Wreath of Lilies, Cauldron of Poison

April Fool 2020

A Night in Bangkok

It was a sultry summer night in Bangkok.

You walked past the night markets filled with the smell of roasted satays and cheap beer in a pair of trousers and a white shirt that felt unpleasant as it stuck to your skin from the sweat. The cacophony of laughter and peddlers trying to jostle you for Baht went relatively unheard.

You ignored the scantily dressed women with rouge dipped lips and high heel shoes who came to you offering cheap sex. The smell of cheap perfume and thick make up went up your nostrils and you silently walked away. They then lose interest in you and looked for another foreigner with more money.

You turned right into an alleyway, leaving the bright neon lights and the dissonant sounds of night life behind.

And you walked, a few meters more. Until you spotted a door made of cheap plastic which you then entered. You then ascended a flight of narrow and high stairs, making a grunt with each move.

When you arrived at the top, you sat on a lone sofa with an old Cathode Tube TV placed in front of it. Right in the middle of the room, eyes straight and unflinching.

The TV turned on.

On it was the picture of a man, in black and white, wearing a strange, faux-Chinese robe you see in old 1980s American movies. And he began to speak, in a distorted voice. He spoke not to the watcher of the TV, but to you. For you could see in his eyes, that his eyes were looking directly at you, watching your every move.

You are here because you chose to be here. But not just because you chose to be but also because of your curiosity.

Curiosity is the reason why the ape rise to become man, and man become gods.

This story is not the world that is, but the world that could be.

This is not a new world, but simply the extension of the suspension of your disbelief, stretched out like a rubber band around a ball.

This is, a world, where the life of a certain girl who was dying in world not unlike our own due to the ill will of a jealous woman was changed forever. A story fitting for any drama but not so foreign that it beggars belief.

Here, the girl was saved, not by the exchange of soul with a certain villain named the Heavenly Poison King. But with that of an African-American woman named Mrs. Jasmine Browning of Brownsville, Brooklyn.

Mother of four and a mean cook with a meaner right hand.

This…is a snippet of her story.

Welcome…to the Karma Zone.

What if…Chapter 2 : Mrs. Jasmine Ain’t Givin’ a Damn even if it’s Hell.

Mrs. Jasmine woke up.

She was supposed to be sleeping in her bedroom after a nice gulp of nightcap she kept in her bedside drawer.

But now she’s in a dark and gloomy cave lit by a handful of torches.

“Oh, hell. This is gonna be one of those dreams, innit? I told Jenny I ain’t gonna read her that book no more. But noo, she gotta have that book. I read it so much it won’t get out of my head!”

“Hey, she woke up!”

A middle-aged man wearing dirty clothes stood near her, his eyes had a lecherous glint.

“Jaysus, you stink!” she began to speak. What came out was the voice of girl at the cusp of adolescence. “Whoa, that ain’t right?" She looked down. Thin limbs, modest busts. “Well, now I know it’s a dream.”

The man frowned at the nonchalant attitude. “You bit simple or sumthin’? Jes’ my luck. Gettin’ the stupid one while the others get the good one. She dun’ even have the goods yet! Look at that board!”

“Sorry, what did you say to me?”

“Yer stupid!”

Mrs. Jasmine wiggled her finger and growled. “Mmm m! Mmm m! Hell no, you didn’t just say that to me, you little shit!”

She then made a move to grab his balls, twisted and clenched it. Mrs. Jasmine did not grow up in the hood without learning some things. And she sure as hell will not accept this type of mistreatment from some shit in her dreams.

The man let out a cry like a strangled eagle and fainted on the spot.

“Well now,” she said. “Seems like even in a dream I can still kick some ass.”

What if…Chapter 4 : Mrs. Jasmine and the lost girl

After plunging herself into the blood pool, Mrs. Jasmine fell into a deep sleep and began to dream.

In that dream she was standing in her kitchen with a mug of hot coffee in her hand. Old yellowing wallpaper and rusty gas stove on the side.

She was in her hot pink bathrobe with nice fluffy sandals on her feet. There was a celebrity magazine on the table, and the sun was shining bright. Feeling quite at home, she let her hair down.

Then a girl came in, quite confused by the whole setup.

“Wassup, girl? Where didja come from?” she asked.

It was a girl with long golden hair and beautiful blue eyes. She was wearing a thin armor that was made exquisitely. Mrs. Jasmine thought she need some meat on her bone.

“Well, um. I don’t know. I – I seem to be dead.”

“It goes around a bit, huh? Well, pull a up a chair, hon. I got some cookies in the pantry.”

The girl meekly sat down as the large woman set a plate and placed some cookies with chocolate chips in them. She then poured her a mug of coffee, which she then cupped gingerly.

“So, you are the owner of this body I’m in then?”

“Y-yes. My name is Cornelia Asterium Steelheart. My mother called me Connie.”

“Connie, Connie,” the woman sipped a mouthful and smiled at her. “That’s a nice name, hon. I’m Jasmine Browning. Have a cookie.”

The girl smiled at the black woman’s kind gesture.

“I kind of…thought that the one I was praying to would have sent someone more…rough. You see, I prayed to the Great Goddess to help me take revenge on the ones who killed me,” the girl frowned. “But I never expected such a kind woman.”

“Well, people have two sides in them. I like to take care of my kids, but that doesn’t mean I can’t kick some ass when I need to. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’d ask for such a sad thing?”

She then started to tell him a brief story about how she took a quest from the hunter’s guild and expected to fight low levelled bandits. Instead he found more than 20 high levelled ones. She hit her head upon trying to run away, thus killing herself.

“I was too rash, too eager to prove myself worthy of my father’s sword, the Grunford.”

But the woman’s face was frozen in a frown.

“Um…Mrs. Jasmine.”

“…You stand up straight, girl. You stand up straight!” the woman said as she stood up and held Cornelia by the shoulders. “Now look at me. Look at me in the eyes,” the woman held Cornelia’s cheek with her right hand and smiled. “You’ve done good, girl. You’ve done good. You hear me? Nothing can decide your worth, it’s your own to decide. Especially not some dead ass little metal that your father left.”

Cornelia appeared shocked from her words. And suddenly all the feelings she pent up inside burst out and she cried.

“Come on hon, come here.”

She took her into her arms and Cornelia spent what seemed like ages just crying until all her tears are dried.

Not long after, her body began to disappear. The scenery around her had also begun to dim. The sun outside the window had begun to set.

“So, the dream’s about to end then.”

“Yes,” the girl wiped her tears and snot on Mrs. Jasmine’s bathrobe. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Is that all? So, what is going to happen to you, girl?”

“I…don’t know. I’ve…never been dead before.”

“Yeah. That goes for me too. But whatever happened, God has a plan.”

The girl gave her a warm smile. “You are a good person, Mrs. Jasmine.”

“I try to be, honey. I try to be,” the woman smiled and gave a soft kiss on her forehead. “God be with you, my dear. God be with you.”

What if…Chapter 12 & 13 : Mrs. Jasmine ain’t takin’ no shit from some sorry-ass Temptress.

Mrs. Jasmine, now Connie, walked into the mansion and found the maids looking at her with worried looks.

“Well, well, the young lady returned home at last. How is your day outside, Cornelia?”

The sickly languorous voice, the smell of man masked by heavy fragrance. She knew this smell. Oh, how she knew this smell. This was the smell of her sister-in-law. A whorish swine who tricked her brother and took his money to Maine. But this woman right her? Nah nah nah, this one’s a grade a bitch.”

Connie gazed coolly at the woman walking down the stairs from the second floor. Trailing behind her was a young boy that should be her son, 2 years younger than Connie.

“And what is that thing you’re wearing girl? Sandals? You are tarnishing our noble name!”

Connie let out a half grin. This would happen sooner or later.

“Shiiit, and here I’m thinking, who the hell got the guts to speak about dirtying the family name when the woman speaking it had half the city between her legs?”

“W-what did you just say to me?”

“Didn’t you hear me, woman? I said you are not fooling anyone with that perfume you’re spraying so wildly on yourself. It’s like I’m smelling a skunk going on a date with a garbage can. Nasty.”

“How dare you! A girl who had not even had her first blood should not speak of such things!”

“Mummy. I’m hungry,” the boy said. He was so self-centered that he did not even have the capability to read the room.

“Alright, dear. We’ll have dinner soon,” Lady Carell said, placating the boy.

Finding that there needs not be more annoying small talks to be had, Connie walked up the stairs, passing by her stepmother.

“Where are you going?” she said flatly.

“What’s it to you?”

“If you’re looking for that thing inside, I had the guards throw her out,” she said with a triumphant smile.

“Of course! I have the right to know what kind of dog my unruly stepdaughter brings home. What if it was someone who would endanger the family?!”

Connie ran to the guest room and found some maids wearing cloths over their mouths piling used cloths inside. There were signs of struggle and lines of blood and pus inside.

“Where is she?!” she roared, frightening the maids.

“Hah!” the vile woman leaned by the door with folded arms.

“That thing scared my poor little Julian!” she said with a smirk. “Look at these bedding! We will have to burn them all! I will not have our guest stay in a place where something like that slept in.”

“Oooh, woman,” Connie clasped her hands together and slowly took off her sandals. “You did not know what you just did. You did not know what you woke up…”

“Guards! Take my daughter to her room!” the woman said, sensing something was amiss and quickly backing up.

Nick came in with three guards and sighed. “She’s the one paying me, milady. Please don’t make this hard for us.”

“Whoever stands between me and that jezebel will find themselves shitting all the way to the grave!!!”

She moved with such speed that the first and last thing the guards saw was the ground spinning around them. Before Nick even managed to say anything, Connie had already smacked his mouth with a sandal so hard that he spun once mid-air.

“Why are you running?! Why are you running?!” Connie shouted when she saw Joan Carell running down the stairs frantically. She was still hopeful that she could get more help outside, but all was lost when she saw Connie jumping over the railings of the second floor and landing right in front of her, sandals ready.

“AAAH!” she was about to run when a deft hand shot and grabbed her by the hair and pulled back. “Oh, no. You are not running away!”

“W-what are you going to do?!”

“Teaching a bad girl how to behave,” Connie spun her around and grabbed her butt, sandal raised high to the sky.

“This butt, it will now the taste of my sandal!! Pucker up that sucker!!”

It was said that many weeks after that, a certain lady who will not be named could no longer sit or do her business without crying and holding her head for mercy. And her son soon followed the path and turned out into a decent Noble.

The only strange thing was, the whole household would come to fear anything sandal-shaped.

The TV shut off and whatever the TV was, it no longer interests you.

You walked down the stairs and returned the way you came from.

Again, the smell of the food stands.

Again, the smell of cheap perfumes and thick make up.

You walked to the end of the sidewalk. Then you look at the time on your phone, for you do not wear a wristwatch. It was too itchy to wear in such a humid place.

23:40 P.M.

Your expression was still. You just made it. As usual.

You took a step forward. A bright light blinded you and you can hear people screaming

A two-storied bus going to Ranong crushed your spine and your head hit the tough glass front. The Impact hurtled you a few meters forward and you were dead.

And tomorrow,

You will do this all over again.

Welcome...to the Karma Zone