an old rocking chair

someone like you

2012-01-20T01:45:00.000+08:00

I sat there stunned for a moment, not knowing what had justhit me. For some reason I just tuned out from life, and was in my own littleworld. Then I realized - it was the weight of the words the song carried. Inthe middle of a busy street on a regular working day, there stood a streetmusician with his guitar in his hand, crying out the lyrics of the famous Adelesong.

“Never mind, I’ll find someone like you.
I wish nothing but the best for you.
Don’t forget me, I beg
I remember you said,
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”

And in my mind, I saw nothing but your face. I guess Ishould move on. It’s been 2 years now. There’s definitely someone out therejust like you, or maybe someone better. And yes, I do wish nothing but the bestfor you and your current girlfriend.

But deep down I knew. I didn’t want someone better. I didn’twant someone else. I wanted you, and you alone. No one else can complete mylife better than you.

And then I teared. And life still went on. The streets werestill busy with movement of the corporate world. But for me, life was but astandstill.

because some things are better left unsaid.

2011-11-26T22:52:00.002+08:00

This Moment

2011-06-23T16:52:00.001+08:00

It seems like you don't want to be here,
As though you don't want me to be heard,
You shut me out ever so subtly,
And surely, it's killing my heart slowly.

a retreat

2011-05-12T12:30:00.001+08:00

let us run faraway,
hijack a boat and to a tropical island
where it's just you, me and a coconut tree,
we'll live as happy as we can be,
no buts, for love will make a way.

a doze of sorrow

2011-05-05T10:28:00.002+08:00

I woke up this morning, and found you not by my side.
I then realized, how much I missed you.

I dare not

2011-04-22T03:13:00.001+08:00

I dare not shake your hand. I fear that I may not let go as soon as your hand connects with mine.

I dare not look at your smile. I fear I might not look away from that mesmerizing beauty.

I dare not talk to you. I fear I might say stupid stuff just to listen to your beautiful voice ring in my ears.

I dare not look into your eyes. I fear I just might fall in love with you.

I dare not love you. I fear that I might try to steal my best friend’s wife.

I dare not.

the hidden image

2011-01-21T10:43:00.001+08:00

It was tough work, but I wasn’t going to give up anytime soon. I took my pick and continued to hack away at the solid rock that stood before me. There were certain weak points, where I could easily break through, while other layers were just pushing me to give up on my work. At certain times, the hammer and chisel were more effective. Other times, the pick would serve well. But I had to be careful. If I simply hacked my way through, the rocks on top might just come tumbling down. I had to be careful of the condition of the rocks and as well as the general weather. I had to observe and take note of every single change in that which lay before me. I was adamant to get through all those layers and see what laid behind it all.

I wiped the sweat off my brow and paused for a moment. I wondered, was it really worth it all? Maybe I’ll just be disappointed with my findings. Maybe this would be time wasted. I could invest in something easier. Hmmm…

I took up my pick and gave it one hard swing towards the rocks. Suddenly everything fell apart. And I peered into the opening, my torchlight scanning around to see what I have discovered. And then I saw it. It may have been a super tough front, and it sure took me long to break down all the layers, but deep down… really deep down, she was just like every other – full of emotions, tears and laughter, a hidden past unspoken of, and a heart that still wants to be loved.

a different light

2011-01-20T17:39:00.003+08:00

“I’ve had it! I’m sick and tired of people doing this to me!”

“Do what?”

“Every single time they come near me, they just have to step on me, put me down and hurt me so bad. Do they not notice what they’re doing? Are they oblivious? Or are they just stupid? I’ve had it with them.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“I’m gonna stand up to them all. I’m gonna show them the true me. I’m not gonna sit still and let them have their way with me!”

“Take a deep breath and calm down, sister. Maybe they never intentionally wanted to step on you. Sure, there are always those annoying folks that just step on you because they want to, or because they can. But some, never intended to hurt you. They were just on their way to their destination, and you just happened to be in their way.”

“That’s rubbish! They always want to step on me. I’m so sick and tired of it all.”

“Look around you. We are but grass of the field. People don’t aim where they thread when passing a field.”

-------------------------------------------------------------
Harbouring bitterness isn't of any worth. Forgiveness tastes better.

a tribute to the dear old uncle

2010-11-23T23:46:00.003+08:00

Shall I compare thee to the 23rd of November,
Thou art more long winded, and more gloomy,
Your voice as constant as the drops of rain,
Your tone changes, as the rain that grows heavy and subsides.

2010-10-31T20:38:00.001+08:00

Oh girl, quit playing with my heart,
For one day we'll have to part.
The kiss with him might have just been a jest,
But yet deep down, I know I'm only second best.

I wish it could have been me and you,
Then we would not have to bid adieu.
But as soon as I tried to confess,
Between him and I, to you I was only second best.

Let us both go our separate ways,
And be jolly when our hairs turn grey.
Let not our infatuation turn regrets,
For life will surely not reset.

Where they park all the planes...

2010-10-25T19:19:00.004+08:00

Oh, have I run a thousand miles,
Hoping to run into a realm of fantasy,
Where your every action would be,
Of joy, laughter and full of glee,
And oh-so-dear to me.

But that fails to be the case,
For reality dawns upon a pointless chase,
Tears drop and the heart beats no more,
For all is lost till forevermore.

So forlornly I return,
Slowly taking on that dreadful U-turn,
Taking each step as it is,
Not ever stopping for a piss.

On my knee I ask thee,
Girl, would you please bake for me?

Speak not of the unforeseen future,
And postpone it till no later.
For one day might be one day too late,
Lest I pass on before I taste the cake.

here's to the girls i will never be with.

2010-09-20T22:50:00.003+08:00

Twas never meant to be, and never will be
Alas, but a empty pursuit of nothingness
A chase after a summer's breeze
For fate had it that it would never work
Who are we but mere mortals
To question a divine outcome
If that were possible
Selfishness and greed might have had the world to waste
Woe, naught but a sorrowful tale
Woe, to fate, as it deprived the heart's one pleasure

that guy seems to think (part 3)

2010-07-05T01:39:00.003+08:00

I stood up and walked forlornly towards the withering tree. I could feel the roughness of the bark as I laid my hand on it. I punched it. I don’t know why, but I did it. It was a mixture of pain and numbness, but it was the same for me emotionally, so it didn’t really make a difference to me.

I tried to muster some hope in me. Memories are all that I will cling on to now. Maybe someday, someday in the future, we’ll be together again.

Maybe one day you’ll wake up and find that you’re missing me.

Maybe one day I’ll hold you in my arms once again. Maybe one day we’ll be able to watch the stars from the balcony together again. Maybe we’ll be able to take a long drive to nowhere for no reason and still have fun.

But for now, this will be the day - the day I said goodbye.

---------------------
To the dude who I have no idea what his name is, and his secret admirer, Ezza Melina.

that guy seems to think (part 2)

2010-06-26T22:23:00.001+08:00

I couldn’t hit the falsetto notes like Barry Gibb, and I sounded like a frog’s croaking. But that didn’t matter at all. The song spoke of my situation.

“And how can you mend a broken heart?
How can you stop the rain from falling down?
How can you stop the sun from shining?
What makes the world go round?
How can you mend this broken man?
How can a loser ever win?
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again.”

My heart’s bleeding faster than the doctors can mend it. I closed my eyes and pictured you once again. It hurt so much. I wept.

It’s good to see you enjoying your life, going on like nothing ever happened. Maybe I’m but a shadow in your past, meaning nothing much to you now. Have fun with your life now, don’t worry about me. I’ll suck in all my sorrows, and perhaps cry myself to sleep every night.

I dare not think of what it could have been if I had kept my emotions to myself. Maybe we could have still been together. But it’s all too late.

Farewell.

that guy seems to think...

2010-06-20T03:11:00.002+08:00

The sun slowly disappeared, eaten up by the horizon to the far west. I sat on the top of the hill overlooking the town, its lights slowly coming alive as people realize the day is turning into night. I held guitar by my side. It was somewhat out of tune, but playable. In my other hand, was a beer bottle. Nothing like a cool stout to help me forget the troubles of the world. A leaf from the withering tree to the left of me fell gently, its colour bright red with a tinge of brown, towards the lake below it. As the leaf created a ripple on the calm waters, so did my guitar create a ripple on the quiet hilltop.

I thought to myself - She’s probably not worth it anymore. Why do you bother trying?
I never should have trusted my heart in fragile hands. Now it’s all shattered. The pieces of my heart could enter the eye of a needle. It’s all over.
As I played the guitar and sang my heart out, I wish I could hit the rewind button. I wish I could go back and correct all the mistakes I did. I wish I could have been a better person to you. I wish I had hold on to you much tighter, appreciating each moment we spend together.

The tears were swelling up in my eyes, but I fought to keep them back. I didn’t want to cry. Some of them fell on my guitar. I miss the days when we would lie down in the open fields, your head on my chest, our hands linked with each other as we gazed up in the skies, looking at the beautiful picture God painted with the clouds. I miss the days when we would laugh at stuff for no reason. I miss the days where you gazed into my eyes so lovingly, stealing a kiss from me every now and then.

You’re so important to me. I just never got a chance to tell you how much you meant to me, or how much you still mean to me. I never dared to say I love you. I never dared to say I care. Because I wanted it to be perfect when I did. My pride held me back from being imperfect in front of you. I wanted to be your dream man. But I came to realize, I never knew what your dream man was.

I know I hurt you a lot, and I know today, you have shut me out. But all I ask is for one more chance to make it all right. But you never gave me a chance. Your shoulder is so cold, my beer would be hot tea in comparison. When I stare at the sky, all I think about is you. But now, I’ll never get the chance to tell you how I feel.

Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is real.
Maybe this is the end.

I never thought that it would end this way, but now I realize, after that whole long period of you not in my life, I’m still back at where I stood before, when I first knew that I would always love you.

I want to still believe. How do I warm your shoulder towards me......

-----
I realize I never post stuff in first person POV. Well, this is one attempt. Credits to Miss Tsuihsia, as most of the stuff are taken of her blog. =)

To Daphne 3

2010-03-20T01:20:00.001+08:00

“It doesn’t make sense.”
“He was shot while he was brushing his teeth.”
“No signs of ulcers.”
“No sign of any shoving.”

Weng and Yen slowly scanned the hotel room of Agent M. They pictured everything, from the creaking of the door opening slowly, to the point where Agent M was shot. Nothing explained the mysterious 6 words uttered. Something caught Yen’s eye.

“I GOT IT! HE WAS PLAYING A WORD GAME!!! IT WASN’T ANY CLUE!!! STUPID!!!” scream Yen as she picked up the newspaper from the coffee table.

Suddenly two shots rang out. Weng and Yen dropped dead to the ground.

To Daphne 2

2010-03-13T00:01:00.001+08:00

TSUDPM.
What could it possibly mean? Mudsteps? Smut dp? Think southwards, upper deck in Pall Mall? The South Union’s Deputy Prime Minister? No. It all didn’t make sense.

Toothbrush skims ulcer. Don’t push me.

Johnny called in his two assistants.

Agent Yen. Gorgeous as she was, no guy dared approached her. She was well-known for her deadly arm-lock, which two of the early organization members tasted, much to their dismay.
And of course, Agent Weng. An Asian who had a quirky behaviour, and muscles of an elephant. He once took down 44 men of his own size, at the same time, while eating a coney dog.

“Weng and Yen, it’s up to you. Go retrieve the body of Agent M and find out what lies behind the mysterious final words of him. Now go and...” And they disappeared.

To Daphne

2009-12-26T22:39:00.001+08:00

Shouts and screams echoed in the National Intel Organization – TOOTHBRUSH SKIMS ULCER. DON’T PUSH ME.

Johnny walked to and fro across his office with heavy footsteps, his eyebrow strained as his mind was cluttered. He snapped his fingers silently as he pondered upon that phrase.

“Toothbrush skims ulcer. Toothbrush skims ulcer. Toothbrush... What could it possibly mean?”

Agent M was shot dead while working on an important case. With his last bit of strength, he spoke through the mike on his lapel those six mind-boggling words: Toothbrush skims ulcer. Don’t push me. The officers working on the case burst out through the doors of the communications room, shouting and screaming as they demanded that every agent in the building gave them the most suitable interpretation of that phrase as it could provide the only breakthrough for the case they have been working on for months.

crossing of two paths 6

2009-12-25T15:17:00.001+08:00

To dance along to the tune that was being played, to put on a mask and be part of a masquerade ball, it was all too easy an act to play. He stumbled his way into his car, and silently departed from the scene. No one knew who he was; no one knew his pain... no one...

THE END

crossing of two paths 5

2009-12-22T01:55:00.001+08:00

He walked out from the masquerade ball panting. Sweat dripped from his forehead and streamed down, wetting his collar. His back was all wet. Blood starting gushing out from his thigh’s wound, but the black-coloured pants covered it up pretty well. There were a few droplets all over the dance floor, but too insignificant for anyone to realize. He stretched out his hand towards the park bench outside to support his own weight. Foam started to gather in his mouth.

Who was that guy?
He danced so well...
That was a breathtaking smile!!
Does anyone know who that was?

And so he walked out into the night, without anyone knowing who he was. He took off his mask, and lifted it over the trash can, ready to throw it away. He hesitated, and let out a sigh as he stared at the mask.

crossing of two paths 4

2009-09-12T20:24:00.000+08:00

The whole room was illuminated as the dazzling chandeliers that hung from the ceiling came to life. The patterns on the walls and the paintings on the ceilings of the hall were just breathtaking. The whole building was conceptualized by a famous Arabian architect and intricately constructed by some of the best in the world. One of the students’ parents owned the building, and so the class of 08 seniors had one of the most magnificent places to hold their annual school prom.

As time passed, cars filled the parking lots and students filled the ballroom. Hundreds of students began to gather in cliques and indulge in idle talk. Some commented on others as though they were fashion students, others gossiped about the latest celebrity scandal or the school’s happenings. Giggles, whistling, chattering and loud-obnoxious laughs could be heard from outside the lobby. Glasses clanged with each other as they blissfully celebrated their graduation from school. Guys started hitting on girls, hoping to be lucky; and the females willingly and flirtatiously entertained the guys. Some were unlucky, and received a nice, red hand mark on their faces; others were able to go out together in the night to make out.

You could see that all of them really put a lot of effort in ensuring that they looked perfect for the night. For the guys, suits were dry-cleaned and ironed out, shirts were creaseless, and ties were repeated adjusted to the “perfect” length and position. For the girls, hours were spent in front of the mirror, dressing up and putting on make-up. Hairdos were done by the most expensive hair-dressers in the district. Every girl was dressed to kill, and their clothes demanded the attention of every guy in the room.

it's still the same #2

2009-08-15T17:26:00.002+08:00

I froze.

No, it wasn't a gun pointed at the back of my head. A smile grew slowly and spreaded right across my face. An amazing aroma drifted right by me. I know that smell! Peanut butter cookies! Chocolate chip cookies! And not just any sort of cookies that you can get. It was Madam Courtney's family secret, one passed down and perfected since the days of her great-grandaunt. Oh yes! I know that aroma very well.

As kids, we used to run about the neighbourhood wasting our childhood years away. Everytime we passed by Madame Courtney's house, all of us would stop if she was baking her famous cookies. The smell of it would cause everything inside of you to hunger for it. It would cause you to stop in your tracks if you were rushing anywhere else. It was a "magical" cookie to me. Being kids, we would run up to her, begging for a bite of those gastronomical delights. It always came with a condition: the bunch of us would have to clean up her house, sweep her lawn etc. But it was all worth every sweat as the cookies were amazingly good.

Yes. Those were the good ol' days. I stood there and just enjoyed the moment. My nose was enjoying what it was smelling. Ah... Now I can finally say...

HOME.

it's still the same

2009-08-15T00:59:00.000+08:00

The year was 1991. The cold war had just ended. Troops everwhere were dispersed one by one back to their hometowns. Smiles beamed on the faces of everyone as it had been umpteen years since anyone last saw their family. Rifles and helmets were thrown back into the stores as each of us boarded the truck. Although we missed our families, one would say we have been out here so long that we were attached to the bunkers and trenches we stayed in, with the brothers that we served with.

Big, muscular, tough men from my company wept as they said their goodbyes to each other. Brotherly bonds had been formed throughout these years. Blood, sweat and tears were shed together on the battlefield, fearlessly defending the country from any threat.

It was a long ride home. I had lost all my family members, and had nothing to look forward to as the house I was returning to was empty and lifeless. No hugs, laughter, a warm meal nor screams of joy awaited me at home. It was hard to say if I was actually happy to return or not. But, the war's over. That's some news to celebrate about. I'll probably hit the pubs nearby and get drunk real bad. I was 16 when I drafted into the army, having no family and no future to look forward to. After all those years of army training, I would say it has made me, if not a good man, a tough man.

Finally, we reached the targeted destination - HOME. I bade farewell to the dudes and walked forlornly up the pathway heading towards my house. It's been a while , a really long while. Everything seemed so foreign. The windows were filled with dust, and cobwebs were everywhere.

I ignored the call for cleaning up and changed into a singlet and a pair of cargo shorts. Time for a good walk. I headed out to take a stroll around the neighbourhood. Houses looked the same, yet different. It was as though I was at an alien land. The streets were clear, every so often a car would crawl past with its loud engine disturbing the just obtained peace. Kids ran around in the parks with screams and giggles, enjoying the fun that they were deprived of during the war. Yes, it was a time for celebration.

As I walked, I felt a slight sense of peace. The war was still disturbing me at the back of my head, subtly calling out to me. But now, I was able to put it all behind and release a sigh of relief. It was no longer dusty backlanes which I crawled on with dust and sand blowing against my face, but a cool, calm and clear breeze on a well-paved walkway. No sounds of bullets nor tanks, no screams of blood-thirsty lunatics, just the sweet chirpings of birds.

-to be continued.

crossing of two paths 3

2009-07-24T11:39:00.001+08:00

And so he got ready for the night. He went to the bathroom and took a shower. A hot one, then a cold one, then a hot one again. He winced in pain as he cleaned the wound. The pain from the stab earlier was still fresh in his mind. He felt refreshed. His eyes were still slightly swollen and red, but it didn't really matter. He took some powder and rubbed it on his face.

He walked to the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit. He wiped dry his wound and applied some antiseptic cream on his thigh. Then he began to bandage his thigh. It hurt badly, but again, it didn't really matter to him. He made up his mind not to regret anymore.

Limping, he went back to his room to get dressed. It was a 800 dollar suit that he had bought not too long ago. Just for this night. A black coat, black slacks to match, black socks and shiny leather shoes. He put on his white shirt, slowly doing up the buttons. As he did each button, he wondered whether he should go for it or forget about it and stay at home. He paused to look out of the window. The sun was setting. The birds were flying back to their nests. It was a classic painting of evening life, where roads were jammed up as people rushed back home for dinner with their families, others would head towards bars, some just drove with no direction in life, while some, headed back to enjoy the comfort of their bed alone. The sky was painted beautifully with orange, red, yellow, purple and pink. He stood there, staring blankly out of his window.

"Why does life seem to move on so normally even though everything's going wrong for me?"

He got fully dressed and put on his bow-tie. Just not too far back in the past, he stood looking at the mirror in the shop with one of the widest smiles anyone could give as he stared proudly in the mirror at the suit he had just purchased. Now, it was a face that lacked any form of emotions. More like a statue that stood lifeless in the park. He began to brush his hair. He had a forlorn look as he repeatedly combed his hair. Again, and again. Machine-like.

"Boy! Don't you have something on tonight?"
"Coming, Mother!"

He slowly walked down the stairs, feeling pain with every step. He gave his mom a kiss before heading to the car.

"Have fun tonight boy! Don't be late!"

The shout of his mother was drowned out by the engine of the car roaring into action.

grooving to the unknown beat

2009-07-19T23:17:00.000+08:00

he felt it. he heard it. he bobbed his head to the beat. his body started grooving to the music. he snapped his fingers and did random hip hop steps with his feet. each part of his body moved to the beat. he smiled. he liked it.

no one else heard anything. but he heard it all. he enjoyed the music as he walked. everything didn't matter anymore. everything around him, ceased to exist. it was just him, his dancing, and the beat.

he grooved to the beat unknown by the world. he grooved to the unknown beat. he grooved. to the beat of silence.

2009-07-17T15:01:00.000+08:00

writing a sad story, is actually one of the easiest things to do.

crossing of two paths 2

2009-07-16T21:52:00.001+08:00

He wiped the tears away.

"I don't have to trust anyone anymore. If they bothered a single bit of what went on, they wouldn't have done the things that they did. But the damage is already done. How can you fix up a vase that has been intentionally smashed against the wall, and its broken pieces stepped on until it turns to dust? It is but swept away. It doesn't matter anymore. I've already been swept aside by all of them. They said they care. But it didn't show. The saying goes, 'Actions speaks louder than words', but no one took heed. Their actions said nothing but hurtful things. They thought they were helping, but they were actually making things worse."

He took out a knife from the cupboard and stabbed his thigh. Blood splattered everywhere. It was painful. It was messy. But he didn't care.

"With this pain in my head, I vow to myself: I will shed a tear no more for this world. Purposeless tears would never roll down ever again."

Life.

2009-07-14T00:43:00.004+08:00

He looked at the mirror for one last time before proceeding towards the door of his dressing room. He slowly inspected his face.

“Looks good,” he thought. “The perfect smile.”

He ran out to the centre of the ring. The crowd went wild, giving him the biggest round of applause that they had given all night. He took of his big hat and took a bow, acknowledging the crowd. Then suddenly, he pulled a rabbit out from his hat. The crowd cheered in amazement. He smiled, pausing to wipe the sweat that dripped down his brow. He did it carefully to avoid smearing the make-up that was on his face.

He ran around the ring, doing much foolish stuff that was practiced for years. He made a complete fool out of himself, much to the delight of the crowd. It was probably tricks and stunts that were familiar and overused, but somehow, the crowd still took it in and was greatly entertained.

He juggled, cycled on the unicycle, and messed around with his counterparts until his time was up. Then he took another bow before cart wheeling his way out. The crowd loved him and gave him a thunderous applause.

He walked to his dressing room slowly while taking off the gloves on his hand. He reached his dressing table and took of his hat and wig, then let his backside drop to the chair with a loud sigh.

“What would they know?”

He wiped of the face paint that covered his face, revealing a sad, wrinkled and long face. He grabbed a cigar from a tin can and lighted it. Forlornly, he walked with heavy steps outside. Smoking his cigar, he reflected on reality. There was no real smile, no real happiness. There was no applause for the stuff that he did and had done before.

It was all but a show. Nothing was real. Nothing at all.

emotions in the physical realm

2009-06-24T00:09:00.002+08:00

He scrambled across the room, trying to run, but the room was dark and he stumbled over the objects that were laid across the room. He fell, and she was right behind him. He screamed as she touched his back with his hands. She called out, "Honey, is that you?"

Just days ago, they were the happiest couple in the world, just about to get married. She was blind, but he didn't mind. He loved her for who she was. It didn't matter that she had that physical defect; she was the most beautiful woman with the most amazing character. She stood strong and never once gave up during hardships. She was the strength behind him. And he was just about to propose. Suddenly he woke up in this dark unknown space.

He screamed her name in the dark, desperate to get her attention. She couldn't hear him anymore. Her ears were deaf as a set of noise-cancelling earplugs were stuffed into her ears. She walked around, stumbling and fumbling, unaware that this wasn't her room. Her body was wrapped with spikes, and she had gloves that had blades jutting over everywhere. Warm, fresh blood flowed from his back as he screamed in pain. He tried to avoid her, but it was almost impossible. He did a quick calculation and came up with a conclusion. They were trapped in a square room measuring 8x8 feet. There were random objects placed along the floor to make life difficult for them. His palms ached from the amount of times he tried to cushion his fall. The right side of his face was bruised, and his elbows were sore. His knees were full of cuts and scratches. Now, there was a deep cut in his back. He bit his teeth together in agony as he made his way around the room, desperately seeking for a switch, or an exit.

"Are you there? I'm scared. There's something on me that's making me really uncomfortable. Did you do it?"
"Don't come near me!! Stop moving!!"

Another blade slashed his forehead, barely missing his eye. He quickly figured they must have deafened her. Fatigue and pain slowly overcame him. He felt lightheaded from the blood lost. Another blade into his left calf and she fell over. He tried to pull out the broken blade. She called out to him again and again, but he couldn't approach her. He limped his way around the room.

"This isn't funny at all." he thought to himself. "Two deep cuts, a gash on my forehead, cuts and bruises everywhere... My fingers are beginning to feel cold and numb. Doesn't help that my head feels dizzy."

Finally, he found the light switch and managed to brighten up the room. He saw her condition and saw the earplugs in her ears. He walked towards her, attempting to "enlighten" her on the situation. But exhausted and due to the lack of blood, he collapsed.

of exams

2009-06-22T22:55:00.003+08:00

yes, it's finally over. my first attempt at a long story.
now i can throw my exam paper away.
do leave your comments.

part one
part two
part three
part four
part five
part six
part seven
part eight
part nine
part ten
part eleven
part twelve
part thirteen
part fourteen
part fifteen
part sixteen
part seventeen
part eighteen

crossing of two paths

2009-06-18T16:34:00.000+08:00

His eyes looked swollen as it rested on the palms of his hands. His face had a lost look. His cheeks were still damp from the crying earlier. His throat was sore from the screaming he did last night. His pillow was still wet from his tears, mucus and saliva. The whites of his eyeballs were now red.

Life went on as usual. The sky looked bright and blue, just like any other days. The morning sun shone just enough to dry the clothes that hung on their racks after washing. There were a few clouds in the sky, one that looked similar to the face of a lion, the other of a deer. A flock of swallows circled the air, looking for trees to rest on. On a tree nearby, a crow perched on the branch, cawing away. Every now and then, a car would crawl past the neighbourhood. The breeze was perfect for a game of Frisbee or basketball. Not too strong to change the course of the game, but just right to cool down the players. It was a peaceful day, where housewives would take time out from housework to gossip in their neighbours' garden pergola as they sip on their earl grey tea in the most delicate manner.

It was one of those days that he would call a bunch of his friends out to the park or beach and mess around, doing everything any other teenager would do. A soda in one hand, a hotdog in the other, walking around the beach or park, enjoying the weather while daring each other to do nonsensical stuff, like saying a random line to strangers, or doing a handstand outside public toilets. It was just one of those days. Instead, he sat on the bench in his house porch, silently moaning about how unjust life has treated him.

He looked up at the sky and wanted to scream his lungs out, even though his voice had already gone coarse from the screaming into his pillow yesterday. He cried and wailed the whole night, but no one heard him. His pillow muffled the sound, loud enough only to the residents of the house he was in. But his brother was out on a date, as usual. His dad was too busy with work, and his mom was on a business trip out of state. It was just him, and his near-deaf grandpa in the house. No one heard his sorrow. He opened his mouth to scream, but something else caught his attention.

He saw a spider making its web at the corner of the awning. He looked on with his mouth still slightly open. He knew not what was so fascinating, but something just was. The spider spun her web with much agility and skill, bit by bit overlapping the outline of the web as it worked its way to setting a trap for the next unfortunate victim. Well, food from its point of view.

The wind blew, and the web was broken. The poor spider hung by the end of its thread, nothing else supporting it as it dangled in mid-air. It slowly made its way back up to the web and started all over again. The web was almost completed as the wind blew again. Again, the supporting lines gave way and the spider had to start all over again. Again and again this happened. For eight times, the poor spider had to start all over again. Then as it crawled across the outline of the ninth web, it wind blew and the spider fell from the ceiling as the web broke. Underneath, there was a bucket of water, and the spider fell into it. He got up from his seat and looked into the water. He started crying again.

Inside the bucket of water, he didn't just see a drowned spider. He saw himself. Not just a reflection, but the sad state he was in. He could relate to the spider.

He worked so hard in building the circle of friends he had. He thought he finally had a solid web of trust, but that joy ended in an instant as one of his friends told him that the rest never really treated him as a friend and that everything that he went through was all on the note of pretence. He moved on, and went on to find more and more friends. But time and time again, his trust was broken. People backstabbed him, they couldn't keep his secrets, they cheated on him, and they had used him. He had given up. Never would he trust anyone again.

of exams (part 18)

2009-06-03T23:15:00.002+08:00

The playing of the piano stopped instantly. The music echoed in the music room as they gradually faded away. Fear gripped John’s heart. He feared he would be kicked out from the house for simply touching stuff. He slowly turned his head. Every inch he turned, the faster his heart beat. Cold sweat beaded down the sides of his face. Tears sprouted out from his tear duct. For that moment, everything seemed to be running in slow motion. John turned and saw his uncle standing right next to the door, leaning against the wall behind him.

“Absolutely brilliant. But wait, I thought you never learnt music? Wow, that was fantastic. How long have you been learning? What’s the title of that marvellous piece you just played?”

John wiped the tears from his face. He saw a smile on his uncle’s face for the first time. His uncle walked towards him and patted his back.

“You okay, lad?”

Trembling, John stuttered as he answered his uncle.

“I don’t know sir. I have never seen this thing or heard of it until a few days back, when Janet was cleaning the house. What I did just now, I have no clue either.”

His uncle was dumbfounded. How is this even possible? A genius of music indeed, to be able play with such technique and skill barely knowing what a piano is. Amazing.

“That’s one of the best songs I’ve heard in my life!!! John, that’s what I call music.”
“Music....” he thought. “Music!”

A smile crept on his face. He felt this overwhelming joy in his heart. All his fears a moment ago were all forgotten.

“I love this thing called music!” he blurted out, without even thinking about what he wanted to say.

- THE END

of exams (part 17)

2009-05-15T11:47:00.003+08:00

John started to play his heart out. His fingers linked with the piano as though they were married. He started to lose awareness of the things around him. For that moment, it was just him, and the music. Nothing else. Nothing at all.

He seemed to float in a space of darkness, with music notes circling him. His face showed the face of serenity. Music was his soul, his shelter, his escape from reality, his place of refreshment. Just weeks ago, this was all foreign to him. He had never touched or seen a piano. Now, he played like an established grandmaster that had 100 years of experience. He played like Usian Bolt on the 100m track, Pele on the football field, Tiger Woods on the golf course, and Rafael Nadal on the tennis court. Every note harmonized beautifully, and every note was delicately sewn together as one.

“Brilliant! Brilliant!”

Those two words echoed through the piano room as the music came to a stop. In the shadows at the door, someone stood there, clapping his hands.

of exams (part 16)

2009-05-01T15:30:00.001+08:00

John’s eyes fluttered as it opened.

“Young master... Are you okay?”

John awoke in his room. He tried to sit up with the help of Alfred. John grabbed his head as he sat up straight as a sharp sensation hit his head.

“Where am I?”
“Your room, young master.”
“Mmmm...”

John was still in a blur. He stood up like a guy who is suffering from a hangover. He stumbled and swayed from left to right as he made his way to the sink. Alfred stood, shaking his head at the young boy and went off to do his house chores.

The splash of water on his face was refreshing. It helped him gain back his senses.

“Piano... Piano...”

John ran to the piano room and sat down. His head started the tune that he had heard two days ago.

of exams (part 15)

2009-03-07T12:28:00.002+08:00

John took a stroll outside the house early in the morning. Janet told him the fresh air would do him good. He roamed around, enjoying the beauty of God’s creation. To any other person, it would be a boring walk. But for John, every step he took, he heard music playing in the air. It was constantly around him, and he smiled as he walked. He had no idea what produced the songs around him, neither did he understand it, but he knew one thing. It was marvellous. He started skipping as he went along the old broken path, and hummed a tune as he went. Suddenly he stopped and looked up. Not too far off, was a church. The bells were ringing, signalling that it was 9 o’ clock. The church choir were practicing for Christmas. It was angelic singing, and John was just stunned. He couldn’t stop himself from going back to the piano. He ran and ran back to Colby’s residence.

As he got to the gates, he panted like crazy and felt weak on his knees. He dragged his feet as he tried to reach the piano room as soon as possible. His face was pale and his arms were shaking, but he pressed on, so determined to reach the piano room as the tune inside his head was going to explode out. Everything around him started to look blurry. John collapsed to the ground.

of exams (part 14)

2009-02-02T17:46:00.000+08:00

Maybe it’s all an illusion. Maybe I’m not really in this house. Maybe I’m in paradise. Maybe this is all a dream, a long dream that I will wake up crying cause it’s over. Maybe I’m still sleeping on the road. Maybe I’m dying. This is all too good to be true. This is all going on too fast. Life’s train is running at the speed of light. I can’t stop this train. I can’t make it go my way. I feel so hopeless.

Should I have started this journey? Maybe I should have just stayed where I was in the beginning. Maybe I should have just stayed at that lonely point. Maybe...

of exams (part 13)

2008-12-28T18:07:00.000+08:00

John stared at the ceiling from his bed. His lips and hands were trembling.

“Did I actually do something wrong? Were they mad at me?”

John bit his lip and got up. He looked out at the window. It was all dark. Owls were hooting and werewolves were howling from afar. The moon was barely visible and the night sky was robbed of its stars. John thought back of his first night here. The night he slept on the road against the cold hard walls. He remembered vividly the coldness that ran through his spine, causing him to shiver in his tattered shirt. He reminisced the thoughts that went through his mind as he laid down on the ground. He thought it was all over, that he wouldn’t be accepted into the house, and probably have died on the streets and have an unmarked grave. He thought he would be reunited with his parents up in the sky. Crystal droplets uncontrollably rolled down his cheek. He just stared and stared at the scenery outside his window. The wind was blowing quite strong and leaves were flying all over.

John slid open his window and closed his eyes to enjoy the chilly breeze. The wind blew against his face and dried the tears. He smiled as he heard the sounds that rang all over. The chatter of the maids in the room next door, the sound of the leaves and branches as they were blown by the wind, the howling and hooting, the crickets chirp, the sound of peace and tranquillity. He whistled a tune and his face was beaming with happiness.

of exams (part 12)

2008-12-12T01:37:00.001+08:00

By the time John stopped crying, it was already nightfall. It was dinner time. Alfred called out to him, and John rushed to the dining table for a drink. He had cried too much. His throat felt dry and his eyes were swollen. His shirt was still slightly wet and slimy after he wiped his tears and mucus on it.

“Go change, young master,” said Alfred. “It’s not good to be presented at dinner that way.”

The whole family sat at the table for the first time together. Mrs. Colby was finally well enough to come down from her room.

“Weird. I thought I heard someone on the keys just now while you were away, Frank. It was beautiful. I think I felt better after listening to it. Were you around just now?”
“No. Was at work the whole day.”
“Hmmm. But certainly no one else plays it.”
“I agree. This is weird.” Mr. Colby went, nodding his head slowly in deep thought. "Alfred..."
"Yes, master?"
“Were you, by any chance, on the piano?”
“No sir, not I.”
“Okay, I was just wondering. Go on and do your work.”
“Yes master.”

At the mention of the word piano, John lowered his head and started to stuff food into his mouth faster. His heart rate increased and he grew more and more excited. His hands trembled, wondering what would happen to him if it was discovered that he had touched the piano without permission. Would he be punished? Thrown out of the house? He dropped his knife on the floor as his shaking hands could hold it no longer. Mr. and Mrs. Colby continued eating their meal silently as John reached down to grab his knife. Anna immediately went to help him clean the mess.

He finished his dinner with haste and took big strides to his room. He immediately made a decision to never step into the piano room again. Never.

of exams

2008-12-09T00:36:00.000+08:00

this story was actually written during my mid year exam and the exam question was one word - music. thus the birth of the story of john.

due to popular demand, (okay, maybe not. but somewhere along those lines.) i'll try to come up with something and hopefully wrap up the story. now that spm is over, i'll have time to think of something. my advice, don't hold your breath.

part one
part two
part three
part four
part five
part six
part seven
part eight
part nine
part ten
part eleven

of trials

2008-10-13T22:25:00.003+08:00

Task: complete your essay with the ending "...we hugged each other and cried tears of joy."

Note: A combination of elements from a lot of other stuff, like games, movies, stories, manga etc. If you can list them all down, you’re good.

A.D. 3875. September 15. I crawled along the cylindrical tube that was my prison cell. It was made of reinforced glass, and suspended over the “Earth”. Earth. Hah. It was no longer the earth that humans 1000 years ago knew. It was now an artificial life-sustaining ring that surrounded the Earth. The Earth was now but a wasteland for us. A junkyard. We humans have departed to the Zoë Ring. Zoe – the Greek word for life. Yes. That was the life-sustaining ring. That was where we lived on.

Two round panes limited my cell to a length of fifteen feet. It had a diameter of six feet only. We could barely stand straight in it. I crawled to one end of it. I could see my inmate. She was beautiful, gorgeous, amazing, and breath-taking. She had the most amazing hazel eyes, and flowing brown hair with patches of blackness. I could sense a bond with her. Every now and then, we reached towards each other and tried to touch each other’s hand. It was as though I saw her somewhere. Maybe in my past life. Unfortunately, we could only touch the pane that was set before us. Crystal clear glass, as though it wasn’t there. But it was, and it was thick. Sigh...

I looked to the other side. It was an empty cell. Not too long ago, a guy from the Secha Clan inhabited it. He was taken away just yesterday, cruelly executed by The Executor. Will my time come?

The Executor was a coliseum-like arena where the superior Tiha Clan children choose the death of a random prisoner. It had been there for a thousand years, and had eclipsed the likes of the Soccer World Cup or the Olympics in terms of popularity. Everyone related to the Tiha Clan watched The Executor live as prisoners were executed by the Tiha Clan children. The Freedom Clans watched too, and had no sympathy for us, the prisoners. There were no rules to how the prisoner would die, and the way the kill was carried out was only limited by the creativity of the Tiha Clan children. Some died being skinned alive then flushed down a gigantic toilet bowl that contained hydrochloric acid, others by a Venus fly-trap-like device that sent spikes piercing your entire body that was frozen apart from your head. You could imagine how much painful it was for us, members of the other clans that were categorized under “The Outlaw Clans”. Did we die because we stole? Or was it because we murdered? Were we liars, rapists, or thieves? Were we parents, children, priests or farmers? Or was it just because we were born of a different clan blood?

I was dumb from birth. The priests of the Zecha ziggurat prophesied that my tongue would bring disaster upon the Zecha clan, thus they cut it out from me the very moment I was born. That was all I knew about me. I woke up a few years later, with a tube connected to my head, and clueless about my past, only knowing that incident and that I was of the Zecha Clan because of the tattoo on my arm. They took me, disconnected the tube, and locked me up in my current cell, after physically torturing me. Every day, I was fed a blue pill, and a glass of Zliquid. It was all that was needed to survive in the Zoë Ring.

One day, a guard dropped something behind after serving me my meal. It was a bag of orange pills. ‘Must be their soldier pills’, I thought to myself. The Gods must be smiling upon me. Each day I ate one, and I grew stronger and my muscles expanded. Having nothing to do in the cell, I planned my escape with my new-found strength as my secret weapon. It was today. The moment they open the doors to feed me, I would take their pod and make my escape. That moment came right on the dot, just as I’ve planned...

As the guards smoked the chambers, I held my breath. Then *click*, my cell door opened. I barged my way out, knocking the guard out cold. The pod only had a pilot who was clueless about his fate. I snapped his neck and took off. It was relatively easy to manoeuvre as it used brain signals to fly. I took up an ion blaster from the dead pilot and made my way to the Tihakunoziggurat. It was their palace, their fortress, their stronghold and their pride, and I was determined to destroy it, together with their emperor. He is the reason why we’re suffering, and the guy who stepped on my mother’s skull that led to her death. Her poor head collapsed under his weight, and he walked off with no remorse. Wang Feroh, leader of the Tiha Clan and the ruler of the Zoë Ring.

I rode my way to it using their flight-pod. No one suspected anything as I was flying under their colours. The people were at the Executor, I bet. The palace was empty, the guards were missing. I took out a bomb from the pod and initiated it. The pod took off again. I hoped the foundation would crack under that bomb. It was placed strategically. Right where it hurt most.

30 seconds later, Tihakunoziggurat was dust. The world was in chaos. Tiha Clan warriors were in saiyan mode and searched the skies for me. They had idea of what they were chasing after, but they chased anyway. I joined them using my flight-pod, and they failed to realise that I was not one of them. A message flashed on the hologram transmitter. The Tiha Emperor, Wang Feroh, is believed to be slain in the bomb blast. I thought I would be happy, as I got my revenge, but that was not the case. I was not happy at all. I was angry, confused, and most of all, I was lost. The Tiha Warriors’ pods had disappeared, and I was on my own. The pod continued to fly, even though I did not give it any specific orders.

I found myself flying back to prison. Why? Maybe my heart was still thinking of that girl. Was it possible to save her? I allowed my heart to take over as I fell asleep on board. Moments later, I was awaken by a crash. I had crash-landed on the prison grounds. I quickly ran towards my old cell. Suddenly, I heard this voice boom out loud.

“Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Initiating bomb sequence in two minutes!”

The prison cell would be completed disintegrated in moments! I ran to my old cell and went to the next one. Empty! My heart pounded as the timer continued to countdown. Was she dead? Was she alive? Was she just an illusion? Or was she the latest Executor victim? Thoughts were all over my head. I was anxious to see her, to make sure she was safe.

The timer stated that there was only 22 seconds left. I ran and ran. I turned around a corner, and collided with someone else. It was a squeal that I heard, the squeal of a female. It couldn’t be any of the guards as they were all males. I was stunned.

“Nine...Eight...Seven...”

It was her! The angel in the cell next to me! I quickly got to her, we hugged each other and cried tears of joy.

(1247 words)

of exams (part 11)

2008-09-06T22:49:00.001+08:00

Alfred

Master John is a poor chap. He is barely 12 I guess, yet he’s been through so much. Doubt I’d survive a day like that. Yet he has done it his whole life. I regret the day I first saw him and shouted at him. But, who can blame me? It was late, and I was tired. Who isn’t grumpy when they’re tired?

Weird. I woke up for dinner that night. I could sense heaviness in the air. I wondered what was going on. Looking out the window, the sun had already set, and the night had been cloaked with darkness. It was a full moon night, but the clouds in the sky hid parts of it. The stars never fail to amaze me. The whole process of it being formed and shining light over here is just crazy. I smiled at the heavens, knowing full well there is omnipotent being up there watching out for me. Then I sensed that heaviness in the air again. The smile faded and deep thoughts filled my mind. There was a weird feel, as though there was some mysterious melody floating in the chilly night air. It was distinct, yet inaudible. I couldn’t describe it.

I washed my face, and readied myself for dinner. Nothing beats the “good ol’ Janet dinner”. I walked down those familiar steps and sat at the long table. I sat at the head. I have always fancied myself to be a knight, sitting at King Arthur’s round table. That would be the best experience one could have. Food was already served, and Janet, Anna and Master John were already having their meal. It seemed different. I know what’s wrong. Janet is too quiet. She has never stopped talking since the day she stepped in this house. And today, today she was just sitting quietly. There must be something wrong. I looked at her eyes. It was all red and swollen. She looked tired and worn out. She looked like she had just cried. No, that’s not right. She isn’t being the happy, jolly Janet I have always known. I looked at Master John. He had been crying too. No. That’s not right. Has the Ma’am departed? I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I quickly closed it back and finished my meal.

of exams (part 10)

2008-08-25T18:38:00.001+08:00

Janet

It’s a nice feeling to sweep the porch during autumn. I just love the cool breeze that blows on my face and the way my hair dances to the lead of the wind. It was as though they were in some sort of waltz. Well, who cares if it isn’t a waltz. That’s the only form of dance that I know, and I’m sure ain’t gonna be no one to judge my thoughts. I looked at the sight I knew so well. The evening sun always set early during autumn, and night crept too early to cover the sky. Each stroke that God painted in the sky during evening is just indescribable. It’s just lovely. I miss my husband. He’s been long gone, back to God’s embrace. It’s been a while since we last hugged in the rays of the setting sun that slowly dissolved into the horizon of the northern seas.

Sweeping the porch is a fun thing during autumn time, especially the evenings. There’s not much to sweep as autumn draws to the end. I get to enjoy the scenery. Glorious! To think that I once swept in fear, fear that the trees would come alive to eat me. Silly me. Then again, anyone could have been fooled at my age back then. The shadows of the bare trees were puppeteered by the arms of the wind, and they stretched as the sun set. It looked scary, coupled by the fact that I was new at Mr. Colby’s residence. Now that I’ve worked here for so long, it’s all but a normal sight.

Pity that young master, Master John. He must have travelled real far to get to this house. I overheard master talk to his wife about Master John’s walk to his house. The moment I saw his bleeding and cracked heels, I couldn’t help but tear. He must have had a hard life. I understand how he feels. I myself never really had a good life, till I met my dear husband. Now that he’s left me, it’s back to normal life for me. Working at this mansion isn’t that bad, except for the fact that it’s huge. Master treats us well.

Master John looks real special. He has that twinkle in his eye. Reminds me of someone I know, but I can’t remember who.

I sensed something special today. I don’t know why, but I know it’s a special day. Something in my bones just tells me that it’s going to be a day I’ll never forget.

Suddenly it happened. Music started playing out from the music room. Wait a moment! That can’t be right. Master Colby has gone off to work, and no one else in the house plays the piano. Who could it be? Surely not Master John.

Janet danced to the tune of the music with her broom still in her hand. She closed her eyes and danced like never before. She had never learnt waltz, but she had seen it. And that tune led her to start moving her feet. In her mind, she saw her husband’s face, then his whole being. She slipped into a semi-conscious state and embraced her husband. If anyone was watching her, they would have thought she lost her mind. But no, she was perfectly fine. Her body was led on by the music. She twirled and turned, stepped and hopped, all guided by John’s heart song. There was something special about it. She smiled to herself and her mind played back happy memories of her and her husband. As soon as the music changed key, Janet could feel her body slowing down, yet she had no control over herself. It was as though her body had a mind of its own. The happy memories slowly turned into sad ones. Her imaginary husband started slipping away from her. She tried desperately to hold on to him, yet he was bit by bit turning into dust that the wind carried away. “No!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she cried out aloud. “Noooooooooo...... Why?”

She collapsed to a kneeling position then changed to a sitting position. She hugged her knees and sobbed all by herself in the porch of the mansion. Crows on the cold moss-covered wall of the mansion crowed slowly and softly as if they understood her feelings and shared her sorrows. She sobbed even harder and reminisced about her husband’s funeral as John played out that sorrowful melody line. It was painful to lose your dad, worse to lose the other half of your body.

of exams (part 9)

2008-08-23T20:04:00.000+08:00

His heart song.

His fingers danced on the keys, as graceful as a ballerina twirling on stage, as skilful as Pele on a football. He played like he had been playing the piano all his life. The accents, the staccatos, thrills, slurs, all blended together to play out his life’s story through music. It started off in a light manner, a major key in a naive tone, representing his childhood life where it was without worries. Here and there, notes were hammered out to tell off how he cried every time he needed something. Then in the background, the bass notes, slowly altered to a minor key, and if anyone could hear it, they could feel the darkness creeping in. It was when he was 5 years old; he finally realized that life was no longer a bed of roses. He knew that he came from a poor family. He saw the pain in his dad’s eyes everyday he came back from work. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he played on. The music grew and grew to broader sounds, a more intense melody line and each chord contained more and more notes. Suddenly, he fisted the bass section of the piano and stopped. A solo melody line was played on the high register. It was a sad melody line that represented his dad’s death. He felt the hurt in his heart. And the piano was his tool to release all his emotions. His pants were wet from the tears that kept coming down. He had mucus crawling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were closed as he thought of that moment his dad came home from work and collapsed unconsciously, never to open his eyes again.

John stopped playing and wiped his face with his sleeves. It was too much for him. He wept.

of exams (part 8)

2008-07-11T09:58:00.000+08:00

The piano was two floors down and was at the other end of the house, but it made no difference to John. He could see the piano with his mind. It was right in front of him. He saw himself playing it. He felt the connection between him and the piano. He thought to himself that he must get to the piano, by hook or by crook, and touch it. He wanted to produce sounds like the ones he heard that night. He wanted to finish off the song that he heard, to play out the sequel that he made for that song. It was a torturing time for him. He couldn’t stand not being able to play the piano after that moment of enlightenment. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he was a drug addict.

John crept into that room once everyone in the house except Janet was taking their afternoon nap. The time was about 5 in the evening. Janet was outside of the house and in the garden. She was busy sweeping the porch area. It was quite bare compared to the days of spring and summer time whereby the garden area would be littered with leaves and flowers. The trees in the garden stood there tall and naked. Janet was not too bothered about how eerie they looked when the wind blew. She was too used to it. Maybe once she was scared, but that was a thing of the past. John looked out from the window of the room into the garden. He shivered with excitement and fear as the piano was right behind him. Just him and the piano. He took his seat in front of the piano. The black and white keys called out to him. He looked at the keys, and he could sense that they were looking back at him. He looked up from the keys and he saw a giant picture there. One that he hadn’t noticed from the two times that he stepped into that room. It was a family portrait. He could see Mr. Colby and his dad standing at the back of a couple that were older than them. It had to be their parents. They were all smiling very happily. Little did he know that that was their last family photo together. His dad left home shortly after that, and never came back.

That picture brought back memories of him and his dad when he was younger. The days were they played catching in the fields nearby his shack, rolling around on the ground, fishing and all. He missed his dad sorely. And there was not one night that he had stopped thinking about his dad, except that night when he was thinking about the piano. Tears started to form at the corner of his eyes. He put his palms towards his eyes and his elbows on the piano. The sounds that were produced from the piano broke the silence in the house. Suddenly, John stopped crying. He glared at the piano with those two wet eyes. He remembered what he was in that room for – to play the piano. His right index finger pressed a note, and another, and another, and another. His heart started to beat faster and faster. He felt a weird feeling running through his body. Again, he pressed another key. “Glorious!!” he thought. He was amazed by how a block of wood could produce such beautiful sounds.

He then pressed two at once to see what would happen. It was a G and a Bb. “Wow!” he thought. “This is so amazing!” He started pressing three, then four, then with two hands, a whole chord. He recognised every sound that each key produced from the short moment of messing with the single notes. He started thinking of which sound would blend with which, and how to make it sound nice. His mind raced at the speed of sound, making out chord after chord after chord. He started playing it out. He had composed a song that no one knew. A song unheard of before this, except by his heart. It was the heart song of John. It was a melody that rang deep down inside his heart.

of exams (part 7)

2008-07-03T14:26:00.001+08:00

That note ignited an explosion of emotions in John. It was an Eb, but being one whom had never had any music background, it didn’t matter. He fell into a trance. His mind began to wander to a land far, far away. Every nerve in his body tingled the moment the Eb was pressed. His heart pounded faster and faster. The smile on his face grew wider and wider. Finally, he had found the source of the sounds he had first heard the moment he stepped into his uncle’s house, and that of the tune he heard during his first night at the house.

“So that’s where the sound comes from,” thought John, enthralled by that single note that many others wouldn’t have bothered about. Unknown to himself, he was still muttering the word “piano” over and over again.

“Yer’ saying something, young master?” asked Janet in her thick Scottish accent upon hearing John’s gibberish.
“wh..wh...what?” stuttered John.
“Never mind.”

He shivered in excitement as he made his way back to his room, zombie-like. That note was still ringing in his ear very clearly. He sat on his bed and rubbed his palms against his thighs.

“Piano...piano...”

of exams (part 6)

2008-06-26T23:00:00.000+08:00

John began to walk around the house aimlessly after finishing his meal. He rubbed his stomach in satisfaction. There was no doubt of the butler’s cooking skills. His eyes got back its glow and began to twinkle with happiness. He explored every corner of the ground floor, going in and out of rooms that were all over the house. He walked into the study room. It was filled with lots of books. In the centre of the room was a long table made of the finest oak wood. It was so clean that you could see your reflection on it. He took a book and flipped through it. “Weird symbols again,” he thought. He put the book back and went to the next room. It was the music room. He saw a violin on the mantel top, together with its bow. A grand piano occupied the centre of the room. It was white and old, about twenty years old. The white keys were yellowish and the black keys lost the shine that it once had. He looked around for a moment and saw nothing interesting. He proceeded on with his adventure.

“Lunch time Master John!” called out the butler at about noon.

John hurriedly walked to the dining room and ate together with the maids and the butler. It was roast beef with potatoes and coleslaw. It was good. They all ate in silence. John used his hands to eat as he was not accustomed to forks and knives. He couldn’t stand the silence and decided to break the ice.

“Well, you all know me. But I haven’t gotten your names yet.”
“I’m Alfred,” answered the butler.
“I’m Janet,” said the plump maid. She was a bit short and round, but always had a smile on her face.
“And I’m Anna,” said the other maid. She was tall and bulk. Her skin was tanned and her features were sharp.

“Nice to meet you Alfred, Janet, and Anna. I want to say thank you for all that you’ve done for me these past few days.”
“It’s our pleasure, young master,” replied Janet.
“What are you going to do after this?” asked John.
“Oh. Nothing much. Just a bit of cleaning up.”
“Can I follow along?”
“Sure you can.”

After lunch, John followed Janet to clean up the music room. She began to dust the picture frames and shelves with a feather duster and told John about her history in this house. John stood patiently by the door and listened to her stories. Janet continued talking as she proceeded to wipe the piano. As she wiped the keys, she accidently pressed one of the keys and the sound echoed through the room. John’s heart began to pound. “What was that, Janet?” “Oh, nothing. Just the piano.”

“Piano... piano...” he muttered under his breath as his face became more and more excited.

of exams (part 5)

2008-06-24T16:48:00.002+08:00

The boy’s face remained expressionless. He was tired out by the amount of walking he had done. Three months, to be exact. And that wasn’t something easy for a boy who had barely lived a dozen years. His uncle ordered the butler to show him to his room. It was evening already, and the sun had started to set. Nocturnal animals started to creep out of their homes in search of food as darkness covered the land. His room was small, barely five metres wide. It contained a chest of drawers, a closet, a bed and a table with a table lamp on it. The table had a layer of dust on it, and the corners of the ceiling had cobwebs on it. It was an abandoned room, not used since Mrs. Colby’s mom had passed away and the maids never bothered to clean it, explained the butler to John. His tired mind barely took in any of the details in the room and dropped on his bed in exhaustion. The butler apologised for the rude behaviour previously and then took off to do his usual duty. The boy nodded and dozed off.

He had slept barely for two hours when he woke up again. The piano in the house was being played again. He could hear every note and every mistake made by the pianist, but he did not know who was playing what. He could hear the sounds outside the house. He could feel Mother Nature playing its own accompaniment to the playing of the piano. He smiled. It was soothing. All his tiredness faded away as his body swayed along with the music. He grew more and more ecstatic as the music gradually climbed towards the climax of the composition. He began to hum along, stopping a few times only to smile. Soon, the music stopped, but the tune was still alive in his brain. His mind started composing a sequel to the piece he just heard. He twisted and turned in bed, not being able to sleep even though it was 4a.m.. Regardless how tired he was, his mind just could not stop thinking of the tune he had just heard.

The next morning, he was found sound asleep by the butler who came to his room. Looking at his face, the butler decided to wake him up later. Breakfast was served to Mr. Colby who was up and ready to go to work. His eyes were glued to the newspapers in his hand as he munched down his breakfast and downed it with a cup of coffee. Once he finished eating, he rushed off to his workplace. It was 11a.m., and John finally woke up from his sleep. It had been the best sleep ever for him. All his life, he had never slept that peacefully and comfortably. He wiped the drool off his chin and went to find the butler. He passed by the toilet and saw the butler inside shaving. He wondered what the butler was doing as he had never seen someone with a blade and white stuff all over his face. The butler ignored him and continued shaving. John waited patiently outside. The butler finally came out after cleaning his face. He politely asked John whether he was waiting to wash up.

“Wash up? What’s that?”
“Don’t you know? It consists of brushing teeth and washing your face etc.”
“No sir. Never heard of it my whole life.”
“Come. I’ll teach you.”

After washing up, both of them went to the kitchen to get breakfast. The butler, an excellent chef, began to prepare the stuff and asked him what he would like. “Anything would do,” said John. A three egg omelette with ham, tomato, mushroom and cheese plus two slices of toast was served in an instant. “Enjoy, master,” said the butler as he placed the food before John together with a cup of orange juice. John hurriedly gobbled down the meal as his mind was on something else. He was still thinking of the tune he had heard yesterday on his bed.

of exams (part 4)

2008-06-21T18:47:00.001+08:00

His ears jiggled. He could hear sounds coming from the house. It was the sound of a piano, but he knew not of it. “What was that?” he wondered. He was taken to the study room and asked to sit and wait by the butler. A man, aged about 50, wearing a pair of spectacles, walked in while puffing at his tobacco pipe. He took a seat behind the large antique rosewood study table that was neat and tidy. He took off his glasses and looked at the boy. Satisfied, he leaned back and took another puff from his pipe. “So, young man, what may I assist you of?” he asked, politely yet in a firm tone. The boy trembled slightly and thought for a while. Then he dug deep into his pockets and produced a yellowish photo that had its corners nibbled off. He handed it over to Mr. Colby. Mr. Colby took the photo and put his reading glasses on. He inspected it closely then looked at the boy, and took another look at the photo again.

“Say, young chap, what are you trying to prove by bringing me this picture that is old and stained?”
“My mom asked me to find you and show it to you.”
“What name do you go by?”
“My mom used to call me John Colby.”
“Used to?”
“Yes. She died last spring.”
“And your dad?”
“Two years ago.”
“His name?”
“Wayne...”

Mr. Colby froze at his seat. This was none other than his own nephew, son of his brother that had left the family to work so that he could get his education. It had been 17 years since he walked off, and he never contacted the family, only sending a large sum of money every month by post, with no sender’s address. That photo brought back memories. Taken when he was only 10 years old. Crystal droplets began to form at the corner of his eye as he stared blankly at the old photo. His mind began to playback the days when he and Wayne played at the field together. They were the best of buddies, and the closest of brothers. He got up and stood at the window that overlooked the vast fields of his home. He wept. It was uncontainable. He never got to repay his brother for that sacrifice he made. That was love. Love was never about receiving, but of selfless giving. It was a sacrifice that led him to achieve what he had achieved. He wiped his tears off and turned back to the kid. He could see Wayne’s face reflected on John’s face. They had the same blue eyes, and cheeks that were narrow and long. He summoned for his butler.

“You are to treat him as my own son. Do what you have to do.”

John was taken to eat. A meal he had never experienced in his life, coming from a poor family. Before this, all he ate was stale bread and beggar’s stew, and more than once he had to starve as his family did not have enough money to buy food. He gobbled down the meal. After that, he was taken to have a bathe and haircut. Clothes were bought for him and he was dressed up. He had never experience baths; neither had he ever dressed up in cotton-made-clothes that were extremely comfortable. It was as if it was paradise. Once he was done, he was brought before the family. Mr. Colby, his butler and his two maids. His wife laid in bed as she was sick and in no condition to move around. No one could recognise him after the makeover, not that anyone did in the first place.

“John, you look just like your father.” Mr. Colby remarked.

of exams (part 3)

2008-06-18T20:12:00.000+08:00

He was rudely interrupted by the butler that came to answer the knock. “You! What do you bring at such a time?” he blurted out in an irritated tone, with a scowl on his face.
“Is this Mr. Colby’s house?” said the boy in a trembling voice.
“Are you blind?” snapped the butler back angrily. “There’s a sign that’s right before your eyes and you have the cheek to ask me that?”
“Can... can I see the master?”
“The master is in bed. Whatever you have will have to wait for tomorrow.”
“But...”

The gate slammed shut onto his face. His sentence was never heard by the butler as he stormed off into the house. “... but... but I don’t have anywhere else to go back to...” he stuttered, in a timid voice. His body was weak, and he was in desperate need of food. Fatigue got the better of him and he crumbled to the ground, barely conscious. He took a handful of the maize and barley in his pouch, ate it, and snuggled against the cold, bare stone wall of Mr. Colby.

The sun rose the next day and brought light back to the land. Still in his sleep, he could feel the sun’s heat licking at his ankles. He woke up with a shudder, wondering where he was. Then he remembered. He knocked on the gate once again, sending its echoes through the house that had barely woken up. The butler opened it up with a snort. “You again! You do have a tendency to come at the ‘perfect’ time, don’t you? Come along, and touch nothing, or you’ll regret the day you set foot on planet Earth.”

of exams (part 2)

2008-06-15T21:59:00.000+08:00

He crossed a little bridge that went over a dry creek, now filled with moss, patches of small vegetation here and there, dry braches and leaves. He walked and walked, until he came to a huge gate that seemed like the only entrance to the mansion that lay before his eyes. The walls surrounding it were ten feet tall, and had ivy hanging from it. The house looked abandoned and had a sense of creepiness. A plague was embedded into the wall, stating:

Colby’s Residence.
44, Winsor Road.

He was illiterate. That plague held no significance to him other than a decoration on the wall with weird symbols on it. Food would have been much better. He clenched his fist and rapped on the knocker. “Hello!” he yelled, with every last bit of energy in him. “Anybody home?” By then, the moon was the sole light provider to nature, and the stars danced in the sky. There was a faint rustling of leaves in a distance, and the sounds of the lizards and hoots of the owls from the forest that was not too far away. He could also hear the howling of a wolf that stood on a huge boulder. He began to tap his feet on the ground, subconsciously. It brought a smile to his face, and a tune to his brain. It painted a placid picture in his mind. He began to hum out a tune, and that brought much pleasure to him.

of exams (part 1)

2008-06-14T22:56:00.000+08:00

His fingers gently ran along the outer walls of the houses he passed by as he walked along that lonely path. The mould had grown a layer thick on the stones that were used to make the path. The paint on the wall was shedding, and the wall cried out for a new coat of paint, much to the ignorance of the owners. The loose flakes fell off into the ditch as his fingers gently caressed the wall. The cold winds were blowing gently. The trees stood stark naked. The streets were painted with a warm colour with orange and yellow as the leaves that came off the trees covered the streets. The sky was reddish. The trees’ shadows grew longer as the sun slowly disappeared, dipping into the horizon, as though the sea was swallowing it up. The streets grew darker, and the air colder as nightfall crept in. The moon was faintly visible, though the sun had not gone completely.

He shivered as he quickened his footsteps. It was cold, and his thin, filthy and soiled shirt that was tearing apart did not offer much resistance against the winds, or warmth against the cold night air. His feet were aching from the walking he had done, barefoot. His hair was scruffy and unkempt, and his lips were dry and cracking. His throat longed for water, or any form of fluid that could quench his thirst. His pants, once denim blue, was now the greyish and had holes here and there. He had nothing with him, except a bag of dry maize and barley, plus a leather water bag that was empty.

“Just a little more. Just a little more... Hold on and be strong.”

He grew faintish. His teeth were chattering. His fingers were numb. It was only sheer determination, and the dying words of his mother that made him continue his journey.

of school assignments 2

2008-04-22T22:45:00.005+08:00

TASK: Write a story with the beginning: "I could hardly believe my ears..."

I could hardly believe my ears as they announced me as the winner for the world’s most prestigious essay writing’s competition, the Writer’s International Guild Challenge 2008. I’m officially the most envied person amongst all the writers and authors out there in the world. I had joined this essay competition for fun and partially for the sake of pleasing my girlfriend, and much to my amazement, out of the 1.763 million entries, I won the award!!

For a moment, time just stopped and that exact moment that the host announced me as the winner was replaying in my head over and over again. The host went, “And the moment we’ve all been waiting for. And the winner is... *drum roll* Mr. Arthur Pond!!!!” Time started moving again and the crowd went wild. The spotlights circled the hall and then gradually focused on me. The entire hall was dimmed, and all that could be heard was the screams of delights, the cheers and the applause of the people. I was dumbfounded. It just was not possible. I worked out 77 mathematical formulas to calculate all the possibilities of this being just a dream, but no, it was real! I think I sat there stunned for 35 hours with my mouth opened wide. Okay, maybe not. As the saying goes, the show must go on. I quickly regained my composure to look good in front of the cameras. Flashes from the cameras blinded me as journalist, reporters and busybodies swarmed over the area around me to get the best possible angle to take pictures of me. Yes. Me. The one and only handsome me.

I arched my lips upwards to please the cameras. Just slightly, I thought. I don’t want to look like an idiot on tomorrow’s headlines. Just think, not everyone would get their chance of gracing the headlines, but oh well, every dog has his day. I stood up from my seat, dusted my tuxedo arrogantly, adjusted my tie, and then proceeded down the aisle towards the stage to claim my award. My 2 minute walk was accompanied with the sounds of applause, whistling and the music played by the ‘sound guy’. As I walked down the red carpet, a gazillion amount of thoughts ran through my head, like the moment immediately after the gun shot is sounded, signalling the start of a marathon. I remembered my girlfriend, Jenny who was always there to support me. Regardless how fat she was, she was my true love. That brought a smile to my face, and the twinkle from my exposed front tooth must have blinded those who were looking at my juicy lips. I thought of my school life arch-rival, Bobby who often said my essays were not fit for reading. Hah! Now I’ve proved him wrong. Who’s the loser now? A menacing laugh cried out in my heart.

As I walked up those few steps leading to the stage, I knew the world was looking at me. I have never felt so proud in my life before. I have proved all my critics wrong. Then something bad just had to happen. I was so caught up with my thoughts that I missed a step and fell flat on my face. My lips tasted the dust on the carpet. My goodness, that carpet must have been last vacuumed during Stone Age. My thick nerdy spectacles flew off in slow circular motion and I hurt my knee on the edge of the step. At that moment, I wished the stage would just open up and swallow me in. It was so embarrassing. My face must have turned into a tomato. But of course, the stage stayed as it was and didn’t consume me. I could hear the gasps of the crowd behind me. Then, I remembered something I read over the internet, and immediately got up into a martial art pose. I acted as though I was in a trance, and carried out some basic martial art moves that wouldn’t cause my pants to tear and after a while, assured the crowd that the ghost was gone. There was a loud gasp, followed by silence, and then a huge round of applause rang out from the crowd. I gave a crooked smile. “Phew,” I thought. “That was a close shave.” My brilliant acting skill saves the day once again.

I picked up my specs and proceeded to the rostrum. Adjusting my specs like those professors, I started my speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen,
Good evening to all of you. Don’t worry about what happened just now. What’s important is, everyone is fine and in good condition.

First and foremost, I would like to thank the organisers for presenting me with this award. It is of great joy and pleasure that I stand here before you to receive this award. Never in my wildest imagination did I ever think I would win this award. I joined this competition only because my girlfriend ‘forced’ me to do it. Having said that, I would like to express my deepest heartfelt gratitude to her. Jenny, this is for you!

To satisfy your curiosity, and also cause I’m required to do so, it is my honour to be read out my first few paragraphs of my ‘What Would You Do If You Woke up Turning into a Millionaire Overnight’ composition. To find out more, you can visit my blog at ArthurtriX.com/blog or check out the organisers’ official website. It goes something like this.

‘A million is not a small amount. Likewise, a million dollars isn’t a small amount of money. Sure, money cannot buy everything, but it can buy a lot of other things. With a million dollars, regardless what you may think or say, it can impact one’s life in an instance, for the better or worse.

I know that many people, as they write this topic, would be the same old stuff, like charitable deeds and how they’ll repay their parents and all, but let’s face it. It’s pure horsefeathers. Frankly, how many of us would actually do all that sort of things? If you have any doubts, give one that amount of money after he writes those sorts of cliché things and see the change in him. It’s a dog eat dog world, and it’s every man for himself indeed. If I woke up being a millionaire, all that money would be in my account for my personal, selfish use.’

That’s all. Thank you.”

A journalist from the crowd yelled out, “At least tell us your last paragraph!” I paused for a moment in front of the microphone that stood lifelessly in front of me. I duly obliged. “If.” I said. Satisfied with the laconic reply, I took my trophy and took a bow, much to the delight of the crowd.

Word Count:
1136 words
13 paragraphs

of school assignments

2008-04-19T01:21:00.004+08:00

TASK: Write a story with the beginning: "My mother was sitting alone on the couch when I arrived home that day."

My mother was sitting alone on the couch when I arrived home that day. I had just completed my latest assignment. My mother and I were not the closest of mother-son relationships. I stared at her for a while and said monotonously, “Hi, I’m home.” She shot a glance of acknowledgement before continuing to indulge in her favourite book, The Reader’s Digest.

I proceeded to my room. I slowly unpacked my briefcase. In it, a 9mm ASP automatic, fake passports, a pair of sunglasses, a suit and a wig. I had just returned from my duty. A top secret job which was not to be known to anyone outside the headquarters. I was known to the outside world as Mr. Kane Belluc, (taking after my mother’s name) an established journalist cum businessman. But not many knew what I actually do for a living.

Welcome to my world. I am Vic Stan, a cold-blooded bounty hunter working under a secret assassination organisation, known simply as “The Eagle”. We kill for money, and for money we kill. It was simple procedures. We get calls, we get assigned, we go out to the field, and we kill, collect the money and then wait for the next call. These people that we are supposed to kill are not just any Tom, Dick and Jane out there, but the top of the crop. People such as politicians, oil tycoons, leaders of society etc. A few of our agents get killed on their duty, while others unfortunately get caught and tortured while being interrogated. Many captured hunters like me commit suicide to protect the organisation. It was part of the deal. Giving out secrets during interrogations would not be tolerated. Not a single ounce.

We were trained to be the best of the best, mastering the art of stealth, various martial arts and self-defence movements, recognising, assembling and dismantling over 200 firearms, each under a minute, trained to be able to withstand pain, torture, hunger and all sorts of mind tricks. Besides that, we were taught the most important thing as a bounty hunter. The 365 techniques of hit-and-run to ensure we vanish from the scene without anyone noticing, in the quickest time possible. We were world class assassins, the evil 007 agents. It was not a job for the faint of heart, as killing people without remorse isn’t the easiest thing to do. But like I said, we were TRAINED. We learnt to stare our victim in the eye and yet take them out without any emotions. Emotions were only excessive baggage, according to agent ME, our trainer and superior.

I took of my coat and slumped onto my bed. The scenes of the previous mission flashed back into my mind. It was pure success, I thought. A smile came to my face. I took care of the Haitian representative on his way to visit a diplomat of our country. There was not much to it. I shot him and took leave while the airport went chaotic. It was our job. I don’t really know who I shot, but it doesn’t matter. We do not know much of our employers nor our superiors. This was to prevent secrets leaking out. I picked up my ASP automatic and toyed around with it. It was my favourite weapon. Accurate up to 150 yards with a silencer on. It had served me well. The lives it had claimed were practically countless. Many of which were part of self defence while I was on the run. I took it apart and polished each and every part of it.

My mother called me down to eat. I hid my gun under my pillow and swiftly made my way downstairs. That smell. I could recognize it anywhere. Roast meatloaf and potatoes. Mom’s trademark. I hungrily gobbled down the food. Mother told me to slow down and started to ask me about work. I lied and said that business was good and tried to change the subject. She didn’t pursue any further and in moments, we both ate dinner silently under weak dining lights and a creaking yellow fan. A text message interrupted my dinner. I picked up my phone to check, and that familiar number flashed on my screen.

Agent Wing. Latest assignment: Prison Break. Location: Cyprus. Further details to be briefed as soon as you reach headquarters. Come ASAP. Agent ME.

I excused myself from the table and took off after wiping my mouth on the napkin laid before me, citing a business deal worth $100k as a reason to leave. Told my mother I was going on a business trip to Cyprus. I quickly grabbed my stuff from my room, packed it all into a luggage bag and raced to the headquarters in my Mini Cooper S. Agent ME was extremely particular about time, and anything less than punctuality would be a tragic tale to the agent who came late. The streetlights were not functioning, as usual. The road was dark. I took a turn and sped along the highway. Suddenly a pair of headlights appeared in front of me and blinded my sight. It was too late to hit the brakes. It all happened too fast. Two shots rang out from that car. I felt the impact. Inertia threw me forward and I knocked my head hard on the steering wheel. The last thing I saw was an explosion from that car.

As fate had it, I was not to die. My time was not over yet. I woke up in a blurry state. The surroundings were so familiar. A light hung over me. I could barely open my eyes as I tried to look around. I tried to sit up but was incapable. “Why is my head hurting so badly?” I thought to myself. Suddenly it all turned blank and I passed out again.

Approximately an hour after that, I was awaken by discussions of two people. I kept my eyes close. I could not help but eavesdrop on their conversation. It sound familiar but I could not make head or tail out of it.
“He should be alright by now.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. We have conducted some tests on him. He suffered a concussion. We are expecting a slight case of amnesia.”
“He better get well. Everyone knows we need Agent Wing to get back on duty as soon as possible. The assassination of the Haitian was so messed up as there were no professionals to replace him. Good thing our agents escaped unharmed.”

There was a long pause followed by the sound of a sigh. They seemed disappointed. I could hear their footsteps sound gradually fading away. Exiting, I presume. Thoughts ran through my mind. “Who is this Agent Wing...? Why are they talking about him in front of me? Wait a moment... Who am I? How on earth did I get here?” I could not remember anything. Memories flashed in my mind as I strained myself to recall my past. I saw a guy shot, and let out a scream.

“Are you okay?”

I opened my eyes and saw the face of a woman. I said yes, and proceeded to ask what was I doing there. She said I was involved in an accident and was retrieved by several agents from the car wreck. Apparently there are people trying to get rid of our organisation. I was resting at the headquarters’ medical centre. Agents? Headquarters? I was puzzled. Moments later three agents burst into the room and wheel chaired me to a room, where I was checked and asked questions. According to the guy in the white coat, I was suffering from amnesia. I was then escorted to a room where they briefed me on my past.

“A murderer? How can this be? I have never killed anyone before, either that or I don’t remember doing so.” I blurted out blatantly. “Calm down, Agent Wing. It is the latter. You will soon remember.” said the guy who identified himself as Agent ME. I got off my chair and walked towards the exit, only to be stopped by the outstretched arm of a bodyguard. He reached out to handcuff me but I took his hand and twisted it effortlessly into the position of a body lock, much to the amazement of myself. One immediately tackled me to the ground and it took a further two to hold me down. Agent ME calmly said, “It is no use retaliating. You will soon learn to accept the facts of life. But first, we need you to take lessons to remember your past and then training to recap what you have learned over the years.”

I was told that I had been in a coma for seven months. I was taken to a shooting range. The gun that laid there seemed so familiar. Blur memories, moments of the past just came to thought the moment I took hold of the gun. I wiped the body of the shining gun. Without any guidance and in a half sub-conscious state, I let out three shots that were dead on target, each shot overlapping each other on the bulls eye. I dropped the gun and staggered backwards, collapsing on my back. “How...how... how could this be?” I stammered as I stared at the gun that laid on the floor. Agent ME again reminded me of who I was and who I am. I finally was forced to admit and again take on the identity of Vic Stan, a.k.a. Agent Wing, who I was once so familiar with, supposedly.

The next call came in. I was assigned to it. It was an easy job. Its objective was more of me getting used to field duties again. The target was Kristy Belluc.
“Wait a minute. That name sounds so familiar.”
I wasn’t given any other details except where I would find her. They provided me with an Arctic Warfare Pistol, a sniper rifle that could tear apart the victim’s head even over long distances, and also the ASP automatic that I have started to fall in love with during my three months of “recap”.

I left in my new Audi A4. Finally leaving the headquarters was a breath of fresh air for me. The time spent there was torturous. Officers barking orders and expecting me to follow a rigid schedule. I stopped by at a park and grabbed a chilli dog. I pondered on my latest assignment while devouring the gastronomic delight. Why am I even doing this, I wondered. Moreover, I don’t recall killing anyone. Plus, why does the name Kristy Belluc ring a bell?

I pushed the questions aside and continued on my journey. It was a taxing two hour drive. Agent ME warned me beforehand. NOTHING MUST GO WRONG. As I neared my destination, there was a sense of nostalgia. Childhood memories played in my mind. I remember growing up in this area. Why is all this so familiar?

I followed the GPS system on my PDA and parked myself a good distance from the target’s house. I rapidly assembled my equipment, setting up the tripod for my AWP and all. I took a moment to look at the sunset. By the time anyone realises that Kristy Belluc is dead, I’ll be long gone. Hopefully. Agent ME’s warning rang again in my head. I took out my binoculars from its’ leather case and set my eyes on my target’s house. There was little movement.

I almost dozed off after one long boring hour. Exactly 1935 hours, a car drove up the porch. A female figure aged about 55 stepped out from the car. That must be her. I took a quick peek at her profile before laying my eyes again on her. Yes, it’s her. There’s no mistaking. I readied myself on the AWP and my finger was ready to pull the trigger as my scope focused on her. She turned around to reveal her face for the first time. My mind went, “Yes, that’s her. It’s her. It’s... mom? MOM???” That smile on her face as she looked out to the park nearby, totally oblivious to the danger that looms over her, just evoked memories inside of me.

“This is so not happening.” I thought. “I cannot be shooting my own mother.” I remembered back my childhood days, when she raced through the rain, carrying me, just so I could see a doctor. I remembered her taking care of me when I broke my leg. Something deep inside my gut told me that was my mother. Kristy Belluc is my mother! My target is none other than my mother!!!

I loosed my finger from the rifle’s trigger. Tears flowed down my cheeks. What am I doing? I quickly took out the wireless radio given to me and reported in.

“I can’t do it. Not on my mother...”

I dropped everything there and ran off, never to be seen or heard of ever again.

Word Count:
2164 words
30 paragraphs

of crimson hearts

2008-03-20T01:10:00.004+08:00

1. two friends hugging each other.
2. a man taking a bullet meant for his friend.
3. wife and husband kissing.
4. parents staying up all night taking care of their sick child.

which of the above is love?
i'm sure your answer would be along the lines of all of the above.

love, is so abstract, that at times, it's hard to define love exactly. dictionaries have tried, but can it really define love? can love be defined in words?

what do you perceive as love?

many a times, we think we understand love. but do we actually really really understand the meaning of true love? love is now a word badly misused by the world. how many actually understand and actually mean it before going around saying "i love you" to every tom, dick and jane just so that they can hope of nurturing a relationship based around affection and attraction intensified by raging hormones?

when we think of love, what comes to mind? coupling and dating and valentines and all? we are disillusioned by what the world wants us to perceive as love. to love someone can mean just having fun together, maybe at most a caring hug or a warm smile...love does not need to be the affectous love for another...

do we truly understand what true love is?

the greatest love story isn't the one between romeo or juliet or any soap operas out there for the record. this love story is so great, that isaac watts once said, "love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all." it is also sung by rachel lampa...

No greater love than this
That you should lay down your life
For someone such as me
I'd spend a life time wondering why
The beauty of heaven is here in my heart
And I know there can be
No greater love
Than this

and indeed, it is about a man laying down his life for another. it sounds dramatic, but some argue : so what, there's a lot of people who die for their friends, or take a bullet meant for another.

but how many of you would die for your enemies? how many of you would die for one who hates you, who rejects you, who persecutes you, who humiliates you, who mocks you? and not just one, but thousands, millions of them... would you?
and this death is not just a bullet in the head where all glory goes to you and you barely suffer anything, or being sentenced to the electric chair. this was one which was humiliating and torturous.
at that time, to be hung on the cross, was the worst punishment a criminal could receive. it was a public humiliation, and only the worse of the worst criminals get it. this man took it one step further. not only was he whipped and spat at and mocked, his head was pierced with thorns and he was forced to carry his own cross for a long journey. as he walked along that mud road, the people whom he loved swore at him, mocked him. every time he stumbled, the guards, instead of helping him, whipped him to get up. and upon reaching Golgotha, the place of crucifiction, his hands and legs were pierced with nails. not those normal nails that hold chairs together, but nails that would hold giant tents up. and there he was left to die.
it would seem okay, if you were guilty of killing 4000, causing virus outbreak, torturing 70000 kids and all, but to be innocent, would you be able to do so?
we whine when we get one stroke of cane when we're innocent. yet this man, being whipped by whips that had hooks and the end designed to rip your flesh out, took all of it willingly, saying "forgive them for they know not what they do".

he's the reason we live, the reason we breathe, the reason why we have something to smile about. if he isn't, he'd better start being it. his name is Jesus.

upon his shoulders as he took up the cross, was our weight of sin. imagine carrying the weight of one man's sin. he took up the whole world's sin, for those who came and died, those who were living, and those whom were yet to see earth. and it's only by grace and love that we can stand here today, knowing that our sins are cleansed and heaven awaits us. indeed, this is love that exceeds all else, love undeserved, love so abundant, love that never fails, love that the world could never give and love that the world could never take away.

God loved us so much. are we actually responding to his love?

think you're fast?

2008-03-12T22:59:00.007+08:00

think again

about love

2008-02-09T23:52:00.000+08:00

i have to think of something....by valentines...

you are my Lord

2008-01-28T21:49:00.000+08:00

you are my Lord
heaven and earth bow before you
you are my God and i'll worship you alone

worthy is the lamb
worthy is the lamb
there is no one else like you
i'll give you all the honour that you're due
O mighty God

of apple polishing

2008-01-10T21:47:00.000+08:00

it's not about what you do in life..
it's about what you seem to be doing in life..

love

2007-12-28T18:12:00.000+08:00

love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together at the same direction...

talk too much la you...

2007-12-24T12:16:00.001+08:00

There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.

- Elie Wiesel

of tripping and crying

2007-12-13T00:17:00.000+08:00

you know...when you trip someone, you shouldn't say sorry
you should laugh..

cause sorry no cure
but laughter the best medicine..

post the hundred

2007-12-10T17:33:00.000+08:00

why boys should cook

2007-12-07T18:11:00.000+08:00

very simple answer..
cause they need to eat
cause they want to eat

hmm..
what can i say about this topic?
it's jasmine's idea..
so yea..

guys should cook cause your wife won't be with you 24-7
and one day when you're out of house and honey (quote from winnie the pooh)
you're in deep trouble when you're in the jungle (it just rhymes)

just imagine..
you're deep in the forest..
and you have only boxers on you..
you have a pot..
some wood..
a match..
yes one match, that's all you got..
once it breaks you're goners..

what will you do?

i...would look at my map and find my way out...=)

why boys shouldn't cook?

that's why you got your wives..
someone once said..
the way to the man's heart is through his stomach..
so yea..

of anions and flying transports...

2007-12-06T00:04:00.000+08:00

what's wrong with the broom award?
what's wrong with the indecency in the broom being given out publicy?

our school gives rubbish bags to the dirtiest class...
so why can't brooms be given out?

wrapping the brooms is a dumb idea...
wastage of wrapping paper..

the whole idea is meant to make the people feel the humility, not be proud to receive a broom as a gift...
if they don't want it, then start working doubly hard la..

it's because of their own slacking that earn them the "award"
so just eat the stupid humble pie and get on with it instead of making complains and all...
just think, who was wrong in the first place?
who was the ones who weren't doing their duty to full potential...?

it's all just dumb la...
if i were up there, i would give full support to the broom award..
it's a good wake up call..
and you make headlines for it..
something that will remind you never to slack again..

indeed performances not up to par deserve so much more..
the broom is considered mild..

so just shut up and get to work la people...!!!

random

2007-12-03T22:28:00.000+08:00

the air was filled with a sense of heaviness.
the rain kept hitting against the windscreen.
it was dark.
the wipers continued to move back and forth, ensuring that the driver could have a good view of the road.

sitting by the window, was a girl.
a girl, who was staring out of the window as the van drove along the road.
the van passed by the beach.
"bye beach!" said her heart.
she didn't want to leave, neither did her friend want her to leave.
she held back her tears, keeping her composure.
she put on a little forceful smile on her face.

look deep in her eyes and i'm sure you could see small droplets forming at the tearduct.
but no, she didn't want to let it show. she fought back.
it was hard to leave someone.
it was really hard.

her friend kept silent throughout the journey.
anything talk of the departure would surely trigger a flow of tears from the young girl.
to see a friend leave was devastating, knowing they won't meet again, not in near future at least.

the brakes screeched. the car came to a halt.
the sign above the door read... A-I-R-P-O-R-T
the rain continued to pour. there was no sign that it was going to stop soon.
luggages were unloaded from the trunk of the van.

she walked towards the door of the airport. her tears were already coming down.
she turned back, and rushed to the van's door and hugged her friend.
tears wet each others shoulders.
they cried and cried, knowing that this could well be the last time they saw each other.
the rest of the group looked on.
they knew nothing they said would soothe the hearts of this two girls.

thirsty

2007-12-02T23:46:00.001+08:00

you put the stars in the sky
you made the moon shine in the dark
how great are you Lord
my God

this is my cry to you
please don't pass me by
my heart longs for you day and night
it's thirsting for you
with a thirst that is unquenchable

more of you
my soul wants so much more

wise?

2007-10-19T11:44:00.000+08:00

If a million people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing.

- Anatole France

secret place...

2007-10-17T21:40:00.000+08:00

take me to that place Lord Jesus
where it's only me and you
I long for your holy presence Lord
so take me far away

away from this world
away from this world
away from this world
into your loving arms
away from this world

you are good

2007-09-26T23:39:00.000+08:00

the lamb upon the throne
the lamb upon the throne
the lamb upon the throne
we worship you

my heart's one desire is to seek your face Lord
take me
break me
mould me
make me
Lord i pray

Lord you are good all of the time
i want to live my life for you

for you are good...

overwhelming love

2007-09-25T17:40:00.001+08:00

your love, overwhelms me
your love, overwhelms me

come like a rushing wind
clothe us with power from on high
cause one touch of your hand
is more than enough

come like a mighty flood
drown us again in your love
cause day in your presence
is more than enough
it's more than enough for me

your love is enough
your grace is enough
Jesus
Jesus

2007-09-22T21:53:00.000+08:00

when you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite
winston churchill

food for thought

2007-09-11T20:12:00.001+08:00

1. Save the whales. Collect the whole set.
2 A day without sunshine is like, night.
3. On the other hand, you have different fingers.
4. I just got lost in thought. It wasn't familiar
territory.
5. 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the
spot.
6. 99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
7. I feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel
universe.
8. Honk if you love peace and quiet.
9. Remember, half the people you know are below
average.
10. He who laughs last, thinks slowest.
12. The early bird may get the worm, but the
second mouse gets the cheese.
13. I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol.
14. Support bacteria. They're the only culture
some people have.
15. Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7 of your
week.
16. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad
memory.
17. Change is inevitable, except from vending
machines.
18. Get a new car for your spouse. It'll be a great
trade!
19. Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.
20. Always try to be modest, and be proud of it!
21. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple
of payments.
22. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis?
Raise my hand.
23. OK, so what's the speed of dark?
24. How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?
25. If everything seems to be going well, you have
obviously overlooked something.
26. When everything is coming your way, you're in
the wrong lane.
27. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays
off now.
28. Everyone has a photographic memory. Some
just don't have film.
29. If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy
her friends?
30. How much deeper would the ocean be without
sponges?
31. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get
sucked into jet engines.
32. What happens if you get scared half to death
twice?
33. I used to have an open mind but my brains
kept falling out.
34. I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your
horn louder.
35. Why do psychics have to ask you for your
name?
36. Inside every older person is a younger person
wondering what happened.
37. Just remember - if the world didn't suck, we
would all fall off.
38. Light travels faster than sound, which is why
some people appear bright until you hear them
speak..
39. If life is a stage,why can't we play god?
40.Can you cry under water?
41. How important does a person have to be before they are considered
assassinated instead of just murdered?
42. Why does a round pizza come in a square box?
43. Why do you have to "put your two cents in".. .
But it's only a "penny for your thoughts"?
Where's that extra penny going to?
44. How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out
it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?
45. If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?
46. If the professor on Gilligan's Island can make a radio out of a
coconut, why can't he fix a hole in a boat?
47. Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours?
They're both dogs!
48. If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?
49. 99.3% of the time you're right. Why worry about the other 0.8%?
50. 5 out of 4 people have problems with fractions.
51. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be misquoted, then used against you.
52. Despite the cost of living, have you noticed how popular it remains?
53. Nothing is foolproof to a talented fool.
54. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.
55. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
56. I intend to live forever - so far so good.
57. Borrow money from a pessimist - they don't expect it back.
58. Quantum mechanics: The dreams stuff is made of.
59. The only substitute for good manners is fast reflexes.
60. A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.
61. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.
62. For every action there is an equal and opposite criticism.
63. Bills travel through the mail at twice the speed of checks.
64. Never do card tricks for the group you play poker with.
65. No one is listening until you make a mistake.
66. Success always occurs in private and failure in full view.
67. The hardness of butter is directly proportional to the softness of the bread.
68. The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the ability to reach it.
69. To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.
70. To succeed in politics, it is often necessary to rise above your principles.
71. You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.
72. Two wrongs are only the beginning.
73. The problem with the gene pool is that there is no lifeguard.
74. The sooner you fall behind the more time you'll have to catch up.
75. Love may be blind but marriage is a real eye-opener.

of a day after today...

2007-09-10T18:04:00.000+08:00

how many times have we procrastinated?
knowingly time waits for no man, yet we just put of lots of stuff til tomorrow...

tomorrow may be only a day away, but what if...

If tomorrow never comes
Will she know how much I loved her
Did I try in every way to show her every day
That she's my only one
And if my time on earth were through
And she must face the world without me
Is the love I gave her in the past
Gonna be enough to last
If tomorrow never comes

So tell that someone that you love
Just what you're thinking of
If tomorrow never comes

so..

why wait til tomorrow?
tomorrow may only lead to sorrow..

life's a brief candle...
the flame on it is so fragile..
a tiny puff can put off the flame...

even if you protect the flame, it's the same flame that will melt the candle and thus ending it's usage...

we know not of what will happen tomorrow..
let's live life to the fullest...
knowing well that we can rest in peace tomorrow...

I want to tell You how I feel
I never felt this way before
You make me wanna dance like
There's no tomorrow

After all the things You've done for me
I've got to tell You now
You make me wanna shout
Like there's no tomorrow

influencing the nation.

2007-09-02T17:26:00.001+08:00

click here.

for easy viewing

2007-09-02T16:55:00.000+08:00

a night with the lions part I

a night with the lions part II

a night with the lions part III

a night with the lions III

2007-08-28T17:25:00.000+08:00

continued from part II

instead of feeling excrutiating pain and blood oozing out from the wounds-to-be, he felt a slimy, soft, springy object rubbing against his face. it smelled bad, he thought. slowly, he opened one side of his eye, and then the other, expecting to be in heaven.

seeing darkness all around him, he came to his senses that he was very well alive and unhurt. "that's weird," he thought. a light filled the cave. looking at the light source, he saw a man of God sitting on a rock, patting the lionness beside him that was fast asleep.

"thus saith the Lord," the voice of the angel boomed. "Daniel, my servant. today you will live to see daylight again. for i have chosen you out of the multitudes to be a testimony of my existence to this ignorant nation. you will be my witness to kings and queens. fear not, for i am with you always."

a smile cracked from the side of Daniel's lips.

"God is good, all the time," said Daniel, as the lion continued licking his face.

a night with the lions II

2007-08-22T23:18:00.000+08:00

continued from part I

under the faint moonlight, something moved. yes. he noticed two pairs of yellow-greenish eyes staring dead into his eyes, full with the killing intent. they made eye contact with him like lovers would, just under different circumstances.

fear gripped every part of his body. he would have been choked to death by his own fear if he didn't come to his senses that God was with him. every strand of hair on his body stood straight. goosebumps mushroomed on his arms. his shirt was soaked up with sweat.

"never will i leave you, never will i forsake you."

the saying of the prophets that he knew so well. it was the thing he held on to throughtout his stay in Babylon. he fell on his knees crying as the pair of eyes closed in on him. he looked up towards the tiny crack on the ceiling of the cave and shouted, "Lord, Lord. Forsake not thy servant. If this be thy will, i commit my soul and spirit to you... into your hands... everything i am...."

the echoes of his prayer bounced on the walls of the cave.

he knew his God listened to his prayer. he let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. he put his trust entirely on God. the slight hissing from the lions became a deafening, thunderous roae. he could feel the lions pouncing towards him.

"this is it..." he thought.

parking the bus

2007-08-18T19:36:00.000+08:00

click here.

replacing a great

2007-08-18T19:34:00.000+08:00

click here.

racism

2007-08-18T19:33:00.000+08:00

click here.

one night with the lions

2007-08-12T20:36:00.000+08:00

darkness.
darkness was all around him.

it was the only thing he could see as he tried to find his way in the cave.
he couldn't even see his own hand.
he had to depend on his other senses to survive.

his nose could only smell fermented, foul smell produced by rotten bodies.
echoes of water in a distance was the only thing he could hear.
his hands felt the rough, uneven surfaces of the walls around him.

unable to see where he was walking, he tripped over a rock and stumbled.
his slight cry echoed around the cave.
he began to rub the parts that hit the floor.
he leaned back against the wall behind him and began to think for a while.

"what did i do to deserve this? i have done no wrong."

as he continued thinking, he felt silence creep upon him.
yet, he could still hear a few barely audible sounds admist the silence.
his heartbeat, his blood circulation, his nervous system.
yes. he could hear it all.
he could hear his heart beating faster and faster as time passed.
chills ran down his spine.

he began to look around, in search of a way out.
gradually, he began to see light.
moonlight.
"that's not bad." he thought to himself.

he started to make his way towards the light, unaware that he was walking into a certain death.
his death.
food to the lions, famished after staying in there unfed for days.

to be continued

a great-to-be?

2007-08-10T22:34:00.000+08:00

click here.

power of praying for another

2007-08-09T14:31:00.000+08:00

A voyaging ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and only two of the men on it were able to swim to a small, desert like island. The two survivors, not knowing what else to do, agree that they had no other recourse but to pray to God. However, to find out whose prayer was more powerful, they agreed to divide the territory between them and stay on opposite sides of the island.

The first thing the first man prayed for was food. The next morning, the first man saw a fruit-bearing tree on his side of the land, and he was able to eat its fruit. The other man's parcel of land remained barren. After a week, the first man was lonely and he decided to pray for a wife. The next day, another ship was wrecked, and the only survivor was a woman who swam to his side of the land. On the other side of the island, there was nothing. Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, more food. The next day, like magic, all of these were given to him. However, the second man still had nothing.

Finally, the first man prayed for a ship, so that his wife and he could leave the island. In the morning, he found a ship docked at his side of the island. The first man boarded the ship with his wife and decided to leave the second man on the island. He considered the other man unworthy to receive God's blessings, since none of his prayers had been answered.

As the ship was about to leave, the first man heard a voice from Heaven booming, "Why are you leaving your companion on the island?"

"My blessings are mine alone, since I was the one who prayed for them," the first man answered.

"His prayers were all unanswered, and so he does not deserve anything."

"You are mistaken!" the voice rebuked him. "He had only one prayer, which I answered. If not for that, you would not have received any of my blessings."
"Tell me," the first man asked the voice, "what did he pray for that I should owe him anything?"
"He prayed that all your prayers be answered."

For all we know, our blessings are not the fruits of our prayers alone, but those of another praying for us. When Jesus died on the cross he was thinking of you!

only you and me...

2007-08-01T15:57:00.000+08:00

"the art of losing myself, in bringing you praise."
"take me to that place Lord, where there's no one else but me and you."
"when it's all about you Lord."

those sound so familiar eh?
yes. they are the songs we sing...
but do we ever mean it?
have you ever been seriously lost in God's presence as you worship?
or are you still the self-concious you that worries about what people think of the way you worship, how you sing, how you dance, how you jump around...?

you may sing like a diva.
you may sing like a toad.

but does that really matter?
God looks at the heart and not the outward appearance.

sometimes, your hands may be in your pocket yet your heart is lifted up to God.
that's is what God wants.
God doesn't want someone who can sing like superstars, with arms high and on your knees and yet not coming with a right attitude and not having a heart of worship.

you think God cares about how well you can sing?

don't say you have sorethroat or whatever excuse.
although born with a broken voicebox, one guy still opened his mouth and sang his heart out to God, not caring about how bad he sounded.
because in his heart, all he wants to do is worship.
because " for a song in itself, it's not what you have required."

don't say you're soft spoken and can't sing out loud. imagine you're in the middle of the ocean. drowning, that is. suddenly you see a boat passing by. wouldn't you scream with all your might to be saved?

likewise God has saved you from the flames of hell. shout unto God...with a voice of truimph.

stupidity knows its master.

2007-07-30T15:59:00.000+08:00

looking at the pimples on her forehead as she sat opposite him in the bus, he finally came to his senses.

this was not love.
love is blind.
love sees through the outer look.
this was not it.
he was no longer attracted to her as she had blemish on her face.

to think he would never love a person because of looks
to think how stupid he thought were the people that dated with another because of looks and not love

now...
he was part of that stupidity.

"sigh," he thought. "how could this be happening to me?"

he looked at the girl but he knew his heart was no longer after her.
he couldn't even look in her eyes anymore.
it was over.

to think that he once thought they would last forever.
to think that he thought he'd continue to love her even if she was horrifically disfigured.

he finally awoke to his senses.

"i'm just so stupid."

plain stupidity, otherwise known as puppy love.
that's what it was all about.
he was going to break her heart.
the heart of someone who had put so much hope in their relationship.

he could take it no more.
he stopped the bus and got off.
he sat forlornly on the bus stop bench with his head hung low.
tears started to drop on the handphone he held in his palms.

"i'm sorry... so sorry..."

keep that guy in your pocket.

SK-II...available in stores nearest to you. =]

dedicated to samuel ong and elena lai.

isaiah 49v15

2007-07-18T16:07:00.001+08:00

An icy cold feeling rushed through his body. He could feel his limbs under him wobbling. He clinged on to the railings of the corridor for support as he struggled to make his way to the classroom. Images in front of him began to blur up. Fatigue crawled into every inch of his body like Venom over Spiderman. Suddenly, his legs gave way and on the spot he lay motionless.

“Teacher, teacher!” blurted John as he interrupted Mrs Foo’s class. He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing, “Andy has fainted!”

A few of us rush out to carry that 74kg being. Finding out that the resting room with the beds were lock, the five of us took him to the prefects’ room and laid him on the floor. Miss Lee, our physical exercise teacher came to check on him.
“He must be dehydrated. Go get him some warm Milo.”

We took off his sweat-soaked shirt and covered him with a blanket. His forehead showed signs of fever, yet out from his trembling lips were, “Very co...veh...very cold...”

“How are you feeling now?”
“Cold...cold...very numb...can’t feel...can’t...”

His fingers began to tense up and as though it was experiencing a cramp. Mark and Miss Lee began to rub his fingers and asked us to elevate his legs above his heart. Using John as a back support, we made him slowly sip the Milo to recuperate his energy.

“I think we need to call his mom.” Miss Lee said. “He isn’t doing too well.” Another teacher then went off to the office to call his mom. The now relaxed body of Andy started to tense up again. His eyes still shut; he shook around like he was having a nightmare.

“Don... don’t call he...her.... don’t call my mom to come.” His breathing started to grow heavy. Cold sweat broke out from his forehead. “Don’t....call.”
“Why?”
“Don’t call....”

He continued to squirm around in this nightmare mode. We held him as Miss Lee calmed him down. All of us there were puzzled. Why doesn’t he want his mom to come? We looked at each other, but inside we knew that question was not going to be answered anytime soon.

“Why?” Miss Lee went again. “Why don’t you want your mom to come?”
“Don’t call my mom.”

That was the only reply that came out from his mouth. His eyes were still shut. And by now he had finished the Milo we bought. We all sat around him and waited for his mom to come. The only sounds that could be heard was the creaking of the old ceiling fan turning at the speed of two on top of us and the panting of Andy. His fingers began to loosen up and he looked more relaxed compared to when he first came in. That momentary silence was broken by a voice only familiar to a few of us.

“Son. How are you son?”

We all looked up. There was his mom. There was no mistake as they closely resembled each other. He had her eyes, her mouth, and her cheeks. She had wrinkles on her forehead and we could all see the worried look in her eyes as she took of her shoes and walked towards Andy who was still lying down in the centre of the room. She knelt down and picked his head up and hugged him. “Son, how are you?” she said in a gentle voice.

Andy, eyes still shut, said in a soft voice, “Don’t call my mom.”

His mom looked surprised but continued to stroke his head. “Don’t worry. Mommy’s here. Good boy.”
“I told....I told you not to....not...not to come...” he was breathless, yet he tried to push her away with every bit of strength left in him, but to no avail. “Go...go away. I told you not to...come...”

She held him tighter in her embrace.
“Sa gua (silly in Chinese), mommy’s here. Why don’t you want me to come?” she said as she continued to comb his hair with her fingers.

His eyes were still shut as tears began to flow. It was a touching moment. Anyone could tell in his heart he was glad his mom came, yet he continued, “I told...you not.... I told you....”

His lips trembled even further. He failed to finish his sentence as he lay in his mother’s arms. It was a mother-son bonding session. Andy’s mom wiped the tears from his face with her palms.

“Sa gua, don’t talk like that.”

Isaiah 49
15 "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!

16 See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me.

ada udang di sebalik batu

2007-07-17T21:08:00.000+08:00

1. I love you not because of who you
are, but because of who I am when I am
with you..

2. No man or woman is worth your
tears, and the one who is, won't make
you cry.

3. Just because someone doesn't love
you the way you want them to, doesn't
mean they don't love you with all they
have.

4. A true friend is someone who
reaches for your hand and touches your
heart.

5. The worst way to miss someone is to
be sitting right beside them knowing
you can't have them.

6. Never frown, even when you are sad,
because you never know who is falling
in love with your smile.

7. To the world you may be one person,
but to one person you may be the world.

8. Don't waste your time on a
man/woman, who isn't willing to waste
their time on you.

9. Maybe God wants us to meet a few
wrong people before meeting the right
one, so that when we finally meet the
person, we will know how to be
grateful.

10. Don't cry because it is over,
smile because it happened.

11. There's always going to be people
that hurt you so what you have to do
is keep on trusting and just be more
careful about who you trust next time
around.

12. Make yourself a better person and
know who you are before you try and
know someone else and expect them to
know you.

13. Don't try so hard, the best things
come when you least expect them to.

REMEMBER: WHATEVER HAPPENS, HAPPENS
FOR A REASON.

wet pants - the power of prayer.

2007-07-16T14:01:00.000+08:00

There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives.

The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, "Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I'm dead meat."

He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered. As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap.

The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself,
"Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!"

Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk.

The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie.

She tries to help, but they tell her to get out.
"You've done enough,you klutz!"

Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants once too."

lightbulb inspired

2007-07-12T21:22:00.000+08:00

many of life failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up. -Thomas Edison.

of sorrows and sparrows

2007-07-12T16:36:00.000+08:00

we have no right to ask when sorrows come, "why did this happen to me?" unless we ask the same question for ever joy that comes our way.
Phillip S. Bernstein.

I'm trading my sorrow
I'm trading my shame
I'm laying it down for the joy of the Lord

I'm trading my sickness
I'm trading my pain
I'm laying it down for the joy of the Lord

And we say yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord
Yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord
Yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord Amen

I'm pressed but not crushed persecuted not abandoned
Struck down but not destroyed
I'm blessed beyond the curse for his promise will endure
And his joy's gonna be my strength

Though the sorrow may last for the night
His joy comes with the morning

a picture paints a thousand words.

2007-07-06T19:50:00.000+08:00

perception.

2007-07-05T18:27:00.000+08:00

Thomas Edison, after thousands of unsuccessful attempts to invent the lightbulb, said, "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."

a day in school

2007-06-27T22:22:00.001+08:00

a miracle.

2007-06-23T19:28:00.001+08:00

Tess was a precocious eight years old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the money for the doctor bills and our house. Only a very costly surgery could save him now and it was looking like there was no-one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, "Only amiracle can save him now."

Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too intently talking to another man to be bothered by an eight year old at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick ... and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you." the pharmacist said, softening a little.

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?"

"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs a operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money. "How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents -- the exact price of a miracle for little brothers." He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. "That surgery," her mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Tess smiled and said, "One dollar and eleven cents."

just in case you still wonder...

2007-06-20T23:24:00.000+08:00

yes. i have to say this for the umpteen time. this blog is still in function.
and yes. i do have another blog. to insert all the crap in the world.
therefore if you feel for some serious stuff, do come here.
if you want something light, go the other blog.

both are still updated as much as possible.

life is not about stress.

2007-06-17T15:13:00.000+08:00

the world is no longer how it used to be. everything is moving so fast. humans are facing so much pressure, striving for excellence. the human race no longer enjoys a slow, relaxed life in the city. even panadol™ has come up with a painkiller, namely Panadol ActivFast to suit the face-paced world.

much of the cause of all these pressures are due to the kiasu syndrome that has crept into the minds of us. being the thick-skin people, we always want to be better than our neighbours, not wanting to be left behind... these result in the big S word, stress.

stress. not something uncommon neither an alien to us. with the push of the people around us to achieve more, we suffer from stress. students nowadays face so much stress til they start getting white hair, sometimes pimples and even dandruff (in jasmine's case). some even suffer from emotional breakdown etc.

we should overcome stress and not let it overcome us. like samuel says, consumeth the crap, but don't let it consume you. stress can lead to alot of other symptoms or disorders like depression, mental disorder, suicidal thoughts and many more. it can also lead to drug addiction and alcohol if the person is not educated well on the dangers of cigarettes, drugs and alcohol.

there are many ways to overcome stress. a time-table will help us. it helps us to divide our time properly and help us to focus on what we are to achieve. having a timetable will help you lead a more systematic life and take one thing at a time.

a good studying habit is vital for us. many people tend to burn midnight oil before exams (wasting the earth's resources.sigh), but that should not be the way. a good night's rest is very important to us as we are in the growing stage. we should study on a regular basis with breaks in between long study hours. do not wait for the last minute.

exercise can reduce stress, according to world-renowned psychologists' reports. therefore, we should inject a zest of sports into our daily life to help us relax. eating habits also affects us. as the saying goes, we are what we eat. we should avoid foods that are junk.

once in a while, we should seek time-out for hobbies, leisure, entertainment and the like. if we keep studying without a break, our mind will not be able to intake everything. other than that, if we cannot take the stress of life any longer, we should seek help from more experience people, namely teachers and counsellors.

we should not look towards drugs to overcome stress. instead, we should use healthy habits to live a stress-free life. say no to stress, say no for a better future.

guided writing. english paper 1 may 2007.

an memorable experience

2007-06-16T01:06:00.001+08:00

0431 hours. tossing and turning on my bed, i just can't get my eyes to shut tight and my brain to rest. must be the lousy caffein kicking in at the wrong time. just something in me made me fiddle around with my phone. scrolling through my inbox, i saw a message that had me thinking about the past.

it was half a year ago. i was then a high school sports jock. my school life was all about sports, sports and more sports. studies, that can wait for later, maybe even never. my academic performance was so horrible, it looked like vegetable. ok. maybe not. but it was so bad til i was called to be lectured by the principal. it was that moment then, that my parents were aware of my results and had me enrolled into for tuition. i was forced to take up every subject, including the killer for me, additional maths.

normally, i would go for badminton training before heading of to the centre. the training would go on for a few good hours and would burn me out. tuition was my sleeping place. not to mention the fantastic air-conditioning that allowed me to enjoy the trip to dreamland.

til one day. she had a face of an angel, hair of a sunsilk girl, and a smile so sweet that i knew i caught diabetes. figuratively, that is. the moment she stepped into that room, the whole atmosphere in tuition changed.

like caffein, her presence just knocked out every bit of tiredness inside of me. everytime she asked a question, her voice would melt my heart like an ice cube in a cup of coffee.

my buddy, noticing that i was attracted to her, challenged me to ask her for her phone number. being the usual me, i would not reject dares because of the thick skin on my face. maybe it's about time i get olay regenerist serum. okay, maybe not. we set a deadline, and also prize money.

however, circumstances stood in my way, and many a times i had to see her leave class early without getting to talk to her. sometimes, when it was finally "the chance", i busted it by shying away.

time and tide waits for no man. to prevent me from losing the bet and a good amount of money, i said to myself. today is the day. the day her phone number would be saved in my phonebook.

i went to class early to get her number so even if she went back early, i wouldn't miss the chance.

pacing back and forth in front of the class, my heart pounded at 136 beats per minute. cold sweat broke from my forehead as i glanced at the clock. it's two more minutes. where is she??

that anticipation and suspense was broken as a person opened the door. she stepped inside of the class and i duly followed her. why? because the "she" was my tuition teacher. sigh. "why?" my heart screamed out. why isn't she her? why can't the person that walked through that door be her? why must it be the teacher?? throughout class, my mind was all about her. nothing else. could barely hear a word the teacher spoke, let alone understand it.

after class, i inquired of her whereabouts from the clerk in charge. yes, the most beautiful thing in the world just had to happen. she stopped tuition. my heart skipped a beat or two as i slumped into the chair behind me, nearly breaking it under my weight. to think that she actually passed me by. for a moment or two, i swear i could have torn my hair off.

that was half a year ago. about a month ago, i managed to meet her again at a shopping mall. this time, i made sure there were no banana peels on my pathway, that is, no slip-ups. and as they say, the rest is his story. oops. history.

0734 hours the clock reads. come to think of it, i already miss her sweet voice although it's only a week i haven't met her.

am i obsessed? we'll find out. i hit the call button and we had a good 4 hour chat.

(687 words)
dedicated to him. in case you thought i sounded like a desperado, this is not my creation. the main idea is done by my friend for his english exam and a little snipping here and there and poof, it became koko krunch.

world environmental day

2007-06-11T20:39:00.001+08:00

save a tree. stop doing homework. it's wasting paper.

sorry folks.

2007-06-07T19:08:00.000+08:00

click here.

when two become one...

2007-06-03T23:40:00.000+08:00

marriage. the day, the night, when two are linked toghether to be one. never to be separated. til death takes over.

that is marriage.

but is that the marriage that we know of now?
do you actually see couples passing the golden anniversary nowadays?

people need love. they crave for love.
but they don't understand love.
love is sacred and pure.

how many couples actually understand true love before they marry?
how many actually have had a deep thought about the marriage vows.

"for better for worse for richer for poorer, til death do us apart."
"i do."

or do you not?
nowadays people want divorces even over the smallest matter.
they don't try to overcome obstacles together.
love doesn't conquer anything anymore.

guys love to say "i'll cross mountains and oceans for you."
then when a rainy day comes, "sorry dear, no transport lar..."

don't say things you can't do.
if you really mean your marriage vow then don't divorce.

divorce rates are at such a bad level that emails that circulate state this.
the new oxford dictionary.
divorce: the future tense of marriage.

how saddening is that?

marriage is suppose to be something beautiful.
something to be shared for life.
something that only happens once.

what is love?
do you understand love?
love is patient.

you're suppose to be patient with your spouse.
to love them.
to go through hard times together.
to try and overcome differences.
not to threathen them with lawyer letters.

love is not easily angered.
you're suppose to tolerate.

love does not remember wrong.
don't go and say "eh last time you this this that that...."
it doesn't work that way.

love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
how much trust do you have in your spouse?
are you willing to persevere?

God is love.
the gel to a successful marriage is love.
therefore no God, no successful marriage.

the bible talks all about marriages.
follow it, and you're bound to last.

the night that two becomes one, it's not suppose to be separated anymore.
not even by death.
somewhere deep down inside your heart, he/she still lives so dear to you.

marriage.
its not about looks.
you don't love someone cause of their looks.
if one day, touch wood, your spouse had the most horrific accident, would you still love her/him?
if he/her grew into a 200-pound beauty, where would your heart lie?
would you still look at them the way you looked them in the eye when you stood at the altar?
are you going to be like the cartoon below?

and when you say you give them your heart, mean it.
like pirates 3, where will turner literally gives his heart to the one he loves.

other than love, respect plays a big part.
do you respect your spouse?
do you respect yourself?
are you willing to respect all their decisions?
are you willing to tahan your eyes when a pretty girl walks past?

love and respect.
yes.
does your marriage have this two items?

i shall end my writings with a poem.

Before marriage. .
Darling here.. darling there...
After marriage.
Baling here... baling there..

Before marriage. .
I die for u. . .
After marriage.
"U die, up to u. "
Lagi lama married. .
U die I help u!

Before marriage. .
U go anywhere. . I follow u.
After marriage. . .
U go anywhere. . up to u.
Lagi lama married. . .
U go anywhere better get lost!!

Before wedding
u are my heart, u are my love"
After wedding
"u get on my nerves. "

Before wedding
"u are sweet and kind just like
Cinderella"
After wedding
"u are worse than godzila"

Before wedding
Roses are red, violets are blue. Like it or
not, I'm
stuck with u
After wedding
Roses are dead, I am blue.U get on
my head, I
will sue u

before wedding
Every makan he brings u to Shangri-La
After wedding
U want to go, he says u wait-la

before wedding
She looks like Anita Sarawak
After wedding
Don't know whether katak or biawak.....

+++++
yes. to you-know-who-you-are. satisfied mo?