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Sunday, June 25, 2006

A Piece of Memory

It's a short story I did a few months ago but I am here to share it with you. If I say short story, I say 1000 words only. It was on a link in one of my post but I'll paste it here. I haven't really start on chapter 7 but here is to ease the mind. I need a publisher too. I need my sleep now.

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Poetry

Poetry; verses of lines which are used to express imagination and emotions. That is what this story is about. It is not about words that rhymes, it is about what’s behind those words. It is about the meaning of these carefully placed words. It is about something no one can see unless you look carefully.

“…And he was gone, swallowed by the night

Out of reach and out of sight...”

Upon completing his recitation, he said, “Thank you” and staggering nervously to his seat.

“Thank you John for that lovely poetry. Next is Sarah. Please step forward and recite your poem,” said the English teacher, Miss Ann. Poetry Recital was a special English program which Miss Ann would conduct every Thursday.

John is a student who is recognized by the rest for his poetry and intelligence. He is just a normal fifteen year old kid who, like many other students, is trying to fit in and go along with life. He has many friends who he enjoys hanging out with and he is very sociable. Though, he still feels that something is missing. He feels emptiness in his existence.

A loud ringing echoed throughout the whole school, signifying it was 3:15pm that the school had ended. Another day of school ended with nothing much accomplished for John. He grabbed his backpack, waved to his friends and waited outside for the school bus.

Unfortunately for John, it started to pour. Drenched and empty was what he was feeling. Today was similar to any other day in his life. He heaved sighed a sigh as he dashed for the nearest shelter. The bus came late again, which killed thirty minute of his precious time. He walked on the bus, soaked, along with his backpack and everything inside it, and sat down on the nearest available seat. He sat beside a girl who was his classmate. Her name was Jessica.

“Hey, John, nice poem,” she greeted.

“You think so? I thought I didn’t put enough effort in it…” he replied depressingly.

“No, you did a great job on it!” she commented.

“Thanks,” he thanked her. The bus jerked to a stop as it reached John’s house. He stood up, waved goodbye to Jessica and left.

Home sweet home, he thought. He got up to his room and lay on his bed. The first thing he does after coming home from school is check his hand phone. No new mail, no new call as usual.

John, what’s the point of looking at your phone if you know there wouldn’t be any messages.

Again, he heaved a painful sigh and decided to get things off his mind. He sat on his comfortable chair and switched on his computer. Once he was on the computer, he would chat to his friends or start writing a new poem or both. He looked on his list of friends who were currently online. In alphabetical order, he slowly scrolled down through the nicknames and spotted the one he wanted. He clicked on it and the window open.

“Hi.” He typed. He waited and within seconds she replied. Her name was Jane and she had been John’s friend since they were young. They recently managed to contact one another after a few years of being in different schools.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, just a bit tired. How about you?”

Just talking to her made my problems go away. It was like magic.

“Oh, I’m okay, I guess. We had poetry recital today. It didn’t go too well.”

“It didn’t?” Even though they were words, it sounded as though she was concerned. John searched for the proper words to explain it to her. But before he could reply, there was another message from her.

“What was your poem?”

Saved by that question, he thought. However, now he had to type down his whole poem and she would say comment on it. He grabbed out a copy of the poem and typed it down. After he done doing so, he waited nervously for her comment.

“Well?” He typed once more.

Finally a reply.

“It was beautiful.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m telling the truth. Hey, I got to go. Why don’t you recite me a poem next time?”

And she was gone. He sat there petrified. Recite a poem to her? His biggest challenge.

Days passed and they talked a lot, even till midnight. Once a while she would ask about the poem but he would say that there was something missing. And then one very night, he sat down on his bed and picked up his hand phone. The number was dialled but he hadn’t pressed the call button yet. He sat there staring at the phone for about ten minutes. Then he breathed in and puckered the courage he need. He pressed the call button. Amazingly, this was his first time talking to her on the phone. He had never done that before because he couldn’t really speak to a girl on the phone. But their conversation went well. He hesitated once or twice but apart from that, everything was fine.

John, you’ve got to do it. It’s now or never.

“Jane, remember you asked me to recite you a poem?”

“Yea.”

“Well,” he gulped, “Here it is.”

There was a silence as John stared at the paper where he wrote the poem. He tried to speak but words won’t come out.

You can do it, John, it’s just words.

I think I should be going,
I think I should be sleeping,
And have wonderful dreams of you, I know,
So goodbye and see you tomorrow,
The pain I would not bare,
I should go now, so take care...”

There was a pause and he closed his eye, hoping the words would come out right.

“I love you, Jane,

I hoped we could meet again,” he said. It was followed by silence.

“John,” she finally spoke, “I don’t know what to say.”

And she hung up. John’s heart fell like a rock and shattered when it hit ground. He could feel tears were about to come out when suddenly his phone beeped. It was a message. It read: “I’m touched. Smiling. Shaky… Heart beating fast… Don’t know how to describe… Saying you love me through a poem is breathtaking… I never had a guy who ever said that they loved me before… I have to go now, goodnight.”

John smiled. He felt a part of his life was complete. It wasn’t just words. It was the feeling and the emotion that makes poetry wonderful.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 6

Before I begin, I would like to say that I had been tested on education then enjoyed myself during the holidays therefore I did not have the mood/time to write.Then there was the issue of my hundredth poem which I have completed twice. However, I've finally finished it and here it is.
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Chapter 6: A Grim Adventure

The Grim Reaper sat beside the wrecked down aircraft and a ruined front entrance of an airport. Cars parked at the wide parking compound exploded one by one like a chain reaction. Pillars collapsed upon the burning aeroplane and the weight caused the foundation to collapse. The whole area was in flames and it was spreading rapidly. Sirens could be heard from the distance. Large red trucks with ladder attacked to the top and a rope attached to the side sped through the road and swerved to a stop at the parking lot. The little puny humans ran towards the inferno and with the hose, fired (technically the word should be used is watered) the fire with water. Such entertaining motion picture for the Reaper though he could not be amused. Those brave men in non-flammable orange suits. The Grim Reaper got up and went across the site. He stood next to one of those fire fighters with an emotionless smile. It was so gruesomely painful until the man felt numbness.

The man saw something next to him. It was a thin giant with black covering every single part of his body. The man saw that he had a long pole like object with a blade at the end. “Hello,” the Grim Reaper hollowly said. He used his curved blade and hooked on to the poor man. The Grim Reaper pulled his scythe back and out came the man’s soul.

“Come with me, I don’t have all day.”

“With the brothers filed up in a line,
As straight as a long twine,
It’s the first and last sign,
That comes after everything’s fine.

Thick as a hard stone,
I cannot do it alone,
Master of the death bone,
Everyone will scream and moan.

The ‘I’ in second version second line is actually a roman numerical rather than ‘I’ as in the first person pronoun,” recited and explained Eugene. It was not much of a recital as he did not put his heart and effort into it.

“Sounds too modernised. Are you sure this was an old poem?” questioned Eliot.

“During Nostradamus’ time. The philosopher was a different kind of philosopher. He predicted words and put them into sentences or paragraphs or poems. There were a few words which they did not understand back then. Olden English was much different than ours.”

“How so very true,” replied Eliot.

“So from a poet’s point of view…erm… what do you think it is about?” asked Dyert nervously.

“Don’t worry. I won’t blast you for asking questions,” told Eugene kindly, “Anyways, to answer your question; I’d say that it has something to do with a specific period of time which could mean now since it is after another war. The rocks aligned could probably mean some artefacts or it could be as big as the constellation. I’ve done some research and found two rocky artefact related cases and a date for one of the constellation. So Dyert, I need your suggestion since you are involved.”

“Maybe it’s those police line-ups or… um… family reunion?”

“Good thinking. I’ll do some research on that,” commented Eugene, “You two should investigate case number two. Jason and Pia are doing case number one.”

Those big names; famous across the both worlds which lived on planet Earth. Jason Chow was much like Justin with the weird and mysterious character. Dyert kidded about Jason being Justin’s father but when he thought about it, Jason was only around thirty. Pia was portrayed as the gothic girl even though she was not that gothic with the mascara and accessories.

“Erm… Eugene…um… Do you know anyone by the name of… uhm Justin Chow? And is he related to... erm… Jason?” Dyert mumbled a question with hesitations.

Eugene slowly nodded as if something horrible happened, “He’s Jason’s son.”

‘Oh’ escaped Dyert’s lips. That little piece of info craved an impression on Dyert’s face.

“You better get some gears. Go through the door next to the computers. Raymond will help you. He knows what to do. Dylan, follow him. I need to talk to Eliot here.”

Right after the both of them left, Eugene’s smile turned into a frown. The room was filled with gloom and grim.

“I just have one thing to say.”
“You always have something to say,” replied Eliot immediately.

“She’s not dead.”

On the other hand, Dyert was with Dylan as they await the unknown Raymond. The room was a large square white room. On one of those walls, there was a big sign saying ‘Do not touch anything’. But what was there to touch here in the empty white room apart from the sign? One sector of the wall slid open. Darkness was inside the rectangular hole. There was a shape of a big sized, slightly chubby person. He stepped into the white light. It was Raymond, their inventor and innovator. A weapon specialist and with his great skills, he had helped. His hands were coarse due to the constant handwork. It was his hobby, his job and most of his life. He started a business and his company was named Goh Inventory Venture (GIV). It did well, very well. Raymond looked like a combination between a Chinese big shot and a mad scientist in white suit. His hair was flat and straight and short. He wore those cool white professor’s coats which could camouflaged him if he stand close to the walls.

“Hello,” he spoke with a half-dead, half-energetic voice. It was a monotonic voice which sounded like his most lively voice but it was quite inert.

“How can I help you?” he asked. He gave Dyert a quick review of his size, structure, strength and et cetera.

“The usual,” said Dylan.

“You know I cannot give you give you anything,” replied Raymond and added, “In case you go insane and attack us.”

He turned around towards Dyert once more, “Eugene told me to get you some gears. No weapons yet.”

He went up to the wall on the right of the door Dyert entered from and slammed his elbow into it. With a blink of an eye, it was filled with cool gizmos. There was a grappling hook gun and bullet-proof vests which can be found in spy movies. There were other unexplainable items hung on the wall. There was one which looked like a modified version of flashlight and the other which looked like a customized vest with more features and another which looked like a personalized digital wristwatch with more buttons. Eliot finally ended his conversation with Eugene and stepped into the white room.

“I need a gun,” requested Eliot.

“What type?” asked Raymond.

“A silent killer.”

“How about this one?” Raymond handed him an L-shaped weaponry with a trigger at the ninety-degree bent. That was just a simple description. It was far more complex that it. It was skilfully designed with more than one function.

Eliot aimed it up at the ceiling and blasted three holes into it. Wires and metal joined together and the hole was gone. It was an amazing piece of technology; an automatic repairable test wall or in this case, ceiling.

However, this was not what Dyert expected. He thought that they would be going vampire hunting traditionally with stakes and holy water. Nevertheless, they were going somewhere doing something much more interesting that what he has been doing; reading or lazing around.

He grabbed a couple of gears and suited up; a vest, a pair of gloves and a pair of shoes. They were all navy blue for night camouflage. Everything was secure; zipped and buttoned.

“So where are we heading?”

They walked off into elevator, stopped on the ground floor and exited into a long path which led to a parking lot filled with four-wheeler. Those jungle pattern designs one. They were average in size and they looked brand new. The garage door mechanically pulled open and as the light entered the polish shone. It was not natural sunlight. It was the light of something magical and unnatural.

“Where are we in the first place?”

“Confidential.”

“Then where are we going?”

Thailand or what was known as Siam.”

“And we are going through another portal?”
“Another mystical and amazing magical portal,” interrupted Dylan, who sliced through the conversation between Dyert and Eliot.

It was British-built so the driver’s seat was on the right. Dyert set on the front passenger seat while Dylan sat at the back. The vehicle was started, safety belt in place, brakes released, and reversed. Eliot did a smooth swerve and sped on the long straight path into the portal.

At the other end the jeep leapt in the air and landed with a bumped. He did another swerve and jerked the car to a stop. He was handling the four-wheeler really roughly but it was still quite professional.

It was a deserted area. Barren, down the dusty sand. Not even a cactus at sight. Just a lot of rocks and dust and bones. There were a few yellowish bones scattered around the area. It was a sign which tells anyone that there is nothing which is able to survive here for long.

“Something went wrong,” stated Eliot.

“Isn’t it obvious?” replied Dylan.

“What happened actually?” asked Dyert.

The flaming ball hung up in the sky was scorching the plains. The sun was directly above the four-wheeler. The atmosphere was the thinnest here and the air was blazing hot. It was like hell just surfaced at this location.

“If you happen to listen to your Geography teacher, this was the Sahara desert,” explained Eliot, “It is now as you see it. Dylan, we need a…”

“No can do,” he interrupted, “Still can’t.”

“Fudge!” swore Eliot.

“We’re doooom!” yelled Dylan. It echoed.

“What do we do now?” asked Dyert.

“Still thinking,” Eliot rubbed his chin, “Dylan, an ice spell at… erm… 200 meter radius?”

“I can’t!”

“And why not?”

“Because!”

“Of?”

“Don’t you remember that INCIDENT that happened here!?” Dylan emphasised with a loud voice, “The one which made the Sahara this way.”

“A-M-Bomb?”

“You will not speak of it again!” Dylan yelled hurtfully without his mouth moving.

“What’s it?” Dyert whispered to Eliot.

“Something which wiped out a lot of the magical society. It was an anti-magic nuclear weapon.”

“So what do we do now then?” Dyert asked as he watched Dylan outside of the vehicle, kneeling and crying or that was what it looked like.

“No reception, no water and also this vehicle is probably going to overheated. I’ve sent a signal and I guess we can wait till the air-condition in the vehicle until that breaks down too. So I guess I can tell you the story of the Sahara deserts.”

A minor flashback; very minor. A major one soon to come but for the reader’s information, this is a flashback.

It was 0000 hours and the battle was still going on. Their mechanical weaponries were matched up with their magical spells. Gun fired and fireballs shot across the battlefield. It was a bloody exchange and it was a standstill too. If one on the home team scored, the visitor team scored too, metaphorically. They were going no where with this; it was a tie, a draw. That was how Plan A came into action.

“All right, listen up, I hate you and you hate me but I’m your commander and you have to listen,” barked Commander Alastor.

Jonathan Tan despised the army. He was not sure how he got into the army or why he was chosen in the training but he was there and he had to obey orders or he would be hung. Either ways, he was dead. Jonathan was more technologically intelligent and gaming freaks like most of Eugene’s friends. He was one of Eugene’s friends so he could be categorised there. He looked like he was sixty years old judging by his hair. His hair was covered with white with very few linings of black. Moreover, he did not use dye.

He sat in the briefing room on one of the most uncomfortable seats, listening to ramblings of an idiot, to him. He was also very unpatriotic people in the country. He could turn a composition essay on about anything into a rant going against the country. Though, school was back about a decade ago. Right after graduation day, Jonathan was one of the lucky ones to get picked for the army. Ironic, is it not? Probably the government was reading his examination essays. After training for two year, he thought that he would not have to call back for national duties. Only if there was war, the army graduates would have to be called back.

There was war a decade after and he was called. He sat down, twitching at the commander’s plan A. He yawned softly due to lack of sleep. It was actually no sleep at all. He rubbed his eyes and scratched his head, trying to keep himself awake.

“We are going to get an undercover agent. In order to do that, I am going to randomly pick a number and if you are that number, you are it. No turning back,” told the commander.

He drew one of the many pieces of paper.

“Twenty-six.”

It was Jonathan’s number.

The events that occurred between then and the start of the plan was not important.

It was in the small hours when Jonathan was standing outside of camp with his camouflage gear. He had his night vision goggles on his eyes and wires attached on every part of his body. An earpiece in his ear and a mouthpiece in his mouth. He even had a mini camera on him.
“Do I have to do this commander? You’ve seen me on the field before.”

“You were the best on the field.”

“Actually, I lied my way out off field training.”

“All the more reason to get you killed. Now, go!”

Jonathan muttered as he walked on the dessert terrain. He had to cross miles of dirt, carrying a backpack with the equipments he needed to operate the plan.

“Just like Battlefield 2020 Sahara’s desert terrain. Nothing to it. Just avoid being seen,” Jonathan whispered to himself to gain confidence.

He was out of camp and his journey started. He ran to any nearest rocks and hit behind it before he approached nearer. He was paranoid. It was shown as he found every opportunity to hide. He crawled on his belly like in the military action war game he mentioned. There was one thing he failed to remember. This was real life and real life has life. In other words, a rattlesnake just slithered above his leg. He assumed it was a rattlesnake but it was indeed something long, and heavy which just slithered or crawled on his leg. It hissed. He froze still in the middle of the sandy plains. There was nothing around him so if he was spotted he could not hide. Luckily it was quite early in the morning so no one would be up or it would be hard to see.

He bent his torso in the most awkward position to see what was on him. It was indeed a rattlesnake and it was huge. It looked like long scaly piece of moving hose and it was green. Though, Jonathan would not really know what colour it was as he was wearing a night vision goggle so everything was in green. He turned back and slid out a gun from the leather holder on his right hip. He felt the trigger and for some reason it felt different than usual. The pistol felt awfully heavier too but it was probably the silencer. Whatever it was, Jonathan blasted the snake and it died. It was too late when he realised that that was his flare gun.

His trousers caught the ball of flame and were burning. The impacted obviously hurt and Jonathan screamed in pain. The screech reverberated around the whole area which was as bright as a lit freewayhe whole area. ed in pain in the middle of the night.

“Dammit,” swore Jonathan.

In the meanwhile, somewhere else, the general was getting frustrated. He grabbed the radio microphone and yelled into it.

“Operation N is activated on location S has activated.”

Location S was of course the Sahara Desert.

Back at Jonathan, he could here the footsteps of his enemies. He immediately grabbed his second walkie-talkie once he heard the announcement.

“Gene, you know what Operation N is?”

“Nuclear missile,” replied Eugene.

“What the…” Jonathan hesitated, “I am going to be dead, aren’t I?”

“I have sent a helicopter.”

“You knew all this?

“I knew you were screw up.”

Before Jonathan replied, he stopped the rope ladder which was dropped down from a helicopter. He climbed up there and flew away as fast as possible. No one survived in Sahara.

End of the flashback.

An hour had passed for Eliot, Dylan and Dyert and there had been no progress at all. Their vehicle smoked which meant that the power was about to go off. It did go off and they were sitting under the shade as they discussed about anything that passed their mind. There was no point in walking as they were only use up energy and they would go no where.

Outside, on top of a rock, the Grim Reaper sat and observed them. If the Grim Reaper was there it would only mean someone was going to die unless there was a twist of fate. Similar to what happened to the Challenged Saviour. A tragic twist indeed. He grabbed out an hourglass and went off. It was not their time but soon enough, everyone dies.

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End