The table was charmingly set with local Chinese cuisine dishes, my mouth was literally creating a track of saliva on the side of my mouth. Before my mother started calling out for our names, I had my eyes and hands moved busily around the table and even my nose was following the scent of the food. My nostrils were opening and closing like a whale got itself onto the land and had a hard time to catch its breath.
“Please wash your hands, young man!”
“Yes, mom.”
“You and your hungry-ghost liked behaviour, can’t wait is it?” quipped my sister moving gracefully across the room gracefully with the cooked dishes on her hands. I can’t imagine what could happen if she hadn’t been practicing for these years in the kitchen.
“Hmm, why are we having such a big fish? I asked only to take time to amuse them and quickly got my two sticks to grab hold of the fish meat.
“Young man, the fish is for all of us to heal our inner emotional pain, if you have, but if you do not have any of the pain, then it is good for your health,” she returned with a smile that I recently seen it from the Chinese Daily, quite strange and unfamiliar.
Since the day we were told that we had to pack and leave within this week, I had been experiencing a feeling of despair and not sure if this would be my last chance to see my friends or my spot by the river.
The morning sun had always been a friend by my window which organised my day in way that would required me to think only about the day ahead by the river. Not even work. Impudence to my work and I found it challenging; not because it took me away from work but; it inactively allowed me to stay by river not allowing a single numbering was to creep in to haunt me timelessly.
The battle out there was horrendously disturbing the neighbourhood, the mothers, the children and us the growing ups. I wondered if I would to hold a campaign about how to improve on calculation your business debts then maybe the soldiers might want to hear me out and forget about the whole terrorising drive.
“Ooi, you almost step on my drawings!” Emily shrieked as if an elephant was about to step on her.
“Oops, didn’t mean to, sorry, what’s that you’re drawing?” I said curving my head scantly to get a better view what was it on the paper, which seemed a bit like a snake on top of a tortoise.
“Nah, it is just a picture of the rabbit and tortoise race. Nothing to do until mom is ready to go down to the market to get her luggage bag.”
“What? Where is she now? Are you serious about the whole fleeing matter to Thailand?” I snapped with a raised on one eyebrow, still couldn’t accept the fact that we were leaving this weekend and the picture seemed more like a race now to me.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Chapter 1
I woke up that morning, feeling a warm singe on my arm, thinking that it was my sister who was playing a silly prank on me again – upon waking my senses gathered seamlessly to realise it was the scorching sunlight piercing fiercely into my window – the energy was so unforgiving that it hit so gently, it reminded me that I needed to offer attention to my surroundings. That strength was indeed a good attention grabber. I organised myself on my bed, thinking what was I going to do today.
Having rested for days not knowing if I could further tolerate my workless routine. My mind was empty for a moment, couldn’t possibly be able to make up the content of the emptiness. Could it be the loneliness or the numbers punching through my mind-train or any meaningless subjects pushing through its way to jam my mind. I had that since the day I took myself off my hands at work and decided to offer some time for my self.
The good old days I presume were long gone with my old self, who struggled to stay sane on a regular basis. The emphasis on my life was discussed every day making sure I was on the right track I needed to survive.
“Are you awake?” a voice crept in through the seep hole underneath the door.
“Yes, I will be out in a minute.”
“You’re sure? Its ten now, we need to go get our tickets before twelve,”
I never get too sloppy – not even for work or somebody’s wedding dinner – especially the last wedding I went few months ago – extravagant. I didn’t know if this trip to Thailand was rightful or seeking to repent my sins when the time we came back. My mind was not cooperating the way it was suppose to be – putting on the right clothes, getting all excited and adjusting into the sweet fleeing experience.
“What time do we have to be there?”
“Come out and we will talk. Will you?” said Emily, my sister, who sounded like she needed an urgent ride to the nearest market to buy her favourite spinach for her breakfast.
I couldn’t take my humour alone and I burst into laughter as the image of my sister wearing a pair of torn shorts, running around in the market frantically enquiring for spinach.
“What are laughing about, come out quickly!” her voice enhanced my humour.
“Alright!”
As soon as I put myself at the door, her angular face with eyes that looked like sorrowness had hit hard on her for the years she lived – I laughed again.
“What so funny?” she said as her frown developed slowly over her nose.
“No, I was just thinking if you want some spinach?”
“What for, not as if I am desperate for it. Come on cut the crap. We got to prepare and help out.”
The unwanted thought of fleeing with fear admitted itself into my mind ruefully as quick as my sister punctuated her full stop with an air of uncertainty. It was hard to bear the thought of leaving the country to somewhere safer. Although the blasting and screaming on the street were sometimes deafening but it was my homeland and I was too used to the climate, people and the language. Moving away means I might not be able to swim by the river and see the regular faces.
I need to speak to Tian tonight.
Having rested for days not knowing if I could further tolerate my workless routine. My mind was empty for a moment, couldn’t possibly be able to make up the content of the emptiness. Could it be the loneliness or the numbers punching through my mind-train or any meaningless subjects pushing through its way to jam my mind. I had that since the day I took myself off my hands at work and decided to offer some time for my self.
The good old days I presume were long gone with my old self, who struggled to stay sane on a regular basis. The emphasis on my life was discussed every day making sure I was on the right track I needed to survive.
“Are you awake?” a voice crept in through the seep hole underneath the door.
“Yes, I will be out in a minute.”
“You’re sure? Its ten now, we need to go get our tickets before twelve,”
I never get too sloppy – not even for work or somebody’s wedding dinner – especially the last wedding I went few months ago – extravagant. I didn’t know if this trip to Thailand was rightful or seeking to repent my sins when the time we came back. My mind was not cooperating the way it was suppose to be – putting on the right clothes, getting all excited and adjusting into the sweet fleeing experience.
“What time do we have to be there?”
“Come out and we will talk. Will you?” said Emily, my sister, who sounded like she needed an urgent ride to the nearest market to buy her favourite spinach for her breakfast.
I couldn’t take my humour alone and I burst into laughter as the image of my sister wearing a pair of torn shorts, running around in the market frantically enquiring for spinach.
“What are laughing about, come out quickly!” her voice enhanced my humour.
“Alright!”
As soon as I put myself at the door, her angular face with eyes that looked like sorrowness had hit hard on her for the years she lived – I laughed again.
“What so funny?” she said as her frown developed slowly over her nose.
“No, I was just thinking if you want some spinach?”
“What for, not as if I am desperate for it. Come on cut the crap. We got to prepare and help out.”
The unwanted thought of fleeing with fear admitted itself into my mind ruefully as quick as my sister punctuated her full stop with an air of uncertainty. It was hard to bear the thought of leaving the country to somewhere safer. Although the blasting and screaming on the street were sometimes deafening but it was my homeland and I was too used to the climate, people and the language. Moving away means I might not be able to swim by the river and see the regular faces.
I need to speak to Tian tonight.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Story to tell or not to tell
Isn't it funny when someone, be it a professional writer, a speaker, a politician or anyone from all walks of life has to reconsider their option of whether to tell an intriguing story to the world a not.
Thus, throwing a worthwhile story to a place where, in fact, it deserves readers for contemplation and may, in some events it even leads to life improvement and change lives. Telling simple life stories to the world in the 21st century has become like a filter machine where some parts of the truth are being percolated, simply to avoid injustice countenance.
Telling a story which involves ugly truth, has seem to fabricate with a touch of twisted lies - best described as "white lies". But, to what extend, does it offer to the person who has the right to judge the art of the origin of the story.
Should you tell a story with the essence of truth and scare the hell out of the honest people or should you fabricate it with a little white lies to avoid the ugliness of mankind's work to surface - create more chaos among us.
I like to tell stories here, be it fiction or non-fiction to hold readers' heart, I am glad that people who view this page would find the stories told here engage you in deep thoughts and contemplation. I welcome story tellers who share similar views as me and tell what life truly is, without fearing, the fact, that some people might feel nauseous about the truth.
Well, life is beautiful and ugly at the same time, and this is the law of nature. We should respect the law of cause and love the effect of it. Let's keep this page rolling, I'm sure we have a hell lot to tell the world.
Thus, throwing a worthwhile story to a place where, in fact, it deserves readers for contemplation and may, in some events it even leads to life improvement and change lives. Telling simple life stories to the world in the 21st century has become like a filter machine where some parts of the truth are being percolated, simply to avoid injustice countenance.
Telling a story which involves ugly truth, has seem to fabricate with a touch of twisted lies - best described as "white lies". But, to what extend, does it offer to the person who has the right to judge the art of the origin of the story.
Should you tell a story with the essence of truth and scare the hell out of the honest people or should you fabricate it with a little white lies to avoid the ugliness of mankind's work to surface - create more chaos among us.
I like to tell stories here, be it fiction or non-fiction to hold readers' heart, I am glad that people who view this page would find the stories told here engage you in deep thoughts and contemplation. I welcome story tellers who share similar views as me and tell what life truly is, without fearing, the fact, that some people might feel nauseous about the truth.
Well, life is beautiful and ugly at the same time, and this is the law of nature. We should respect the law of cause and love the effect of it. Let's keep this page rolling, I'm sure we have a hell lot to tell the world.
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