I leave it in the car? Fuck!

Out of options, he glances towards the exit before peeking at the cornered cashier.

Sorry buddy, he thought, making a choice. He dropped the shopping basket as quietly as he could before he began to crawl towards the exit.

Behind the aisle, Chris could hear the masked man’s growls.

"I want every penny, I want every dime,” the voice said. "Once you finish with the cash, open up the bag, throw some cigarettes inside.”

"Which ones do you want?” the cashier asked in a panicked voice. “Which ones do you want?"

The robber was about to reply but froze when he heard the sound of a can falling on the tiled floor. Chris’ jacket knocked over a can of beans. It got quiet. All three men froze.

Chris glanced at the can, somehow managing to sigh gloomily despite his trembling body.

Fuck! He thought.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He heard footsteps approaching him.

“Don’t fucking move.” The robber threatened the cashier. “Just do what I say. if you even think of trying to pull a fast one on me, I promise you'll be sorry.”

Fuck! Chris thought again, the sound of cautious footsteps approaching.

“Hey, you there come out,” the robber called a fair distance from behind the shelves, still training his pistol on the cashier. “Come out!”

And out Chris came, tossing a can of beans he snatched off the shelves at the robber’s face before trying to body slam him. He missed but managed to force the robber to lean out of the way, messing with his aim and leaving himself open to a tackle.

Unbalanced, the robber aimed his pistol at Chris and shot, a bullet grazing Chris' upper thigh right above his trouser pocket.

Chris rammed into the larger individual, his lithe form hanging off the robber’s neck. Chris squeezed the masked man’s throat, trying desperately to subdue the fellow. The robber retaliated with an elbow jab, hitting Chris in the nose. Blood leaked all over his clothes.

He tried not to let go, but his hands begin to slip and bullets start to fly.

Moments later, Chris lay sprawled on the floor, disorientated.

A person, another robber, enters.

He runs inside, shouting, "What the fuck, dude? Where's the money? Did you get the money? Where's the bag you brought?"

“I… don’t know,” the other replied through ragged breaths. “I think… it's still behind the counter. Probably by the cashier’s body.

“You shot him?”

The first robber growled in affirmation. “He had a gun.”

"Who's this on the floor?” the newcomer asked as he grabbed Chris’ shoulders, rolling him onto his back.

Their eyes met and Chris’ jaw drops. That voice. That glare.

The robber, although he had a mask on, the shirt he's wearing was the same one he had on this morning.

Staring into Chris’ eyes, Chris knew he knows he knows.

Embarrassed, Ann’s boyfriend towers over Chris’ prone form and says.

“Sorry bruv, but I don’t have a choice.”

To his head, Chris screams. You can't be serious!

His housemate’s boyfriend shakes his head and says, "I'm sorry," then the gun—

Bang.

Bang.

Bang, bang.

Bang.

…

A pistol clattered on the floor.

“Are… you, ok?” The cashier asked, falling to his knees as he dialled 9-1-1. His left hand on his torso, stemming a bloody wound.

Chris runs over to him, grabs his phone and tries to help him up.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"There's been a robbery, the cashier was shot, he needs an ambulance,” Chris said into the cell phone. “He looks kind of pale; I think he might've lost a lot of blood."

"Okay, help is on the way, anybody else been injured?"

"Yeah, the robbers, there were two of 'em"

"Can you tell me their condition? Are they still alive?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but they don't look so good,” Chris said, glancing at the bodies. Two pairs of lifeless eyes stared out blankly into space.

“I'm pretty sure they're dead,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, I think they're dead"

"Alright, take a deep breath. Everything's going to be okay, you're going to be alright."

…

“That would be all, Mr Efron,” an officer said to Chris as he scribbled a report. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Chris nodded. “Can I leave now?” he asked, staring blankly at the ‘pearl’. He rolled the blood-stained object between his fingers feeling a strange warmth radiating off the object. Not suspicious at all, he thought to himself.

Do pearls generate heat? Eh, he shrugged, I’d figure it out later.

Sirens and the chatter of conversations droned on in the background. The store-turned-crime-scene was alight with activity. Police officers spread out caution tapes and medical personnel carried the corpses out of the building on stretchers. The cashier was receiving first aid in the back of an ambulance. Their eyes met and they exchange nods of acknowledgement.

“Sure,” the officer said before glancing at his bandaged thigh. “Are you sure you don’t want to head to the hospital first though?”

“Nah,” Chris said dismissively. “Your friends in white checked it out ‘ready. It's not as bad as it looks.”

“Will leave a scar though…” the officer trailed off as he turned back to his report.

Chris shrugged as he propped himself up from his seat in the back of a police car with a single crutch before limping towards his Toyota.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. You take care, alright.”

“Sure.”

Chris fiddled with his car door for a moment before it popped open with a welcomed click. He slid into the driver’s seat and noticed the ‘pearl’ starting to get hotter. Hmm…

He emptied his ashtray before tossing it inside, observing it.

Hmm… Not suspicious. Not suspicious at all.

After a while, he gave up on watching the ‘pearl’ and started the vehicle’s ignition before pulling out of the gas station.

I should probably, call Ann... Nah, I will talk to her when I get home. Am I forgetting something? Oh, right, I am out of Excedrin. To the pharmacy then.

He drove for a few moments before stopping at a traffic light. It was then he noticed the soft glow from his ashtray. The ‘pearl’ glowed dimly with a crimson lustre. Chris reached for it but froze feeling the smouldering heat emanating from the object.

Huh… This is bad?

Suddenly the ‘pearl’ flared with a blinding luminosity. Chris reached for the door handle trying to pry it open.

It didn’t budge. He was trapped.

Just as he was starting to panic, he hears screams from outside his car. He looked up to see pedestrians scrambling away from the vicinity.

Time seemed to slow down. It was then that he saw it.

A truck barreling uncontrollably down the adjacent street before veering off course—as if nudged by an unseen force—In his direction.

Fuck—