Poetic Prose

2006-09-06T02:23:00.000+08:00

:: Deq Vioraq - The Towers Of Sebalon [prologue]::

Unbearable heat was beating down on his shoulders, but what could he do? Nothing. There were no windows, doors, lose tiles or any hope of an escape route. Even if there was, he was pinned to the wall with ball and chain; impossible to escape.

It wouldn't take hours to kill one in that inferno. Minutes in there and blood would boil; veins would pop; brains would fry; and heads would drop. Sweating profusely, he opened his eyes slightly, to a flame in the centre of the room. His gaze was already hypnotised by the heat. Black flame...? he discerned dreamily as the last bit of consciousness leaked through his empty gaze once again. His head lolled over his shoulders, held back only by the coagulating muscles of his neck and the disintegrating bones of his spine. His mind shut down, dead. Precious atoms of life were expelled through his pores, forming a cloud of silver dust around him. When all were through, they fabricated themselves into a long, silky fibre of pure Vingere*. The virgin Vingere shot forward into the depths of the black flame and then, the ignition extinguished itself, leaving the room in infernal darkness. Suddenly, the heat was displaced by sub-zero temperatures and the body dipped into gelidity. Thick hair whiskered from his open pores and his skin cracked. The ice spread across his body, crackling as it marched on, leaving not one bit of warmth in its wake. Crystal vines crept up the walls of the stone tower, devouring every bit of heat foolish enough to disdain the departure of the ebony embers. All that was left was the cold blackness of the tower.

Outside, was a large forest. An Amazon of stone towers. Stone towers similar to that of which he was in. The one of which he died in. Yet, he was not the only one. Just one pawn in a game of chess. His life never mattered.

2006-08-23T20:20:00.000+08:00

:: The Prostitute ::

Her name was Alice. A name for a decent, smart girl; or so I thought. I had known her since secondary school - same class for two years. She was a rather close friend, and I got to know about her fragmented life. She had a broken family: a mother who could not care less, an abusive alcoholic brother, and a divorced convict father. She got caught for taking drugs and alcohol. And to be honest, if she were not in her depressed, drugged-induced state, I bet she would be the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen. I told her that she was special, but that was just to prevent her from killing herself.

Thirty-seven points. That was what she achieved in the 'O' levels. Where was she to go? Stalled at the crossroads of life, she took a nasty turn down the deep dark ally of Geylang. The Red-Light district, as people would call it. That was where she met her first boyfriend, who sold her off to the brothel and got her to sell her body. He said that it was a form of love. She believed him. And with that faith, she lost her virginity, her pride, and her friends. That included me.

Two years passed, and I had long forgotten about the girl who sold herself.

*~*

It was a warm, humid day as I hurried along the pavements of the Emperess Place. Just in time!. I marched into the Arts House where the exhibition was held. The lady at the door showed me in and directed me up the stairs where I found myself staring at long corridors of artwork. Oil-on-canvas, paint-on-wood, charcoal-on-paper; it was an artist paradise. As I passed the several lounges, there were even sculptures! Clay, porcelain, bronze, marble and even gold! I could not help but smile to myself. A friend of mine had told me about this exhibition and it certainly met my expectations. All these artworks were on sale and I was so tempted to whip out a cheque book and purchase every single one of them. However, aware of my limited funds and the fact that I did not actually have a cheque book, I refrained from even thinking.

Then, something caught my eye. Long silky hair. Jet Black. Tall and slim figure, strangely familiar. Was it her? I thought. There, stood a girl in a long white dress, pondering over a piece of artwork. I walked closer to her. She did not notice me.

"Alice?" I whispered to her.

"Er.. Oh. OH! Benn! What are you doing here? What a pleasant surprise!"

"I'm here to look at art. You too?"

"Yea... I really like it. It somehow... calms my soul."

There, we stood together, soaking up the artistic ambience that the gallery provided us with. For a moment, it was as though we were alone, a world with no worries nor cares. Alice was indeed right. And so was I. She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. All of a sudden, my previous disgust of her as a prostitute had vanished. She melted my heart.

"I never knew you appreciated art," I whispered to her, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"I never knew I did too," she replied, her eyes still glued on to the canvas.

It was amazing what that single moment did. Strangely, she had become such an amazing girl. Nothing like the one I had remembered two years ago. Bleeding wrist, small bottles of detergent she would attempt to drink, and walks on the rooftop where I would find her and persuade her not to step past the line of no return. This Alice was decent. Beautiful. Perfect.

"Alice," I finally spoke again. "You know something?"

"Mmm?" She turned to face me.

"You're really special..." and I kissed her.

This time, I meant it.

2006-08-14T22:09:00.000+08:00

:: English Mock Examinations, VS ::

Write about an important decision that you had to make which affected your relationship with someone special.

*~*

'Yes, Mum' I looked into my mother's eyes, unsure if I were to look sorry about my decision. I had noticed the sudden change in her mood whenever I mentioned it before. She would always turn away and sigh, her shoulders drooping down in disappointment and hurt. After all, I was only twenty, and I was still my mother's little boy. A twenty year old, but forever a child in my mother's loving eyes. I could not blame her for this, but neither could I stay on under the watchful eye of my mother anymore. I needed privacy.

Ash. I had that name carved on the inner side on the ring. She was the love of my life, and she still is. I had decided to move out with her into a small studio apartment. My mother was not very willing to let me go. I decided nevertheless. From the moment I dragged the last of the boxes out of the house, I was out of the care and guardianship of my mother. Things went down hill after that, but little did I know.

I left the cradle I grew up in, the room I slept in, and most importantly, I left the person who had given everything to me. A new chapter of my life began, leaving the settings of the previous. New 'main characters' replaced the old, and my world now revolved around a different person. The ring was now on Ash's fourth finger, where it was destined to be. Like every other newly-weds, we shared moments of intimacy. We kissed, we hugged, we made love. All in the new found privacy of our home. Sadly for my mother, she had always chosen the wrong time to call. In actual fact, there was no right time. In the morning, Ash and I were out working. In the evenings, we had dinner together in the hawker center near out place. At night, we unplugged the phone while we had out passionate moments. My mother was never granted audience.

Caught up in my job, in my family and in my life, it rarely occurred to me to visit my mother. Plans were often postponed due to 'unforeseen circumstances'. Three months passed and the only contact I made with my mother was through our shared bank account - once a month. Sometimes, I would find notes on the 'welcome' mat from my mother, saying that she missed me. I kept them, but I never replied. I did not miss her. I felt as if we were no longer mother and son. It was as though she had disappeared, when in actual fact, it was I that had done so. I wonder why my conscience did not prick me.

Another two months and only one visit and twelve minutes of phone calls. The relationship with my mother had dwindled to that of a distant friend. She gave up calling and I thought of her even lesser. We drifted apart. Ash seemed to notice it as well and had urged me to pay a visit. I agreed without a thought. This was unbecoming of the perfect son I used to be.

As I drove into the carpark, I felt as though I was going to meet a stranger. I shivered. Had we drifted that far apart? I walked mindlessly into the lift and went up to the seventeenth floor. I was still filled with uncertainty. I was still very unsure of my feelings.

'Honey? Are you okay?'

I wake from my thoughts, realising that I am still standing at the door of the place I used to live. Twenty years...

'Dear, you've been standing here motionless for two minutes... ...'

2006-06-22T14:32:00.000+08:00

:: Broken :: [VS SA1, Paper 1]

The bell rang, calling the day to another abrupt end. Along with many others, I packed my bag quickly while the teacher issued last reminders about the upcoming tests over the constant chitter and chatter of the students. 'Like anyone would listen,' I thought. 'At least not me.' I swung my Von Dutch bag over my shoulder and left the room, shirt untucked and unkempt.

I paced the distance to the school gates. Five hundred and seventy eight. That was the shortest route I found. A shorter and quicker way to freedom. But I know, deep inside, that the pacing was pointless - it was far from accurate. I did it anyway. It killed time.

'Where to?' I thought out loud. I did not want to go home. Did I even have one? Well I remember having a small little concrete cage; An empty shell. If I wanted to be optimistic, an empty house was ideal, and lucky to have. For when it was occupied, I would be caught between a crossfire of vulgarities and expletives. I would rather go home to an empty house.

My sleek silver nokia buzzed to a syncopated rhythm. It was my 'brothers'. They were the ones who bought me the phone.

'Eh bro! Come PP. We got good stuff for you.'

'K. gimmie 5' I replied the SMS and boarded the bus service 197, which had just arrived. In l than give minutes, the buss pulled over into the bus bay at the bus stop and almost everone, including myself, streamed out into the Parkway district. There were my 'brothers', waiting for me.

I met the three of them about a month ago at the LAN shop, Zion, while playing DOTA(Defence Of The Ancients), a popular online game. They accepted me in to their trio after i displayed my skills at the game. All of them were impressed and we 'hung out' together ever since.

'Eh brother, come. We bring you go enjoy!' the gang leader told me, and the four of us went to Zion for a few games. They pulled me to a corner of the shop and offered me a tube of clear liquid. I drank it without thinking. And as the liquid entered my body, there was a sudden release of adrenalin that surged through my body. Gosh, it felt good! My 'brothers' smiled at me and commented in hokkien, 'He seems to like it alot.'

Within the next few hours, I took three more doeses. I was extremely high, and barely controllable. The next few minutes however, was a blur, and too fast for my drugged mind to register.

My brothers vanished. Three policemen took their places. The next thing i know, i was at the police station. Still, i was too high to feel worried or scared; too drugged to realise that my life was about to fall apart; too weak to shake myself out of exstacy's grip.

My mother cried. My father cared not. And my sister was probably having sex with one of her boyfriends. That was the family i had. I was detained, waiting to be sentenced. I knew i was going to the Boys Home but somewhere inside me, i was hoping my brothers would save me. Fat Chance. That was to dream, and i knew that well.

The stroke of the hammer etched a police record into my life. That simple action sent me away to hell on earth; that simple stroke engraved a mark into my mind; and that simple thud hammered a blow into my heart. Lament. How i wished that it would help. Regret. It would not bring me anywhere better. There was nothing i could do but wait till the term was over.

So here i lie, dead and lifeless. Scarred. Broken.

Family, broken.
Heart, broken.
Trust, broken.
Friendship, broken.
Life, broken; shattered.

All, never to be mended or healed.

They say time heals all wounds. They're wrong.

2005-09-30T21:28:00.000+08:00

:: The Modern World ::

The modern society - a fascist world. The ostracization of the non-conforming. And when would people learn to accept...

Martin paused. Scanning the surroundings, he stepped through the rusted iron fates of the school. It was still dark as he hurried along the empty corridors. Since young, he had tried his best to avoid attention. Not that he wanted so much to be a loner, just that along with the attention that he got, came mockery. Names like cultural freak and mad musician were pretty much usual. How he wished all that would stop.

As Martin continued along the perimeter of the parade square, he noticed a trio of kittens. One black, two white. It was quite evident what was happening. "Even in the animal kingdom, at such early periods of life, ostracization still occurs," he thought. He knows how it was like to be a victim of fascism. When he snapped back to reality, the white kittens had left, leaving the little ebony fur ball, curled up and forsaken. He took pity.

The little kitten rested on Martin’s lap, her eyes gently shut as he stroked her behind her ears. Though Martin had only seen the kitten for the first time, he felt he loved her more then anything in the world.

"I know how it feels kitty; I've been through that all my life."

She stared back at him with her large, round eyes, as though she understood.

Martin placed Kitty on the podium and opened his violin case. "Kitty, this is for you. Moonlight Serenade, by Klaus Badelt," and under the soft, comforting incandescence of the dim moonlight, he played, eyes closed, as if he had entered the music itself.

The first note resonated through the night sky, and the moon smile back down at him with her perfectly arched lips. Kitty blinked as she listened to the slow, mellow sounds of the violin.

Martin was so engrossed, he did not notice the sun had already crept over the horizon. And all of a sudden, he was awakened by the same mockery he had heard for eons. The very same derision that was brought about by his idiosyncratic ways.

"Haha! Look! It's the cultural freak! Playing to a cat!" Laughter shattered the early morning serenity. So much for his serenade...

Martin quickly packed his violin in his case and turned to leave, picking up little Kitty from the podium.

"Stop right there, FREAK!"

Martin shouldn't have stopped. As soon as he turned his head, a large fist landed right in his face.

Laughter sounded. The once dark, serene and lonely parade square was now lit, noisy and crowded. He should have know better than to hang around after the first rays of the morning sun; after the train of busses dropped of their passengers; after the darkness swiftly and silently left.

Martin staggered backwards, his arms around the little feline, protecting her from any harm; and just as he turned to make his from further derision, Kittle leapt out of his arms, onto the aggressor’s face, leaving behind three, long, fresh, red streaks across his cheek. Then, she ran off with Martin, her new found friend.

The couple hid in a toilet cubicle as thoughts started to settle upon Martin. Is it only that the same outcasted people can accept each other? And that no one else would? How is it that just small differences set people apart? Martin sighed, still stroking little Kitty behind her ears...

The modern society - still a fascist world. The ostracization of non-conforming. And where people will never learn to accept...

2005-09-20T17:35:00.000+08:00

:: Two Sides of the Coin ::

One tells head
One speaks tail
One skin tan
One face pale
One full suit
One piece loin
One more look
One same coin

*~*

post poem prose

following this is a four part short story titled *Two Sides of the Coin. do look out for it, and hope you would enjoy it.

* story might be delayed as it is now the exam period.

2005-08-15T20:24:00.000+08:00

:: Fish in Shallow Water (Part III) ::

It was a dim-lit room; not very big but the furniture, though few, played a great part in making the room seem spacious. There, in the centre, stood a tall figure, covered with a large piece of cloth. A few rays of evening sun shot through the quartet of small round windows installed on the ceiling.

“Well, Issie…” Zen paused. It was, after all, Isabelle’s birthday(Zen hadn’t mentioned anything about it since morning. Though Isabelle was a little disappointed, she was more worried about Zen’s condition throughout the day). “Here it is. There. Um… Happy Birthday,” and he pulled off the large, grey cloth off the mysterious object.

“Wow…” Isabelle stood there in awe. There, before her, was a large portrait of Isabelle herself. It was simply a work of skilled art. An exact replica, capturing the most beautiful side of her. The gentle arc in her smile, the light pinkish-red in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes. It was almost like the Isabelle in the painting would just come alive.

Isabelle just simply stared. It was unthinkable how much time Zen spent on it. One week? Or maybe two? All she knew was that Zen did spend time and effort doing it for her. With that thought, she flung her arms around Zen and whispered into his ear. “Thank you. How sweet of you. I thought you forgot…” then gave him a peck on the cheek. Isabelle almost could have sworn that Zen had blushed.

*~*

Things didn’t seem to end there. Zen brought her to another place.

“This is really no art I created,” said Zen as they entered an area, possibly closer to the surface then the room before. “This is the greatest art ever created,” Zen continued. “And a took a piece of for the both of us. This, is nature.”

Zen reached out for Isabelle’s hand as they walked up the gentle sloping plains of the backyards of Zen’s heart. As they reached the surface again from Zen’s underground art gallery, the last rays of evening sun sneaked away into the horizon. Suddenly, stars started emerging from their hideouts, like little flowers blossoming on the arrival of warm spring after a freezing winter. The moon looked down at them with her arced and thin smile.

There, they stared up at the heavens above.

“It’s so beautiful, Zen. Just so beautiful,” Isabelle whispered to Zen.

“So what if it’s beautiful? No use if it’s incomplete…”

“Why? What’s missing?”

“Something… Someone… I can only wait…”

“Someone? Who?”

Zen paused. “Someone who would love my art. Someone deep down in my heart. Someone I am talking to. And that someone would be you.”

Isabelle held Zen’s hand close to her heart. She gave him another peck on the cheek and whispered, “Well, you won’t have to wait anymore.”

2005-08-10T21:00:00.000+08:00

:: Fish in Shallow Water (Part II) ::

It was simply ingenious.

Zen took nine paces from the extreme right end of the wall and stopped. He groped about the ivy hide and finally found what he was looking for. Lifting up the curtain of vines, Isabelle could see an old wooden door; one of those that looked as if it would break with just a light knock, but somehow, somewhere within, it had a sturdy and trustworthy character to it. This was just like in fairy tales, where characters have secret hideouts where they can hold secret rendezvous, or like a secret garden that was meant to be forgotten and unfound. This one looked like Zen’s secret garden, meant to be unfound and unforgotten. A secret place where he could just pour out all his emotions. And Isabelle was right. Everything that was behind the door was everything Zen had inside him. Maybe not everything, but at least then, almost.

Unlocking the door with an old metal key, Zen kicked it open. He held up the curtain of vines and invited Isabelle in.

“I hope you’ll like this place,” Zen whispered to Isabelle as she slowly walked through the door, unsure of what was to expect.

It was a marvel. Behind the ivy walls, locked and kept away from urbanisation and civilisation, was Zen’s true home, where he felt he truly belonged.

There was a small mending path, outlined by rows of pink flowers. All around were lush greenery. There were flowers of different colours, put together nicely in such a way it brought out the beauty of not only the flowers themselves, but also the whole garden. Stationed in a corner, stood a particularly prominent, dark, muscular tree. Spreading his branches over a large area of the garden, it looked as if it was guarding the land from contamination and influence of corruption. The path eventually lead to another door, one that did not exactly lead to a house or a room. Angled at a thirty degree from the ground, it was more of a trap door then a door. It had a small glass window in the middle.

Isabelle peeped in through the glass but it was far to dark inside to see anything.

“Issie? Do come in to take a look. I’ve got something I would like you to see,” smiled Zen.

Zen seemed so much happier being here, in his secret garden. It seemed as though the garden totally changed his mood and made him a happier person. It seemed just magical.

Stepping through the second door, Isabelle felt as if she was stepping into Zen; entering his soul, his heart, his space, his art. She could feel like Zen was all around her. The whole place was really Zen, and just Zen alone.

Just right after the door, was a slope downwards. Isabelle paused. She peered into the darkness, roughly able to make out a few pictures framed on the walls around her. Ahead was far too dark to be seen.

Zen shut the door behind them, dimming the corridor into totally darkness, except for a single bean shining through the small glass window. Then, Zen did the most ingenious thing; or at least to Isabelle it was. Through the darkness, he reached out a pushed a moveable panel. It was a mirror. Having it pushed into the right place, it reflected the single bean, which hit another mirror, carefully angled and positioned to catch and pass on the single ray. Within seconds, the whole corridor was illuminated.

“That’s about the brightest it gets. I can’t afford to pay for electricity,” Zen grinned at Isabelle, who was there, rooted in the spot, jaw-dropped wide. “Well Issie, this is it. This is my home.”

The light did carry pretty far down, but after a while, Zen had to light up candles to look around. All along, during the trip down the slope, Isabelle was entertained by beautiful pictures framed on the walls. Zen’s art… Everything felt so… Zen.

to be continued...

2005-08-10T20:40:00.000+08:00

:: Fish in Shallow Water (Part I) ::

Doing what you want to do,
Denying what your bidding.
Is it possibly possible?
Or is it simply forbidding.

Zen put down his pen and sighed. Why is everything not going my way?

At the back of the class, Zen was rather safe from the teacher’s view. Again, like always, he was feeling horrid. Drowning. He feared what he feared most. And that would be loosing what loved and believed in most. He felt that things were simply slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do about it. He hated it.

“Zen? Zen, you okay?” He felt a gentle tapping on his arm. It was Isabelle. She would be one of the few people who would actually come close to understanding him. Where everyone called him freak, she called him genius, which was in fact, true. He was a very bright boy. Fast learner. Talented in many areas. Mainly, he majored in the arts, which was the reason why people shunned him. Art freak. Crazy bugger. Spastic idiot. That’s what they called him.

Zen broke out of him blank stare.

“Uh… nothin’…” he mumbled to himself.

It was evident to Isabelle that there was something wrong with Zen. She could have guessed it but then again, assumptions are a major cause of misunderstandings. Not worth a risk.

Lessons went on and Zen continued his blank gaze at the whiteboard. There was the monotonous, hypnotizing tone form the teacher as she scribbled more incomprehensible notes on the board. Why do I even bother…

Isabelle, on the other polarity, was indeed very concerned. If Zen was not going to pay attention is class, he would have problems with his work. If she was not going to help him, who will? Bright he may be, but without any pushing him on academic areas, he would never bother. Isabelle put her aside her worries for Zen and continued listening.

Time seemed to be crawling for Zen.

1:51 pm.

5 minutes later.

1:52 pm.

10 minutes later.

1:54 pm

How frustrating! 40 more minutes of endless torture! He looked down at the paper again and wrote.

Fish in shallow water,
Struggling in air.
Denied the right of freedom,
Yet no one seems to care.

He angled the pen at an acute angle to the table and twirled it round his fingers. Why is it that we have to follow the book? Why must everyone follow the norm, the flow? Why does the book force one into conforming to the typical and follow the stream? Why does the book deny us the right of freedom? Zen continued to scribble.

Pages I shall tear
From this resented book.
For now, all I care
Is to get off the hook.

Why should I conform? God gave me two feet for standing. Why, then, should I not stand firm on my choice? Zen wrote more.

*~*

Finally, the bell rang, signalling the end of lessons. Zen grabbed his bag and papers and dashed out of the room. Isabelle immediately knew that things were bad. She quickly scanned the room, and then rushed after him.

As she hurried round a bend, she noticed a piece of paper, abandoned on the floor. When she took a closer look, she realised that it was none other then Zen’s handwriting. A whole page of writing, probably done during the lesson.

Doing what you want to do,
Denying what your bidding.
Is it possibly possible?
Or is it simply forbidding?

Then…

Is this the book what we really want?
Is this the book we trust?
Can the book not rule us?
Or follow it we must?

So…

Pages I shall tear,
From this resented book.
For now, all I care,
Is to get off this hook.

Fish in shallow water,
Struggling in air.
Denied the right of freedom,
Yet no one seems to care.

Fish needs water,
Fish needs space.
Then just why can’t I
Get off this race?!

THE FISH IN SHALLOW WATER WRITES

At that very moment, as the last of Zen’s writing sounded in her head, she understood. She understood what Zen was feeling, being that fish, half drowning in air.

*~*

Zen was one person Isabelle knew that was so deep. The depth of his soul, the wealth within him. It was really so much. She knew what he wanted, and that it was something she could not give. Since young, the seeds of the arts were planted in him. Deep in his heart. Now, it seems to have blossomed into beautiful plants, and those plants, thirsty for the arts.

Like a plant in a desert. Without moisture, it would die.

Like the fish in shallow water. Without water, it would drown.

*~*

Isabelle stood up slowly, her eyes still fixed on the piece of paper, reading it over and over again. The meaning behind the words written. She could feel Zen through his work, through his art.

Slowly, she put down the paper and looked up. There, in front of her, was Zen, his hand outstretched. She jerked the piece of paper away from him, determined to find out what happened before returning it.

“Zen, I’m sorry, but the book cannot be torn. At least for now.”

“Issie… you don’t feel me. You’ll never understand. Can I have it back?”

“Zen I won’t if you won’t tell me. And no you cannot. At least not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine keep it then. I don’t exactly need it.” and he left.

Isabelle persisted.

“Zen please. Please tell me what’s going on. I want to know. please don’t make me worry.”

Zen paused and hesitated.

“Issie come with me. Maybe it’s time someone knew.”

To be continued…

2005-06-26T01:48:00.000+08:00

:: The Runaway ::

She dropped the phone in shock and was at a total loss of words.

No… this cannot be happening…

But it was.

Those words still lingered in her mind, like the last note of a symphony played in a concert hall. She was lost. Tears spilled from her eyes uncontrollably.

This is a dream! I know it is! Come on Lynn, wake up! Oh for heaven's sake, wake up!

Her eyes darted around the room, those last words, still echoing in her mind. She was frightened. The one thing she had feared all her life, and that she thought would never come, came. Everything was such a whirl. It was too sudden for her to accept. Far too sudden.

She fell back onto her bed, lost in a deep trauma. She still refused to believe that horrid fact. Her phone lay abandoned on the paraquet floor. A violent shiver was sent down her spine. Her mind was a vortex, spinning round and round, sucking all her emotions, forcing them into a constipated and incomprehensible blob. She was so confused.

Tears just leaked out and she could not control them. That bitch. I should never had introduced her to him! But now, she had no one to blame but herself.

Cuddled up in a corner of the room, she held her teddy bear close to her. On her fifteenth birthday, he gave it to her. It was a really expensive one and ever since that, she had been hugging it to sleep every night. Pampering it as if it was him, kissing it now and then, and telling it her problems. It was really the one thing other then him, that could make her feel secure. Sean. That was its name. But now, all was gone.

*~*

Her world crumbled. Everything was such a whirl. Everything was so surreal. She pulled herself up from the corner. Sean? Where’s Sean? She spun around on the spot, searching wildly around the room.

There was Sean, walking through the doors. But Sean? Walking? Lynn rubbed her eyes and tried slapping herself awake. What on earth was happening?

She ran forward to pick Sean up but as she got close, he simply vanished. Nothing seemed to make any sense. Everything was not going her way at all, and all was so confusing. Running out of the room, she found herself in a large, vast, empty land, its ground devoid of moisture. All dried up and cracked. And there, in the distance, was Sean. There he was, stumbling towards a shadowy figure.

“Sean? Come back Sean, you don’t know what that thing is,” Lynn called out to the walking stuffed animal.

Her warning fell on deaf ears and he continued walking. Lynn sprinted forward towards Sean.

The distance, the time and all that happened during that sprint did not make sense at all. It looked just about a hundred meters forward. It was about a hundred meters ahead. That would have taken Lynn about 15 seconds to reach but she ran for one whole minute, and still, Sean was there in front of her, slowly, making his way towards to the silhouette.

A sudden gust of strong wind soared across the land, carrying with it sediments which kicked up a large cloud of sand and dust. Lynn shielded her eyes with her hands and when the cloud finally subsided, her eyes met with the most horrid sight. The sight she had most dreaded. There, she saw Sean, cuddled up in Charlotte’s arms.

That bitch! God damn her!

She made feeble attempts to grab Sean out of Charlotte's arms but to no avail. The couple was drawing further and further away from her.

“Sean don’t go to her! Don’t let her steal you away from me! Sean I love you!” Tears once again, leaked out of her eyes.

The truth was hard, but she refused to look. Sean was smiling in Charlotte’s arms. He was happy there. Once again, Lynn was thrown into confusion all over again.

“I’m sorry, Lynn. I thought I loved you…” It sounded once again, like an orchestra of devilish demons playing the Death Waltz, over and over again. Clashing notes and diminished chords. What torture to the ears and to the mind!

Lynn clamped her hands around her ears and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. The orchestra still played on in her head.

“I’m sorry, Lynn. I thought I loved you…”

She continued to run.

“Sorry, Lynn. I thought I loved you…”

“Lynn. I thought I loved you…”

“Lynn. I loved you…”

“Lynn. I love you…”

“Lynn. I love you…”

“Lynn. I love you…”

He loves me! I know he does! It’s just that bitch! She stole him away from me! The hatred engulfed her. Her vision blurred, but she continued to run forward. Her feet hit the ground hard, propelling her forward with every step, to the point where the ground ended.

*~*

Lynn looked down the tall, vertical side of the building, her right leg out. She stepped into the nothingness beneath her foot and let everything go. It’s over. I love you, Samuel. And she fell, Sean hugged close to her chest.

2005-06-24T12:20:00.000+08:00

:: Me and Mel ::

icycool carrots
went for a walk.
she met up with me
so we had a talk.

we stopped at parkway,
but where to go?
to banquet on top?
or food court below?

but then again,
there are more options
beside those spots
of small food portions

there's always BK
with delicious food
they have sandwiches
which taste so good

or maybe KFC
who is just beside
who has chicken so tasty
with range so wide

not ur taste?
how 'bout MacDonalds?
across the road.
they've got noodles!

or how bout chinese?
enough of the west?
cos eastern food
still beats the rest.
for something classy,
try crystal jade.
where skill and art
of food is made

lack of money?
for somethin cheap?
just a small snack?
just a small treat?

there's coffee bread
right in the basement.
they smell so good
and they taste no different.

or the old chang kee,
sittin on ground floor.
they sell small treats
and good snacks galore.

thinkin of baked meat?
go to giant.
somewhere in there,
there's a stall.
it sells baked meat
or bah kua
which every you say it,
it's the best in the mall
[my uncle's stall wad heh heh heh]

that's all i shall say
about parkway
'bout me and mel
we just joked away (=

2005-06-23T21:18:00.000+08:00

:: feelings ::

stars in the day,
and the sun at night.
the feelings are there,
just out of sight.

2005-05-16T16:01:00.000+08:00

:: Fairytale ::

In the comfortable dimness between the red, luscious side stage curtains, he took a deep breath, calming his nerves.

For her.

He stepped out onto the stage, into the spotlight to applause. He awkwardly bowed to the audience. Just beyond the blinding stage lights, he could vaguely make out his parents’ proud faces, his friends’ jubilant smiles in the dark. This is the moment he had been waiting for. Ever since childhood, this was his one and only dream. Now was his time to shine- and everyone would be there to see it.

But there was one person who should have been there, but wasn’t. He stood there, waiting for the cue from the side, and discreetly slipped his sleek white Nokia out of his back pocket.

Menu- Contacts- Anna- Call.

The sound technician held her thumbs up, signaling ready to go. He turned around and followed the spotlight to the black grand Bessondofer sitting right in the centre of the stage, gleaming as if it was eagerly waiting for him. He paused for the slightest moment- then sat down at the piano, and set his Nokia down on the piano where it would be able to record every note the piano made. He ran his fingers over the keys lightly, relishing the smoothness. At the corner of his eye, he could still see his Nokia. The stark contrast with the piano. White on black. He took another deep breath.

For her.

***

She was awoken by a pair of soft hands patting gently, though urgently, on her arm. Her eyes struggled to open. It had seemed so long since she did that. It was kind of difficult, considering the amount of drugs she was under. She blinked feebly. The world, to her sapphire-blue eyes, was behind a thickly-veiled mist. For a minute or two, she was confused. Where was she again? Then it all came back to her. The white… So much white. White walls, white curtains, white armchair, white bed, white sheets, white pillows. She looked down at herself. White gown as well. The only color in the room was her blond hair, spread around her head on her pillow like a halo of sunshine.

Her attention turned back to the nurse, who continued patting her hand urgently. Seeing that she was awake, the nurse whispered, “Miss Anna, Miss Anna,” and stretched her hand towards her. Anna squinted, her vision blurring and refocusing at odd intervals. What was that in her hand? It contrasted starkly with the white sheets, white bed, white everything. Black on white…

Anna shook her head slightly, as if to shake away the blurriness and confusion, and looked back at the nurse’s hand. Oh. It was her phone. She opened her pale lips to speak, fully intending to ask who the hell it was, but found no strength. Managing to only make an unintelligible murmur, she mustered everything she had just to reach her fingers out to receive the phone and bring it to her ear. She frowned at the seeming silence at the other end. Then the most heavenly music was heard. She froze, and through the many layers of cotton in her brain, felt a jolt of recognition.

It was him. Him, playing the song that he composed. He had high hopes for it, he said. She could still vaguely remember him sitting at the upright piano she had him move into her room, figuring out the right notes, right chords, trying to make the song perfect. “Perfect for you,” he said. That was when she had been better, before she got bedridden. She would lean over him, her hair a hanging curtain of yellow, and poke at the notes when he didn’t know what should come next. They had joked and laughed, but he became serious when it came to the lyrics and the title. What was it called again? She scrunched up her face to remember. Oh yes. It was Fairytale.

She held her breath, awe-struck at the majesty, the sadness, the hope and the promise that was in the song, in the lyrics, in the tune, in his mellow voice that he claimed was too inferior compared to the professionals in the music industry but she insisted that that wasn’t true.

So he finished it...

She had been unconscious for so many days now, her condition rapidly deteriorating. What she didn’t know was that he had stayed by her all the time, and worked on the song as well. As she listened to the carefully penned lyrics, she was overwhelmed by an intense feeling of sadness.

I want to be the angel
The angel whom you loved in fairytales
Spread out my arms
Turn them into wings
To protect you forever

You must believe
That fairytales do exist
And that our love
Is just like them
There’s always a happily-ever-after

I’ll be your prince
To your princess
I’ll wait for you to awake
At your bedside
Let’s write our happy ending together

The last chord faded, the sound of it seeming to echo for ages after it ended. Pause. Then tumultuous applause. He must be playing in public. She vaguely remembered someone telling her about a recording contract, and a live performance. It must have been him. She smiled faintly, her strength fading by the second. Finally, his dream was fulfilled. She knew how much this meant to him. He must be so happy now… She struggled to keep awake. Her eyelids just seemed to be so heavy. She finally gave in, her eyes closing shut, and a single, lone tear slid down the curve of her cheek.

***

He had tried his best to lengthen the song, to play the last chords as slowly as he possibly could and not make it seem like it was on purpose. Somehow, deep inside him, he knew that she wouldn’t last long. Somehow, he knew that when the song ended, she would be gone. He paused when he finally finished, and reached out for his phone. The fervent applause, the applause he had been waiting for a lifetime, faded into the background. He brought the Nokia to his ear. The insistent beeping that he had heard before only in drama serials where they had dying scenes in hospitals was heard. So it was true. He had been right. She was gone...

No. Everything was wrong. Everything had been a lie. What fairytales? What happily ever after? Lies. Where was the happy ending? Why? Why did you have to go? Lies. All lies. Fairytales don’t exist...

Finally, he gave in. He let his perfect composure, his confident facade fall away, and a single, lone tear slid down the curve of his cheek.

post prose prose

This isn't writen by me. It's by Evelyn. I have to say, a rather good writer and friend as well.

So there you have it. Another contribution to this collection, by Evelyn.

2005-05-04T23:45:00.000+08:00

:: The Obsession ::

As the days passed on, it grew within him. Like a cancerous tumor, spreading through out. Every time he saw her, his heart would skip. Pause. Then slowly, it would start thumping hard against his chest, faster and faster. Fantasies about her would once again fill his head. Such irrealistic fantasies, wishing of her to be with him, to hold him, to love him, to adore him. And that obsession continued growing. It had been a year since it all started. One whole year, and now, the tumor was not about to kill him only.

He watched from afar as Eugene ruffled Isabelle's hair. They talked. They laughed. They had so much fun together. And the way Isabelle treated him. Downright cold.

Emotions were mixing up within him. The hate, the anger, the hurt, the sorrow. That longing for her touch. And the desire for his soul. The hatred was burning inside, the devil was ruling him as the angel he once listened to was whimpering, enclosed within the cage of green jealousy and red hate.

"No, Jake... Don't do it," but the voice simply echoed through Jake's mind, and lost within his dark thoughts. Angel had no control. The malicious chuckle of the devil was all Jake could hear, and all Jake was willing to listen to.

His bag was open. His pencil case was open. The books were there, the pens were there. But something other then Jake was missing.

Isabelle screamed. Someone fell, and Jake turned to Isabelle. He dropped the penknife and closed up on her, forcing her into a corner. "Isabelle, I love you," he said, attempting to ruffle her hair like Eugene did. Tears flowed down Isabelle's cheek and she pushed Jake aside and ran next to her fallen love. She held him in her arms and cried. Jake was lost. Why. Even after he was dead, why did she still love him. Why still cry over him. The world around him started to swirl. All he saw was Isabelle and Eugene.

Nothing mattered now. He gave up. The tumor striked. Blood spilled over his wrist. And the last sound he heard, was the sound of the penknife hitting the floor, the blade snapping into two. It was all over.

2005-05-03T20:46:00.000+08:00

:: Derewsna ::

The clock strikes three
In the old man's house
The flame was wick
Strong and still

Awake was he
Yet no arouse
Though he was sick
Strong was his will

Beyond the walls
A zephyr blew
Soft and long
Against the floor

A signal calls
And it slowly grew
Gentle to strong
through the door

It blew a tune,
A minor key,
A diminished chord,
Leading on.

He was immune.
Hands on his knee.
He prayed to god
To hear his song

The voice echoed
Through space devoid
None responded
Nor replied

From young to old
Never enjoyed
None corresponded
Freedom denied

2005-05-02T09:49:00.000+08:00

:: Don't leave/ I have to ::

Would you hug me?
Would you kiss me?
Would you hold me tight?

Can you love me?
And adore me
In day and in night?

I would if I could
But I have to go
Some other life, maybe?

You should find
Someone else
Someone other than me

Must you leave?
Must we part?
Must it end this way?

Can it not?
May it not?
Please say that you'll stay

I know it's hard
But I cannot
I have to face my foe

Don't think of me
Just let me fade
And please, let me go

How should I?
How can I?
To not think of you?

To bear to
Impossible
Dear, my love is true

I know it is
I love you too
But there's no other way

Either must die
By the other's hand
I have but one day

Then I shall, too,
Die with you
At least I'll stay with you

Together on earth,
In heaven combined
A couple, a pair, two

No you don't
And don't you dare
It's destined, just let it be

Live your life
To the fullest
For you, and for me

To live a life
Devoid of you
What life would that be?

A burning hell
An endless pain
Without you, that'll be me

Don't say that
You'll be fine
You'll live without me

Time will heal
Believe it or not
Please, just wait and see

Shatter
Stab
Break my heart

Perish
Die
Rather then part

Please, don't leave?...

I have to...

2005-04-26T19:43:00.000+08:00

:: test and exams ::

the exam's coming real soon
i don't know what to do
i look into the given notes
and i don't have a clue

i really hope i do not fail
so i shall study hard
but understand? to no avail )=
i just cannot regard

two days have passed real quickly
and i have tried my best
i went into the exam room
it was a urine test

ahaha. oh well's. you people studying for your exams. go be entertained by this (=

2005-04-21T20:00:00.000+08:00

:: Round and Upside Down ::

One day, Vincent Van Gogh painted a circle on a piece of canvas. Picasso came along and said "Aye. Nice circle you've got there," and continues to examine the painting. Vincent finishes his final stroke of the brush and smiles with satisfactory "Ah. Done!" However, Picasso continues to stare and the painted canvas, seemingly deep in thought. "Vincent, my dear, why oh why?" he said. "Why oh why did you paint your circle upside down?" Van Gogh looked Picasso straight in the eye, frowning.

"Upside down? No... It's the right side up. How can you say that a circle is upside down?"

"Ahh. That you are wrong my dear Vincent."

"Wrong? Circles are the same anyhow you look!"

"Ahh! Wrong again. Look again Vincent. See this through my eyes"...

« Are you a Vincent or a Picasso? »

2005-04-18T21:11:00.000+08:00

:: black cat ::

cursed and jinxed
keeps away
from the light
of bright of day

cross your path
casts a spell
an evil curse
which one can't tell

scanns the scene
with glowing eyes
mystical creature
blessed with 9 lifes

2005-04-18T21:10:00.001+08:00

:: black ::

lost in the spectrum of colour and life
only in darkness it will thrive
light arrives and quickly it leaves
sheets of blindness it sews, it weaves

2005-04-16T21:01:00.000+08:00

:: slave girl ::

it was cold. freezing. she looked out of the frosted windows, staring hard through the semi-translucent, fogged-up glass. she sighed. it was the end to a long and tiring day but she knew that another one would come just around dawn; just as draining, just as horrible and just as touturing as the one before. she rubbed the frost off the window pane, trying to get the clearest view possible and as she looked up into the soot-black, winter sky, she noticed a star, shining exceptionally bright. "just look at you my dearest little star," she thought out loud. "how free you are, shining to your fullest potential, free to do what you like and what you wish to do...

you're free, ...
not like me. ...
and how i wish, ...
i could be thee. ..."

then she heaved another long, and sorrowful sigh, and she sang to the star...

i would leave, if i could
shall i go? yes i should
i'd run as far as i can
over this snowy linen land.

tears stared swelling up in her eyes and emotions were running wild within her. "i have to leave. and i will." she told herself, sneeking a glance at the stairway leading to her owner's bedroom. snores of sweet slumber sounded from the room. determined, she packed her meager belongings and took a last glance at the room, then slinetly, opened the door to freedom.

2005-04-04T20:30:00.000+08:00

:: school ::

a prison, a jail, with chain and ball
trapped and detained in toture hall
tired and drained you still stand tall
for simple reason, you cannot fall

teachers watch like halks from sky
like vultures waiting for you to die
lions awaiting their next meal
no homework, and with you they'll deal

internal toture will forever burn
as long you stay in there to learn
might be your interest, or what you detest
or they just simply don't do what you do best.

so then again it might be good
for all you people i'm sure it should
for me however, i'm sad to say
that i can't wait for graduation day

full of crap. but at least i feel better now. but sry, school still sucks (:

2005-03-25T15:52:00.000+08:00

:: dead asleep ::

there he lies, where she once layed
for greed and lust, the price he paid
knife in his heart, hands of red
now all is lost, rotten trade

2005-03-24T00:04:00.000+08:00

:: poems and prose ::

i've decided that i'm more fitted and suited for writing poems rather then prose. and evelyn is probably more suited for prose then poems? well wells.

:: ? ::

you came without a word or sound
then silently you left this town

ahaha. i guess that's all. couplets? oh wells..

2005-03-22T20:58:00.000+08:00

:: silenced ::

he who witnessed, he who saw
won't be long till death will call
dressed in soot and fast as light
the fly in the web put up no fight

two lives lost in just one night
drained of red all left with white
cold as ice and winter falls
dead as rocks and boulder walls

2005-03-08T22:37:00.000+08:00

:: branches ::

autumn comes and leaves will fall
one by one, winter will call
bare and cold yet they will stand
strong on snowy linen land

why did i name it braches? ahaha. long story i guess. it's all from evee's blog. about the branches. then i wrote the opening entry for it with that poem so my thinking digressed from branches to that. bare trees. oh wells. (:

2005-02-03T23:17:00.000+08:00

Alexandra forged past the station lobby and spotted someone entering the office’s double doors. Taking a running leap, she dove through the glass doors milliseconds before they whacked right into her face, doing a front roll before taking a quick breather. She snuck a look at her watch. Only one second late. Still in her squatting position, she tiptoed past Sarge’s office. Now, if only she could make it to her cubicle before-

" ALEX! STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Alexandra cringed. Oh no.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and turned around, only to whack right into Sarge’s chest.

“ Well?” he demanded. “ What time is it now? And no, don’t tell me it’s Tiger Time, you used that up yesterday, the day before and the day before that.”

Alexandra fidgeted with the edge of her navy blue uniform. “ Erm… traffic jam?” she muttered lamely.

“ Excuses! That’s it! It’s the fifth time you’ve been late this year! That’s it! I’m putting you in the Lost and Found department.”

Alexandra puffed up like an indignant pufferfish. This was most certainly unfair! All the other people were late every other day, and it was not only for a couple of seconds. Commander Sarge was being bias because Alex was the only girl in the traditionally male-only elite branch of the Violent City Police- the Special Operations Team (SOT). And well, she had botched up in a job where she was supposed to round up a bunch of rioting citizens and put them in the clink but instead actually listened to the entire sob story of how they got cheated out of their hard-earned money and wept for an entire five minutes while the rioting citizens snuck away.

“ Commander Sarge, I believe that I deserve another ch-,” Alex broke off, interrupted by a SOT officer who charged into the office, panting.

“ E..emergency…riot broke out… heavy casualties… Main Street… two officers already down…”

“ Alright. Get ready the team,” Sarge barked, and turned to Alex. “ We’ll talk later. You have one last chance. Go go go!”

So she went.

The SOT arrived on the riot scene promptly, and in great style. Alex and the SOT officer who had informed Sarge of the riot army-crawled to the nearest dustbin and peeked out at the rioting crowd. Conveniently, the rest of the SOT was not available. Seeing how the last riot turned out ( the entire Patrol department got trampled), it was no wonder. Violent City did not get its name for nothing.

Here goes nothing, Alex thought to herself and prepared to walk right up to the crowd. Eugene ( the SOT officer who informed Sarge and, well, you know the rest) tugged on her pants.

“ What are you doing?” he asked urgently.
“ Going to negotiate with the people,” Alex set herself to determined mode.
“ What? Haven’t you forgotten the last time you did it?”

Alex bit her lips. She did not need any reminders, not now anyway. Regardless, she set off at a brisk pace. Eugene followed close behind, tissue paper and gun in hand, and watched wide-eyed as Alex clambered onto the car nearest the riot, legs apart and arms akimbo. “ Hello? Can I have your attention please?” she cried out. No response whatsoever. She took a deep breath and bellowed, “ SILENCE! YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!”

There was absolute silence. Alex smiled smugly. The commando bellow always worked. “ Now, can anyone tell me what’s going on?” she called out. Everyone did. “ Okay, stop! STOP! You, tell me what’s happening,” she pointed at a particularly handsome guy. NO harm having a bit of fun on the job.

“ We’re not happy about the five-day week! It’s too stressful for parents and students!”
“ Yeah!” Someone shouted, and the whole protest began again.
“ Okay! Listen, the five-day week is actually for your own good! It gives you more time on weekends, and that’s when the best cartoons are, don’t you think?” said Alex, and as Alex talked and talked, her audience got more and more sold.

“ I’m starting to think that this whole five-day week is cool after all,” one student murmured to another. Both Alex and Eugene heard that, and both had different reactions. Alex felt heartened, and talked more and more confidently. Eugene, on the other hand, finally realized the fact that his tissue would go unused after all. Finally, it got to the point where Eugene had to tiptoe and shake Alex’s shoulder so she finally realized that everyone was already gone.

Back at the station….

“ I did a great job, eh, Sarge?” Alex grinned.
“ Yah, whatever,” Sarge grunted and disappeared into his office.
“ Yes!” Alex cheered and pumped her fist in the air. What a happy ending! That is, until the next morning…

Alex crawled in on all fours, hoping fervently that she could make it safely to her cubicle. Two more metres, and closing in… One more… but-

“ ALEX! GET IN HERE NOW!”

Here we go again…

Written By Evelyn

2005-02-03T22:03:00.000+08:00

:: Hermit Story ::

I finally freed myself from the debris and as I looked back at the remnants of y home, which was now an unrecognizable wreck, I took in a deep breath. I believe that acceptance of fate is a crucial step for getting on with life. I said my last good-byes to my humble domain as my heart was filled, once again, with lamentation.

Everything seemed serene all around as the salty water caressed my scaly body. I had decided o embark on a long journey, in search of another home. I crawled for meters, heading towards deeper waters. Even under water, I could feel the intense heat from the sun as it beat through the water. I never liked the heat, however, the fatigue of carrying a shell almost equal to my weight was indeed slowing me down a lot.

There was a slight tremor shortly after I stopped for a rest as the sand beneath me started to quake, slowly getting more and more intense. Screams of horror and fear were raising in a sharp crescendo above the waters surface. I poked my head of oh my shell, ignorant to what that was about to happen.

The moist and cooling surroundings were just then, replaced by a strong and sudden hear wave, exposing me to direct heat. My naked and unprotected self was not too happy but I decided to stay put. I started out at the beach as my mind was swirling with questions. Where is the water? What is happening what is about to happen? why is everyone running helter-skelter? What happened next cleared all my doubts.

A dark shadow was cast suddenly across the sand, as I looked helplessly at the white foam wall crashing onto shore, picking me up along the way, tossing me around within the salty fluid.

Acting to natural hermit crab instincts, I shrank back into my shell and braced myself for a bumpy ride. I had no idea what had happened but when all the racket had died and all motion seized, I slowly poked my head out again and all that was around me was simple a vast concrete-strewn floor. Total catastrophe and mega wreckage. It had to be the city. I was tossed all the way into to city! There was no beach and no idea. All the water were all escaping and seeping through the rift and cracks in the ground.

It then hit me. I realised that I was trapped. Trapped in the city. Panic gripped me all over as my eyes darted around in their sockets. It was hopeless. I was going to die.

2005-01-31T23:36:00.000+08:00

:: Time ::

The clock ticks by
Will the old man die?
His fate is resolved,
By time

Yet he survives
Left with eight lives
A second in time
Just nice

A second more
Death would call
A second just,
In time

2005-01-31T23:34:00.000+08:00

:: Diamond Blade IV ::

Old Mr Chow's mind was swirling with questions and doubts, confusion and uncertainty. The was car racing at a deadly pace on the highway and Chow held on tightly to what ever he could get his hands on. Tom Tank was not very sure if he could even get out of the city area safely with Chow alive. He pushed his leg harder on the accelerator. He repeatedly shot a worried glance at the side mirrors of the car, fretting they might catch up. Those black men were not easy to deal with.

The sound of motorbikes were rising in a soft crescendo in the near distance. Toms heart started racing.

"Put on your seatbelt Mr Chow, and brace yourself," Tom mumbled to Chow. Apparently Chow actually understood but Turner was in no mood to be impressed. He jammed his foot down the accelerator and the car shot forward. Poor old Chow was thrown back into the seat. It was getting increasingly difficult to weave in and out of the traffic with is slowly thickening. Turner foresaw a jam ahead; his eyes were scanning everything around, looking for a way out before the inevitable.

The bikes were closing in with their full throttle. It was so much easier for them to get through the traffic. Turner was starting to panic, his eyes darting con brio within his sockets.

A gunshot fired and smashed the side mirror. Chow jumped in shock. Another few bullets smashed the window next to Tom. Turner gestured to the wheel but Chow was too stunned to understand what it meant. Tank grabbed his arm and placed it on the wheel and shouted to him "Drive!!" Chow nodded his head absentmindedly, while Tank loaded up a gun he pulled out from under his seat.

The black motorists were showing up rather big on the rear mirror as a couple more bullets penetrated the car body. Chow's driving was not exactly fantastic as he caused the car to sway from left to right, fast and slow. Turner stuffed the gun barrel through the tiny rift between the seat and the head cushion and aimed for one of the motorist head and fired two bullets. His gun was able release two bullets within a split second of time. He knew the helmet was hard and so he took no chances. The first bullet punctured a hole in the rear window, clearing a clean path for the second bullet. The distance between the two bullets drew smaller, slowly, and as the first bullet hit the helmet, the speed was too slow to penetrate the dense glass-plastic. It was then for the second bullet to do its job. It hit the first one right on the back, hammering it through the helmet with great force, causing it to hammer through the motorist's skull. That was one down. Tank's next couple of shots were all in vain.

Turning his attention back to the wheel, relieving Chow of his stressful duty, Tank steadied the acceleration of the car as it shot down a slope. The scene ahead wasn't exactly a pleasant one. After the downward gradient, there was and uphill road which was currently growing as more cars join the line. It seemed inevitable but not for Tom. He moved the car to the right lane and then, jammed his foot down, hard on the accelerator. The Black Motors were left behind. Tank made a sudden swerve off the road shoulder and up the railing, just when he was about to join the queue. The vehicle flew off the railing and soared through the air. Just below them was another highway. Rather empty. Chow prayed hard and braced himself for a heavy impact which never came. When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself cruising the skies in the butler's car.

to be continued...

2005-01-26T23:14:00.000+08:00

:: Diamond Blade III::

David’s search came up with nothing but void effort. He paused for a moment to ponder. No information on the net had ever been able to hide from David after he sent out his search engine. This was the first time. It had either to be extremely protected, or that none knew about it, or that all who knew about it refused to reveal any information as they too, want to lay their hands on it, or that the only people other then David who knew about it were all guarding it? There were so many possibilities but it all boiled down to this. Whoever has or knows about it does not want anyone else to get it, be it protecting it or using it.

This was rather vexing for a young adult like David. Probably troubling for adults twice his age as well, that was if they had the same goal to achieve, and the exact same desire for that treasure that David longed for.

David rested his eyes for a moment and sighed. He had only gotten one of the long list of things he desired. He opened his eyes and turned his chair such that it was facing one particular screen. He opened a console and typed in a series of commands. Several different sections then appeared on the large screen, each showing a different scene. The house was empty. All the cameras in the mansion showed no sign of intruders. David decided that maybe it was about time to give himself a break from all this planning and searching. He cracked his knuckles and took his leave. With the staff in his hand, David opened the mechanical doors as he took off at a quickened pace. He took the west wing and headed to the most deserted part of the mansion. It was forbidden to everyone but family members. As he continued along the corridor, his paced slowed down. Pictures of David’s ancestors hung on the wall, preying on David as he passed.

David paused at the end of the corridor, where a grand oak door stood in his way. He raised the diamond blade so as its diamond hilt was under the camouflaged red beam of light. The heavy oak doors began to creak open, its mechanical hinges groaning under the intense weight. A soft carpet of moist, yet yellowish grass greeted his feet. Throughout the whole area, there were tombstones after tombstones. It was his family graveyard. Each tombstone had it’s own little flower garden around it, but now, all the flowers were all dead. David walked by each tomb stone and knelt down to pay respects each time he did so.

It took him an extremely long time before he actually paid respects to every single parent, from mother and father to grand parents that dated all the way back into the 14th century.

David knelt down beside the two newest tombs and removed the dried up flowers from the two mini gardens. He then replaced the empty gardens with fresh new flowers he took from the grave yard’s nursery. As he worked, he chatted with his parents. Telling them about recent happenings in his life, about his search of the treasure, about all the information he had gathered, and that soon, he would be able to have revenge.

At that moment, emotions started swelling up within him. Sorrow, anger, rage, frustration, lamentation, all mixed together as one blob of complex emotion, capable of making one lose his sanity. David held on to reality. People that have died can never come back to life. The only thing you can do for them is to take revenge, he told himself.

David, with his fist clenched tight, punched the grass hard. His teeth were gritted hard against one another. He then swept out of the room with the diamond staff. He could take no more of the past haunting him. A little boy watching his parents being brutally murdered was enough to turn his soul evil.

2005-01-21T14:29:00.000+08:00

:: Diamond Blade II ::

A small and humble chinese antique shop in the heart of the United States of America, Texas, stood in a secluded corner of the street. It was a place where none would spot unless one was looking for it. And yet, strangely, even though the shop had a measly number of 3 to 4 customers a week, it managed to survive an impressive 7 years in the business.

The warm rays from the sun shone mighty through the minute rifts between the tiles of the roof. The shop design had the typical temple-like appearance and inside, was a real systematic mess. Goods ranged from beautifully crafted porcelain plates to ancient chinese paintings to queer devices none has ever seen. The shop owner, Mr Chow was a man already in his 70s.

He rested his bottom onto his cane-woven chair and gazed lazily outside the shop. The small stretch of road was still left the same as it was 5 hours ago. His little Chihuahua, xiao yu(little jade) hopped up onto his lap as he rested his back onto the wall behind. His eyes were starting to feel droopy. Who wouldn’t at hours like this. It was already 2:00pm.

A huge man walked in. He was wearing a black suit, a pair of black sunglasses and he was so tall that Chow’s height barely reached his shoulder. It was an American man. Chow exited the counter and welcomed his customer. The giant took three steps forward and before he knew it, his surroundings started dissolving to reveal a new place. Cushioned armchairs, a fire place… definitely from a rich family. It was like the walls of his shop crumbled, just to reveal that it was built in someone else’s home. Then some mystical force knocked him back awake.

Chow opened his eyes and removed little jade from his lap. What a queer dream, he thought. He looked at the grand father’s clock across the room. 5:15pm. He had been asleep for more then 3 hours. He scanned the room and just simply made the assumption that noting was stolen. He stretched his muscles and lifted himself off the seat, proceeding behind the counter. Little jade rolled on her back and stretched her four limbs, then fluffed up her fur. Chow called to her and she trotted over to him. He then put her on the counter and sighed. The pendulum of the clock ticked to a hypnotizing rhythm. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. And just when Chow was about to enter dream land again, he heard footsteps sounding through the vacant street. He jerked up his head and adjusted his apparel, awaiting the arrival of his guest.

A huge man walked in. He was wearing a black suit, a pair of black sunglasses and he was so tall that Chow’s height barely reached his shoulder. It was an American man. Déjà vu, he thought, as he hesitated to step out to welcome his guest, but decided that his walls couldn’t crumble. Chow stepped out with his feet a little shaky and soft, and with an authentic chinese accent and a whole load of broken English, he said ”Welcome here shop chinese shop. Got good anti buy,” his voice quaking a little. The mammoth reached into his coat and absentmindedly handed Chow a card as he feasted his eyes on the treasures hung and arranged all over the room. Chow took the card and read it quickly, afraid to take his eyes off the client, fearing he might break something.

Tom Tuner Tank,
Butler of Mister David Drovel

The first thing Chow thought was “rich man’s servant!”. He probably was looking for something very expensive. Chow decided that maybe the dream had meant nothing as none of the walls did dissolve. Chow stepped forward to show Tom some of the antiques that were more to the expensive side, but his customer seemed uninterested and searching for something.

“What sir look for?” Chow asked, but there wasn’t a reply. “Mi help looking if sir tell me,” he pressed on. Still no reply.

The giant browsed the shop for 2 hours, then finally decided that asking might be a better idea.

“I’m looking for a –“ his sentence was interrupted by a gun shot, missing him by and inch. A huge vase behind exploded into pieces and Chow stared at his treasure, jaw wide open. Tom drew a gun from somewhere in his coat and ran out. It was followed by a series of gun shots, followed by a loud thud, like a ton of canvas hitting the ground after falling of the building.

Tom rushed back into the shop and told Chow, “Follow me. Quick. More are coming.” He carried Chow on his back and dashed out of the shop, on his way, his dropped a canister at the door way. Tom rushed Chow to a car and pushed him in. The next moment, the car was speeding and weaving in and out of the traffic.

to be continued...

2005-01-17T01:04:00.000+08:00

:: Diamond Blade I ::

Mr Wholeman walked over the room to the fireplace. He looked David in the face and put out his hand, wide open.

“It’s about time you pay up my boy,” he threatened. David simply stared back with a blank look. “Pay up or else...” Wholeman continued, but was cut off when David sudden stood up from his arm chair.

“Or else?” David teased cheekily, the suddenly changed to a downright serious tone. “Or else what, Mr Wholeman? How 'bout showing me what you’re capable of?”

That did it. Wholeman took a couple of steps back and pulled out his revolver from under his coat. “You asked for it,” he muttered under his breath and aimed it right at David’s chest. David however, was not panicking at all. “Is that all you can do?” David shook his head as he gave a malicious chuckle. His grip tightened on his walking stick and slowly, he raised his head and looked straight into the barrel of the gun. It was shaking. Bad move for Wholeman. David sensed uncertainty within his creditor and took that opportunity to strike. With one swift action of his staff, Wholeman dropped dead and fell onto the ground, as dead as a doornail. He gloated and removed it from within its victim. Blood dripped from its end and David wiped of the thick maroon liquid off his treasure with a white silk hanky. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a whistle. A dog whistle. He blew into the opening and within seconds, a large black husky emerged from behind the veranda door. It looked at David and started sniffing the body. David gave the dog a little nod and it dragged the corpse into the balcony, leaving a trail of blood behind. David sighed and called for the butler to clean up the mess. He took his place back in the arm chair and gloated over his kill as he sipped slowly from the dainty teacup, his staff placed beside him.

The staff, was made by Master David himself with a solid diamond hilt and a titanium plated diamond blade. So almost the whole staff, or rather sword was made up of diamond. A priceless treasure and an extremely powerful blade.

“Anything else, Master David?” asked the butler after he finished cleaning up the mess. David gestured for the butler to come over. “Come here, Tom. I need some information on this person.” David reached deep into his coat pocket and took out a folded slip of paper with a passport-sized photograph attached to it. He handed it to the butler. David smiled at him and gave a small nod. Tom left the room. David paused for a few moments and then proceeded on to the computer room.

He keyed in the password into the console and the mechanical door slid open. He walked in and took his place in the cushioned armchair which stood proud in the middle of the room. Computer screens booted themselves as David slotted the Diamond blade into a slot just beside the chair. The blade was also a key to most of his privet files and documents. An invisible computer chip was installed in the blade and programmed to open his main gate and door, and also to grant himself access to his computers.

A keyboard extended out from the side of the armchair and David started his search. His personal search engine appeared on the screen and the cursor blinked intermittently in the search box.

to be continued...

2005-01-15T22:38:00.000+08:00

:: my friendship with you ::
transferred from the previous blog, tiny tales

The past is gone
And the present is here
Remember to treasure
What you hold so dear

The future is there.
Out of reach
What will happen?
Will our friendship breach?

Fate brings in
Time and tide
Within your heart?
You decide

Eight months back
Nine years post
What are my feelings?
Words void most

Time will pass
And chapters will close
New ones will open
A never ending pose

Yet one will pass
When time is gone
But still he'll hold
The memories so fond

For dearest Cora Tay Zhuyin

prepost-poem prose
it was once where our friendship was rocky. exteremly shaky, so i wrote it for her, expressing my feelings about our friendship and hope that she'd too would try to help to preserve it. well, presently we are still good friends, though her parents aren't too happy about the fact that their daughter has a guy as her good friend, so the ride is still a little bumpy.

2005-01-13T19:33:00.000+08:00

:: Lurking in the Darkness ::

There’s a dark corner
Across the streets.
It is a place,
Light never meets.
Shaded by brick,
Sheltered by wall,
Shielded from light,
Indifferent to all.

*~*

As darkness falls upon the skies,
As sunlight says its last good-byes.
As tide brings in the silver seas,
The gleaming swarms of silver bees.
A stir amongst the black of night
In the corner away from light
A shadow moves and shifts inside
Within the corner it will hide
I saw it moving
And boy I did
It was in the corner
The corner where it hid
I stretched out my hand
Towards the nook
And before I knew it
My hand it took!
It pulled me in
Into the dark
And then I heard
A black dog bark
I escaped quickly
And left the place
I was frightened,
White in the face.
I looked at my arm
A row or marks
Made by that creature
In a nice red arc
What might it be?
I asked myself.
Maybe it was… …
A little green elf?
But I was quite certain
It was some thing else.
Something really quite
Which could move with stealth

So what was it?
No one knows.
Until now,
The mystery’s not close

2005-01-13T19:30:00.000+08:00

:: Depression ::

Inside your soul,
As it churns.
It irks one much,
As it burns
But from the past,
Will he learn
And from the past,
What will he earn

2005-01-02T23:19:00.000+08:00

:: opening post ::

Welcome all, to this brand new blog, Poetic Prose. in this blog, I am going to post works of literary arts. Poems, Prose and Plays. hope you guys will enjoy it. (: