“Look, it’s a bird! Wait, It’s a plane! Hold on, it’s Superman!” sounded the television set. “Go save them, Superman! Go save the people on the plane!”
‘Save them?’ thought Karim as he stared blankly at the television screen.
Why? Why should he save them?
An animated figure clad in an azure tight-fit with a huge red 'S' in its center. That was Superman. He rocketed towards a flaming plane, stuck out both of his hands, and attempted to stop it from crashing down towards the skyscraper. However, it did not seem to have an effect, not even as Superman forced himself against it.
Just when all looked to be lost, a faint glint of light glowed from the hero’s eyes and granted him more strength. He pressed his entire torso against the aircraft and resisted the downward force. The plane started to slow down. Superman’s newly found strength was working. He was about to save the day when suddenly, a shade of black filled the screen.
It was Karim. He had picked up the remote control and switched the TV off. “Haha, let’s see you save the day now, Superman,” chuckled the five-year-old boy.
Karim was three when his parents died in a car accident. It happened on a stormy night, when his parents were quarreling, and as fate would have it, driving recklessly. Quarreling over what, Karim did not know. He was only three, and did not understand a single word that his parents were talking. Not like it mattered. What mattered to Karim was that his parents died that night, and there was nothing he could have done to save them, nothing at all.
The incident left a scar in Karim, not the visible one. That had already been taken care of by the doctors. It was a psychological scar. Despite his youthful look, Karim did not think like a child. He wanted to, but he could not. Many a time, Karim wished that he could embrace his childhood like others. After all, he was only five. And it was not fair that he had to endure what even people five times his age needn’t to. It was just not fair.
“Karim, breakfast is on the table. Go get it before it runs away,” said his aunt, Marie.
Marie was 35 years of age and unmarried. She took care of Karim after his parents passed away, and often brought him out during her dates. From time to time, Marie even asked Karim what he thought of her dates, but the answer was always a shake of the head.
‘Run away? I wish I could run away from this life,’ thought Karim as he walked to the kitchen table.
It was cereal. Rice Krispies with milk, yet again. Marie did not know how to cook and always resorted to convenience. It would have been bread if it wasn’t cereal.
“So Karim, how were the cartoons?” asked Marie.
What do you think? A disaster occurred, a hero tried to save the day, i prevented him from doing so.
"The usual," replied Karim.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Twelve - Greg's dying wish
Dear Sally,
Today I thought of you again. How are you lately? I haven’t been hearing from you in a while. I feel really energized recently, especially after the doctor told me the good news, that you were going to visit me sometime soon. I think you’ll have to dress up before coming in my ward, I hear they only allow neatly dressed girls in. I wouldn’t my dear old sally to feel left out, would I?
But then again, the doctor has been really kind to me. I think he’ll ignore the rules this once, for my sake and for yours too. He told me that the rules are flexible, and that they let visitors in based on their appointments, instead of their dressing. So I think you can come to visit without feeling guilty or left out.
The other day, I asked the doctor if he could give me a date so that I can welcome you when you’re here. But he wouldn’t. According to him, the most he could do was to tell me that I had a month to wait. I also asked him if you could bring that bouquet of flowers I gave you the other time. He said it was alright.
So please remember to bring it. I’d like our meeting to be filled with the smell of those flowers. They were quite expensive. I had to borrow money from your mother to buy it. And you know I don’t like to do that. I really look forward to meeting you. I can’t wait to see you again, Sally.
Yours sincerely
Greg
“That’s the 75th letter he wrote to her,” said Doctor Lee with a worried look on his face, wrinkles evident.
“I know. I can’t help it either. They were really close before she passed,” uttered Mrs Jones.
She turned her attention to the feeble old man who was lying on the bed, his head facing the window. He had been in this position for over four hours. It was as if he was looking at something in the fields, but there was nothing prominent; only the endless blades of grass dancing under the scorching sun.
Then again, Mrs Jones didn’t know much about her father, except the fact that he was dying, willingly.
Today I thought of you again. How are you lately? I haven’t been hearing from you in a while. I feel really energized recently, especially after the doctor told me the good news, that you were going to visit me sometime soon. I think you’ll have to dress up before coming in my ward, I hear they only allow neatly dressed girls in. I wouldn’t my dear old sally to feel left out, would I?
But then again, the doctor has been really kind to me. I think he’ll ignore the rules this once, for my sake and for yours too. He told me that the rules are flexible, and that they let visitors in based on their appointments, instead of their dressing. So I think you can come to visit without feeling guilty or left out.
The other day, I asked the doctor if he could give me a date so that I can welcome you when you’re here. But he wouldn’t. According to him, the most he could do was to tell me that I had a month to wait. I also asked him if you could bring that bouquet of flowers I gave you the other time. He said it was alright.
So please remember to bring it. I’d like our meeting to be filled with the smell of those flowers. They were quite expensive. I had to borrow money from your mother to buy it. And you know I don’t like to do that. I really look forward to meeting you. I can’t wait to see you again, Sally.
Yours sincerely
Greg
“That’s the 75th letter he wrote to her,” said Doctor Lee with a worried look on his face, wrinkles evident.
“I know. I can’t help it either. They were really close before she passed,” uttered Mrs Jones.
She turned her attention to the feeble old man who was lying on the bed, his head facing the window. He had been in this position for over four hours. It was as if he was looking at something in the fields, but there was nothing prominent; only the endless blades of grass dancing under the scorching sun.
Then again, Mrs Jones didn’t know much about her father, except the fact that he was dying, willingly.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Shape of A Heart
The heart-shape as we know it is in perfect symmetry. Two person who loves each other as much as the other half loves them.
But in reality, the heart is far from a perfect symmetry, it's uneven as hell.
That's cause one will always love the other more more.
Sometimes, the other doesn't even like the other half.
Pitiful reality.
But in reality, the heart is far from a perfect symmetry, it's uneven as hell.
That's cause one will always love the other more more.
Sometimes, the other doesn't even like the other half.
Pitiful reality.
Monday, July 28, 2008
The Twin Blades, Despair & Hatred
The steel bleak walls of the coliseum closed in on the two silhouettes. One of them dawned crimson red flowing robes, with his arms and legs fully covered behind the royal garment. He sported long blond hair, along with a handsome young face.
The other, surrounded his masculine body with a silver plate mail. He had brown short hair, and his legs and arms were wrapped in chain mail.
"Tis not your birth that wronged you, but destiny."
The one in red dashed forward with inhuman speed, creating a sharp gust of wind from whence he left. He drew out two peculiar long swords, each quite similar, yet they emitted a different kind of aura that made the mind wonder. His blades were as impressive as his swordplay, for he immediately lunged his right hand , plunging the blade directly at his armored opponent.
His opponent was no amateur, he let his body fell backwards, but instead of falling, he glided backwards, with the sole of his feet guiding him towards safety.
"Then let it be known that the destiny that is thrust upon me decide my fate."
He took out a giant double-sided Axe that was chained towards his back. It was golden in color, and had the crest of a dragon engraved at the hilt. With the leap of a giant, he pushed his body forward, with his arms swinging down the giant weapon in retaliation.
The red robed warrior was far too swift for such a clumsy attack, however. The Axe fell on empty ground, with a loud impact in it's wake.
"Dragon Rising!"
The impact induced a shock wave the size of a tidal wave, drenched in golden glamor, it shot itself straight at the red robbed warrior
The red robbed warrior grinned, and simply lifted his left sword up as the shock wave engulfs him, turning around him nothing but debris, and leaving a heap of smoke in it's wake.
"Fool."
The Axe bearer sighed, disappointed at the fragility of the rival he had just met.
"Foolish it is, but not on my part!"
The crimson swordsman leaped out of the smoke, unscathed, but with his left blade glowing in all it's splendor.
"Despair, for I damn your soul to eternal condemnation"
He thrusted out his left sword, and plunged it deep within the the body of the Axe-bearer, cracking and penetrating his plate mail as if it was paper. Blood gushed out from the chest of the poor Axe-bearer..
"How..."
His mutter fell on deaf ears, as the blade turned purple, and a whitish silhouette being forming around the mortally wounded man. The blade whispered the voices of the dead, as the silhouette begins sipping slowly inside the blade.
"No...Not this...Just kill me!"
The crimson warrior laughed.
"Tis better this way... You can be still of some use in the future"
The lifeless corpse fell on the ground, almost as if drained of all things good. The survivor admired the blood stained blade, knowing full well it was nothing compared to the pain he endured, but it helped.
The other, surrounded his masculine body with a silver plate mail. He had brown short hair, and his legs and arms were wrapped in chain mail.
"Tis not your birth that wronged you, but destiny."
The one in red dashed forward with inhuman speed, creating a sharp gust of wind from whence he left. He drew out two peculiar long swords, each quite similar, yet they emitted a different kind of aura that made the mind wonder. His blades were as impressive as his swordplay, for he immediately lunged his right hand , plunging the blade directly at his armored opponent.
His opponent was no amateur, he let his body fell backwards, but instead of falling, he glided backwards, with the sole of his feet guiding him towards safety.
"Then let it be known that the destiny that is thrust upon me decide my fate."
He took out a giant double-sided Axe that was chained towards his back. It was golden in color, and had the crest of a dragon engraved at the hilt. With the leap of a giant, he pushed his body forward, with his arms swinging down the giant weapon in retaliation.
The red robed warrior was far too swift for such a clumsy attack, however. The Axe fell on empty ground, with a loud impact in it's wake.
"Dragon Rising!"
The impact induced a shock wave the size of a tidal wave, drenched in golden glamor, it shot itself straight at the red robbed warrior
The red robbed warrior grinned, and simply lifted his left sword up as the shock wave engulfs him, turning around him nothing but debris, and leaving a heap of smoke in it's wake.
"Fool."
The Axe bearer sighed, disappointed at the fragility of the rival he had just met.
"Foolish it is, but not on my part!"
The crimson swordsman leaped out of the smoke, unscathed, but with his left blade glowing in all it's splendor.
"Despair, for I damn your soul to eternal condemnation"
He thrusted out his left sword, and plunged it deep within the the body of the Axe-bearer, cracking and penetrating his plate mail as if it was paper. Blood gushed out from the chest of the poor Axe-bearer..
"How..."
His mutter fell on deaf ears, as the blade turned purple, and a whitish silhouette being forming around the mortally wounded man. The blade whispered the voices of the dead, as the silhouette begins sipping slowly inside the blade.
"No...Not this...Just kill me!"
The crimson warrior laughed.
"Tis better this way... You can be still of some use in the future"
The lifeless corpse fell on the ground, almost as if drained of all things good. The survivor admired the blood stained blade, knowing full well it was nothing compared to the pain he endured, but it helped.
An unblemished soul. A knight of pure intentions.
Torment Helped.
What has happened to me...?
Torment Helped.
What has happened to me...?
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Emotions
Emotions; They conquer all conscious thoughts and invade the deepest regions of your mind. They are like knights, standing valiantly on the field of battle, loyal only but to a king, the king is the soul. Their sword is merciless, it can be gentle yet cruel, but the results are immediate, the blood that flows from it are plagued by the essences of regret and guilt.
'Twas a tale of two relation
Ended well with no retaliation
Mix and matched with fornication
Coming back with asphyxiation
Why, Why did the two fumble
Only too well, did both know
The pit they were to delved in
Only too sure the pain that surfaced
'Twas a tale of two relation
Ended well with no retaliation
Mix and matched with fornication
Coming back with asphyxiation
Why, Why did the two fumble
Only too well, did both know
The pit they were to delved in
Only too sure the pain that surfaced
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Cover
Hello!
I'm Thomas, an aspiring student studying in Nanyang Polytechnic. I'll be co-writing numerous short stories and novels with another Polytechnic Student called Jake (:
I hope you'll enjoy our works.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Our first project will be called "Twelve"
Cover
"What you do won't affect me."
...or will it?
Fate moves in mysterious ways. Twelve single individuals lead a perfectly normal life, unaffected by the actions and decisions the others make. But one seemingly casual event seems to spark off a journey that makes their lives interlinked.
What you say...
What you do...
It affects all of us.
I'm Thomas, an aspiring student studying in Nanyang Polytechnic. I'll be co-writing numerous short stories and novels with another Polytechnic Student called Jake (:
I hope you'll enjoy our works.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Our first project will be called "Twelve"
Cover
"What you do won't affect me."
...or will it?
Fate moves in mysterious ways. Twelve single individuals lead a perfectly normal life, unaffected by the actions and decisions the others make. But one seemingly casual event seems to spark off a journey that makes their lives interlinked.
What you say...
What you do...
It affects all of us.
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