Fragments part 3 - Murasaki

“Aki-kun, I…I..” he stuttered dragging me in full alarm. There was a taint of red on both his cheeks shooing my very heart to beat in haste. I knew where this will lead to, I knew it, yet I was too stunned, my feet too rooted to the ground and I could not get away.

“Shi-“

“Aki-kun,” he called my name again this time with determination. Even still with a red face Senpai looked at me straight in the eyes, gathering every piece of his courage back in place. “Will you go out together with me?”

 Silence ensued between us. I looked into his eyes and he in mine. It wasn’t fair, his sat protected behind those glasses, thus shielding them from my glorious stare. I showed no emotion on my face.

“I really need to go back home, Shiki-senpai.” I stepped away all at once, without turning, almost running.

“Aki-kun, wait!” Before he could say anything, I was gone, lost, disappeared beyond the corner as swift as shadows. I was glad that my gait made no sound and the thick pad of my snickers made my step almost noiseless. He won’t know which way I went, surely.

Akari appeared jogging beside me as I walked. I was damn sure she heard it. Lurking somewhere in the shadow she did, and of course she heard it. I couldn’t cover my anger as I heard her giggled.

“What are you sniggering at?!”

“You shouldn’t turn down a senpai like that, it’s rude,” she said, a smile on her face.

“I’m just not interested,” I said rather absently.

“Are you? Thehehee… and what were all the running about? Does your heart beat so fast?” Instantly, all my senses were made aware of the crazy drum in my chest.

“DOKUN, DOKUN!” Akari mocked. My cheeks started to grow hot. Damn it! I’m blushing, when did it get there?! “That’s a good girl. Why not turn back now and wait for Shiki-senpai to come and chase after you, Aki-kun?”

“Stop teasing me! I don’t want it to become that way. I’m not girly like any other girl. My hair’s short. I don’t know how to cook. I don’t speak decently to people and he is just too polite, too kind… he’s not supposed to be with me!” And calling me with the nickname my course mates call me, highlighting and knowing all my flaws, what was he thinking?!

********

Purple. I always love that colour. I like it because I think I will look good in it. I remembered I had a purple clothe once when I was in school. I love it so much and even my self-esteem boost up to the fullest wearing it. Right now, I don’t even have a purple clothe.

“Why do you want to have a purple clothe now?” Akari asked as we walked along the corridor. My eyes widened a little. “No, the real question is, why do you want to look good now, instead of being so self-contiousless as you were before?” I turned my head to my side facing her. I knew this will happen. I twitched as she laughed merrily by my side.

“So, he still shows up, Shiki-senpai, even he was being rejected so many times. That is quite admirable,” she said. I sighed disdainfully and walked ahead of her. I will give you the luxury to laugh at me this time, Akari. Just this time.

Then, just ahead of me, I saw him again, noting, pausing, raising one arm, waving at me, smiling. I couldn’t help but to witness things almost in slow motion. I wondered why, I think everything was lulled in his presence, as if everything will be drawn to his warmth, his kindness. Almost in an instant I will long for the purple clothe I wear in school, as if it could save me. Then, I will gasp, red-faced, and things will start to move normally again. Soon, I will realize that I need to run away from him as I always did in our many encounters at the collage.  

I did give a hint, right? Why did he keep coming back?  And, I hate the way that guy put an effect on me.

*******

“Ah, Aki-kun! I have been looking for you!”

Perhaps, he’s blind.

*******

“Aki-kun, will you go out with me this weekend? But, if you’re busy, it’s okay.”

He’s blind.

*******

“Aki-kun, that thing looks heavy. Let me help you.”

He’s so clueless.

*******

“Ah, Aki-kun!”

He’s definitely clueless.

*******

“Aki-kun!”

BAKA!

*******

I stopped. I was planning to run away again, but this time for some awkward reasons, I stopped. Even Shiki-senpai had not said a word when I halted. Perhaps, it surprised him a bit.

“You are a persistent kind, Senpai. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Huh?” I turned around facing him. I just realized then, how small his frame is for a guy and his features, his eyes are soft and kind-looking that you won’t be afraid of him. I mean, it was natural to fear a Senpai, but the person standing in front of me was just only a bit taller than me. The reason people respect him, I supposed, the reason people like him, WHY I like him is what he really is!

“Why are you so persistent, Shiki-senpai? Starting from that day and even until now.”

“I guess it just can’t be help.” Despite my rage he began to smile and laughed stupidly. “ I have fallen for you. Even though you don’t accept it, by just meeting you, it makes me happy.”

“But why Senpai? Why did you act like nothing happen?” I demanded, this time feeling a bit superior. Recognizing my anger, just once, there was a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

“I realize that you keep running away from me, Aki-kun.”

“Drop the suffix, please, Senpai.”

“Yappari, you didn’t like the name people call you. I’m sorry.” It didn’t bother me but it sounded weird when you uttered so.

“Well, I realize that you keep running away from me, Aki, but you have not driven me away. Not even once.” With that we both fell silent. My cheeks threateningly became warmer as I caught sight of a slight red taint on his face. Only when the feeling of discomfort started to set foot between us I sighed and started to say something.

“Well, we just don’t suit together, see, Senpai? I’m a boyish girl and you are… It is the same like colours, alright? You are like… Beige… and I am hot Red. Beige and Red do not mix well together.”

“Murasaki.”

“Eh?”

“You are not Red, Aki-kun, I mean Aki. I think you are purple.” My eyes widened a little to his remarks. At that time I could feel the tinge of curiosity, surprise and awe, lurching from inside of me in waves.

“It’s the colour that symbolizes mystery and spirituality. As intriguing as it is, purple has both warm and cool properties, that it can calm but invigorate your spirit at the same time, like the flower of lavander. Really, it is quite unbelievable, don’t you think, that only when we mix the strong warm and the strong cool colour, red and blue, two unique paradoxes, purple was borne. It is the same as you, Aki. I guess, the colour suits you better. I don’t know whether it will mix well with beige, though,” he said scratching the back of his head, a soft smile absently forming on his lips.

Purple and beige do mix well together… the extra ordinary and the ordinary…

Should I rejoice the words which I just heard or should I not? Perhaps I should but I felt like crying instead. Though a senpai he may seem to be, though a terrifyingly kind one as compared to myself, I knew as plain as day what I felt in my heart. With a mirthless smile I turned away. He didn’t stop me, though, knowing that I will still run if he did. He just stood there, saying no words at all, accepting things.

That was why after a few steps I stopped.

“Shiki-senpai, I didn’t deny that I like you myself, personally, as what I am. But, there are other things that concern me so bad that I couldn’t do things simply like a good girl. Senpai, let me give you a good advice –

- don’t get too close to me, or you will end up getting hurt.”

Fragments part 2 - Hikari

“Aki-chan~!” her voice echoed louder than the wordless whisper of the crowd. Why people with high-pitched voice always didn’t know how to control their voices.

“Aki-chan~!” I could feel her cheekily grabbed onto me and I swerved a little to my side. Damn brat!

“Why are you here?”

“That’s rude, Aki. I just came here,” she said pouting already. After all the years of knowing her, this girl pouted a lot more than any other girls would. “Besides, would it be so bad if I’m here? Ah!” I paced up before her, ignoring her, leaving her behind. “Aki, matte! Mou…” There, another pout, I guessed. I didn’t need to turn at her to know this.

I heard her footsteps trailing behind me and she paced to catch up. “Nee, Aki. You are becoming more and more emotional lately. Being emo is not good for your health, you know. You should go and have some fun sometimes! Do you want to go watch a movie with me?” And she muffled up some title which I could not grasp.

“I don’t want to watch movies with you,” I deadpanned.

“Hidoii!!”

I left her behind again and it took her less than a second to grab onto me again. “Nee, Aki,. I guess I figure out what you need.” For a second I eyed her from the corner of my eyes without turning and looked in front of me again. “You just need something to spice up your life, something that will give you new experience, new feelings, new expression to this stoic face of yours.” She poked my left cheek with her pointing finger and laughed her usual annoying Thehehe. I scoffed in disdain.

“You know, Aki, you need a guy in your life.” My eyes widened in surprised as her voice trailed away with a strange echo. Instinctively, I whacked her hands away from my arm.

“I’m not interested in meaningless talk, Akari.” She giggled as I rushed forward getting into the tunnel. She followed me like a shadow, into the darkness where I walked.

“Life has been so cruel, so cruel that it will freeze one heart. Someday, Aki, a person, a person will come to save you and thaw your heart away. Indeed, like the light at the end of this tunnel” Baka onna da. The books she read were getting to her head. I stepped out of the tunnel heading to the railway tracks. The bell of the railway chimed and the railing began to fall slowly across the path.

“Aki-chan, don’t you agree with me? You cannot lie to me, Aki. I always know that you are – “

“Enough, I don’t want to listen anymore to this!” I screamed at the top of my voice. The people who stood waiting by the railing stared as if a horn had just grown on my head. Akari whistled to herself, ignoring me. Damn, she purposely did it! I hate her! I stared at my feet flustered.

“Nee, Aki-chan, mae wo mite goran...

...Hora!

Are wa kimi no hikari da.”

I lifted my eyes to see a dark figure in front of me, standing still at the other side of the track. His dark jacket matched with his raven coloured hair which hung loosely innocently on his head. No one had that kind of haircut anymore. Not after they graduated from school. But this person in front of me chose to stick to the fashion as if the time had been stagnant. And those nerd looking glasses… I imagined this guy had issues with his past memories.

“Murakawa Shiki,” Akari said. “ No, Shiki-senpai, darou? Always innocent, warm and kind. I know he would suit your type, Aki.” I glared at her as she said it but it only made her giggle more. I turned away, in shame looking back at him who was than looking thoughtfully at his watch.

“Really, Aki. You think I didn’t know why you choose to go back on this route. You will find Shiki-senpai coming back from his part-time job on the way. Always looking silently and keeping things to yourself. You should learn to express your feelings a little bit.” There was a sad tone in Akari’s voice, a reason I didn’t answer her this time, a reason I had gazed sadly on senpai’s face.

The sound of the train grew louder and I could feel how the ground shook as it sped up past us, blocking our sight with unbearable but enticing blur. Just before it did, I caught Shiki-senpai’s eyes on me, noticing me, smiling at me.

Fragments part 1 - Ame

The meandering rain slipped down against the glassy window like tears. Imaginative people might really think that the sky was crying. Good for them. At least life won’t be so boring for them, won’t be as lonely…

Loneliness… I didn’t know why rain portrays loneliness that much, why people always associate it with the other as if it is the truth of the world. Perhaps, rain really looked like tears and lonely people cry.

I didn’t. No matter what they said, I didn’t, yet loneliness was what I felt that day as I sat by the window staring at the endless rain outside, a glass of hot tea in one hand.

“What are you eating, Aki?” a gleeful voice asked and I tore my sight away from the window to a petite form on my bed, a feet rose dangling high upwards, revealing a rather smooth pretty figure beneath the fluffy skirt.

“I’m just having my tea,” I said and took another slurp of the hot tea, almost ignoring her.

“How boring, I thought you are having cup noodles,” she said.

“Baka.” The silence lingered and I stared at the dark sky silently as she hummed one of the crazy tunes of hers. The light became dimmer colouring the room with shades of grey. It won’t stop and it would be raining the entire day, I guessed. “Naa, Akari…”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you come here?”

She grabbed onto my pillow burying half of her face as she turned at me. “Thehee,” she laughed. “I always know that you will feel lonely in this kind of weather.”

I stared boredly at her face for a couple of second before I drank my tea again. “Akari, go back.”

“Nande?! I came here just to accompany you!” she protested pouting like a child.

“My roommate will return in a few minutes, I don’t want her to find out.”

“Like she will find out,” she said.

“She will if you stay.”

“But, will it be that bad if she does?! If she’s showing any negative attitude towards you I will-“ CLICK. The key’s turning, someone’s at the door.

BADUMM!!

“Tadaima,” a voice was heard as the door opened. “What was that sound just now?”

“Okaeri, Asoko. The tissue box just slipped off my hand.” I bend down a little pretending to lift the tissue box I had earlier grabbed from the table back to its place. Just then, I saw a small hand came out from under the bed pulling in the remaining scruff of skirt out of sight. Baka onna da.

“Oh, is that so?”  Asoko went straight to her own bed, collapsing onto it, ignoring the somewhat wet clothe she had. “Ah, I’m so tired,” she moaned before turning back at me. “How was the lecture?”

“I skipped my class,” I said.

“Really?” Then, she said nothing more. After killing a few minutes on the bed, she rushed for some clean clothes from her closet and tugged them all in her bag. She took some of her books afterwards.

“Are you going out?” I asked carefully eyeing her as she packed.

“Yeah, my boyfriend is waiting for me downstairs.”

“I see.” That means I’ll be alone again tonight. “Don’t forget the umbrella. It will be raining until evening.”

“Thanks.” She was already standing at the door when she said it. “Well, don’t wait for me, okay?” She smiled and I smiled back at her. The door was shut and she was gone. I sighed as I heard her faint footstep dying away.

I heard some disturbing scratches after that; a reminder of the previous occurrences. I looked down at my feet and saw Akari emerged from under the bed, a wide grin on her face.

“Nee, Aki-chan? The way you cover things up, it sounds like you are having a secret relationship with another girl.”

“Shut up, Akari.”

Pottery, pottery, pottery, pot!

Ah, i found an interesting article in the newspaper today. I don't usually read a newspaper but the headline on the front page had me stunned. So, it was saying about the making of pottery, Indian pottery in Malaysia and the thing that had made jumping up with joy is that the owner of the kiln, V.N Ramadass told that he provides bot individual and group training of pottery making. The kiln was somewhere in Selangor and the contact number of his pottery making center is 03-32891054. I was like "Wow, he left his phone number in here!" after i finished reading the article.

My mother asked me what it was and i told her that someday during the school holidays or the period while i'll be waiting to be posted i will go to this man and learn how to make pottery from him. i guessed my mom was shocked to hear that... hehehe...

Well, i have been quite obsessed with potteries for quite some times now. i did collect a lot of information about Mashiko's Japanese potteries and compiled them in a long article. You can read the article here! I even wrote a novel about potteries, i mean the first part of the book. Maybe i should post Shinkansen chapters next time ^_^. Therefore, i have been thinking... it would be great if i could join some workshops somewhere and learn how to pot. The newspaper article is like a dream comes true.

Well, i guess that's it for today. You can even read some old articles i wrote in the link i gave you. And also a silly story... Enjoy reading!

Best Picture!

 

Yes, I took the picture from minitokyo.net, the best websites to get awesome anime wallpapers. You will not only be able to get wallpapers, some generous people had uploaded some nice scans too. Usually, I will search for Vampire Knight stuff over there. Really, Hino-sensei's drew mesmerizing pictures, especially Kaname-sama's (nosebleeds)... hahah! Perhaps i should share some of my vampire knight collection later...

I had just finished downloading the seventh movie of Kara no Kyoukai (murder speculation part 2) yesterday and the KaraKyou's fever had not come down yet. I love the series! The pictures are beautiful, the soundtracks are awesome, the plot is beautifully dark (which i like) and i was totally impressed with the ending, even though i had read the entire KaraKyou's books... thehehe...

The picture shows Kokutou Mikiya and Ryougi Shiki, the two most important characters in the story, and no doubt the picture is taken from the second movie (murder speculation part 1) or should I say the scene is all KaraKyou fans' longing thoughts for both characters. I mean the scene never occurred in the movie. What really happened is that Shiki with her bloody red kimono came slicing over the poor-running-for-his-life Mikiya... hahah... so much for a relaxing cup of tea. Well, SHIKI might do that, though, since he and Mikiya are buddies...

Those two are two of my favourite anime characters. I like Mikiya's kind character. Were I fated to meet a person like that in life, no doubt I will be greatly interested in him. Since I am a kind of person who are not opened, and dark... and weird... I found a person like that loyal and sincere. I don't know why, were i fated to meet a character as kind as him, i will protect him to the best of my ability. And, I like Shiki because we are the same. Yes, I admit that i have double characters (an obvious symptoms for schizophrenia) and unlike Shiki and SHIKI, both of us are girls and we don't have any killing intention. The accepting and rejecting part is true, however... That is why, i guess, I sort of understand what Shiki felt.

Anyone who has anything to say about the picture may do so and anyone who wants to save the picture can do that too ^_^

I hope i could put some YouTube link of the seventh movie for those who haven't watched and couldn't get it from Veoh or Megavideo...

Let the cute cat out of the bag

Lol, i simply use the proverb because the kitty is too cute, it's making me crazy... The first time i saw its face i yelled to myself, in front of Edward, my typical crazy line 'Momiau! Momiau!' I know it sounds stupid but in my personal language it means cat. It is true that i am quite obsessed with Nihongo for these three years that i might as well refer it as 'neko-chan'. or just 'cat', in my second favourite language... i know some other names too...

In Arabic we call it 'hurairah'. Abu Hurairah, the well-known hadith quoter loved cats, a reason he was later named so.

In Tagalog, the latest language i learn, a cat is called 'pussa'. Cute isn't it. So it tells me that the word pussy cat might not entirely be English then. In Spanish, however the word 'gato' or 'felino' come up... I thought Spanish and Tagalog would be the same since they have the same word for cow.

What about mandarin? It is called 'mao'. Hahaha... of all the languages, this one is the cutest, * jumping up with joy, motivated to learn Mandarin more* because cats indeed make sounds like that! ^_^

And lastly, Bahasa Melayu cat is 'kucing'...

No matter what they are called... cats are all 'momiau' for me hehehehe...

By the way, for English Language learner, 'to let the cat out of the bag' means to tell a secret ^_^

Art Attack

My assignments for art class are killing me! We have so many tasks and i have so many other things to do... T_T Well, since i will graduate and become a primary school teacher, art subject is necessary (Actually, so does any other subject. When you are a primary school teacher, you need to be ready to teach anything, a reason i had so many subjects to learn...)

Alright, i just would like to share with you my work. They are not pretty, mind you, and i'm posting them here so that i won't lose their copy once i have submitted them. I do have them in my laptop but it won't last for long if anything happens to my dear Edward(my personal laptop). Well, unless something happens to blogspot... *skeptical*

My first work of the day... (up there!)

It is a floral motif plus curtain picture, so i named it mother's curtain. Since it would be quite irrelevant to name it father's curtain (hey, i'm being gender biased here!!!!), i simply chose mother as the appropriate tactic to fulfill the evil ambition of inner demon and her crazy minions... hahahaha... (i'm completely off my rocker for the lack of sleep)...

Alright, i'm being serious now. The task is to draw a black and white picture of anything. It is a practice of drawing, lining as well as inking. A lot of my friends copied some pictures from somewhere, and because i'm such a stubborn and hard headed person i decided to draw something of my own, meaning it is hundred percent experimental... hahaha... so that is the product. I will share with you some other works later...

Then, i'm off! ^_^

The umbrellas

Hahaha... a silly scribble this time...

i realize throughout my post i have not been expressing things in my head lately. That is because i don't have much time in life... haha... and I'm turning very secretive recently to the point of not saying anything.

Anyway, here's a new story... i don't call it a short story nor could i name it a poem (even though it is written in stanzas). Perhaps, it's a song? Well, call it anything you like and enjoy reading. Perhaps i have been reading too much shoujo manga lately... my mind is quite occupied with a little bit of romance... hihihi...

The umbrellas

The colour of the sky changes
The world’s sign to the ignorant human beings
The air smelt wet
Yep, soon people are going to need the umbrellas

Just now I saw you stand over there
Completely alone among the waves of people
The lightening showed itself
Yet, as clueless as the crowds you stood still

I took my blue umbrella out
With a slight guiltiness as I pulled it over my head
Though how big the umbrella was
It wouldn’t shelter me if you were left unsheltered

Hey, won’t you share this umbrella with me?
You will get wet all over like this
But, there’s not a little bit of confidence
In this pitiful self, just to say that aloud

I heard that knights had their swords
To come to the princess’ aid
I wonder if it would be nice to be a knight sometimes
But, in my hand was just a timid blue umbrella

The thunder roared mercilessly this time
And a middle-aged man jumped an inch up in the air
My heart ached as I saw
The flimsy distress on your face

Hey, won’t you share this umbrella with me?
You will get wet all over like this
But, before the cold rain started to fall
Reaching into your bag, you pulled a cute pink umbrella out

I heard that knights had their swords
To come to the princess’ aid
I thought it was nice to be a knight once in a while
But, in my hand was only a silly blue umbrella

Nothing can be done, can’t it?
I just missed my chance
What a great knight of umbrellas I was
Well, at least you won’t get drenched by the rain, right?

But then you turned and smiled at me
Slipping your warm hands in mine
We walked together in blue and pink umbrellas
I guess, only our clasping hand would get drenched this way…

Your Sky

anata no sora ga zutto
kirei da to omou...

hiruma ga okochatte
atsui sugitemo

ame ga owaranakute
sabishiku nattemo

isshun ni kuroku natte
nakitai demo

yoake kara yuuyake made...
asa ni, hiru ni, yoru ni mo...

anata no utsukushii sora dake ni
nandomo....
tasukerareru.

i was writing my paper this afternoon when i felt so tired and laid down on the floor looking at the window. (There's no furniture in my house lol!) Suddenly i felt so happy looking at the sky and all and how much it ease my wretched mind. So the words started to rush over my head and here there are... not really a poem... but... I hope someone will make a song out of this, i'm not good in composing music...haha... i'm not a native speaker of Japanese and i think there's a lot of grammatical mistakes over there... hehe

Here's the translation... i hope i'm on the right track ^_^

Your sky

Your sky is always beautiful, i think...

Even  when the sunlight becomes angry and it's too hot ...

Even when the rain never ends and i am lonely ...

Even in an instant it darkens and it makes me want to cry...

From dawn till dusk...

in the morning, at noon and even during the night...

Only by your beautiful sky

i am rescued...

I'm possitive it sounds like a prologue to a story. Wild imagination is swarming in my head right now. But i got a term paper to finish so i need to put those aside first. Besides, my Shinkansen is not finished yet even after two years... haha... I am a failed writer...T_T

Family

Hmmm... i drew this picture. It is not pretty but i enjoyed drawing it... ^_^

I said to myself

The sky darkens
It seems like a winter in Bristol
So this is winter
I said to myself

People speak
Those topics sound interesting
Yet, I don’t have words
I said to myself

I am alone
Please just leave me alone
But, human are social
I said to myself

That is why
I realize…

They laugh
Smiling looks good it makes me happy
I want to keep seeing those
I said to myself

They love
People are getting married
I have so many dreams
I said to myself

Works rain down
People just can’t live without working
Those, my responsibilities
I said to myself

Everyone sleeps
Though they have a lot in mind
Yet, just yet I can’t
I said to myself

For those dear to me
For those important to me
For those who walk behind me
For the children ahead of me

The sky brightens
Just now it looks like winter in Bristol
Yet, this is Asia
I said to myself

A requiem for my mobile phone

Just one day you had stopped blinking,
Do you have any idea how much I have been crying?
The moment I couldn’t see your shine
I have even lost the trail of time

Gripping in the darkness
Searching for your kindness
Though I’m gripping you
It doesn’t seem so true

It is one of the scholars’ shames
Though you’re not the one to be blamed
Just as if your screen’s being covered with dirt
I can no longer see nor read your words.

Enchanted

I raised the volume to the highest peak and Insonnia echoed sweetly enchantingly deep inside my mind, as if it was the whisper in the heart itself. The others’ voice started to fade away devoured by the angelic and ghostly voice of KOKIA. Together with it, the world began to grow silent, so silent that it stood almost motionless in front of me. Even the waves of people were getting slower, their ugly pace was growing quieter, soundless. The hideous noise that they made was muted like an unsung lute.

Perche sono qui ?

Insonnia

Dove voglio andare ?

La risposta non cè

Io ancora dorma

Ho un sogno felice

The traffic disappeared silently ahead and the green lights emerged still without a sound. By and by, I could feel the gentle flow of the people crossing the road. Indeed, it was like a gentle breath, pleading me to move along. Yet, no matter how much I felt the urge to walk, my very legs were stunned, glued stiff at where I was. Thus, I stood there all alone feeling that gentle breath as it leaved me behind.

 As the breeze passed me heedlessly, my eyes glazed over the world before me. Where is it, I wonder, the appearance I have been looking for? Even in such crowd, all that I could sense is the hurtful unfamiliarity. The melody began to catch my slow beating heart. I smiled sensing the firm careful grip coming from inside. Slowly, quietly, the reality began to collapse. All; the waves of people, the traffic and the soundless light were breaking, falling down in miniscule pieces, glittering and fluttering, like tears. Only then, I knew that I was crying.  

Aspetto qualcuno

Da molto tempo

Ma nessuno viene ancora

Io ancora dorma

Ho un sogno felice…

The world is falling apart, don’t you think? No matter how many times you tell yourself that it was alright. No matter how much effort you give to smile, such lousy emoticons won’t glue the wretched mask so well. And, the only thing you could do is to wait, wait and wait longingly as the enchanting time passes.

No. This is a dream, don’t you think? A sleepless reverie. And this enchantingly angelic and haunting melody has proven it so. Were it reality why would you smile as much as you cry. It would be absurd to laugh when your heart was breaking, right? Others will easily call you mad.

Then…

Then?

Then, let us continue to fall. The darkness will cradle us both.

It is a dream, isn’t it?

Indeed, it is. That is why…

That is why?

That is why we don’t need to wait anymore.

 A loud thump was heard and the audio player fall down to the ground with a crash. In a sudden the noise of the world returned. Filthy words echoed wretchedly as the car drove away in a swift awful speed. The arms around me were warm and I could feel the anxious beating of the heart within. I looked up to the person’s face confusedly even knowing who the person was, a tear falling down as my head moved. White blinding light was coming out from the figure there, who was holding me protectively.

Why am I here?

Insomnia.

Where do I want to go?

I have no response.

“Sono spiacente,” said the long-awaited voice. "Don't worry, I'm here now."

Life is like a journal

Life is like a journal

Life is like a journal
Punctuated with doubts,
And we are no less, a writer
Who keeps writing about.

When shall this composition end
If this innocent hand could barely stop?
Forever to write some filthy words,
Or of joy, or of anger and hope.

This hand gripping the very pen
Keeps on dancing as if in glee,
Though these very eyes have started to glaze over
This poor monotonous story.

Once, we hope to switch genres,
At some point after so many chapters,
Yet, will you challenge these paragraphs for such change?
Will it make things any better?

Why should this question mark be there,
Hindering both thoughts and dream in mid-sentence?
Then, never stop, never falter,
Let this strong words flow at our own prudence.

When shall this composition cease, when shall it halt,
I wonder,
When this story finally stop, when journey ends,
Only then, will the ink disappear.

Call my name in your dreams

Call my name in your dreams
Even if I’m dead
Call, call for it always
The moment you lay on your bed

Call my name in your dreams
And I will instantly hear
No matter how far the world we are in
My love, I will always answer

Call my name in your dreams
If you feel lonely at night
And I will come and stay with you
Till the sun shines all bright

Call my name in your dreams
When you tremble in fear
I’ll come for you, my love
To kiss away all your tears

Call my name in your dreams
When things trouble you most
And I will whisper a prayer
For the strength, to gain back what you lost

Call my name in your dreams
When your world starts to break
I’ll come as the spirit of the reverie
To save you from any plague

Call my name in your dreams
Seek for me right ahead
And I’ll call your name in my dreams
Even if you are here, even if you’re dead

Daughters of the dragon

Daughters of the dragon


From where I sat I could see the old mansion stood near. Beyond the majestic birches and oaks, there its pinnacle could be seen, towering heavenward. I never knew how old the mansion was. It was already there ever since I knew the world. I did not even know why we live there as the place was not exactly similar with other homes of my friends. The structure, it seemed, did not belong to this country, and it was strange and so mysterious that not all its spaces I have journeyed in.

I was sitting under the shade of an old oak tree at the centre of the garden, where I found myself isolated from the outer world. It eased me to sit in such silence even though I was sitting idly on a chilly stone that was almost all-covered with lichens. The stone that I was talking about is a quarter half of our dining table in the dining room. It was so huge that even father would be able to lie on it like a bed. I always do so sometimes. The stone according to my grandmother was an empty sarcophagus, an isolated tomb that existed for hundred years, during the days of our ancestors. Only the moment she said it I realized the strange letters carved on it, that I can’t even read. One might avoid such an eerie place. But, instead of feeling afraid to be there, it made me feel close to my dear grandmother that I missed most.

By and by, I saw the soothing image of hers coming towards me like apparitions. With a smile she greeted me who was then but a nine-year-old girl.

“What book are you reading my dear child?” she asked sitting down beside me on the sarcophagus. I showed her a copy of Bram Stoker in my hand. 

“It is the story of Dracula, grandmother. The creature that drinks blood, that sleeps by day and roam by night!” I said excitedly, unconsciously uttering along some classic phrases from the old book and looking fully drown in my own imagination. Listening to my answer grandmother looked rather astonished. Then again, she smiled.

“Is that what the book says about him?” she asked again.

“Em…” I nodded and she gently stroked my rich black hair.

“Will you hear the story of Dracula, my princess, about what men call the ‘pricolici’?”

“Pricolici?”

“It means vampire in English,” she said. I turned at her instantly, looking with great sense of wonder and she smiled again as her lovely hand unceasingly caressed my silky hair and face. 

Thus, she told me the story of the brave Walachian who fights with all his life to protect his land, far in the land and times that I could not imagined. His name is Vlad Tepes son of Dracul, the dragon. 

To save his land the prince sought the friendship of Hungary and with a sacred marriage the camaraderie was sealed. The princess of Hungary was then brought to Romania, the weeping land of his husband. She was never allowed to go outside, only to walk and feel the blessed sunlight upon the walls of their tower. Her husband was a great Ruler like her Fathers, thus she kept faith in her little heart. But, the truth she never knew that a tyrant he was. He expressed a different way in loving his land by letting no outlaw to linger on her blessed soil. Therefore, every criminal and petty little thief was impaled and beheaded. Their blood, the tidings said, was drunk by him so that every sin of wrongdoers was buried in him forever.

But, one day the innocent queen of Romania sneaked out from the palace to buy a present for her beloved husband. She would buy the present herself and bid the servants to keep silent on her deed. On the route back home she noticed things that were unexpected; a price for a wrong turn. She could not say a word nor cry out a breath of suffering voice. She kept cursing herself for being too eager for the shop of presents, for being too ignorant to notice things around her, for being too wretched to discover the truth. Bodies lain around her had suffered a crude death. Some were beheaded and were left on the ground. Some were half-rotten with maggots eating up their melting flesh. There were bodies embedded to the stakes and the pointed sharp spikes came out of their cheeks. The smell of death lingered as if it was the realm of death itself. She fell on both her knees and her heavy mantel kissed the ground and the rich drapery of her gown stained as if with blood and the sin of The Ruler. At that very moment, there were tears coming down her eyes and she wept till she could not anymore, like stone.

That night she left her son with the servant and went to see him in his chamber. There he was, standing at the fire deep in thoughts like a young slender birch tree. He gave her a smile once she entered. Yet, her smile had long gone. She stood before him, then, still like a stone staring only at the viewless point on his face. Though she touched him like herself and served his tea and all, she never answered his asking. He had asked her about her health and with all the sight she had seen that day, how could she answer.

At last he asked her about his son. There was a sudden tremor in her heart like spirit coming back to it. She looked straight into his dark eyes and spoke.

“Your son, what is your hope for him?”

“My son is my descendant. He must rule after me and continue my reign,” he said.

“And let him see things that you forbid me to see. And let him do the same. How I wish you would care for him,” she whispered and turned away to the door.

“You say it as if you had cursed me, my love.” He stared at her from behind rather menacingly and she could feel his blazing eyes devouring her, burning her, a helpless little candle. “If only a bird would realise how little the bird is when it perched upon my bough.” There was a claw clutching her heart as she listened to his words. With such heart-quailing authority, she stood there breathless, unable to breathe even a breath of sigh. Well, he was a king after all.

“If a bird could alter a bough, then let it prays for the season to change. Yet, it dares not.” The young queen finally said. She turned back to him, neared him, one step after another, and put the pendant that she had been clasping in her hands around his proud magnificent neck. She fix it right on his chest and looked rather solemnly at her present. The fierce winged creature flew with its wings stretched out while looping for its own tail. There was a splendid ruby at the centre of the dragon.

“The symbol of immortality for our love, for our children. My only wish is my sons and daughters to be protected. The lingering sins of their ancestors shall never touch my flesh and blood as long as my line shall last. That is my hope, and you, my Lordship, will you protect them?”

“Even after my life has strained away, my shadow shall stay, for you my love.” With that he kissed her and she smiled to him then, eyes flowing with tears. Even after she had left up for her chamber the tyrant himself stood alone cherishing but not regretting the promise he had made for her. On the same night she threw herself out of the window and was left hanging till early in the morning right next to the window of the king’s chamber.

“Therefore, Dracula roam on earth still to protect his descendants, to fulfil his promise,” my Grandmother said ending her story. She took off her necklace that she had been wearing for long and put it around my neck. It had a strange locket with a circle of a dragon and a red stone at the centre of it. “Keep that well, princess, and may you be protected forever,” she said and I looked at her, confused. 

“If they are not English, in what language do they speak, grandmother?”

“It is the language of the Walachians.”

“Do you know the language, grandmother? Can you teach me?”

“My dear princess, I can teach you ‘ma numesc…’ (My name is in Romanian).”

In the blink of an eye, everything disappeared. The image of grandmother had faded, she was no longer there. A gust of wind suddenly blew and I clutched the dragon necklace that I wore around my neck for so many years. I closed my eyes and whispered slowly under my breath “Ma numesc Sophia Dracul.”

Yet another poem...

i wrote this poem to my dear fellow trees which stood abreast a lonely road in my school(remember about the huge trees i mentioned before? those were the ones) . i had such a difficult time studying there since i was having problems with the administrators. What wrong could it be, when you are studying English language?! *somewhat pissed...* The trees are those that healed my heart, despite of how lonely and how screwed my days were. i love them and by just looking at them, all my worries wouldgo away. Anyway, it was an old story now. People had cut them down, while i was still studying there, when problems had plagued me the most. Despite of what the trees gave me, i couldn't do anything to protect them. i was such a useless person...*sigh* So, here it goes, a requiem for the trees...

Where is the voice that calls upon me?
That calls such gaze towards you
Where is the prayer that you always give me?
That bless me in everything I do

Have I told you how much I miss
Your daily song that fills the street?
Have I told you everything has gone amiss?
Ever since the day you grow discreet

I have been waiting for your secrets
For I had told all mine at your knee
I hope to hear so your regrets
But you didn’t ever wait for me

I have been dying to gaze at you
Why you leave me when I need you most
Oh, wait for me you never do
Flying away like a memory lost

As I walked along that street
I know both of us are crying
Our silence devour our heart
Little by little as we are living

I’m sorry I can’t look at you
For I have fail to protect you
But, will you ever let me wait for you
Please then walk fast, I’ll be here for you

The memory we had in that rain
I shall keep it safe with tears
Will we ever then meet again
To cherish all the things so dear

Where is the voice that calls upon me?
That calls such gaze towards you
Where is the prayer that you always give me?
That bless me in everything I do

To the trees with love.

The failed looker

A poem this time... ^_^

The Failed Looker

Call me not a Shakespeare
For I am not He
Who formed those twisted words
Beyond the lives of many

Oh, how much I adore the lines
Of those sightful lookers
That twist and flow and sing and I
But one of those lovers

Ask me not what they mean
The twisted hymns that fly and fall
I’m not the saint of words
Who knows them all or not at all

Oh, through the glance of yours
You do abhor;
The insult on the breeze of my failures
Yet still my sight you do encore

Why ask you my sight
As if I am a foolish looker
My views are not as bright
As true as the witty mocker

I cannot find the key to my world
Of words of literature-toast
Now, my grave lies at the very gate
Which I used to travel most

My words are lost, their words are lost
My words are lost and theirs as well

Life’s a scattering poem
That people always face and see
If you realize and think
You, yourself a looker be

Seek me not on lines, on words on hymns
My affection goes on its trodden trek
Now, I’ve lost the key to my world
And I can’t find my own words back.

A leave taking

This is actually an essay that my teacher told me to write like end your essay with "...and she pat my back and left" thingy. i had a dark mind as a child and i could not stop myself writing things like this. This one reminds me most to Ryougi Shiki from Kara no Kyoukai since she had two characters in her. It may be weird to say this, but i also had this kind of thinking ever since i was small. The truth is, I can still hear her voice whispering to my ears sometimes (the effect of loneliness, so don't let your children feel that way... haha). Of course, the other me is also a girl (unlike Shiki) but with a bit masculine character, the reason why i don't have boyfriends and am not interested to have one yet... Anyway, this story is more like mine and since i wrote it years and years ago, i didn't describe things that well... as expressive as a writer should (even now, there are so much to improve still). Okay, happy reading...

A leave taking

‘Grief comes not in a single spy but in battalions,’ thus she whispered to my ears on, quoting her most favourite line in Hamlet. I stood alone on the ground under a gloomy oak tree hugging both my knees. Soon, I heard her voice again calling my name like a voiceless breath as if a reminder of my complete solitude.

The oak tree rustled above and I could see its bough swaying like hands reaching over the unreachable sky. By and by, the swaying ceased like the spirit of the wayfarer who struggled to reach the Promised Land. The more he walked, the more the dream faded. Suddenly, I heard her voice again, this time she was singing. It was the song of loneliness. I did not know why or how I knew it, though I knew not what she said. The song went deep within my heart with a hymn so melancholic to be heard, so loathsome to be kept in heart that made me hug my knees more tightly than before.

She was a friend of mine since childhood and I did not deny that we were so close. She followed me wherever I went, always, like shadows. Despite the time we had together, I got a secret that I kept hidden from her and avoided even to think about it, perchance she would find out. What friend did I possess that made me afraid so much to tell? What ugly secrets that I bore that made me be clutched by fear? 

Doubtless, she was like an apparition that was clever enough to know everything and powerful enough to stir the very depth of a person’s heart. Indeed, she was. I still could remember the story of a child who was neglected by her own flesh and blood. Nothing lingered in her mind and heart save nothingness. She was such a poor creature who in an early life was forced to face disgust and abhorrence.

But, one day she found a friend. It was just a voice at first calling her name over and over again gracefully like angel. Since she was the only one who heard the voice that was what she had in mind. Yet, little by little she could sense her presence, her touch, her kindness, her company till one day she thought that she could see her, the girl. She saw her standing in front of her like a mirror and she smiled a familiar smile and looked with similar eyes.

“My name is Séphia with diacritical E.” That was what she said on their first meeting and she who was much taken aback by the name would always remember it till the end. Then, I heard myself said it slowly under my breath that day right under the oak tree while I was hugging my knees that she was but my fragmented self, such words that the little girl said on the same day under the oak tree while hugging both her knees. And, the secret -how I wish I would not think about it – that was well kept, it seemed, for decades was but a silent hate, and I would if I could tell her that I hated her.

There was a sudden gust of wind rustling the boughs above vigorously and I closed my eyes while a guilty drop of tears slobbered from my eyes to my cheek. To ignore a friend was a matter of betrayal but to tell a friend to walk away was a murder.

“Séphia!” she called and there she was standing before me like a shadow. I stood up with quailing heart.

“Why didn’t you answer me?” she demanded with great power.

“I can’t hear you and I can’t hear you anymore,” came my answer.

“But, why?” she asked.

“Because…because I have kept a secret that I never tell. I know you will find it out, I know the time will come. Please read my mind, please and please do.”

“You have found other friends,” she said regretfully. She stared at me with wrathful eyes then, and I shut my eyes pretending not to cringe. “I give you love, Séphia. I give you hopes and I give you dreams!”

“You do not give me life. Is it a sin not to forget to live? Is it wrong to face the truth? I look at it and see that we are not alone. We will be accepted if we accept ourselves. You used to control me with your powers, with our loneliness and now I dream to see bliss, such dream that you have given me. We both can change it. I know we can.” There was an unbearable silence creeping to every space between us. She looked me still with eyes laden with words. I thought I see a tear, then.

“Are you ready to face it, Séphia?” she asked.

“I will take that chance.”

“And so be it.” The violent wind suddenly ceased and I could hear some birds singing somewhere up on the tree. I could hear her voice no more and would not forever. In that silence, I cried and cried recalling her leaving as if I could see her clearly with my eyes. The moment before, she smiled to me reminding me of the smile she first taught me.

“I wish you every success.” She patted my back and left.

Words to a Mother

Well, here's another story. Just like the first one, it was written years and years ago. The idea was not originally mine though all the words were wirtten by me. My friend came to me one day and asked me to write a story for her. I told her i didn't have a story to tell at that time but she pleadingly said any story would do. So, i picked my pen and began to write a story of a manga i had read. It is actually a short manga by Kaoru and i had made a little adjustments here and there, making it more like a fanfic than a short story. Hehehe.. well here it goes... i'm sorry for the grammatical mistakes i made. i don't have time to check it through...*cries*...

Words to a Mother

There was a boy that I met in the class, sitting at the front in the right corner of the classroom. Every time I walked briskly to the class for English lesson, I could see from afar the pupils scrambling here and there, making awful noise like hounds, and he, the little boy, stayed at his place scribbling onto his papers in silence. I never heard his voice, to be exact, since the first day I was transferred to the school. Thus, it was made clearly in my mind at first that he was mute.

There was some kind of jeers from his classmates calling him mute at times, and I scolded them for doing so. Well, that was the only thing I could do, then and telling them not to tease others of their handicap is what I did, an advice which I regretted saying. That is because later a few teachers told me that some times ago he did talk and only a couple of months before I came here he had simply stopped speaking, not in the class, not to the teachers and his classmates, not to anyone else. I was not the one to be blamed in this misunderstanding nor was it the boy’s fault for not expressing his golden voice. There must be some hidden matters in him which had laid back all his words into one feeling that only he possessed. Thus, it explained to me quite clearly why he always gave me a frown laden with indecipherable words every time I purposely asked him questions.

I never told anyone how much the boy resembled my daughter, a student in the same school with us. Indeed, for almost two months she stopped talking to me. Whenever I asked her questions, academic or non-academic, including the silly ones, I dared to give a million for charity if she answered. She would only sit silently eating her dinner, ignore me as if I was not there or turn her back on me heading to her room. At school it was impossible not to meet each other and every time our errands meet where both intersections joined, she looked at me like strangers as if a lamb mocking upon a slaughter.

Somehow, I understood exactly what she was trying to teach me. Once a person told me that parents do not teach children everything, the children will teach them something instead. Two months ago my husband and I was divorced and two months ever since that day she never talked to me. I knew then that the silence was but to upbraid our separation. I had nothing to say about it, though. The relationship had come to an end and my husband and I both understood that divorce was something that cannot be avoided anymore.

Sometimes it made me wonder what a bad mother I was. I had done the most unforgivable thing to a child, yet still, even after all that, I wanted her to act as the way she was towards me. It was the loneliness of a mother, I think, or perhaps the selfishness of a mother in less sentimental words which had forced me to have this kind of feeling. I didn’t really know how to interpret it but it was some kind of a terrible agony or wishing that I would like to utter even for a couple of seconds to her, my dearest- Would you please give an answer, or yell to me, or frown at me, or give me a curt nod at least? It would have sufficed, it would have sufficed…

One day I entered the class early in the morning and was shocked to death to find that the boy was sitting quietly at his place with dirty ragged uniform and a nasty bruise on his chin. On his desk laid ugly doodles and markings taunting upon his muteness. The fact that he and everyone else was not going to tell what had happed was highly dubious, so I scribbled something on the board, left some works for the pupils, took the little boy’s hand and dragged him out of the class. I took him to the sick bay hoping for a miracle in fixing the bruise.

“Would you please sit here? I’ll fix that for you,” I said taking responsibility for there were no attendants in the room. But, he just stood there frowning at me. I told him to sit again the moment I got hold of the first aid kit yet there he was at the corner of the room remaining the way he was before. Frankly speaking, I grew a bit impatient with him.

“I beg that you prefer to be in the class and have a new bruise on your face rather than being here?” There was a deathlike silence as I waited for him. He stood there as still as a tree and refused to sit next to me. Despite of all the kindness and despite of all the discourtesy I showed… why?!

“Oh, please say something! Your mother is going to be very unhappy to know this!” I said half-screaming. Deep inside my heart I could feel a brief but painful hot dismay seeping through. Suddenly, there was a ring of voice, I guess, it was shrill and bold like a bell, a voice that had never reached my ears. And, I saw before my eyes a little boy bristling in anger. It was indeed an astounding sight.

“I don’t care if she’s mute. I hate people calling that to her!” he shouted.

“Who says that she’s mute?!” I screamed being too excited to hear him speak.

“You don’t but others do!”

“Oh, really!” I demanded with a sneer noticing that it was the boy’s anger which had evoked him to blurt out his words.

“You didn’t understand, did you?!” he glared at me while tiny drops of tears appeared at the corner of his eyes. “If your mother is mute, she never talks to you and even to others. People jeer at her, calling her names and all that. But, she actually speaks. She has a language which only you could understand. She speaks through her eyes. You can even feel her words in your heart when she just looks at you or touches you. Yet, still people who never understand jeer at her, laugh at her, look down at her. Even she smiles at you, telling that it doesn’t matter at all, but to you it matters!

“I don’t want her to face it alone. Let them jeer at me instead. If she is mute, then I am mute like her.” I looked at him pitifully while he frowned at me still with anger. The boy, though was small in his age was old in his words. I sighed with a quiet smile on my lips. It was made clear to me now, how strange the relation of a mother and her child was. Their love never alters but is entangled in a peculiar knot. There was a long silence as I waited for him to cool down.

“Do you know what is the greatest music in this world?” I asked and he looked at me confused. I walked around the room and settled myself gazing out a window looking to the clouds which moved like snails up in the celestial sea. “When a mother gives birth to a child, she could hear the greatest and the most beautiful music ever created in this world. It was not Mozart’s, nor Beethoven’s.” This time I turned at him and looked straight into his eyes. “It was the cries of the child itself, the child’s voice, your voice! You know, it completes every weakness that she ever has and all her sorrows and woes are gone. It is the greatest pleasure that she will hear it always as long as she lives.

“But, when a mother cannot hear her child’s voice, it was the saddest thing ever happened in her life. It hurts here,” I said putting a hand on my breast. “It really hurts. So, would you please go back home today and at least talk to her. Please talk to her.” At that moment I felt tears in my eyes, yet I did not cry. The boy who stood before me wept but I didn’t pity him anymore, I was proud instead. All of a sudden, I heard a creak at the door and noticed that the door which stayed ajar before slowly moved and shut with a faint click. 

I went home late that night and was surprised to find the light at the living room was on. I was heading to my room when my ears caught a beautiful soft familiar voice scolding me.

“Why are you late? Do you know I cooked the dinner? It is already cold!” I was lulled for a couple of seconds to find her standing in front of the kitchen with hands akimbo. I saw a tiny plaster on her finger and asked, “What happened to your hand?” 

“I hurt myself in the lab. My friend has helped me with this, don’t worry,” came the answer. I wasted no time and grabbed her, hugged and kissed her with tears in my eyes. She didn’t walk away from me. She stood still and hugged me back.

“I just want to say that I love you, Nia. I love you so much and do you know that I do not have a million to give for charity!” At that time, I think, I saw the little boy in his mother’s arm. She hugged him tightly and cried just to hear a simple phrase from him- Mother, I’m home!

To The Grimm Reaper - A Letter

Well, for starter, i had chosen this short story of mine to be posted first. Maybe because it is my favourite and i wrote it with all my heart and soul, haha just kidding. it was somewhere in 2005, i think( i was just a kid, then), and i was sitting on my bed in my hostel, gazing at the huge trees very far away and listening to their murmurs. i really like those trees and i think they had cut them off, what a pity. They rained golden flowers every April and those cruel administrators, they just don't value stuff like that. Anyway, it was at that time i started to dream of a very weird story and started writing.

So, probably some people might have read this somewhere for i had really posted it at two different websites. Really, i'm not copy-pasting it, we are just the same person...hehe. So, enjoy and do leave a comment ^_^

To The Grimm Reaper - A Letter

Dear Mr. Grim Reaper,

I do not really know how I am supposed to tell you, yet I know well that you might patiently read this letter as you silently wait for some more errands in your office. For your information sir, I am deeply gratified for your highest concern and I thank you. The main purpose in writing this letter is to inform you regarding the event that is taking place almost daily at my home. I know I am just a little lady who is insignificant enough to bother you in your work, and I know I am not the one to complain. However, it happens to me almost everyday and I, myself cannot explain what is simply happening. You might name it as ‘post-shifting condition’ that you has always said when a family member died. I do not deny that it helps me to forget certain things and be ready to face life and move on. It almost lifts me into my typical daily life for many times now. Actually, it just confused me, that’s all and by writing this I am hoping that you could provide me some explanation and clarify what is going on.

That day Edward came to my apartment, like always. He nagged like a woman, scolding and asking me angrily why my house was dark and why I did not keep my house clean. He even reminded me of the things that passed and I just sat quietly listening more like a child than his own mother. When he was about to leave, he took the shopping bag on the table which he had brought in earlier and I walked him to the door.

“I thought you are supposed to be in the florist shop,” he said. “Don’t tell me you learn to skip work from Mrs. McCoy.” Mrs. McCoy, for your information, is a friend who also works at the florist shop. She always has some time to be absent though she is apparently in good health. She is two years older than me and with such happiness and good life, I think, you might not be meeting her in next ten years. Well, in hearing my son’s remarks I looked blankly at him and smiled. He promised me to come again the next day and then I saw him walking casually along the corridor, a hand in his pocket, jingling his coins and keys. After a few steps, he stopped, making a funny U-turn in front of the lifts, like always.

I couldn’t help myself but laughed in front of the door knowing that he had forgotten something. He always forgets the first thing he has remembered.

“But the way, Mother,” he said. “This is actually for you.” He gave me the shopping bag and left.

I really hope, Mr. Grim Reaper that you still remember my son, Edward, who stood next to me on the right during my husband’s funeral. He is my only son, the one who always tries to cheer me up after his Dad passed away three years ago. He is jovial, Grim Reaper, isn’t he? He is a kind of person who would make you laugh even after thousand years of sorrow. He also loves to nag at times, reflecting myself in my olden days. He has grown to be a nice young man.

If only he would just live with me, he might not have to face all those cruel things in life. He was scratching through his collage life, and I knew it, yet he told me he did not want to burden me with more financial matters. I recalled cursing his wretched sense of freedom that took him away from me. Somehow, no matter how hard, a parent would yield to every wish a child desires and he is the child of all my children, my only progeny.

After having breakfast in front of the television and dressed myself, I locked the door while singing a lousy song that I just remembered. Then I found myself on the street walking to the florist shop. Everyone looked amazingly busy that day and the traffic moved with a strange rapidity. I walked heedlessly trying to reach the shop as fast as I could even though I knew something would hold me back, Grim Reaper, such things that I would suddenly remember from the deepest gulf of my soul. I would just buy some white roses, I think, instead of selling them and I would go back home in mourn.

Next day I heard a knock at the door and his voice calling me. “Mother, Mother, are you in there?” He opened the door and found me sitting on the couch flabbergasted. From where I was sitting I could see his black familiar figure holding a shopping bag at the opened door in silhouette.

“Why didn’t you switch on the light? It’s dark in here.” He groped for the switch on the wall and, lo and behold, the light was on revealing the loftiness of my apartment. I heard him sigh and saw him shaking his head. He put the shopping bag on the table and trudged reluctantly to the living room. I was sure he noticed a vast of withered white roses besides the television. He slowly knelt down picking up all the photo albums which were scattering on the floor.

“You know, when I was a boy, you always scolded me for making a mess at home, and I am a naughty brat am I not? A trip back home from a football match is all a neat mother can handle,” he said rather bitterly. I did not know why I slowly smiled listening to it. To think about it you see how ironic I have changed. After he finished tidying and cleaning the house he went to the kitchen for a drink. From the living room I could hear him complaining about my messy kitchen.

“You know, you didn’t lock the door when I came here!” he shouted from the kitchen. “There was a burglary next block yesterday. People say they disguise like beggars, begging for food. Mother, do you hear me?” I didn’t answer him. I was excited at that time, I guess. By and by, I had forgotten something, something very important. I was happy about it and I didn’t care if I would never remember.

“I need to go now. Don’t forget to lock the door.” He took the shopping bag on the table and I rose walking him to the door.

“I thought you are supposed to be at the florist shop. Don’t tell me you learn to skip work like Mrs. McCoy.” I smiled again feeling like a young trainee on probation.

“I’ll come again tomorrow, Mother. Don’t you forget that.” He walked casually down the corridor, a hand shaking his coins and keys in his pocket. After a few steps he turned back making an expected u-turn as he reached the lift.

“By the way, Mother, I forgot, this is actually for you,” he handed me the shopping bag while I was laughing and left. He was a nice boy, wasn’t he, Mr. Grim Reaper? He was kind too; too kind that he would probably help those beggars even he knew that they might be burglars playing incognito. By and by, I could sense tears flowing down from my eyes. Yes, he was too kind, and kind people, you said, never stay long in this world, and so he died two months ago being killed in a burglary.

I sobbed in front of my door all by myself while watching him walked away along the hallway. I wondered, Mr. Grim Reaper, and I wish you can tell me, sir, why I keep seeing him everyday and he gives me this bag of groceries which I can not even feel though I hug it tightly in my arms?

Hello World!

I'm trying this out because I'm bored.

I'm having a semester break for a month (thanks to my practical programme 3 months vacation was cut off T_T) and i didn't really know what to do. i have a silly novel to finish which my editor has been waiting for two years, a driving licence to get, two languages to study at the same time, some crocheted amigurumi to make, a classic and 3 more scholarly books to read, a nice piano piece to master and a lot of manga to read. Really, i had cut a few things from my list and one of them the paper building construction!!!! (which i love so much). A month is such a short time and now i'm adding a new activity for my things-to-do list and it is managing this crazy blog which i have newly-created. Since i'm not the kind of person who will be satisfied by just staring at the empty walls of my home and listening to the tempting murmurs of the waves at the beach nearby, i decided to do this, heheh...

i got a feeling that this blog will be more of a literature type. Because i didn't have much interesting topic to discuss, i will be posting some silly short stories or poems that i wrote in the past, when i was still young, when i still had no idea of what English grammar is like, haha... Anyway, enjoy your stay and feel free to comment on the stories/poems or make fun of them. i don't mind because i'm going to do that as well in this blog. That's all for now :P