Behind The Mind of DarK FoX

Ripe

2007-06-30T21:27:00.000+08:00

I've started a new blog dedicated to poetry. Nothing more. This place is not dead. It's in a coma now.

Behind the Poetic Mind of DarK FoX

Click the title to visit.

Going Iron

2007-06-07T13:28:00.000+08:00

I love secret messages, don't you? Keeps the brain working. The title has one.

Poetry aside, drawings aside, photography aside.

I'm busy writing now. Just telling those who are curious about my absence

Break

2007-05-06T21:28:00.000+08:00

Three rules for life

1. Do not follow your heart.
You emotions and feelings will only cloud your perception. Happiness in love will blind you and anger will make you act irrasionally. Use your head before you act.

2. Do no care for anyone (Care little)
If you care for someone means you have developed emotions for them. You are not able to see flaws and mistakes.

3. Do no trust anyone
Trust is the next level. After you developed much feelings for them, you tend to trust them, believe every single word.

I don't really follow these rules, but most of it.

In other news
I have just finished a new story called Double. It is shorter with 27 pages and 19,587 words. Those who want to read it, leave a comment & contact and I'll get back to you.

Intermission II

2007-03-31T19:35:00.000+08:00

Procrastination is my one true weakness when I lose focus. I have more important things to do even though Day 4 of Mission is actually very short. I shall take my time off and tell you a something about temptation.

We wish. It starts out as a simple wish; a dream which one will come up with. A spark of idea which constantly light up the mind. We wish.

We hope. There might be a small chance that something good will come to one who waits. One waits for the light which will shine after a rain day so one can play outside. One will wait as long as one wants because one knows, or one thinks one knows that something good will happen. We hope.

We want. One tries his best to achieve something, or gain that something one wanted. It gets more ambitious because one thinks that if one works for it, one might get it. If one does not get it, one will not really care that much but one will be disappointed. We want

We need. A desire grows inside one as one needs it. One requires it to function well, to motivate one in life, to live. Now one will do about anything to get what one needs. One makes it apart of one soul. We need.

Light Hurts

A fresh breath of spring air tainted one lung,
Just like inhaling poisonous gas, it really stung,
And the sun, it had burned my epidermal,
Though this world we live in is fictional.

We wish, we hope, we want, we need,
The temptation is only evil’s little seed,
And hunger is the water that makes it grow,
If you don’t see now one day you’ll know.

The right routes I have searched and tried to find,
I’ve seen the bright light and it made me blind,
Now I seek, I search, I explore,
Though I’m afraid to look behind each door.

Intermission

2007-03-22T22:41:00.000+08:00

There had been a death at the opposite block. I live in an apartment and my block is AT. There had been a death at the BT block. This happened at around two o'clock. There is two stories to this. But generally, she was in her fifties and she fell from the 19th floor. She was only a guest and she had a relative living on the 1st floor. They said she had terminal cancer. According to the people, they had cats and potted plants falling of the building before. But this time there was a loud scream. Also, apparently she had a hand phone with her which had disappeared.

First story - She tripped and fell of the floor. That is almost impossible since there are alot of thing obstacle.

Second story - She committed suicide because of, my theory is, due to depression. She jumped off the window next to the elevator

I saw the police came and left. They did not allow the press to come. Well, that's about it. I feel sorry but I don't really know her and can't do anything about it.

Days of Mission contunies tomorrow

Day 3 of Mission

2007-03-21T22:10:00.000+08:00

Date of event: 15 March 2007 Time: 8pm till 3am

The third day of our trip and our mission still goes on. Today is the shortest day of our lives. Well, shortest day of the mission. Mission S.I.N.G.A.P.O.R.E. We began our morning with cheap yet delicious breakfast at a local café/hawker stall.

AmonDeis is not supposed to touch any sharp objects

Then we went wondering around the streets. This was the only building I could capture.

We wonder aimlessly in the streets, going on transits and into shopping malls. We went into bookstores where SkullPanda found a book on sexual intercourse. Moving along, soon we met up with Ms Neo once more for more training. Before that, we wondered around. Here’s a place which is a Gizmo counterpart. They sell fake pills.

After the a round of strategic games and shooting practice, where SkullPanda’s ego skyrocketed when he got top score in both and Peako was being trashed even though he was supposed to be good. PaperGorilla, my protégé, did very well. Then we went to another bookstore which we hang around. Ms Neo had to leave and then came Ms Rachel. Ms Rachel was a short girl who we have seen in day one but never really met her. She was another of Peako’s friend which he met at camp. We travelled to another mall and on our way; we saw an amazing display of buskers.

Taken from Peako's blog

We entered the mall.

Meanwhile, outside, there was a break dancing competition/concert. SkullPanda was fascinated in this but we all left him. We were about to head for dinner, so we decided to call SkullPanda. AmonDeis left and passed the message and returned. We waited. Peako, being impatient and lacked his gaming device, went to call SkullPanda. At the same time, SkullPanda came from the other side. So now Peako was trying to find SkullPanda who was standing next to us. SkullPanda left to find Peako. PaperGorilla left to find. AmonDeis left to find. Well, in the end, we regrouped and did not have dinner.

We returned back to the hotel where Ms Rachel left and Ms Neo came. Then we went out and dropped Ms Neo off. And we noticed something. 7/11 was not open! What a conspiracy. Mr M must be on the strike again.

We went into the mall around twelve o’ clock. It was dark and it looked like a temple with confusing paths.

Shops were obviously closed.

It was dark.

We were having dinner at a fast food restaurant.

When suddenly we spotted Mr M.

There was a chase.

The camera got blurred because we were moving too fast.

We lost him.

The day had ended and we returned to the hotel room exhausted. Nothing else happened after that apart from sleep. PaperGorilla got fed up of AmonDeis and went to sleep on the floor. Over and out.

Editor’s note: The truth is Mr M had dinner with us and stayed over in our hotel. He slept with AmonDeis. It was not that exciting but if you really want to know what really happened

Day 2 of Mission (Part 2)

2007-03-20T23:03:00.000+08:00

Date of event: 14 March 2007 Time: 7pm till 1am

Our big mission was closing in on us. Mission S.I.N.G.A.P.O.R.E. was its name.

PaperGorilla, AmonDeis and SkullPanda went back to our hotel to collect some gadgets. Peako and I waited for them. Peako decided to entertain himself.

The coast was clear.

I went in the theatre first to get good seats as Peako waited for them. We all were in. It was dark.

Witches are inside a rubber sheet on stage

Mr M could be anywhere. The play started on. He starred as MacDuff.

Lady Macbeth and Macbeth

Dark Dining

Finally, he was spotted. Or I think so.

Mad Man (third person) talking to people

There he is again.

MacDuff walking away

MacDuff warning them about something

Something’s happening behind the scenes.

Finally, it was over.

Lights came on.

Suddenly, we heard a shriek. It sounded like it came on stage. Too much spectators, they think it is part of the act. They don’t know anything, those naïve people. The deed had been done. Mr M was last seen running away backstage. Who is Mr M? His name is Mark Tang, also known as Random Idiocy.

The play was over. Mission was not accomplished but we still had two more days left. It was actually a great play. The fight scene (can be seen on SkullPanda’s site) was beautiful. The acting was amazing, better than anything I’ve seen in my age. We reached home by eleven o’clock and we ate instant noodles. We just hang around in the hotel room, reading and planning to capture Mr M. Over and out.

Card: Ms Rachel+Ability

Pic of Ms Rachel by SkullPanda

Day 2 of Mission (Part 1)

2007-03-19T22:26:00.000+08:00

Date of event: 14 March 2007 Time: 8am till 7pm

Second day of our journey began and PaperGorilla was first to awake. We shall skip the boring details of breakfast and the little mishap which happened. After all those, we were to wait for Ms Neo, a known local agent which broke out of being held hostage the same morning. It was amazing how she did it, escaping education of evil. Peako was look at his GPRS device.

While the rest of us played pool.

SkullPanda

PaperGorilla and Peako

See how he’s still looking out while the rest of us had fun.

And finally she was spotted.

There is no picture of her here but if you look at the other websites, you may be able to find them. We then wonder the streets. After our tiring journey and a taste of some delights in the form of fried chocolate and ice cream, we head to the headquarters to practice our aiming.

That’s a fake bodyguard.

Ms Neo was very good in the practice and we all got ‘owned’. After three more hours of tour with Ms Neo and hanging around, we finally departed and we journey to the location of where Mr M might strike. Yes, Mr M, the reason we are here. We looked around the area, glancing through every room. The most interesting was the art exhibition.

In the back: AmonDeis, SkullPanda and PaperGorilla

AmonDeis

What have they done to the victims?

This is Mr M's greatest piece.

Even Isaac Mendez’s great artwork, which was reported missing, was seen here.

The number plate is either 76842 or 7684Z

After that, we too a break. PaperGorilla here showed his great talent in consuming 900ml of power drink.

We will continue next on what happened when the play started. Is there a murder? Will someone die? You'll find out some day (or tomorrow). Over and out.

Day 1 of Mission

2007-03-18T21:44:00.000+08:00

Date of event: 14 March 2007

Our journey began.

We were all packed; even a special wheelchair was brought for this mission.

Our enemies was one step ahead of us. They sabotaged PaperGorilla’s transportation to south. He hopped on to my vehicle and drove to the bus station.

Papergorilla on the very right

We gathered the bus station and once on the bus, we acted as normal citizens as secretly plan our big mission.

PaperGorilla and SkullPanda

AmonDeis and Peako

Then suddenly, it poured. It poured so badly, the bus had to stop at a local area.

There we got information on our first little mission. We had to deliver ‘cocaine’ cakes to south.

After about three more hours, we finally reached the border. They checked our passport and we continued on.

There were customs examination but we eluded it even though there were weapons in our luggage. The metal detectors were fooled.

About another thirty minutes later, we reached our hotels at seven thirty in the evening. There were no pictures of our room because it was a secret conference room and it was also messy. Peako needed to meet up with the local agents and he was late. SkullPanda began to yell at traffic lights. Peako was supposed to be killed but they excused him. There we listen intently about what they have to say. We walked a lot mindlessly as tourists. By about 12 o’clock we were in our room where we watched the television. We talked a lot before we finally went to bed. Oh, also, AmonDeis slept with PaperGorilla. That was it for the first day. Over and out.

Card: Ms Neo+Ability

Day 5 of Waiting

2007-03-13T23:11:00.000+08:00

I am currently packing my suitcase for my journey tomorrow. Weapons are carefully hidden under my clothes, laptop's in the bag and any gadget needed. We are meeting at the old train station for a bus, how ironic is that, at one thirty pee am tomorrow. Yesterday, I was held up for a briefing. Apparently, it's a secret mission and we are going there as tourist. I'll try to post more there if I have internet connection. We are supposed to keep low so the possibilities are low. And I can tell you more about our mission.

We are going to 'see' Mark (Mr M) who will be acting as McDuff in his school play. He is a very dangerous man. He was disappeared this country two year ago and was last seen a few months ago. He has long black hair. Three years ago he almost burned down a very rich man who goes by the name of Dexter. He was also caught using a SkullPanda's identity card. That is all I can say about Mr M, I have to finish packing. Over and out.

Card: Crosshair+Laptop

Day 3 of Waiting

2007-03-12T01:10:00.000+08:00

Bloody hell, right after the training there was an attack on our headquarters. Three fires and all went towards my laptop and saved me. I'm writing here on a new laptop, just bought. Two more days till we journey south. Dammit, the alarm went off and it's in the middle of the night! Over and out.

Cards: The Corner+The Mirror

Card: Mr M+Ability

Day 5 of Training

2007-03-09T22:09:00.000+08:00

The final day of training and finally a break. It was a horribly exhausting week. Theoretical work was given as well as practical. Studying is bad; I rather use books as weapons. The countdown to our journey to south begins. We have info that Mr. M will be in a theatre on the 15th of March. We bought tickets for the show on that day which is Macbeth. He might strike at any time so we must be alert. Once our mission is over, we can take a vacation. I have no more information to share to you. Be patient and wait for something to happen. Over and out.

Cards: Dark Fox+Ability

Day 4 of Training

2007-03-08T22:13:00.000+08:00

Nothing new today except another day of harsh training. Apparently we have a new form of greeting so we can communicate in secrecy. One more day of training to go before we start waiting. I will give you the updates tomorrow. Over and out.

Cards: PeakO+Ability

Day 3 of Training

2007-03-07T22:43:00.000+08:00

Nothing much to say today except the fact that I haven't finished my training. Oh, we changed to a cheaper hotel now. We only got one room. Hopefully, I can post more tomorrow. Over and out.

Cards: PaperGorilla+Ability

Day 2 of Training

2007-03-06T22:20:00.000+08:00

Once again, I am late in posting. There was a battle stimulation today and we all tried to be Heroes. It was a massive rampage and we barely made it out alive. Our scientist explained to us the use of biochemical weaponry which we might face in the future. I leave you with a name of our target. His name is Mr. M. That is all for now. Over and out.

Cards: AmonDeis+Ability

Day 1 of Training

2007-03-05T22:12:00.000+08:00

Today is the first day of training and examination. Too tired to type anything. There were five prime stimulations which we tested our wits in. My leg's bleeding from some cut and I need sleep. Over and out.

Cards: SkullPanda+Ability

Day 4 of Planning

2007-03-04T21:28:00.000+08:00

I have been catching up on my reading. No, it was no storybooks. I had to study our situation and our target. We’ve also gain more information about our target. Apparently a few weeks ago, he murdered someone. It was a brutal murder indeed, a knife stabbed in the head. We also gain one step closer to our journey. We’ve gotten the tickets for our transportation and booked our accommodation, all we need to do now is to wait. Why don’t you take a book and read for yourself. It makes you smart. Over and out.

Chalk Outline

Day 3 of Planning

2007-03-03T20:58:00.000+08:00

Good news is we got a place to stay. We are going to stay at a YMCA hotel for three nights and await the disaster that is going to occur. The total cost is about $1600 which will be split five ways. We are also taking the bus. Our train had been derailed and a mudslide piled over the tracks. We believe it is the doings of our enemy.

Bad news is one of our operative has been mind controlled. AmonDeis is not feeling himself lately and is doing obscene things. Take this for instance:

No news on our spy. We think it might be her doing. I’ll keep you up to date. Over and out.

Editors note: $ = RM

Day 2 of Planning

2007-03-02T22:52:00.000+08:00

Things have changed. We recruited a new member, AmonDeis(AD) who will also be following us, though, he has not obtained his documents to leave the country. We need his intelligence on this mission. I have received clue of our mission though I cannot bring it to the public yet until we are sure. We know that it will occur around the 14th of March to the 17th of March. Stay alert. Also, the amount we have to pay varies now depending on the accommodation. What’s that? Dammit, they have spotted us. It appears there is a female operative or a spy lurking around. I think they’re firing pallets at us. I have to take cover. Over and out.

Blood Cell Phone

Day 1 of Planning

2007-03-01T20:56:00.000+08:00

The discussion for a mean to get to Singapore was executed. The drawing board was taken out from the old closet, where the skeletons lived, and we have planned our journey. Everyone wanted to take the train ($34 per trip) and the alternative choice was the bus ($50 per trip). A place of accommodation was necessary but we cannot be too suspicious. A brilliant idea came and we decided to squeeze five in a room ($400 per night. We are staying for 3 nights so it is $1200. It is divided to five people so it is $240). The place is located near Orchard Road. We depart on the 14 March 2007 at 1415 hours. We have not confirm yet hundred percent. The people who are able to come are SkullPanda (SP), Peako and Papergorilla (PG). We need SP’s ninja and stealth skills, Peako’s technological skills and PG’s… skills on our mission. This is DarK FoX (DX) and I will update you further on this. Over and out.

Railtrack

Change?

2007-01-31T21:44:00.000+08:00

I've made a New Year Resolution to blog more and be more like everyone else. I've decided to talk more about life and the weather...

Screw that

When I grow I'm I wanna be a bastard. It doesn't mean I won't do the right thing, it means I'll be more annoying and I'll break a few more rules, insulting people and such. I mean, I've already got a cane for whacking. I mean, many characters have been bastards and they save lives. Right, too fictional.

I need something interesting, a problem, a climax to this thing you call a life. Something to wake up in the morning thinking. Trills to get going. I can't seem to find trouble in life. My problem is I have no problems.

Apart from being an annoyance and seeking problems, here's a poem I wrote within five minutes. Don't worry, this is to keep the bored entertained.

Untitled In Five

The book is closed at sight,
But you try as hard as you might,
You think you can read through,
There is no logic in what you do.

The butterfly is not known,
Because its weight contrasts a stone,
But for its art upon those wings,
Or the unheard song it sings.

Behind a door, it will show all,
Even though it is just a wall,
The fact is something is something,
And what does not exist is nothing.

If you chose to read at first glance,
You might as well don't even dance,
'Cause you might fall on top your nose,
If you walk with both eyes close.

Wednesday On thuRsday

2007-01-25T21:31:00.000+08:00

2007 is here and Kicking off wIth a start i would like to tell you all about my forth week iN school. it is really abnormal for me to type with random capital letters everywhere but it's my keyboard is broken... fine, i'm lyinG and i always have my reasOns. so skullpaNda is now in my class and papergorilla is out of the school. the oTher students are tHe same and the teacheRs arE thE same. boriNg days. i kEpt myself occupied With heroeS and house. They are amazing shOws and they have my RecommendatIons. apart from that, vEronica marS is great too. Won't take too long. I'll be back to my normaL posting soon so don't worry, i have something in store for you. Like a saying of mine, Patience is nOt really a virtue but you have to wait. So sTay tune For It, won't take long. Really, i'm crapping now becauSe of cerTain reasOns. Need to wastE more time. that's it. see you SOON.

suoiruc si ro ...erac od uoy snaem ti siht daer uoy fi

oh, by the way, you know how i love to hide secrets behind my writings. good luck on deciphering. the post has no actual meaning but it's actually true. amazing.

Sunday

2006-10-29T22:08:00.000+08:00

This is very unlike of me but I'm going to post a blog entry instead of an ol' fashion story entry like what I've been doing. I hate blogs and I still do but I'm being very hypocritical here. Only once here.

Today is a beautiful Sunday where everyone who had cared about this site at all, would be happy that I am finally posting. No story my friend. My "The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World" is put on halt as I work on another piece. You'll hear/read soon.

Today, as we walk out from visiting my ill grandfather from the hospital (which will remain unknown unless you ask), my father said something. He said: "When I am sick in the hospital, I want my wife to visit me because she chose to be with me. Not my children. They had no choice. But my wife chose me." It was due to some even but it was true and funny.

Then, as usual, he would ask us what we want for lunch and it went like this.
Me: "Even if you asked us, we still have no choice"
Father: "But at least I'm giving you a chance to vote. It's democrasy"
Me: "Even if all three (my brother, my sister and I) vote, you will still overrule us. There is no point"
Father: "No, it's like this. For each year, you get a vote. You get 16 votes, your brother get 11 votes, and your sister gets 10 votes. If you add them together you'll get 37 votes. I am 50 years old so I get 50 votes which is more. In 10 years time, your total votes will be 67 which is more than me, 60. But I could always get your mom to vote."

Yes, that's how democrasy works in my family, apparently.

Over and out with this little old poem.

Dreaming of Heaven (2004)

Through the beautiful golden gate,
The white light shining brightly,
An angel was in the far distance,
It came and greeted me sincerely.

I got up and came closer,
Glancing through the gate,
Then the angel tapped on me,
And told me I was late.

"Late for what?" I asked,
He said he would show me,
I saw a beautiful place,
With grass, plants and a tree.

There were people everywhere,
And everyone was happy,
Talking, walking, playing, running,
Then suddenly it was foggy.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes,
Then something came to mind,
Am I in heaven? Am I dead?
There was no proof I could find.

A Piece of Memory

2006-06-25T00:24:00.000+08:00

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.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 6

2006-06-18T19:05:00.000+08:00

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

The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 5

2006-05-21T14:39:00.003+08:00

Chapter 5: His Thoughts

‘I’ve put too many lives in danger. My obsession has gone too far. A saviour? I think not. To be brave can sometimes mean to hide away your cowardice, your weakness. Yes, I admit, I do fear death but why must others die for me? It’s not a pride challenge; it’s not a challenge at all. First she had to die and I had to find a spell. Then responsibility weighed down upon me when I had to save the world… twice. My life had been just hammered, smashed and obliterated so many times that it is no longer a life. It was more like walking waste. The spell did not go as well as I assumed. But I knew it from the very beginning. When something good comes, something bad is lurking at one corner, waiting to pounce on you and tear you apart. Betrayal came into play and chaos leaked all over this planet. Power is what people want but I just want to get through life. I want a normal life where I can grow up and have a family. Dream on, just dream on.’

Remember that France never really won a war once? It was either a tied or lost or won due to the fact some other country aided them. Now remember that game with the Tesla coils and Tesla troopers which could aim and zap targeted objects? Where is this heading? One of the greatest monuments in Paris, France is the Eiffel Tower. It stands 300 metre and weighs 10100 tonnes. Built between 1887 and 1889, the Eiffel Tower was marked the celebration of the French Revolution. That was what the history book says but there is no really proof that is actually a satellite or weapon of mass destruction… until now.

During the year 2016, France initiated a war against all neighbouring country except Germany who supplied their power. Germany signed an agreement with France to get some certain technology but France cannot attack Germany. Germany did not know what the France’s new president was up to but they knew it was no good. Spain was not a target as it was too big and supported by Portugal. Soon, France deployed their plan. The Eiffel tower was charged, and their neighbouring countries, Belgium, Luxembourg, Switzerland, Italy, Monaco and Andorra, were attacked at once. With the MegaTesla coil being France main weapon, nothing could stop them. Soon, France expanded into one of the most powerful country. No longer was there Italy or Switzerland. It was only France.

The ghostly howls of the twirling wings were as scary as the drop below. How high was it was not Dyert’s problem as he knew that even if he fell from a tree he would still die. It was actually the waiting from the fall which would develop thoughts which would rush in your head, which would make you think twice which would create an imagination which would make implant fear into the person. In short terms, waiting causes fear.

He was strapped to his seat with his hands on the belt and the other on the bars. He knew that something bad would happen to this aircraft and it would crash. An incident happened in every location he went so why not here? He was like a walking jinx; a jinx with a time bomb set to explode any minute or hour. Eliot was calm as he probably been in this much danger before and Dylan was normal if that was what a person used to his ethics would say. For Dyert, he was still insane.

“Why are we going to Italy?” Dyert asked. With a mixture of confusion and worry, he was still too blind to see it.

“Do you know Tokyo was called Kyoto once?” Eliot answered with a rhetorical question. Dyert finally knew. How could he be so sightless?

“I get it but why?”

“We’re after someone. Then we’re going to visit Fox.”

“The Challenged Saviour was once called Dark Fox. Are you referring to him?”

Eliot ignored the question. His mind was probably filled with plans and strategies. Like chess, he was planning his next move, fretting over what might happen and what he had not seen. Though, his emotions and expressions showed calmness. As cool as liquid nitrogen. That was the new simile and apparently it was altered from as cool as a cucumber. Why a cucumber? Dyert wondered.

It was silent (apart from the helicopter’s wings) the whole smooth journey. They were going to make a land at Alitalia (Linee Aeree Italiane), the national airline of Italy. Stillness broke in the flying craft as the pilot picked up the communicator and contacted the airline.

“This is Bell 565 requesting landing in Alitalia,” spoke the pilot as he gave the details.

“Request accepted,” the person on the other side replied with an accent. He gave some complex digits which were the latitude, altitude, coordinates and other things Dyert did not know.

When it landed on the helipad, Dyert was relieved. He almost yelled out and jumped in joy but it was not appropriate. It was not the first time Dyert had been in an aircraft but it certainly felt like it all over again. He stepped out of the helicopter and glanced around at the new surrounding. Italy; it was new sight to see. He had been stuck in that old boring country for a while; it made Italy a new exciting place to explore. That was true; Dyert had never been out of the country. He had travelled in country by air but never out. That was why he never had his passport renewed. Which meant that, Dyert suddenly realise as it hit him hard, he might get arrested.

They approached the customs service.

“Passport?” spoke the guard behind the counter.

Dyert gulped.

Eliot flashed out a card and the guard nodded. They continued on. It took Dyert a while to realise before he moved. They passed through the metal detector and carried on.

“What was that?” asked Dyert.

“An official business card in simple terms. I’m too lazy to explain,” said Eliot.

They went out to flag a taxi. What they did not realise was that their taxi came free with bad luck and mass chaos.

As they were exiting the sliding doors and walking to the stand, a black cat passed them by. At the very same time, Eliot turned around as though he heard something.

“Black cat, a sign of bad luck. You believe in that?” commented Dyert.

“No, not really. I believe something bad is going to happen though.”

“How do you know?”

“He sees everything,” answered Dylan in a sort-of spooky voice. He moved his mouth so that the people around them would not notice that he was not talking with his mouth.

“Just a hunch.”

Eliot spoke while he was fidgeting with his mechanical arm. He pressed a few buttons and flicked a few switches. A keyboard popped out from his machine forearm. The citizens and foreigners of Italy around them stared at Eliot in an awkward manner. Some were amazed while others were freaked out. He jabbed a few keys and his arm rang. The phone shot out and he caught it with his right arm.

“Uh huh…” spoke Eliot on the phone, “I just found that out from their database… Yes… I know… Yea… Fine, fine, I think I need to be going now…”

He shut the phone and placed it back. The keyboard disappeared and his arm was back to normal.

“Everyone, listen up. There’s a plane going to crash here any minute. Please evacuate the premises.”

Eliot’s voice boomed across the sheltered outdoor part of the airport. It probably reached the inside too.

“Yes… Run, you petty creature, run!” Dylan said while mimicking the mouth movements.

A few moved away as fast as possible.

“I have a badge,” added Eliot while he waved his badge around.

More moved but not all.

“I’m insane,” Dylan tried to help.

“I have a gun,” continued Eliot while his arm turned into a gun.

More ran with fear but there are still stubborn ones.

Eliot blasted his gun at the sky. The deafening loud gunshot reverberated across the site.

Everyone panicked including the people inside. They drove, rode, ran, dashed or/and wheeled away as fast as possible until left one or two. It was their loss if they did not run but Dyert, Dylan and Eliot tried flagging one of the last cabs. They managed to get one and paid the driver extra to go as fast as possible. The traffic cleared quite quickly and they were on the move.

Taxi cars had a universal design unless it was a grand one. The inside usually had a funny smell unless they used certain air fresheners. However, some were not freshening at all.

A sound is made when air vibrates quickly as a moving object speeds through it. It goes whoosh or something of that sort. Then, it is added with cackling flames as the friction causes it to erupt in flames. Top it off with the pull of gravitational force and it turns into an object dropping from the sky with incredible speed.

They were speeding their way through the road. This driver was expert with manoeuvring along the cars and avoiding the edge. Suddenly, there was a rumble. Dyert’s third time in his life for earth to shake. Dyert spun his head to see behind. He did it so fast, it ached a bit. This tremor was caused by the aeroplane which just crashed at the airport behind them. In slow motion, the tip reached the ground, slammed into it hard and exploded into flames.

“Did your blast cause that plane to crash?” questioned Dyert. He analysed his data and remembered he was warning everyone to leave.

“Never mind,” said Dyert.

The crashed cause the ground to vibrate and it lifted the car half a metre in the air. It was like a rollercoaster ride which was able to endanger the passenger’s life.

“You can slow down now,” directed Eliot as he took out a piece of bread from his android arm. He was talking. It was a chance for Dyert to get answers.

“How did you know about the crash?”

“Instinct...”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Someone...”

Dyert gave up. Talking to Eliot while he was eating was like talking to a wall. Even some walls could respond back.

Dylan was awfully quiet which was good and bad in a way. Minutes passed and Dyert finally realised that no one had given the location of their cab’s journey. Certain Italian music playing on the radio was not easy on the ears for Dyert. Though, music has evolved so much that some were worst than the genre ‘trash rock’. Techno and Trans was no longer the flavour. It was now Transno, the combination. A soprano killed an audience before and it was not heart attack or headaches. There were still some traditional ones which Dyert preferred.

“I’ll brief you in now,” Eliot said, “Driver, mind winding up the separating window?”

“Sure thing, sir,” the driver replied with his Italian accent.

The window between the passenger seats and front seats was wound up.

“Dylan, cast a sanctuary spell.”

“Sure can do.”

With some swift gestures, Dylan made the room weakly glowed.

“Where should I start?” Eliot asked himself, “Your parents first. Your father was one of the mortals who were like the ambassador to the hidden magical society. When the war started, he had to go down to the magical government to inform them about the war. He enlisted himself in the army to indirectly help the magical leaders and gave them up-to-date info. Your mother on the other hand. I knew who she was. Do you know her name?”

“Claire Mig was her name.”

“Right. It was just a false name. It was an anagram of her real name. Gracie Lim was her real name. She was gone for a long while after Cyrus was killed…”

Dylan mumbled.

“Wasn’t she the hybrid vampire?”
“You really read a lot about this.”

“It’s as interesting as Greek mythology.”

“So where was I?” Eliot asked a rhetorical question, “She was a werepire or were-vampire. Much like dhampir but different. A werepire has the capability of changing from human to vampire or vice versa at will…”

“That’s why I’m not one?” Dyert said a half-question, half-statement.

“Half right. So anyways…”

“Wait… wouldn’t that make her the same age as Dylan since apparently, they were in the same class at one point?”

“If you would kindly let me finish my briefing. As I was saying, she somehow altered her age and married your father. It was either an age spell or time travel but I highly doubt it was time travel. Upon her so-called death, we finally managed to trace her down to you through DNA (Deoxyribonucleic acid) and genes. We used the magical way rather than the scientific way. It was quicker,” he took a deep breath before going on, “My mission was to ensure you and the item in question are save. Apparently that’s why we are…”

The same familiar ring tone was heard once more. It was Eliot’s phone.

“Yes…? Yes… Yes… I’ll come now… Sheesh.”

Eliot shut the phone back into his arm, wound up the glass and asked the driver to stop. They halted at an area with a lot of shops and café. It was a public here were the streets were not actually streets for cars but grey concrete ground for pedestrians. It was beautifully decorated. Trees attractively placed specifically in a pattern. Clean tables placed for the people who wanted to sit outside the café and have their coffee in the breeze. The outlets were opened with welcoming hands. Food stands in the middle where fast food was bought. There were also street shows like ventriloquists, guitarist and magicians.

“Where we heading?”

“The alley,” Eliot replied coolly.

“Hey, you had not finished the briefing,” Dyert remembered.

“There is no need to,” Eliot spoke, “There’s a change of plans.”

“Buongiorno,” greeted an Italian man who passed them.

“People are quite kind here,” commented Eliot.

“Too kind I must add!” Dylan whispered coarsely.

“It’s just you,” stated Eliot, “Should we turn here and walk into that alley?”

“It was the second alley if I recall,” Dylan directed.

They walked around the area for a while, confused and lost. Places like this would give headaches to Eliot and Dylan. Their sense of direction was not too good. Geographically challenged they were. However, in the end, after thirty minutes, they made it. They walked through this wall and they made it in this bar like area. Their trials before this made them walk into a solid bar. Pun intended. (If you, the reader, cannot comprehend that little joke, I, the author will personally slain you in your peaceful and deep slumber.) Dylan, being who he was even though he was much matured (not too sure bout that), purposely hit against the wall twice.

Behind the wall was a cave like surrounding. It was only one room; a room with a lot of tiny glowing holes. Before that room was a winding and dusty passage.

“A wormhole room,” Eliot said before Dyert managed to open his mouth to ask, “Each one of these holes are like portals but they only go to one specific location. They are all named by a letter or two.”

“Ah.” Comprehension flashed across Dyert’s face.

“We need to take the S-hole to get to our designated location.”

Dylan giggled strangely. What was strange to normal human was normal to strange him.

Eliot flicked his finger and muttered the word ‘S’. One of the little shiny holes expanded as wide as the whole brown cavern wall. Unlike the swirling colours of a portal, this one was a swampy mixture of shades of purple which could not dissolve. They stepped through the wormhole and got spat out the other end. Dyert catapulted into the ground as his chin scraped across the concrete ground. He immediately rolled around in his back. The wormhole shot out a silhouette. Dyert hoped it was not who he thought it would be but by judging the mass, it was going to hurt really badly. Obviously it did. Eliot crash-landed on top of Dyert and soon followed by Dylan who did a summersault and landed on his feet.

“Eliot… mind if you get off…” Dyert huffed as Eliot’s metal arm was on his stomach.

“Pardon my apologies,” apologised Eliot.

The both of them got up. Eliot led once more. He led them through a corridor and more winding passages.

“Where are we?” asked Dyert.

“The underground hideout. We’re not really in hiding, it was just that hideout was a proper word for it and he insisted on it.”

Eliot led them into a room which looked similar to a living room. There was a full-wall plasma television, sofa in at the opposite and both adjacent side of the room. In the middle was a diamond glass table with jars of cookies and packets snack food placed on it. Diamond was still one of the strongest compounds but it was no longer rare and valuable. They found a new way of creating it and it did not cost a lot. Thus cause the price dropped like an atomic bomb and crashed and burned. There were stronger compounds now.

Behind the sofa opposite of the television was a row of computers. An Apple for Eliot and the rest were Microsoft. There was someone on the arm chair placed at the corner, beside the sofa. It was those flexible armchairs where a person could lie down on it and he was doing so. The laptop was on his lap but from Dyert’s position, the screen blocked his head. Dyert could only notice the jet-black hair and he had a feeling that he wore spectacles. He was thin too. His hand ran smoothly across the keyboard, typing.

“I see you’ve arrived,” he said with a mysterious tone, “You know Dyert, you should not really follow strangers around.”

He lifted his finger and pointed at Dylan who was standing ‘hidden’ behind Eliot.

“But I saw his arm…”

“Nowadays, you can get that any private hospital,” he spoke behind his laptop. Dyert was speechless.

“Anyways, I presume you know why you are here so I’m going to make my introduction short and sweet,” he grabbed the top of the laptop screen and slowly lowered it until it was closed, “My name is Eugene and the magical and non-magical society now depends on you.”

It was The Challenged Saviour.

‘I remember when I was a kid. I feared a lot of things. I feared the darkness, I feared death, I feared things I do not know and I feared failure. This kid, like most kid, would probably fear as they would not know much. They fear. We all fear. I fear that this kid would make the same mistake as I did. Persistence is my number one enemy. I almost never give up. Revenge comes second. This kid will make a mistake and he will regret it. It is his choice and I leave it up to him. I see potential and fear in him. However, I can’t see the future and what lies ahead, might be horrible.’

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A twist, such a twist indeed. Here the recap/links for the previous chapter:

Chapter 1: After-effects
Chapter 2: Hide-And-Seek
Chapter 3: Plummet
Chapter 4: The Saviour’s Request

I don't really know how long it will be but after I finish with this, I'm going to reedit Seemingly Normal Part One and finish my last poem and find myself a publisher. Big dreams.

The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 4

2006-05-10T22:08:00.001+08:00

Chapter 4: The Saviour’s Request

Chronixus (plural is Chronixus not Chronixi) was a group of people with an ability to count to the exact millisecond. They were natural stopwatches. How did they come about? A scientific theory was that someone had a special type of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) which could be passed genetically. It was not the serious cause where one would get many phobias. It was the type where he would count at the precise moment, usually every second. Another myth was that they were given a special gift for worshipping Cronus, God of Time. It was not what they expected but since they believe that he knew what’s best, they went along with it.

These people studied like us but they also have a subject called Communication instead of English language. English was their mother tongue but they had to learn binary codes. Just like Morse code, they could communicate through blinking lights. If the light was on, each second was true or one. If the light was off, each second was false or zero. This coding was very hard unless the person translating had a stopwatch or was very lucky.

End of explanation, back to the action.

He was still standing the middle of the arena, stunned by that stunning move. A punch from Angela woke him up. He flew to the floor. Suddenly he could see her placing her foot on top of his chest. He felt a rumble. It might have been Angela placing extra weight on her foot to bury it further in his chest. He heard something about 20 minutes had passed and that something was about to happen; something to do with shakes. Uh… his mind stammered while he tried to ignore the horrible chest aches. He remembered it was something to do with mud… mud shake? Mud… earth…

Another rumble. Angela stumbled back, letting go of Dyert’s chest and letting Dyert breath once more. Oxygen, travelled through his blood, rushed to his head. His vocabulary and knowledge came back. It was called earthquake, how stupid of him. Blood rushed to the part of his brain where his reflexes were. He got on his knees as quick as he could and awaited the fissure and a blow from Angela. There were no cracks nor was there any blow as Angela was stumbling about. His brain stammered once more. He was thinking. Apparently this earthquake did not affect the audience. Dyert had experienced earthquake yesterday so he should know what to do. In addition, he also had that class on earthquake. He saw an opportunity. He crawled to Angela as fast as his legs could and grabbed her both legs. He pulled and she crashed on the floor. The earth quacked vigorously. The digital timer went on after a few seconds. It showed ten in red. The countdown started. Soon, it was five more, four… Bzzt.

The power went out and on with a flicker. The clock reset to double zeros. She was gone.

“It seems we had a technical…”

The voices just faded as Dyert concentrated. Where had she gone to now? He closed his eyes too. He heard something. He felt something else shaking apart from the earthquake. This earthquake only shook the arena, so what was shaking the audiences too?

The next sequence of events happened fast though it felt slow. The wall crashed and something emerged from the puff of dust. Dyert turned around to look behind him where the collision occurred and saw Angela who was about to sneak and backstab him. The silhouettes were charging towards Angela. Dyert managed to leap at Angela from a squatting position and pushed her aside. The figures slammed into Dyert’s ribs and flew across the arena, into the other side of the wall. The other wall was not demolished but Dyert’s bones probably had. Being wedged between the wall and something that felt like a moving wall was so painful words could hardly describe it. The dust cloud finally deceased. Dyert could see a peek of what they looked like. One of them had a shining arm. His hands shone as the lights reflected on it. The other arm however looked normal. Right night to Dyert was something hairy. Its brownish fur was irritating as its drool. There was something sharp prodding him on his shoulder. But that annoyance was ignored seeing that he was in an uncomfortable position and there was throbbing at most parts of his body. He noticed blood too dripping from his forehead among the sweat. His vision was too hazy to be able to see anything in a far distance. He was hoping it would stop soon. The pain was so excruciating that it turned into numbness. He was too exhausted to think as he used his energy to withstand the pain. He knew he was half-conscious and he used that very last energy to come up with that statement. It finally stopped and he fell on to the ground flimsily. He was bleeding with cuts and bruises. He would be screaming once his receptors came back to him. Right now, it felt like Heaven to him. He felt like he was floating in midair, on a cloud and he could see the white light. In reality though, the white light was the reflection from the person’s arm.

First aid mages came and chanted something which made his hearing came back. Following that was his consciousness, sight and pain receptors. Energy and pain rushed to his head and he screamed for a while. It felt like hours before everything calmed down and he was on his feet weakly.

‘Ugh’ was the clear first word which escaped Dyert’s lips. Smell lingered into his nostrils and the taste of bleed was felt by his tongue. His muscles began to function. He blinked rapidly as he tried to lift his eyelids. The light was glaring for the first time but it dimmed.

“Kid, are you okay?” spoke the stranger with a shiny arm.

Voice, thought Dyert, he needed his voice. With his concentration, he managed to speak non-gibberish with a throaty voice.

“Yeah,” he said. For the first time in this event, he got a clear look at the stranger. He looked like one of those heroes from a movie. Rugged chin with strong flesh-covered arm on the right and an android arm on his left. His chest was big and he had muscles shown at most parts of his limbs. His cloths were tattered though covered with filth and blood. He was overall hairy too, but not as hairy as his prey he barged into. His prey was a brown wolf and the biggest one Dyert had ever seen.

“You…” stammered Dyert.

“Hrm?” hummed the stranger.

“One… Armed… Bandit…” stuttered Dyert. It ended with a cough of blood.

“That’s what I’ve been nicknamed. But you can call me Eliot. You shouldn’t speak anymore.”

Dyert wobbled around dizzily before falling to his knees and the next thing he knew, he was in his bed. Though he was awake the whole time he was being sent home, his brain didn’t recall between speaking to Eliot and awakening in his bedroom. By judging his condition, he was also washed and clothed. His senses told him he was not the only one in the room.

“Nice place you got here,” commented a voice which sounded like the one he had heard before.

“What are you doing here?” asked Dyert drowsily.

Eliot ignored the question and stated, “The second book of Wishworld. I admire Ian’s work.”

“Really? You know Ian Chan?”

“Yeah, I know that kleptomaniac when we were in school.”

“Cool, maybe you could introduce me to him or something…Um… by the way, why are you here?”

“Do you believe in prophesies?”

“A little. Some are quite bogus.”

For some reason, Dyert was not nervous speaking to a legendary person.

“There’s one going on and apparently, you’re involved, according to the Challenged Saviour.”

“Why me?”

“Why a handicapped?” replied Eliot with a question.

“Good one but that’s quite insulting to him.”

“He doesn’t mind.”

A familiar battle song, from a famous game with twenty series, ring tone went off. Eliot’s phone shot out of his mechanical arm and his right arm caught it. He placed it by his ear and began talking.

“I’ll be there,” he said and with that he finished his very quick conversation and left after bidding farewell.

From that day onwards, Dyert’s life was changed.

A week had passed and certain parts of the school had been fixed. Since that school stressed upon the education of the students, the hallway to the stairs to the classroom was fixed and letters were sent telling the students that it is compulsory to return to school. All classes were on except class 10T. Dyert was unfortunately in class 10A and was able to see the reconstruction of the neighbouring class 10T. There were no laboratory classes as the laboratories were not fixed yet and if something goes wrong, a chemical might cause the whole room to disintegrate or the crumbling might cause the chemicals to explode.

Dyert found a note in his new locker too. The main hallway where the lockers were had a big hole which was being patched up. Their lockers were shifted to an area of the school seldom visited. It was named ‘The Bullies Alley’ by the students. This particular part of the school was the back of the school hall and the only time it was filled was during concerts.

The note read, ‘Go to the janitor’s closet and knock on the door and repeat the word “Magic” thrice.’

Maybe lunch, thought Dyert.

It was eight in the morning and class was about to start. He headed for his class and made it in time. Just as he entered, his History teacher was at the door. He scanned his surrounding. He felt something missing. He turned to his right where Justin was sitting and asked him where Freddie was. Justin did not have a clue. Crystine Krystal, Dyert’s seating partner, just took her seat. The seating arrangement went like this: two tables together, in six parallel rows which had four pairs of tables each. They were placed right in front, next to the windows on the right which had the worst scenery. It was blocked by a very shady tree. Directly in front of them was the teacher’s desk.

An introduction of Crystine begins with she was the most popular. Most of the male students who were too mature or normal would droll for her. She was the leader of her big gang of girls. Those type of girls who love fashion and their beauty. They also had comments which stung and their special ‘confusing boys’ technique. They wouldn’t let a gossip or rumour escape their grasp and they were the number one spreaders. This kind of specimen exists in all types of school.

History was boring and so was the rest of the day in school. The only thing that happened was work and study and sleep between work and study. Dyert was glad it was lunch as his curiosity could no longer contain. The question ‘who sent this letter?’ could easily be answer but why? What is this prophecy all about? His queries would probably be solved with more enigmas. That door could either shorten his life or let him leave for another day.

He followed the piece of paper. Due to the past injuries, he had to half-hobble his was to get anywhere. He passed the cross junction but took a peek at the construction on the way. There were workers slaving at the hole. Some were using the traditional methods, with hammers and other equipments. There were some who were just flicking their hands and magic did all their work. Dyert continued his way to the hallway where he stopped between two doors. He turned left and obeyed the paper. The door automatically swung open jerkily. It was a dark tunnel with a bright source of light at the end. He slowly surveyed his surroundings in case anyone saw him and entered. Not even his group of friends knew he was.

Once the door closed, he was pulled in by the light. Like a hypnotised zombie, he followed the light. He finally stepped out, daringly, into the room. It was velvet red as far as the eyes can see. However, most of the carpeting and wallpaper were tattered. Bloodstains were hard to see as they blend in with the surroundings but it could spot. There was what used to be an oblong table in the centre and bookshelves with pages flooded around it at one corner.

There were two people in the room at the current moment. They both look like they were brothers or closely related. One of them was Eliot; the other was someone who looked vaguely familiar as if he was in a book once.

“There he is. What’s your name, kid?” asked Eliot. All this while, Dyert didn’t realise Eliot didn’t know his know name. Though, how did Eliot know that I was the one prophesied? Dyert thought.

“Dyert Xavier,” he replied.

“Ah, yes, you’re the kid whose parents were killed in the flames. Anyways, this is my dear brother…”

“Dylan…” continued Dyert, “From what I’ve read, it was stated that he was never heard off.”

“Technically speaking, I agree with the inks. However, he was not gone, just… never heard off as quoted. He uses his magical powers to talk.”

With a flick of Dylan’s hand, sound ‘materialized’ in the surrounding. Without Dylan’s mouth moving, it spoke, “It lies! They lie!”

“But… um… wasn’t he evil at one point of time.”

“Ah, good times,” Dylan ‘spoke’ once more, “I was merely misunderstood.”

“Which concludes him almost killing us,” added Eliot as he offered Dyert a seat. Dyert approached one of the well-assembled chairs and dusted away the splinters before taking his seat. Both Eliot and Dylan were seated.

“No matter, there’s an enormous dilemma which about to happen and both good and evil have to put aside their differences to solve it,” explained Eliot.

“It’s a neutral problem,” Dylan helped. Dyert listened attentively at this intriguing piece of news.

“And what am I to do? I was almost crushed by the girl in that competition you intruded.”

“Do you know your parents well enough, hmm?” questioned Dylan with some exaggerated actions and tones.

“My father was in the army and my mother worked at the cash register,” answered Dyert.

“Anything particularly unusual?”

“Um… not that I recall.”

“That’s where you are wrong!” screamed Dylan’s voice.

“I don’t get it.”

“Do you know why you were adopted so quickly and why you have that stalker on your hands?”

“It’s the button,” Eliot answered Dylan’s question, “Which kind of remind me, Dylan, we need a portal to Dyert’s house now.”

Dyert wanted to ask question but the words wouldn’t come out and they were in a bit of hurry and confusion. Both siblings were arguing about the pros and cons of the portal before Dylan finally conjured one. It was a swirling pool of colours floating vertically in midair. It was quite indescribable as it was magic. It was an actually a rip in the fabric of reality which shortens the distance between two destination. The flaws were getting caught in middle, disarranged body parts and having the portal closed on one limb. That had happened to Dylan once. His had his hand gone but he had replaced it with someone’s. At that period of time, he was working aside Cyrus.

They stepped in the gateway and appeared, in haziness on the other side, which was Dyert’s room. There was someone else there though. Before Dyert could get a clear look, Eliot dashed over to him and held the anonymous’ neck in the air with his robotic arm.

“Wait,” called Dyert. He gave a quick once-over to the guest and discovered it was unconscious Freddy.

“That’s my friend,” he stated immediately after his scan before any harm could be done to Freddy.

“Why’s he here then?” asked Eliot.

“I don’t know. He wasn’t on the bus or at school, that’s for sure.”

Freddy woozily regained consciousness and woke up in an uncomfortable position with fear in his eyes.

“Calm down, we just need answers,” said Eliot smoothly.

“Dyert… who are these people? Why am I here?” spluttered Freddie.

“There’s something going on and it apparently involved me,” replied Dyert.

“It’s gone!” gasped Dylan as his voice suddenly burst out.

“Are you referring to that item?” inquired Eliot.

“What item?” asked Dyert.

Eliot ignored the question and asked Dyert another. “What is the brand of that precious button of yours?”

“Yalti, why…” Dyert hesitated, “Do you think that lunatic stole it?”
“No, but we’re going to Italy,” exclaimed Dylan.

Freddy was silenced by the confusion.

“Dylan, I need another portal,” requested Eliot.

“You know that thing about not being able to do portal spells after an hour or so…” replied Dylan.

“I’ll get the chauffeur.” Dyert went over to the intercom and beeped for his butler.

“Did you fail your Geography paper or something?”

“Nope,” he turned to his intercom and spoke, “Ask Mr. Thomas to get the 565.”

“Do you know where Italy is?”

“Not really.”

“You do know that Italy is in Europe right?”

“That I know.”

There was a soft fluttering sound from that was coming through the roof. It sounded as if it was descending. The rush of the wind could almost deafen you. Eliot’s dog-ears immediately recognised that familiar sound.

“Where’s the helipad?” he asked. Dyert’s grin last only a few minutes before he realised he was dead when his parents found out. Furthermore, he would be riding in it with a famous hero and an ex-infamous villain.

“It’s at the back. There’s only a big square concrete ground marked ‘X’ to indicate,” explained Dyert gloomily.

“So what do we do with my friend?” asked Dyert. They shrugged. Freddy was frozen stiff, stoned in the middle of them three, babbling insanely.

“He’s your friend,” spoke Dylan.

“It’s safer we leave him here unless he wants to come,” Eliot paused for a reply, “I’ll take that as a no.”

Dyert once again pressed the intercom and asked his butler to escort Freddie out.

The three people exited the room. Dyert was a quite slow as the after-effects of magical healing was exhaustion and he had not really fully recovered. Bruises still hurt and probably a bone or two. He almost fell twice on the way to the landed helicopter.

“Now you’re on an adventure, there’s no turning back. If you do, you’ll be dead. If you don’t, there’s still a possibility of dying.”

Eliot’s words of encouragement as they stepped on the helicopter. For some reason, the fear of height had suddenly developed in Dyert and he started to remember that dying was not a good thing. Life was short. Dyert’s was going to be shorter.

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Here it is. Sorry for the looong delay. I was having inspirations for poetry and if you read my last post, I have 2 more poems to go. Here's another 3000 words of tortu... chapter.

Hidden Messages

2006-05-10T18:32:00.000+08:00

Chapter 4 of The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World would be up soon.

and here's my 98th poem. 2 more to go.

Easter Egg Inside

Waiting here for a train,
Under the showering rain,
And I hear a particular yell,
It is something, I can tell.

An illusion, I figure, only,
But with the pour, I can see barely,
This really made my evening,
I wish there is something.

But now I guess it is okay,
To forget I think I may,
Eventually so ergo,
To wait for the year of octo,

I know I am not nocturnal,
I have wait for almost eternal,
Finally the sound dies,
A train in front of my eyes.

And I transport away,
But I still remember the day.

My Muse Left My Elbow

2006-04-13T23:43:00.000+08:00

I'm braindead for the past few weeks. It's the time where my story-writing skills slip away, my grammar deteriorates until it might make Papergorillas cry, my inspirations and ideas escaped from my head and my muse has gone on vacation. Though, my poems are coming along well (My poems are seldom effect during this time) and I have atleast 86 poesies compiled. Here's a short one which follows 'My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean'

My Bonnie Is In Pain

My bonnie is being tormented,
So she takes her medication,
But now I see she's still dying,
All because of this addiction.

This idea was taken of an original of mine I did today during sports practice. Yes, I did nothing and it was fun doing nothing.

Uninspired Title

The only cure for my imagination,
Is a healthy dose of medication,
To stop all this annoying beating,
Instead of plain old boring hitting.

Though it may cause serious addiction,
It's my only last suggestion,
And with my muse by my side,
I'm going on a memory ride.

My magic eight ball tells me no,
But it I don't have to follow,
And the words they don't hurt me anymore,
Cause silence is gold though it can bore.

I can feel the blockage in the brain,
I can feel the aches and pain,
My inspiration fading away from me,
And now no longer can I see.

Note that my poems are copywrited to me.

Before I end I'd like to apologise for the delay of Chapter 4 and any blog entries. End.

Quote
noun. (pl quotes)
Meaning: If you have nothing to say, go steal one of those funnies and use them for yourself while giving credit (sometimes) to the person saying it.

The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 3

2006-03-20T22:50:00.000+08:00

Chapter 3: Plummet

The white light vanished and he saw the ground. Suddenly, something wet stung his eyes. A strong pressure pushed and decelerated his plummet to the ground. It was much like a water bed except impure hydrogen hydroxide was rushing towards Dyert’s face. He could here liquid blasting at him. Water went in his nostrils and mouth. His vision blurred and faded into darkness.

“Dyert, are you conscious yet?”

Dyert gagged out some water and lifted his eyelids to a nightmarish sight. It was Freddie’s face. He jumped to his fit but yelled in pain. He was able to stand in the end. He was back in front of the busy cinema.

“Fred, what did you do?” Dyert asked anxiously, “Don’t tell me you gave me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation...”

“Hell no.”

“What happened then?”

“You were falling in the darkness. The clouds dispersed when we realised you were missing. Freddie here spotted someone plunging to his doom. Therefore Eliria used her water magic to cushion your fall,” explained Justin.

“Did any of you see any…” he hesitated, “Ninjas?”

They shook there head.

“We did see something though while Eliria looked constipated,” Freddie said as well as teased.

“It looked like a dark fellow. He wore something which shone in the light,” described Justin, “Apart from that, he was too quick to be seen.”

“That was exhausting.”

They turned towards Eliria who finally managed a word out of her lips. Before that, it was only panting. Casting magic can drain a lot of energy out of the body especially for an apprentice and for a long time.

“What happened to your hand?” asked Justin.

“While you all were angrily arguing, I went in that inn to look at the pamphlet but it turned dark and a horde of ninja started attacking me.”

“So, they injure your fist?” predicted Justin.

“No, I punched through the locked window in order to escape,” said Justin, “Yea, I know, that was idiotic.”

Soft sounds of sirens were able to be heard. Sped here were police cars followed by ambulances. The police cars swerved to a halt. Officers slammed the door open, came out and ran into the cinema.

One of them yelled, “Nobody moves. This is a scene of a crime that had just take place in the cinema. We will be asking you all a few questions.”

The tape marked ‘Crime Scene. Do no cross.’ were stretched across the cinema. The doctor from the ambulance treated Dyert’s hand. As he was being treated, a detective approached him and asked him a few questions. The detective was wearing a brown coat buttoned over a grey shirt and he had short, curly, black hair. Every time he tried to find some clues, his hands would be in the air in a specific gesture.

While the strange detective wandered off, the police captain came and sat next to Dyert who was on the bench. He had a moustache and hoarse voice.

“My name is Captain Meyer. I want to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

“Um… I don’t mind at all,” replied Dyert. Obviously he did not mind but the trouble was should he lie or not.

“First I need to know what did you see happen?”

“Um… I went into the motel across the street and everything turned dark. It was chaotic and suddenly something shattered and I was bleeding.”

“It was glass and you really hit it hard,” suddenly intruded the detective. He went back to observing.

“Captain, it was that window he fell from,” barged the detective once more.

“Tell me son, why and how did you survive a fall that high?” interrogated the captain.

“Water magic. That’s why the air is so moist. Water vapour evaporated the water,” explained the detective.

“Mr. Amonk, I was asking the kid here,” he advised the detective to not disturb him.

Then he added, “Was that true about the water?”

Dyert nodded quietly.

“Well, that is all I need to know now, you are free to go.”

He walked to his friends and turn around in curiosity when he saw a stretcher rolled by some people. On it was a body disfigured until it was indescribable.

The events ended there actually. He went home with his wrapped hand, read a book before dinner and then went to sleep at eight. It was quite early compared to his usually sleeping time. Tomorrow, hopefully, would be a brighter day. Dyert can hope all he wants but Fate had already written the scroll of destiny.

He closed his eyes, prayed to God for the first time in his life before his vision turned black. By the time he knew it, (but he wouldn’t) he was in slumber land.

The location looked similar to those fun houses with many mirrors except there were only two mirrors here. Both mirrors were on both sides and they ran parallel to each other. He gazed into the mirror. It was not hypnotising but his curiosity kept him staring. It was not his reflection. It was someone else’s reflection; a younger version of that very person. He glowed with an aura of light and holiness. Dyert turned around gradually. The other side was a reflection with characteristics conflicting the other one. He had an atmosphere of evil and darkness. Both of them looked familiar yet he couldn’t put his finger on it. Abruptly, the room vanished. He was in emptiness. There were no sounds, light or air. He screamed nothing. He saw nothing. He breathed nothing. He felt nothing. It was terrifying.

He screamed and screamed and he woke up screaming. School was the first thing that came to his mind. He leapt to the floor and felling on his face. That jogged his memory. There was no school due to yesterday’s incident. It was going to be an extremely long day.

“Master Brickstan, are you awake?” beeped the intercom.

That voice belonged to none other than the butler.

“Yes, I am,” he pressed the red button and spoke through the microphone.

“Your school bag just arrived, sir. It’s outside of your door.”

“Thank you, Alfler.”

Brickstan was his foster parents’ family name but he preferred Xavier. Truthfully, he never saw his parents before. His driver was the one who picked him from the foster home. His butler was the one who showed him around and told him everything he needed to know. There were no family portraits on the walls. Not even their voices he had heard. The only thing Dyert saw of his parents was their shadow. From their shadow, he made out that his parents were not big size, but tall and thin.

He took out an outdated CD walkman and placed the headphones to his ears. It was a birthday present from Freddie who gave it to him yesterday. Freddie was the king of smuggling. If you need answers to a workbook or a pirated game, he will have it.

His birthday present was a group thing. Eliria got him CD’s and Justin got him batteries. Fortunately for him, his bag made it through the earthquake. Dyert got out an album from his backpack. The album was called ‘The Truth’ by Dark Fox. The band was created in the year 2018. He placed the CD in the circular walkman and pressed the triangular button with indicated ‘play’. He glanced at the back of the CD cover and checked the name of the first track. It was called ‘Song of Nostalgia’ and it had a catchy tune and meaningful lyrics.

Words of the past, lyrics of history,
Song I have heard, playing repeatedly,
And monotonously, I sing along,
Following this rhythm, singing this song.

The peaceful rock song flowing through Dyert’s ears as he closed his eyes and dreamt. The rhythmic and coordinated instruments were playing hard yet soothing. The fast paced opening guitar solo followed by the beating drums.

Soundtrack of a movie, made in my head,
Movie imagined, starting to fade,
The theme song has vanished, and so have you,
A memory, a dream never come true.

This song made Dyert think. It made him think about his life. It almost ended a couple of times in this week. There was no particular reason to it or maybe one which he was unable to see at this very moment.

Life is a lie, and love is fictional,
Death comes closer, nothing's perpetual,
Time will go on, if that's what you believe,
This song will stay on, it just would not leave.

How true, Dyert thought, I can’t see why my life must suck so badly. And love. Love was a word only used to gain trust.

The tune I keep humming, stuck in my mind,
The meaning of it, I just could not find,
The events had happened, nothing's the same,
Song of nostalgia, that's the poesy's name.

Rest of the day however was pretty boring. That CD would only last him three quarter of an hour. He spent most of his time practicing his biking skills like wheelies and such.

A month had passed and there were no progress to the renovation of the school. Dyert had marked the calendar day by day. It was the big event and he had to get ready. All this while Dyert had been self practicing and self training for this competition. He had a marathon from his room to the car ready on the driveway as he was supposed to get ready half an hour ago. In between, he grabbed his breakfast that was on his plate as he passed the dining room. It was just toast with butter, enough for Dyert. He munched his limousine; a Jaguar XZ, the latest of the models. He gave the driver the map and the driver drove him to the location. The location really existed and it was a turnout. He made it on time and there were already many people there. The event was held in a stadium in Galingston Road. It wasn’t a big stadium but an average size one. He got out of his transportation and ran into the arena.

“Excuse me, sir,” he asked the first person he saw, “Um… do you know who is in charge of this competition?”

“You’re looking at him.”

“Oh, I was wondering if I could register for the competition.”

“What’s your name kid?”

“Dyert Xavier.”

“Dyert, I’m sorry. You should have thought about that two weeks ago.”

“Oh, ok.”

Dyert bowed his head and walked out disappointed. As he walked away, the manager approached his employee Dyert was talking to.

“What just happened?” asked the manager.

“Some kid just wanted to join the competition.”

“Did you get his name?”

“I think it was Dirt Saviour.”

“You mean Dyert Xavier.”

“Yes, that was his name.”

“You’re an idiot. Do you even know who he is?”

“Should I?”

“He’s that kid who the Brickstan adopted. Y’know that kid whose parents got killed by the general.”

“Oh,” his employee said with a satisfied voice as he finally understood, “That kid.”

“What are you waiting for? Get him back here.”

He ran as fast as he could. Dyert opened the door of his limousine. Time dramatically slowed down for the employee. He avoided as many people as he could.

“Dyert!” he called out but Dyert did not hear him. He was able to get to Dyert told him the good news. Dyert did not get to thank the manager as he was not to be found. He registered in his details. He had to get ready for the competition so he rushed to the changing room and changed into his white martial arts robe. He tied the belt around his waist and the headband around his forehead. He was the last one in the challenge sheet. He was up against a girl from a school after seven other rounds. Each round was estimated twenty minutes so it was a hundred and forty minutes which is two hour and twenty minutes.

They were called to meet outside of their changing room and there was a short briefing. They were allowed to sit or stand, whichever they preferred, and watch the competition. Dyert decided to meet his opponent and wish her good luck. However, their conversation did not turn out what Dyert had thought.

“Um, hey, are you Angela?” asked Dyert.

“Yes, I am,” she replied with a sweet voice, “And who are you?”

Angela looked sweet and innocent. The word ‘looked’ shall be emphasised. Her appeared could deceive anyone to thinking that she would have belonged to the ‘popular’ group; the group which are afraid of getting their nails broken or make up ruin. She was slim and beautiful.

“I’m Dyert,” he introduced, “I’m going to be your opponent. Um, good luck I guess.”

“Good luck to you too. And you’ll need it when I begin to pulverise your little body on the ground. Don’t cry ‘cause I have already warned you,” she said with a smile on her face.

“Um… thanks…” Dyert slowly backed away and walked far away from her.

The first match was about to begin. The two competitors were ready on the mat in their poses. What will happen next was unknown to Dyert as it was his first time in this competition. He had never heard of a stealth martial arts competition where magic was allowed to be used.

Ding went the bell and both competitors moved rapidly. The one wearing black dissipated in the shadows and the one wearing blue was moving as fast as the wind. So, what was the objective of this and how do you win? Dyert thought.

The objective is to pin the opponent to the ground but first, he or she must be found and second, he or she must be on the ground. The competitors may use any way he wishes but no weapons involved. They may use the whole arena; climb on the ceiling or even on the metal supports. There will be a few obstacle of the match was taking to long.

Dyert would finally have his chance to try his ninja skills. Freddie found it annoying, Eliria was a… girl and Justin was just Justin. After watching all the seven matches and learning new interesting techniques, it was Dyert’s turn.

He stepped up on the blue soft flat mat. His opponent Angela was in front of him.

“Shake hands and bow,” ordered the referee in black and white.

They both extended their arms and both of their hands met. Dyert held her hand and shook it in a friendly matter. Angela, on the other hand, was doing a death grip which left Dyert’s hand in pain momentarily. They both lower their heads and bent their chest in a bow.

Ding went the bell once more and the match began. She was gone. Dyert stood there, spinning around as he tried to find her. He closed his eyes and heard something come by. There were silent footsteps. He moved to the right and felt a gust of wind created by fast moving objects. She had missed him. Dyert ran to the wall. He was running towards the wall. He had no idea why but his instinct kicked in. He placed his left foot then right foot and kicked off the wall in an air back flip and landed on his feet. In front of him, stood Angela who slammed into the wall. Dyert regained balance and tried to sweep her feet but she leapt and vanished once more. He turned around and decided to run towards the other wall. He dashed and picked up speed. As he approached the wall, he placed his right foot and left foot then repeated the steps. He was walking on the wall subconsciously by instinct. He came to his senses and slipped. He fell but managed to grab around beam with his hands. Wow, he thought, I didn’t know I could do that. Up here, there were many beams. It was like a high-rose arena where once slip and down to the ground. He saw a shadow above him. It resembled Angela and she had a grin on her face. Dyert felt something pressing on his finger; a painful pressure. His first hand let go. It still had the impression of her foot. He quickly recovered and held back on. He swung himself as she stepped on his finger. He lifted his legs and held on like how apes do. He slowly contracted himself by bring his hands closer to his legs and expanded by moving his legs away. He did this motion as fast as his could to get away from her. He swiftly managed himself on the beam.

Phew, that was close he thought. His feet were in a line, balancing on the metal beam. His opponent was doing the same in front of him. The announcer said something but Dyert’s focus blocked any sound going in his ear. Though, he got a glimpse of the phrase ‘Ten minutes had already gone’. Angela let out a powerful jab at Dyert who scraped him by the shoulder. That little motion was enough to unbalance him. Dyert decided to take a risk. He advanced and let out a quick punch but missed. It was Angela’s opportunity to attack. She swiftly axe-kicked Dyert’s upper body and her foot slammed into the side of his head. He grabbed on a support holding the girder just as he slipped of the beam. His sweat decreased friction and made it harder for him. Oh great, another fall, Dyert thought. He was lucky Angela did nothing. She was just waiting for him to defeat himself. It took quite a while which seemed like an hour to Dyert. Angela gave up. Dyert had more stamina than she had thought so she chopped his hands with hers. The pain was unbearable. Dyert let go and took the plummet. Time went by quite fast. The next thing he knew he was standing on his feet.

“Unbelievable, he landed on his two feet,” announced the commentator.

Wait a minute, Dyert thought, how did I do that? The fall was three or four times his height and he was on his feet without any pressure on his foot. It went against all the theories he learned during Physics lessons a few years ago. (Note: There were no more Physics classes)

He stood there amazed. His thoughts stammered. He was confused.

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Ok, here's the update. Comment. I'll type more but Monk is on.

Slumberland

2006-03-19T22:13:00.000+08:00

Okay, it's hard for me to complete chapter three (200 more words) tonight as I need my sleep too and I have school tomorrow and I do not want to suffer during the day. It would 100% be done tomorrow but today, I leave you with my elf. (click for enlargement)

And a poem.

First Letter

Have you ever thought of this?
Open your eyes so you won’t miss,
Patiently waiting for it to happen,
Everything’s gone, everything’s taken.

Like it or not you are here,
Inside of you everything to fear,
Fright and terror swallow you whole,
Everything lies, even your soul.

Wish something happened to you?
All this time something to do,
Intentionally, you stand there still,
Till you become sick and ill.

Take it quickly or you’ll pay,
In one moment a new day,
Many moments already vanished,
Everything wasted, everything’s finished.

Gun at your head, finger at trigger,
Everyday is taking forever,
Nothing’s useful, finger and motions,
Even bullets are healing potions.

The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 2

2006-03-10T23:19:00.001+08:00

Chapter 2: Hide-and-Seek

His surroundings were not moving at all. Dyert was the only one who quaked. Gradually the whole room was trembling. Stationery fell off the table and the wall clock shattered on the ground. There were screaming female students and terrified male students. They were doing what they had been told to which was hide under the table. Dyert realised something; no one outside of the classroom were frightened. He could not hear anyone yelling beyond the door. Even though the class was noisy and the rumbling noises of the earth made it worst, he knew that no one else in this school apart from this classroom was feeling the shake. He needed to do something as the vibrating ground would not cease.

He stood up and headed for the door while trying to avoid any falling objects. The ceiling was cracking but at snail’s pace. He made an effort to keep away from the students who were still running around in the room with fear. He grabbed the knob, twisted it and pull. He was finally out and it had no tremors; just as he thought. Just when he was comforted that he was on motionless ground, it began to shake.

He ran in the hallway as far as he can but it earthquake tried to keep up. Being chased by shaking ground was kind of weird. Bystanders looked at him awkwardly but before they could ask, they found the reason out for themselves.

While he was running, something from the distance caught his attention. It was a poster with the title ‘Stealth Martial Arts Competition’ pinned to a board. It was strange since that there are rarely these types of martial arts competition. He glimpsed to the back. The floor was splitting into two and the crack was catching up to him. He ran up to the notice and tore the poster out of the board. That killed some of his precious time and every millisecond counted if he had to escape from this sticky situation. The fissure divided into two. It arced around and ahead of him. Then it became one once more, continuing ripping the hallway.

Dyert stopped. He was standing on a piece of cemented ground which was in the middle of a moat of emptiness. The floor rumbled further and the gaps around Dyert were much larger and more cavernous. Small pieces of his area fell into the cracks. He wondered how deep it was. He could try jumping to save himself or plummet down to his death. The ground deceased its shaking. The sound of terror deceased too. He glanced back and saw the students emerging from the classrooms. Some were clutching their heads; others had the relieved expression written on their faces. Dyert, on the other hand, had his brain shifted to ‘work’. He placed his foot back but the ground became unbalance.

He hoped this idea he brainstormed would not kill him. He put his plan into action. He stepped back, causing the unbalanced piece of ground to slant. He ran and with his quick reflexes, he leapt. He knew he would make it… he thought he could make it… he hoped he could made it. Unfortunately, he underestimated. His body slammed against the wall of the hole and his hands immediately grabbed on the cliff of the ground. He pushed himself up with the remaining energy he had but a sweaty hand slipped. He was dangling; holding on his life. He peeked upwards. It was an open hand. Dyert grabbed it and he was pulled up before the other hand slipped.

“Thanks…” he took a look at his mysterious rescuer, “JC.”

Justin Chow was said to have been the father of the Mysterious One yet he denied it. Proof was nowhere to be found as no one has seen his parents. However, following the description of the Mysterious One in Dyert’s book and Justin, they had similar attributes. For example, they mutter gibberish, carry a pocket knife around and have minds like an enigma. On the brighter side, Justin sounded saner than the Mysterious One portrayed in the book. Though, books exaggerate and twist the truth from the original events. He was tall and thin with jet-black hair.

Justin pulled Dyert out of the sticky situation and brought him away from the danger.

“What were you doing here? I mean, there’s a big hole between this part of school and the other parts of school which includes the classrooms. Aren’t you supposed to me in class?” asked Dyert.

“Just getting stuff from my locker,” Justin eyed Dyert carefully, “How about you?”

“Running,” he replied.

“Ah, I see.”

The students and teachers dashed out of their classrooms to the hallway only to realise that there was a big separation between their side and the exit of the school. The lockers were damaged but not all of them. Some were cracked and some were dent. The walls were fractured and the ceiling was raining dust from the broken pieces of cement. The double door was shattered. Outside was terrible as well. From a distance, it just looked messy. Up close, there were a lot of jagged lands and holes. Trees fell and bushes ripped. Leaves and pieces of papers blanketed the area. The flagpole was slanting.

Dyert and Justin went outside to have a look. They tried to avoid falling into the fissures. Passer-bys were stood out of the gates of the school, staring at the disaster. Apparently, only the school and some areas outside of the compound felt the shake. The building looked fine on the outside except for a few cracks in the peachy white walls.

“So how are they going to come out?” questioned Dyert.

“What?” Justin broke out of his concentration, “Well, there’s still the back exit and emergency exits.”

“You think a school like this would have such a thing?”

“Of course they do. All schools have one. Sheesh,” Justin explained with exasperation. By then, Dyert had diverted away from his lecture and grabbed the poster, which he snatched, from his pocket.

“What’s that?” enquired Justin.

“Stealth martial arts competition.”

“Ah, intriguing. And you are planning to participate?”

“Yup, once I find out where in heck is this place.”

“Number 22120201514, Galingston Road. I’ve never heard of it.”

“Hmm, strange. It’s only next month so I have time to get more info on it.”

Their conversation carried on until the students and their friends came out of the ruin. The speakers around the school came on. Principal Bob the Third (or Mr Bob for short) announced that there would not be school for a week and letters would be sent out for further details. Later came the finale where gravity helped destroy one of the speakers hang on the pillar. It went out in sparks and the crowd cheered. That was one eventful afternoon for Dyert. The day was still young.

Dyert and his group of friends went to the ‘Cauldron o’ Magic’, a café in the walls of an alley. It had a history too; in fact a book on it. It had dormant wormholes which were used before. They are similar like portals except less dangerous and only to one location. They look like little craters on the walls but one can be stretched to the side of the whole wall which is 10 feet maximum in height.

Dyert, Justin, Freddie and their last companion in the inner circle was Eliria Wasser.

Eliria was the only mage among the four of them and was one out of eight of the only mages who went to Taswin High. Her specialty was water and that could be seen in her family name as Wasser means ‘water’ in German. However, she was not from Germany. In fact, her generations were not exactly on a continent known to the non-magical society. It is known but it has not been discovered. Ever heard of Atlantis? Apparently they aren’t mermaids and mermen anymore. Evolution took place and they are more human than mermaids nowadays. Though, there were still mermaids. Never asked an Atlantean what had happened to their continent. Just think of it as ‘misplaced’.

They were sitting around a round table, sipping on their drinks. Justin had coke with a hint of alcohol he added, Eliria had water while Dyert and Freddie had plain coke. They were having a conversation on the latest gadget that had been created.

Compact Disks were old; there was a new secondary storage called Compact Everything invented. It fitted in drives and it was an mp5 on its own. It was circular with no centre hole and it was actually a screen on the behind or speaker if music was burnt onto it.

Time went on since 2006 but some things that existed out of time still haven’t changed a bit. Fate, for example, is still sitting in her library, at her table, writing the events of the world. The Grim Reaper too is busy collecting more souls which have escaped their host. They were (past tense if you follow the Earth time zone) currently in the same room discussing about the future.

“How’s the future for our little green people?” the Grim Reaper spoke in a deep, monotonous, hollow voice.

“After the plague wears off, the five of them will rebuild the city,” Fate spoke in a sweet voice. Fate was quite hard to describe. She was all glowing white; her gown, hair, everything.

“However…” she added with a lower, more depressing voice, “Earth is not doing too well.”

“How so?” he asked emotionless.

“I am not allowed to tell you that. Though, it involved another young boy.”

“Kids these days are insane, aren’t they? I mean, the last person who almost had many lives endangered was a kid.”

“Time will come when you have to collect these souls,” Fate handed the Grim Reaper a list of names with dates next to them.

“What do you know about time? There is no time here.”

After forty-five minutes of chattering, Dyert and his friends got up and headed for some time-consuming entertainment to kill their time. It was only two in the afternoon and there wouldn’t be school tomorrow so there was no need for the completion of homework. Dyert’s parents would not mind too. The more Dyert was out, the happier his parents would be as there wouldn’t be an annoying pest around them. The only ones with stern parents were Eliria and Justin. Being a girl and the only girl in the family, Eliria’s parents were harsh on her because they care. Justin, on the other hand, just had mean parents who made tight rules. Another one of the Mysterious One’s characteristic and another reason to assume that Justin’s father is the Mysterious One.

They headed for the cinema just down the street. This cinema was an old one and it looked like the one on television. It had a big neon light sign on the top glaring ‘Nextron Cinema’. Posters hung on the walls around the cinema. In the middle was the ticket booth as well as the support for the ceiling. There had been many nostalgic events that happened here before and Dyert was lucky enough to witness it. He sighed as flashbacks passed his head and stood there in the state of unconsciousness. This would go on every time

Ideas for movies had been decreasing as the year went by. More book-based movies were coming out and more animated, talking, personified animals. On the brighter side, Wishworld the Movie was coming out. They had been working on it for five years and they had a long break during the war. However, that was hard to believe since the book was released only two years ago. Apparently it would be an IMAX 3D movie. After magic came to the world, production boosted by four hundred percent and as a Christmas present, they would be releasing it at 0.00GMT on the 25th December 2020.

Apart from that, there had been new warning labels for movie. For example, the sign for ‘Monsters from Pockets’ which read “Warning: Weak minds may suffer epilepsy, seizures and various headaches.”

“Let’s watch ‘God Gave Gill Goats’,” suggested Freddie. Those new movies had weird titles. It supposes to double meaning to it or hidden messages which is like a clue teaser thing.

“Um…” Dyert stammered as he counted the amount of money he had twice, “I don’t think I have enough.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it for you,” replied Freddie who already had enough in his hands.

They left in the middle of the movie. It was a real waste of four dollar. The movie was boring, worst than the sequel of that animated chicken movie which did some freaky dance.

“What shall we do now?” asked Justin, “I have…”

The fingers of Justin moved in a wave-like motion before he said, “10800 more minutes before I have to return home.”

“There’s the bowling alley,” suggested Freddie.

“The last time we were there, we had been thrown out,” reminded Eliria. The three of them turned their head towards Freddie.

“What? It was not my fault. I didn’t know that I could spit flaming saliva,” he argued.

“You don’t know anything,” Dyert said, “Besides; we did advise you to go home and rest. However, you were too stubborn.”

“Are you still in debt?” questioned Justin. Dyert was looking around, trying to get involved in the heated disagreement. One was because they were yelling out embarrassing moments right outside a crowded cinema. The other reason was that he had too many things on his mind.

He glanced around his area as if it was new to him. There was a motel across the road. A thought came to his head. This type of places should have pamphlets for foreigners. Dyert sneaked across the street after looking both sides of the roads. It was barren. He turned back once he was on the other side. No one noticed his absence. He pushed the motel’s glass door and a bell rang. The people inside stopped doing what they were doing and took a glimpse of him. They then continued doing what they were doing. It was really freaky. Though, fortunately for Dyert, at his very left was a shelf filled with brochures on Seemsides. He approached and took one, immediately flipping it open. It did not have what he wanted. He went through the seventh book and he was still empty handed. As he was about to leave, he decided to check the one last book. He opened the book and on the page he opened to, he found the place he wanted. There it was, Galingston Road.

Unexpectedly, the earth shook. The first thing that came to his mind was “Another earthquake?!”

However, blackness was the only thing to be seen outside the glass door and the quake stopped. Dyert tried to open the door but there was no use. The door burst inwards. Some humans who looked like ninjas jumped into the room.

Through the cloth around his mouth, he muffled, “Anyone here by the surname of Xavier?”

It was dark and he was hoping no one spotted him as he went up the stairs.

“Who’s Xavier?” yelled one of the many people in the motel.

“A kid,” he answered.

“There was one here,” said a hoarse voice.

Dyert did not want to see what was happening down there. He was wanted so obviously he would run away to hide in fear.

The first floor of the motel was dark. He hid behind the crate when he heard some swoosh sounds. He leaned against a crate of some sort but when he moved, the floor creaked. Something slammed into the crate and the impact pushed it towards him. He was wondering to run or not and he only had a split-second to make up his mind. ‘Run’ he decided and so he did so. Something jumped in his way as he dashed through a corridor. He spun to his right and tried going through there but he head butted someone instead. Torpor caused him to lose his balance. He was lucky though. Before it could catch him, he backed away.

He took turns, opened doors and slammed objects. Finally he found the stairs going up by tripping on it. He took the stairs to the next floor. He was panting by his predator were not. They were already a floor ahead of him. He ran till there were no floors left. He groped around for the doorknob and entered the room on the top floor. It was not as dark as downstairs. There was light but dim. There was a closed window. He ran towards it but it was locked. The door shattered into splinters. The room hazed with clouds of dust. Silhouettes could be seen. Dyert panicked and instead of unlocking the window, he punched he fist through the glass and opened it. His hand was covered with red.

“Dyert, we’re here for you,” spook the first one. If not mistaken, he might have been the leader.

“What do you want?” Dyert asked with a half stammering voice, “Is it about the button?”

“What are you talking about? We’re only here for you. Nothing else. No one else.”

They took a step forward. Dyert tried to step back but he was already at the wall. His blood dripped on the floor.

“Why do you want me?”

“It’s an assignment.”

“To kill me?”

“That is confidential.”

The ninjas took out their daggers in both hands, waiting for the signal. They were giving him a chance to find a way out. The leader lifted his hand. Five fingers were up. One dropped, followed by another and another and another. There was one more left. Down went the last finger and in came flying knives. Dyert jumped through the window but one of the knife slashed a bit of his bleeding knuckles. He was looking down below, at the ground, as the wind rushed through his hair. He tried to yell but he was voiceless. Chemical reaction kicked in and he was seeing a bright light even though it was dark outside for some odd reason. It’s over he thought it’s all over.

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Examinations over. Chapter 3 will be out before school starts, by next week.

Map Of A Pirate

2006-03-04T21:53:00.000+08:00

Yes, there's some clues that are hidden in the story of mine. Look at the names and numbers. They are easter eggs.

My poetic mind isnt functioning well today. In conclusion, I have no poems for you. Maybe I'll update this at around 12.00 with a poem when my mind works once more.

Updated

Song of Nostalgia

Words of the past, lyrics of history,
Song I have heard, playing repeatedly,
And monotonously, I sing along,
Following this rhythm, singing this song.

Soundtrack of a movie, made in my head,
Movie imagined, starting to fade,
The theme song has vanished, and so have you,
A memory, a dream never come true.

Life is a lie, and love is fictional,
Death comes closer, nothing's perpetual,
Time will go on, if that's what you believe,
This song will stay on, it just would not leave.

The tune I keep humming, stuck in my mind,
The meaning of it, I just could not find,
The events had happened, nothing's the same,
Song of nostalgia, that's the poesy's name.

Another sonnet-like poetry written with a headache trobbing. The meaning of it? That's your opinion

Chapter 2 Teaser of The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World

2006-02-27T18:38:00.000+08:00

A picture I did with my spare time. Yes, Chapter 2 is slow. I only have 600 words, it'll be up by this weekend. The latest.

Earthquake

I think it's geometrically incorrect but in a world of scientific magic, what is correct?

The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 1

2006-02-20T22:41:00.000+08:00

Chapter 1: After-effects

The was between the magical and non-magical society, now known as the Magical-Normal War Two, had ended a year ago. After years of secrecy, the new head of this small town of Seemsides decided to take action. He worked his way from leader of a small community to General of the Army of this country. He planned and his plans were deployed on 1^st April 2020. The rest of the board of the government thought it was a prank.

“Come on. Magic? You must be crazy. Is this another joke?”

He had a goal and he did not want anyone to pull him down. The magical society, with their arcane powers, detected his movements and planned their own counter-attack. Without delay, the two armies met and blood shed. Even the one the mages called ‘The Challenged Saviour’ did not manage to stop the battle. Many had died on both sides. Eventually, leaders of both societies had a meeting as soon as possible and came to an agreement. War ended on 31st August 2020.

The ‘Field of Powerism’ was what it was called after that very day. The motto was ‘the grass is redder on this side’. In addition, after 600 years of living in the shadows of ‘normal’ humans, the United Nations had added new rules and allowed the magical society walk among us.

That was the prologue. Now begins the story of a teenage boy.

He watched his parents die tragically.

It was no accident. It was on purpose. Apparently all those who were in the war were slain. All those who worked at the army, navy or air force were killed, one way or another. The retired general was the one who killed them.

Before the cruel General of the Army was executed for his stupidity and wickedness, he escaped from jail and killed them. He even killed their family if they were in their way.

His parents were doused with gasoline and rotted in the flames. The sprinklers came on but the water from them was replaced with gasoline too. The kid ran away as fast as he could. His shirt caught fire so he had to take it off. Soon, their mage neighbours came as soon as possible to help put out the fire. Sirens from ambulances, police vehicles and fire engines shrieked loudly from a distance. The mage’s magic was drained out of his body. Water from the fire hydrate was soon spraying on the fire of the roaring fire before it could spread. The only thing the kid got as a remembrance of his parents was a button of his father’s shirt.

Soon after every single retiree had been killed, he drove to Traylen’s Tower. Traylen’s Tower was the three-quarter completed building competing to be the tallest building in the world. He drove to that tower in a tank at twelve midnight and destroyed the bottom structure. The whole tower was demolished and he was killed. Only one other person was injured and that person was a senile old man who was taking a stroll in the construction site.

That was at least a year ago. It was his sixteenth birthday and it was not a happy one.

After his parents died, he was sent to an orphanage which after a day or two, he was adopted. He broke a record too for being the fastest orphan to be adopted. A rich family took him in. His foster parents were too busy for any children so they decided to visit an adoption centre. Even though he had rich foster parents, he was poor. His monthly allowance was barely enough for him to ease his hunger. So he had to work during the weekends to get extra cash.

He did not really have a big birthday party for his sweet sixteen. He did not get a present from his parents. His parents did not even remember it. He did not really care.

He got up from his huge bed and crossed his room.

His name is Dyert Xavier, also known as ‘Dirt’ for those who tease. His birthday is today, 9^th September. He has interest includes ninja and fighting skills along with ability of a thief. His ambition is unknown to him as of yet but he is leaning towards the field of weaponry.

He glanced out of the window and stared at the garden in front of the tall walls. Outside of the estate was a man who was taking a stroll. This man was a stranger to this neighbourhood and judging by the way he was dressed, he didn’t look sophisticated. However, ever since Dyert moved in, he had been here. He may be a spy. There had been more of those since that incident. It could be that he is a stalker or just a friendly fellow who likes walking and admiring the wonderful houses.

He took a glimpse at his surroundings; a bed, a shelf, a wardrobe and a desk.

To be more descriptive, it was a four-poster bed with a canopy placed on the wall, in the centre, on top of a wooden-tiled floor. The carvings on the posts were beautifully patterned and wood must had been expensive. It was a waste; such a beautiful design for such an uncomfortable mattress. It was hard and bumpy. Bumpy doesn’t mean that there are those massage pads underneath the top quality mattresses. It creaked too if the bed was pressed in certain areas. The desk was placed on the opposite of the room. A huge brown desk with a five columned shelf filed with books placed next to it. And finally at the remaining wall, opposite of the door, on the left of the bed, was the wardrobe. That was all he had. He had no computer, hand phone, radio, music player of any sort, television, portable or non-portable consoles or anything form of entertainment. He did have a pool which he was not supposed to dip his filthy body in.

His daily exercise is included in his daily routine. The walk to the gate and back is equal to a short walk in the park. Apparently, his room was like a small chalet alienated from the rest of the buildings in the estate. The only connection between his room and the other buildings was a dirt path which was barely visible at the moment. The plus side living here was the fact that there were maids to do the chores and he did not have to do any.

It was a Sunday morning. He grabbed his favourite book, Wishworld, but he had no mood to read. He opened a small, expensive-looking, fabric casing which held the button inside. A Yalti brand black button to be exact. It was slightly scorched from the fact that it was being ripped from a man whose clothes were ablaze.

He suddenly recalled that there was magic in the event.

How he love magic. He wished that one day he would be able to cast magnificent spells similar to his ex-neighbours’. He had made friends with a mage who was three years younger than he was. Zalador Atavan was a half-troll, half-dragon mage. He held the nickname of pyrotechnist. Fire is his specialty and fireworks are what he does best. He is not advanced in his abilities yet but he is slowly working his way there.

He slid open the door and walked out of his room. He put on his shoes and followed the narrow dirt path. Around him was grassy land and his house was in the middle of it. He approached a double-storey bungalow house which was the guest rooms and crossed the hallway inside that building. He went out through the front door and walked the open-air eating area. His parents would usually have tea here under the shade as the slow breeze blew by. He hopped on the large rocks which were placed in the shallow koi-pond. There was a bridge but he preferred to other way. He walked into the main wing and passed everything inside until he was finally at the beautiful, huge main double door. He pulled it opened and walked outside. The door swung outwards and closed.

The sun was blazing outside. It was a sign. Either it was going to rain or it was going to rain rocks. The meteor shower is just as bad as acidic rain. It is just as painful as rocks showering down. They are not those flaming ones. They are more like hailstones except they do not melt.

He walked down the sloped wide concrete path which leads to the grand golden gates. On one of those gates, there was a smaller door which could be opened. He pressed the codes on the keypad of the digital lock and it automatically unlocked. He continued his walk outside his estate, in the neighbourhood of large mansions.

How he envied them. They all go to high-class schools with all their fancy gizmos. Dyert did not go to a fancy high-class school. For his parents, getting a list of school names, closing both eyes and randomly choosing one was the way to do it. Taswin High was the school he went to. It was not as big as most of the schools and it was rated most dangerous in the top-ten list of most dangerous places. That would include other places such as banks and shopping complexes. It was also known for its secret hiding places. It was once an educating institute for the magical society. It was also the school where “The Challenged Saviour” went to. His laptop was still left hidden to the teachers. Dyert was the lucky one who got his locker and managed to access the hidden camera in the school.

He hummed a tune as he strolled along the sidewalks. His mind wandered elsewhere as he wandered on the path. His eyes caught something and he turned his head, following the glowing flying object. His head turned back and jumped by the sight of a man standing right behind him. He looked familiar but the startling incident made him hesitate in his head.

“Um,” Dyert paused to construct a proper query, “Who are you?”

“I’m a chap taking a morning walk down this friendly neighbourhood,” he replied.

It came to Dyert. He was the person who was always walking pass his house. He was wearing a black shirt with a ragged coat and black pants. His hard was messy and his face was ragged.

“Do you live around here?” asked Dyert.

“Of course not. I only wish. What about you, young lad?”

“I live with my foster parents here.”

He pointed to the huge yellow wall on his right.

“So you are the new fellow around,” the stranger smiled with comprehension.

‘The’ new fellow, Dyert thought, have people been talking about me.

“I heard you had a rare button in your hand,” he added.

Dyert took a peek at his hands but he managed to realise.

“You mean the Yalti branded button?”

“Yes, that’s what I was referring to. Do you wish to sell it?” enquired the stranger, “I’ll offer a hundred dollars.”

“Um.”

“That sounds a little bit too low. How about three hundred?”

“Um, I don’t think I am going to sell it,” he replied.

“What if I offered you a thousand dollars?”

“No, thank you.”

As Dyert walked back home, the stranger yelled numbers and the numbers kept increasing. Soon, his voice decreased into nothingness.

Dyert dashed back into his house. It was the most sensible thing he did. He was luck too. By the time he got back to his room, the sky turned dark. Grey clouds began to roll in and three bolds of thunder struck. The thunder was no ordinary thunder. It did not fork. It went vertically straight towards the ground. That was the two signs already. Dyert waited patiently for the third. He stared into the sky through his window. There was a spark amidst the clouds. It faded away in the darkness. That was the last sign. It was raining meteors.

The rate of death had increased because of new phenomena. There was also a new subject in school called Meteorology, the study of natural phenomena. They were taught about every new and old disastrous and non-disastrous occurrence. The first lesson began meteor showers. To avoid it, carry an umbrella and shelter yourself from the direction the rocks are falling. Umbrellas are heavier these days since they were no longer made out of waterproof clothes. Nowadays, it has to be water, rock and other elements proof. The cause of this new phenomenon is because of the last spell that was cast as a finishing of Magical-Normal War Two. It is also due to the frequent use of constructing spells which had a side effect. Rocks evaporated into the clouds. When the side effects wear off, all the rockgas (a new word to the dictionary) will sublimate into, obviously, rocks and pour down upon the innocent people.

It was doing so. The only different, Dyert thought, between rain and meteor shower was the noise. The window would not break as there were more bullet-proof glasses produced. Of course, one with a fabulous house would buy what money could offer for protection of their sanctuary.

Dyert was about to grabbed the Wishworld book when he tripped. He tripped in such a way, by the time he realised he fell, the sliding door was open and his head was out of his shelter. He was on his front and on his shoes. It was too fast for him to figure out what happened. He placed his hands over the back of his head while small rocks plunged on his hands. Before he was further harmed, he pulled himself back into his room. He looked around with suspicion and fear. He was confused. He was standing beside the window which was adjacent to his table and somehow, he fell on the ground a few metres away from his location. He calmed himself down and continued what he was doing. He grabbed another book instead and read on the bed with his ears closed.

It was a book of events that happened between the magical and non-magical society. He flipped through the pages and found the one he wanted. It was the time, after many centuries, the magical events were numerous. They called it the “challenged” times. Apparently, a prophecy came saying something about a lad with a stick would save them all; The Challenged Saviour. He had defeated a vampire by the name of Cyrus in his first encounter with a mythical creature. By luck, he had survived. However the vampire was resurrected and he took revenged by killing the saviour’s love one.

Dyert flipped the pages once more to a page with the profiles of the character involved in these real life events. Apart from the Challenged Saviour, there were his friends, the One-Armed Bandit, Mysterious One, The Ghost, The Innovator, Unless Accidental Prone Kid, Djinn Powered, Soul-ed Werewolf, The Giant and many other more. Those are just nicknames given to them by the world. Real names are not given to protect their identities. Though, most of the people already know their real names. There were the villains too. There was Cyrus, One Who Must Not Be Named Because He Is So Damn Evil, The Mage Betrayer and other villains.

Dyert continued on flipping the pages and glanced at the pictures. Suddenly, he abruptly stopped. His sharp observation has spotted something odd on page 424. The paragraphs and sentences were purposely written in a way, it shaped a word. The word had six letters, ‘T’ in one of the middle, and it was on fire. Fire! Dyert panicked. He tossed the book on the floor and stomped on it. It became bigger. It was finally out but that particular page was in ashes. His foot was slightly burnt and the book was not damage considering how much times he had jumped on it.

It had been a strange morning for him. It was not something to be worry about though. When you live in a world with a combination of magic and technology, you can get weird things. One example is the Illusionist Trading Card Game. It was the latest trend. Dyert had those cards too. With his job, he spends twenty percent of it on cards.

Illusionist is no colourful cardboard. It has a chip inside which enables an illusion spell. The illusion of the character in the cards comes will stand out and fight each other. Furthermore, they can grew level, train and learn new abilities. It looks like those cartoons but this had been achieved in reality. It was cheap too. It was only ten dollars a booster of fifteen cards and thirty-five dollars for a deck of sixty cards.

Beep went the intercom. One of the five maids spoke, “Lunch time.”

He glanced at his digital watch. It was one in the afternoon and the meteor shower had stopped, leaving rocks scattered everywhere on the ground. He approached the dinning room and had his fish fillet. The day went on with nothing interesting. He slept after lunch until dinner, then he had his dinner, did his homework and sleep again. Something interesting might have happened but he was in another world.

His alarm clock buzzed him awake. It was five in the morning; only thirty minute to get ready. He did it in time too. After the thirty minute of changing, packing and eating, he was standing out of the majestic gates as he awaited the school bus to arrive.

The bus came a few minutes after he was outside. It stopped with a loud boomed and black smoke trailed out of the exhaust pipes. According to various rumours, it had exploded twice before. The yellow door cranked and slid open. He took his sit at his usual seat somewhere in the middle of the bus and sleep.

Dawn was orange with a hint of yellow these days. That colour was caused by new various gases such as Xalium Pentaoxide (Xm₃0₅). Trixan Xalium was the vain mage professor who discovered the new element and named it after her family name. It is categorised under noble gases. During the night, this gas would be less dense and rise into the air. When the dawn comes, light will cause this gas to sink. As light passes through the particles of the gas, the light will change colour to orange. Thus causing the sky to be orange and also the naked eye will see shades of orange on objects.

“Dyert,” a voice whispered into his unconsciousness.

“Wrm…” he mumbled back half-heartedly. He torpidly opened his eyes, only to find out that his closest friend was staring at him.

“Yes, how may I help you, Freddie?” he asked.

“It’s about the chemistry report. Have you done it?” Freddie enquired.

Freddie James was a thin boy who has spiked hair. His nose and ears were quite small compared to an average human. However, he was the tallest kid in class. He wore his favourite black t-shirt with black trousers. It had no embroidery on it at all. In the gloom, no one could see him. He was lazy too; abnormally lazy. Even though his notes were not completed or work not done, he had the ability to avoid punishment. Even the teachers said he was a good boy. Dyert would sarcastically cough at that statement in the face. On the other hand, Freddie had suffered his own penalty. He caught a dangerous illness before and almost died.

Three months after the agreement that the magical society could stay under daylight, there had been an outbreak. It was a plague more deadly than severe acute respiratory syndrome (also known as SARS). It killed more than the bird flu and salacine put together. It was called magicine (mae-ji-scene) and the symptoms for it is ability to cast magic. The disease was taken from the word magi which is another word for sorcerers. They had not found the source of this disease but they had found a cure. The non-magical society accused the magical society for this new illness and they were almost driven back into hiding. However, a great leader and the youngest too, Rambert, had came with a great idea and therefore they could stay. Some may say that casting magic is not a curse, it’s a blessing. Well, after a week, the victim will start losing himself and chaos break lose. Uncontrollable magic and masochism was the symptoms followed after that and death comes slow and painfully after a fortnight.

Freddie suffered that. He was test subject number 610 and the six hundred and nine test subjects before him had past away, either by the new drugs or masochism. He was luck number 610 as he got the first cure. Soon, the sickness had been able to be contained.

“There was a chemistry report?” Dyert questioned back.

“I think so. I don’t really know,” Freddie ignored that problem and went on to another topic, “How was your weekend?”

“Yesterday was weird. A stranger wanted to buy my button and my book caught fire.”

“Dyert, Dyert,” he said with disappointment, “Drugs will not do any good. And you have to stop your pyromaniac ways.”

“I’m not…”

Before Dyert could continue, the bus jerked and the passengers slammed forward. The students rushed out and the bus sped off, leaving them choking in the carbon monoxide.

They entered the gates and followed the path in the middle of the grassy area. In the middle of the path, there was a flagpole which they had to walk around. They continued forward and up a few steps. The swinging double door was to be pushed open and the first thing that could be seen was the two parallel rows of lockers placed beside the walls. They went to their own lockers and chatted. It was thirty more minutes to school and seven hours till school ends. The first lesson, after assembly, was Meteorology and they were going to learn about earthquake. Ironically, the earth began to shake at the very moment and it was no drill.

Dyert’s life had become more complicated than he ever expected. First he thought love and life was it all. It was more than that, now. His adventure started when he met a stranger and it does not look like it will end at all. If it does, it will not be a happy-ever-after ending.

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That was the end of chapter 1. The mistakes are not checked, I'll find time to do that. Comment if you can. Chapter 2 will be written and uploaded soon.

Disclaimer's Note: I have full permission from Skull P to use the title 'Wishworld' for a fictional book in my story. If you want to find out what Wishworld is, see the links on your left, click on Skull Pandamonium

Field of Powerism

2006-02-17T18:24:00.000+08:00

Why powerism? Cause the word 'power' needed a suffix. -ism was just the thing. Po-wer-ism. It has a ring to it. Here's a picture of that setting.

The first chapter of this story will be up soon. No, I will have many mistakes cause I don't feel like checking yet.

The grass is truely redder on this side. And the sky. And the mountains. And everything around it.

Ask permission before using it. If you want a wallpaper, i have one of it.

Field of Powerism

News

2006-02-15T22:48:00.000+08:00

A Building And A Parking Lot

A shark in a parking lot,
And a body willing to rot,
Pain in between them all,
There is a time to fall.

Carried by the hands of Fate,
He was too late,
The parking space had been taken,
From a nightmare he had waken.

He had to leave so he took a leap,
He gave Death another live to keep,
And the parking lot had no more space,
He went to his place.

So rest in peace my friend,
Not everyone can park in the end,
We will move on and so will you,
A tall building and a parking lot too.

This is a poem dedicated to Darren Lim who tragically passed away.

This poem is about the current events of yesterday. Pain, carparks and the news. See previous entry for your information. The poem has many metaphorical meanings. The main point is... we can never find a parking space everytime and there is always a time when we fall.

Remember

2006-02-14T23:16:00.000+08:00

First, I'd like to say that I do not celebrate Valentine's Day as it is now turned into a commercialised celebration where prices of roses increase by 200% or more.

Skull P's blog has inspired me. His blog is one of the most interesting blog. Hope you do well in life, Skull P.

Next, I'd like to say rest in peace to that kid who fell of the condominium. Was it fate? Was it luck? Was it both? I do not know but life has a way of turning around and bitting you in unexpected places. Like my next thing.. point..

A poem called remember. It's fictional and non-fictional at the same time of. It is related to a short story called Poetry. Most of you might have read it, but read it if you have the time. They say it is nice. I can't comment my own work.

Remember

Remember the nights we stayed up till two,
There were no one else except me and you,
We had a great time chatting and talking,
And in the end, we go to bed smiling.

Remember the time we met at the mall,
It was the first time since so long after all,
So we were nervous as you had a friend,
I was sad that day had to end.

Remember the time we talked on the phone,
I was up in my room alone,
I gather my courage and recited to you,
I did what I had to do.

I remember it well, but I hope you do,
A feeling so real and true,
Trapped inside of me,
I have to let it be.

If you ask how is it a twist, it is because it's all over. That's why there's the word 'remember' there. That's all.

Happy Valentine's Day to those who celebrate and good night to all.

Sidetracked

2006-02-14T20:56:00.000+08:00

Yes, I have sidetracked once more from my second 'book' of my story. This is a spinoff of Seemingly Normal (Book 1 can be found on my website. Link on your left). Here's the prologue (havent checked for mistakes yet)

Prologue

The war between the magical and non-magical society had ended a year ago. After years of secrecy, the new head of this small town of Seemsides decided to take action. He worked his way from leader of a small community to General of the Army of this country. He planned and his plans were deployed on 1^st April 2020. The rest of the board of the government thought it was a prank.

“Come on. Magic? You must be crazy. Is this another joke?”

That was the prologue. Now begins the story.

Freedom

2006-02-12T00:00:00.000+08:00

We were free once more. We partied, we drank, we got drunk, we finally regained soberness, we pushed our birtyday boy into the pool, we fired firecrackers in risk of being caught by police. It was fun. Here's a video for enjoyment. Taken by PeakO, made into flash for user-friendliness by me.

Anyways, on to the main topic. Freedom. We have freedom. Yes, we do. But we can't see that. We tell ourself that we are not, yet we are. We are just bound by the emotions like guilt and fear. We can do whatever we like (which is physically possibly). Go rob if you wish but there are things called consequences. SkullP, you were about to lecture me about freedom? I'd like to hear your opinion.

I end with a poem

Freedom

The best of times,
The worst of rhymes,
Remember the moment,
To life, a servant.

Shackled down by chains,
In the middle when it rains,
The keys in the mud beside,
But from view, they hide.

The keys are so close,
But who needs those?
Is freedom what servants need?
Or is it as annoying as weed?

It’s your own choice,
Sit down and make noise,
Or seek to be free,
But there’s a fee.

Dance

2006-02-11T00:05:00.000+08:00

It's all in the poem. No, actually, the poem is exaggerated 100% that only the people present would know what had happened. No, actually, they don't.

The ball was a blast. We played, we danced. I met new friends and remeet old ones. That's pretty much it.

On to poetry.

Dance The Night Away

Care for a dance, my dear?
Let's dance our trouble away,
Let's throw away our fear,
For another day.

Turn then take a step,
Hold our hands high,
Our legs began to tap,
No worries, it's our first try.

Wake up, my friend, wake up,
You should dance, go ahead,
Here's your drink, take this cup,
Go on the stage, don't be afraid.

I see the people on the floor,
Moving with rhythm, moving with grace,
Couples joined in, more and more,
For me, there's no place.

I came here to let go,
I can no longer hold,
Did it work? No,
It increased by tenfold.

Alchohol and Drugs

2006-02-09T22:01:00.000+08:00

Warning: Content may be too disturbing/sensitive

That poem/song I was talking about yesterday is here. I decided to put it up. It may be more extreme than my other poems.

Ruining Myself

It has been many days,
It has taken forever.
We've parted our ways,
Now it's all over,

I'm out here on the sidewalks,
Standing on my feet,
You've given your talks,
That was the end of our meet.

We weren’t meant to be, but I refused to see,
All my life I have waited for you to come to me,
My stubborn ways has made me what I am today,
And all the prices for my actions I had to pay.

I'm drunk, I don't care,
I'll whack and I'll hit,
My body's about to wear,
But I don't give a shit.

I'm dying out here,
I'm bitter and rude,
Death, I don't fear,
Drugs will do me good.

I have ruined my life because I held on to,
The only person I ever loved whom is you,
But I know you will never come back to me,
Don't worry; I'll wait here, wrecking my own body.

Not going to talk much today. Busy weekend. I need my drugs. Please kids, don't take drugs, it's bad for your health. I just need mine to keep me living.

Blind

2006-02-08T21:29:00.000+08:00

"What would you wish for if you had three wishes?"
"Nothing." I replied.
"You're a freak!"

Maybe even the freaks will call me a freak. But why do I want wishes? There would be always disadvantages among these wishes.

Untitle's wish: A swiss bank with unlimited cash.
Disadvantage: No key.

Pandamomium's wish: Disruption of organs at will.
Disadvantage: If you're using it and your hand accidentally go towards your body.

Dexter's wish: Immortality
Disadvantage: Eternal torment

Wai Khiun's wish: Time travel
Disadvantage: Cause paradox, alter time.

I would think of more but my brain would hurt. On to blindness. A comic? Of my own? Yes, it is. This is one way to improve my skills in drawing. By frequently drawing (updating) comic. I shall call it "The 10 minute comic" series as I can do it in 10 minute. This one may not make much sense, but if you read on, you may understand more.

Edit: Aside from that, I have a poem/song called 'Ruining Myself' It needs a tune. If anyone wants to read it, ask me through comments or if you do have my contact, tell me.

Warning: May blind

10 MinuteComic: Page 1: The Cause

History

2006-02-05T21:40:00.000+08:00

History shall not repeat itself no matter how much you try. It'll be worst, or it'll just be not as bad as last time. We improve, we evolve, we learn. You may think it is deja vu but it's not exact.

On to art. Today it's a comic on a novel called Bukit Kepong. It's about the communist attacks in Malaysia.

Part 1
Part 2

Note: If you found that photo on Sparkles blog, it's actually mine. -I- took it.

Trustworthy

2006-02-03T23:16:00.000+08:00

Lies

We have the will,
Ourselves, we can kill,
Yet we live on,
'Cause there's a battle to be won.

Our creator is wise,
To implant lies,
So we would have the hope,
Instead of feeling like a dope.

Where's the truth, where's the light?
I open my eyes and nothing at sight,
I search around and nothing's found,
Not even a whisper of sound.

I have given up,
A poison-filled cup,
In front of my eyes,
To get rid of these lies.

I sipped the nectar,
It takes me to a land so far,
No more lies,
My brain dies.

Today I'll start differently. There's the poem and now is my two cents.

It's true. When we are suffering, we turn towards the balcony on the tenth floor and look upon the people below. Then our senses kick in and remind us that we are afraid of death as much as we are afraid of falling. Those who are insane would walk off the plank.

But are they insane or are they actually sane? Do they realise that there is actually no victories in life? There's only a direction pad and a quit button on the controller of life. Then there are options which stretch up to a hundred or even more. I'm currently playing 'handicapped' in my game on Difficult.

Back to my main point. A blind, almost deaf, mute, person would struggle to learn the basic survivor guide. That person does not want to die. That person is willing to live on. God or however our life works (sorry, let's not be bias) is responsible for this. Is it good or bad? I t's both. So let's just live with it.

What Are The Odds?

2006-02-02T20:28:00.000+08:00

What are the odds of getting a green in roulette? Two out of thirty-eight. What are the odds of being who you are today? Probably One in a few billion. What are the odds of having someone feeling the same way you feel at the same time? How would we know since no one shares their feelings anymore.

We seclude our feeelings in a dark corner so no one will ever find out. Me? I just write them down in words which wouldn't make sense. If you don't understand, don't try too hard. It's worthless.

No poetry or art today. I've been working on something for school presentation. It's a comic. If you were wonder, you can look at Peako's blog.

Edited:
A poem I just did.

What Would The World Be

What would the world be if it were square?
What will we do when nobody is going to dare,
Walk of the edge and see if they would fall,
Or would the gravity pull them all?

What would the world be in black and white?
Only two colours in our plain sight,
Would there still be choices or only two ways;
Only night and morn for our days?

What would the world be in a game?
Would life be the very same,
Or we would our freedom be gone
And life would end if we won?

What would the world be if we were emotionless?
Would we stop caring due to thickness,
Would life be dull, would population die?
And no one would notice the days go by.

What would the world be if I were dead?
Would all of your trouble slowly fade?
A pest is gone, your luck increase,
And all your problems slowly cease.

I really wonder...

Spotlights

2006-01-30T21:49:00.000+08:00

Congratulations to those who have found this blog in various ways. I would like to thank Cal Dearc who was bugging me for the url to this blog and because he gave me publicity for my deviantart, I decided it was only fair. Soon, everyone figured out the secret of this place.

No poetry or art today. I'm suffering neckache, tiredness and also artistic block. My energy drained. I'm even findin trouble writing this. I'll just take some old random poem and explain it to you.

Time of Waiting

Days pass and clock ticks,
I wait for the day we meet,
Minutes passing, time is moving,
I patiently wait for it.

Years of searching, years of finding,
This year has luck for me,
Years of sorry washed away,
I missed her so dearly.

Time goes on at a constant pace,
So long have I waited,
Dreams come true after so long,
Today has been fated.

Day by day, week by week,
No longer would I let,
Nine years passed since we met,
I found my friend and more than that.

The good times when waiting paid off

Time of Leaving

Hourglass dripping sand,
Days went by since we met,
The last grain had fallen,
That day was gone, that was that.

The sunset, the moonrise,
Gone was the time of waiting,
The sunrise, the moonset,
Now is the time of leaving.

An hour passed and gone,
No longer do we meet,
First day of the seventh,
I still hold on to it.

Nine years of wasted time,
I'm glad I managed to see,
Fifteenth year of my life,
Time of leaving, let it be.

Then suddenly, it's all over and you think all that waiting was a waste. Life goes on.

Eyes Filled With Red

2006-01-29T16:25:00.000+08:00

No, my eyes aren't bleeding. What I am talking about is Chinese New Year and its obsession with red. I was wearing red, so was many other people at the usual Chinese New Year gathering in my grandparents' house, and I recieved red packs. I am probably one of the many people who doesn't care about the green or red or blue notes in these red packs. I'm not as money-minded as many other people. I have what I need, and I'm living well enough with it.

Moving on. If my eyes were bleeding, it might be because of this.

Addiction

A picture worth seven boxes of Ricola. That would make up about RM4 each? You could almost buy a RM30 reload card. No, I'm not addicted to it and I don't know why I kept this rubbish. Though, they taste really nice, their side-effect is mild laxative effect.

Walk of My Days

2006-01-27T16:38:00.000+08:00

I took a walk around my swimming and took the same seat I sat, eight or nine years ago, playing chess with one of my friends while my friend was swimming. Yes, I remember the time I first learned and started playing chess. I took down the piece and it fell on the floor. Reason for this piece of info, go figure.

So I sat down in the same seat I took. The wind in my hair and the rays sparking on the water was beautiful. I took out my pencil and book and wrote.

Meaning of Time

Does time mean a thing?
All my days spent,
Just waiting,
It came and went.

Is there a meaning to this?
All this regret,
A warning label I miss,
Saying pain is what you'll get.

Why don’t I understand?
That no matter how hard I try,
I sink deeper in sand,
As time passes by.

Is it too tough?
To let me go on,
With life, which is so rough,
With something important gone.

What can I do?
To help me see,
That all of this is true,
And I have to let it be.

When will it end?
All this pain,
Life has to send,
Has no gain.

Why is it so slow?
That life will remind,
Things I know,
But don't know where to find.

Does time mean a thing?
Don't give up everyone says,
I didn't and all the waiting,
Is wasting my days.

What does it mean? Go figure. But yes, typing this blog does waste my time too. And Sparks, if you did find this blog, you were wasting your time

The Saturday When I Bother

2006-01-21T18:40:00.001+08:00

A blog you say? I didn't know they call this blogs. Yes, it's true that I have become an enemy of my ownself but I can't help it. I can't help myself. I'm not going to dedicate my life for this blog, of course. Not like the other blogs, no, I would bore you with ramblings. This is the ultimate lullaby. I shall wish good night first before continuing any furture.

So where am I know? At home, in front of my damn computer typing this blog. What have I accomplished today? A poem, a blog, another line or two in my story.

Vomit

Think if I'm crazy,
Maybe I just can't see,
Blind as those bats,
Drowning in filthy rats.

Crying for help inside,
But my guts just died,
And I just vomitted,
A part of life commited.

I killed my soul,
Killed it whole,
And tore the paper,
It's no longer better.

I still choke,
Because of what you took,
But what I have lost,
Does not cost.

What is this about? It's about insanity. It's all about insanity. Am I turning insane? I don't know but I hope so.