Chapter 1: Blood Mark

Diary of Muyang (The Shepherd)

December 26th, light snow

Christmas this year has been one of the coldest.

I woke to the distant sirens of an ambulance, a sore pain lingering over my body, as I was too weak to release myself from the warmth of my blanket. I had slept like a dead man till late in the afternoon, and I am now constrained to my bed, surrounded by darkness.

I massaged my skin gently. The pain seemed to be coming from somewhere on my neck.

With a massive headache, I turned on my phone, attempting to refresh what was left of my bizarre memories from last night. I was at a college gathering - a Christmas party somewhere deep in the heart of Richmond. I cannot recall exactly how many drinks I had there, and now with a migraine so bad that I can only piece together a few fragmented recollections: margaritas and vodka, fried chicken wings, and slices of a pepperoni pizza...In the background, there was a deafening disco beat, a sound still hurting my eardrums even as I write... Then, a cold breeze and snowy skies... Finally, I caught the last Skytrain home, alone and a void consumed the rest.

This was my first time losing consciousness, and coincidentally, my very first hangover.

Yet all of my so-called friends were quite refreshed, drinking up all night, and still managed to raise early for the annual Boxing Day. I suspect they hadn't slept at all.

Dragging my worn-out body, I managed to go down to the bathroom. I rinsed my face with cold tap water, and then studied myself in the mirror - my skin was pale as the moon, and the corners of my mouth were blistered with dark red. Then came the sore spot on the neck, which turned out to be swollen. It was probably a bruise from when I was on the Skytrain, or perhaps from an alley fistfight that I cannot remember.

But upon further inspection, I discovered two tiny blood spots on the bruise, a wound so small that it would have remained unnoticed under the bare eye.

The two dots of the wound were not crusted, and the with blood clearly visible within the veins, yet there was no bleeding at all - a puzzling sight indeed. Maybe it was a bite from some kind of ravenous bug. But then I thought to myself; there should be no mosquitoes of any kind lurking around in this weather. But even still, I had made up my mind: it was time to clean wash my clothes.

I turned to a supply of ethanol for sanitary, and then unwrapped a band-aid, carefully applying it over the bruise.

I hadn't eaten anything all day, but I didn't feel for food at all. Only a clenched thirst was present, to which I satisfied with half a bottle of cold soda from the fridge. An irresistible drowse overcame me as I slipped back into the comfort of my bedroom.

I write this before I turn off the lights, and let darkness reimburse. I double-checked my band-aid, hoping the wound would heal by itself. If not, there would have to be a trip to the walk-in clinic. That would be much more of a "hangover" on its own.

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Diary of Muyang (The Shepherd)

December 27th, cloudy

I had a strange dream last night: a journey through blood, lust, and evil whispers.

When I woke again, the headache seemed worse, as if my entire brain was about to implode. The room was eerily dark, and heaps of fresh snow, accumulated from the blizzard yesterday, had blocked the glass panels of the basement. Only a few tiny gaps allowed a shed of daylight to creep through.

I still was not in for much of an appetite, but reason told me: If I continued to fast, my body would devour itself, starting with what little fat I had left. I forced myself to nibble down two loaves of whole wheat bread, only to find that my gums were unusually sensitive, and I struggled to chew. It seemed a day without food had devolved my chewing capabilities - must be natural selection at work here. Even gulping down cold water, the bread was too hard to swallow.

The family upstairs had three little brats, all between the ages of five to seven. They were definitely not on Santa's Good List, as they had to relieve their boredom by stomping on the floor and putting misery upon those who reside beneath them. But I was not miserable at that moment, more of an envious feeling. There, I stood in the basement beneath them, with aching limbs and legs so weak, that I could barely stand straight.

Perhaps, I do need medical attention.

When I passed the mirror again, I saw that the two tiny blood spots on my neck had enlarged a bit, becoming more conspicuous to the naked eye. Only then did I realize something I should have noticed long before I got up.

"Huh? Where did that band-aid go? " I asked myself out loud.

I rubbed the bruise with my thumb - there was little to no pain. I felt I had been anesthetized in my sleep somehow. And it is no wonder I completely forgot about it until now.

I finished this diary with high hopes that it was a sign of healing. But my other physical conditions at the moment, really suggest that a doctor's examination is probably necessary.