Manley’s Best friend
I called him again. “Alright coming!” Manley exclaimed, struggling to put on with his shirt as he approached his buddy. Stretching my legs lethargically, I jumped off my bed.
Jason and I had known each other for years. I could never recall when i had first met him, nor even how we became friends. In fact we had such a brotherly feeling that we even lived together!
After emerging from the house, the rainstorm about an hour earlier had stopped and now the sun was beating down, creating a bright and scintillating world. The old stale smells had been washed away to leave a cleanliness that stimulated me.
As usual, we headed to MacRitchie Reservoir for long walks and had always enjoyed them. This frequent walk was a Sunday tradition for us ever since year 2000. We called it “ the friendship day” ever since Manley’s mother had passed away and became an inevitable habit for both of us.
After twenty minutes of jogging, we finally reached the outskirts of the park. By then I was already panting. Dismayed, I veered at Manley, who did not evince signs of fatigue at all.
“Let’s take a break!” announced Manley reluctantly, sitting down beside me.
I stared at my surroundings. Gardens that surrounded the MacRitchie reservoir looked as if a local artist had tried to draw they attention with bold brush strokes of vivid pink and yellow. The flowers themselves seemed to reflect the brightness of the sunshine that day – a once in a blue moon perfect day for a walk. With the gift of an acute sense of smell, I nudged Manley excitedly as an ice-cart passed by. Much to our consternation we had not brought money along.
Resuming dejectedly with our walk, we started to meander through trees and observe exotic animals. The ground was carpeted in wild flowers, their slightly pungent perfume lingering around us as we walked through them. Above our heads, the trees were showing off their lush green clothes that rustled at the gentle touch of the breeze as it drifted through the forest like a benevolent wraith. Wherever I looked, the birds, resplendent in their breeding plumage, were filling the air with melodies.
Suddenly our peaceful minds were interrupted by a sudden crack.
We stopped dead on our tracks. I panicked, millions of weird thoughts whirled through my mind. It reminded me of rumors that vampires where seen hiding behind trees and when the victims approaches...
Creakkkk…..
My thoughts were interrupted.
Creeeakk....
Nothing happened
CREAKKK!!!!!!!
I cautiously took a few steps forward
………CCCCRASH !!!!!!!!
I whirled around to see a large and twisted branch of the Rain tree pinning Fred beneath it. Manley's eyes were closed and he lay motionless with his legs firmly under the massive hostile looking bough.
Fortunately, I could see the gentle movement of his body rising and falling as he breathed. In desperation, I tugged with gusto at the branch, trying to free Manley, but it did not even move an inch. In a minute, I felt both my strength and my courage beginning to fade. Frantically, I tried to revive him, without success.
I created a great commotion by shouting about madly and running around and begging for help, not caring at the undergrowth snatching at my legs and coat.
Soon I could discern several figure appearing before my sight.
“O! It’s Manley! Your faithful dog saved you!” a man exclaimed before he and his companions lifted up the branch.
Manley opened his eyes and loving patted me.
Giving a joyful bark, I finally knew what it meant to be man’s best friend.
(604 words)
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Week 25
Week 25
Being Bullied
(Adapted from bullied by JirQUEST)
“No………. please ……….. no. I don’t want to play anymore. Please. Let me go. Please ………. I don’t like it at all. Let me go. I will do anything that you want. Please…………… the boy was pleading by now. Literally begging. But his cries were in vain.
“Please………….. no. Why are you doing this to me??? I hate u all. You all are bad. Let me go!!!”
He made a puny attempt to struggle. That did not work. The teenagers only just strengthened their grip on his arms, dragging him along the ground while bellowing with laughter. He felt pain searing through his butt as the small rocks, tiny particles of stones and debris prickled him without mercy. Just like the group of teenagers dragging him. Just like their merciless and dreadful laughter. True fear erupted out of him.
He only remembered once when he got so shocked and petrified. It was when he was 8 years old. He had provoked a group of dogs when accidentally stepping on one of the dog’s tail. The 4 huge German shepherds barked ferociously as he scurried of, running for his life while they hounded madly after him. The chase finally ended when a few passer-bys came to aid him. Realising that they were outnumbered, the group of canines dispersed. By then, He was doddering like an old man, for weeks due to fear. That was the scariest encounter he ever had. Until this gang came along and picked on him because of his tiny frame. Because he could no fight back or resist.
Hot tears clouded his vision now. He could not wipe his tears away. The bullies were pulling his arms and dragging him along the concrete ground. His tears flowed freely like badly damaged floodgates beyond repair. Yet they continued, immensely indulged in their activity to notice his tears.
His incessant pleas were drowned by their laughter and taunts. They mocked at his plight as he continued crying. Like nursery rhymes they continued to chant and cheer. They were having fun, tremendous fun. But to him, it was not funny at all. No it wasn’t………
He had almost slipped into unconsciousness. All the pleading and crying had made him lethargic, too tired to even move an inch. He felt like a dead carcass, so lifeless...
Why? Why are they doing this to me? Please stop! I don’t want play anymore. I will no tell anyone. Please let me go.
He thought vaguely. He could still recall countless times of his constant pleas for help and mercy. Almost every day they bulled him, paying no attention to his bawling to stop the attacks. Everything felt so unreal.
Excruciating pain seared through him. He grasped to awful truth that his head was throbbing with pain and must have been bleeding pretty badly.
The dragging stopped abruptly. Then he heard echoes and a whiff of odour became apparent. In an instant he knew where he was. A place he had always hated. His attackers had deposited him in a garbage dumb without much leniency, without even using their thick heads to think. He yearned for someone to release him from his agonizing ordeal.
I want my mama…
“Helpppp! Help meeeee! Pleaseeeeeeeee??!!!”
He hollered hoarsely. No response. Only the rueful chirping of the birds replied him.
He tried moving his arm but it refused to respond. He could not muster all his strength and courage to move it . He was horrified of the pain.
My arm……… is broken.
“Mama!!!!! Help me!!!! Save Me!!!! Helpppp !!!!!!!!!!!”
But no one helped him despite his anguish cries. No one. And he felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness as he slipped slowly but surely into deep abyss. He had lost all his hope.
Wayer was never saved.
(632 words)
Being Bullied
(Adapted from bullied by JirQUEST)
“No………. please ……….. no. I don’t want to play anymore. Please. Let me go. Please ………. I don’t like it at all. Let me go. I will do anything that you want. Please…………… the boy was pleading by now. Literally begging. But his cries were in vain.
“Please………….. no. Why are you doing this to me??? I hate u all. You all are bad. Let me go!!!”
He made a puny attempt to struggle. That did not work. The teenagers only just strengthened their grip on his arms, dragging him along the ground while bellowing with laughter. He felt pain searing through his butt as the small rocks, tiny particles of stones and debris prickled him without mercy. Just like the group of teenagers dragging him. Just like their merciless and dreadful laughter. True fear erupted out of him.
He only remembered once when he got so shocked and petrified. It was when he was 8 years old. He had provoked a group of dogs when accidentally stepping on one of the dog’s tail. The 4 huge German shepherds barked ferociously as he scurried of, running for his life while they hounded madly after him. The chase finally ended when a few passer-bys came to aid him. Realising that they were outnumbered, the group of canines dispersed. By then, He was doddering like an old man, for weeks due to fear. That was the scariest encounter he ever had. Until this gang came along and picked on him because of his tiny frame. Because he could no fight back or resist.
Hot tears clouded his vision now. He could not wipe his tears away. The bullies were pulling his arms and dragging him along the concrete ground. His tears flowed freely like badly damaged floodgates beyond repair. Yet they continued, immensely indulged in their activity to notice his tears.
His incessant pleas were drowned by their laughter and taunts. They mocked at his plight as he continued crying. Like nursery rhymes they continued to chant and cheer. They were having fun, tremendous fun. But to him, it was not funny at all. No it wasn’t………
He had almost slipped into unconsciousness. All the pleading and crying had made him lethargic, too tired to even move an inch. He felt like a dead carcass, so lifeless...
Why? Why are they doing this to me? Please stop! I don’t want play anymore. I will no tell anyone. Please let me go.
He thought vaguely. He could still recall countless times of his constant pleas for help and mercy. Almost every day they bulled him, paying no attention to his bawling to stop the attacks. Everything felt so unreal.
Excruciating pain seared through him. He grasped to awful truth that his head was throbbing with pain and must have been bleeding pretty badly.
The dragging stopped abruptly. Then he heard echoes and a whiff of odour became apparent. In an instant he knew where he was. A place he had always hated. His attackers had deposited him in a garbage dumb without much leniency, without even using their thick heads to think. He yearned for someone to release him from his agonizing ordeal.
I want my mama…
“Helpppp! Help meeeee! Pleaseeeeeeeee??!!!”
He hollered hoarsely. No response. Only the rueful chirping of the birds replied him.
He tried moving his arm but it refused to respond. He could not muster all his strength and courage to move it . He was horrified of the pain.
My arm……… is broken.
“Mama!!!!! Help me!!!! Save Me!!!! Helpppp !!!!!!!!!!!”
But no one helped him despite his anguish cries. No one. And he felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness as he slipped slowly but surely into deep abyss. He had lost all his hope.
Wayer was never saved.
(632 words)
Friday, June 19, 2009
Week 24
The Mind Reader
(Adapted from the mind reader by JirQUEST)
He sat there pondering. Concentrating, not at his personal thoughts but hers. Placing his index finger on his lips and his thumb underneath his chin- a perfect portrayal of a man in deep thoughts as his eyes intensified at a girl 2 tables away. He was slightly amused at her jumbled thoughts, unlike may others. One moment she thought of her mother’s birthday, and the next second, about her plans for the weekend, her mind never finished its first plan before heading to the next, just like a car bustling through without brakes.
He maintained his gaze on her as he admired the sweet curves of her body and the angelic smile. Her beauty indeed was a bore of the first water. She suddenly deviated her attention to him and flashed him a smile with her thin lips. He gave an awkward nod of his head and smiled back
He’s cute…
He made a mental laugh. Someone actually finds me cute, he thought cheekily. It seemed bizarre for a person like her to even be a little interested in him. Back to reality, he found her giving him a head-to-toes scan.
Not bad… tanned… and cute. Should I approach him?
Of course u should, he replied in his head.
Wasting no time he scanned though her thoughts once more. Only this time he searched for her mind for her name, likes and dislikes. In a split second he had all the information he needed. Born in 1989, she was named Sarah, loves to eat, and is glad that no amount of food could bring out the flab. She was the daughter of a millionaire, who got down her high horse (act like an ordinary person), much to his glee on becoming rich. Every morning she would indulge herself in pop songs, and listen to classical music when she feels down. But his favourite would probably be the fact that she hates hunky guys, for he is not one.
Perhaps he should approach her? As he propounded over an already obvious answer, he suddenly felt the temptation to read her subconscious to find out about her life. It was really tantalizing, for doing it would help him find out what kind of person she really is, and just might affect his decision to approach her. It was widely accepted by the organization that the powers of mind reading be kept to good use and most felt that abusing the use of mind reading should be prohibited.
Suddenly he found himself caught in a dilemma. Just once? Just to find out her personality? It could secure his future with this lovely girl. Should he, should he, should he???
Finally he caved in. Glazing into her eyes, he plunged into her mind, found her memory, her darkest secrets.
This was bad. It was imprudent to do so. He wished he had never done it. For her darkest secrets was a living hell. The scenes of her committing murder, torturing her ex-boyfriends in cold-blood, slashing them all over, cutting them a thousand times when they are bounded and vulnerable before gouging out their eyeballs. His blood literally went to sub-hundred degrees chill enough to make him shrink back in horror. He was so taken back by the evil force that he jerked his seat back in a screeching motion.
Knocked back to reality, he looked at her again, with sweat slowly dribbling down his temples. She smiled once more, wider this time.
Oh shit no… you stay away from me… oh please, don’t ever come near me… you… you… demon.
But she did not listen. With a graceful sidestep from her seat and she was fast approaching him. He sunk back in repulsion.
“Hi… My name is Sarah,” she gave him another smile. “Can we be friends?”
(630 words)
(Adapted from the mind reader by JirQUEST)
He sat there pondering. Concentrating, not at his personal thoughts but hers. Placing his index finger on his lips and his thumb underneath his chin- a perfect portrayal of a man in deep thoughts as his eyes intensified at a girl 2 tables away. He was slightly amused at her jumbled thoughts, unlike may others. One moment she thought of her mother’s birthday, and the next second, about her plans for the weekend, her mind never finished its first plan before heading to the next, just like a car bustling through without brakes.
He maintained his gaze on her as he admired the sweet curves of her body and the angelic smile. Her beauty indeed was a bore of the first water. She suddenly deviated her attention to him and flashed him a smile with her thin lips. He gave an awkward nod of his head and smiled back
He’s cute…
He made a mental laugh. Someone actually finds me cute, he thought cheekily. It seemed bizarre for a person like her to even be a little interested in him. Back to reality, he found her giving him a head-to-toes scan.
Not bad… tanned… and cute. Should I approach him?
Of course u should, he replied in his head.
Wasting no time he scanned though her thoughts once more. Only this time he searched for her mind for her name, likes and dislikes. In a split second he had all the information he needed. Born in 1989, she was named Sarah, loves to eat, and is glad that no amount of food could bring out the flab. She was the daughter of a millionaire, who got down her high horse (act like an ordinary person), much to his glee on becoming rich. Every morning she would indulge herself in pop songs, and listen to classical music when she feels down. But his favourite would probably be the fact that she hates hunky guys, for he is not one.
Perhaps he should approach her? As he propounded over an already obvious answer, he suddenly felt the temptation to read her subconscious to find out about her life. It was really tantalizing, for doing it would help him find out what kind of person she really is, and just might affect his decision to approach her. It was widely accepted by the organization that the powers of mind reading be kept to good use and most felt that abusing the use of mind reading should be prohibited.
Suddenly he found himself caught in a dilemma. Just once? Just to find out her personality? It could secure his future with this lovely girl. Should he, should he, should he???
Finally he caved in. Glazing into her eyes, he plunged into her mind, found her memory, her darkest secrets.
This was bad. It was imprudent to do so. He wished he had never done it. For her darkest secrets was a living hell. The scenes of her committing murder, torturing her ex-boyfriends in cold-blood, slashing them all over, cutting them a thousand times when they are bounded and vulnerable before gouging out their eyeballs. His blood literally went to sub-hundred degrees chill enough to make him shrink back in horror. He was so taken back by the evil force that he jerked his seat back in a screeching motion.
Knocked back to reality, he looked at her again, with sweat slowly dribbling down his temples. She smiled once more, wider this time.
Oh shit no… you stay away from me… oh please, don’t ever come near me… you… you… demon.
But she did not listen. With a graceful sidestep from her seat and she was fast approaching him. He sunk back in repulsion.
“Hi… My name is Sarah,” she gave him another smile. “Can we be friends?”
(630 words)
Week 23
“Ouch!” Charles cried out in agony, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to step on your feet.” Exclaimed Harry anxiously. Having a neurotic personality, Harry tried to excuse himself but Charles blocked his way. He shoved Harry hard on his shoulder and taunted “ do you think just an apology will help you get away? Coward! ” It was apparent that Charles was looking for a fight. After being trusted at for the fifth time, Harry got his back up and answered back at Charles. As their argument became increasingly louder every second, I cowered at a corner, experiencing a gamut of emotions: shock, confusion, disgust and annoyance. Always on the qui vive, Mr. Sloane virtually appeared out off nowhere and approached them. Only then did I realise that the incipient fight would be neutralised.
(132 Words)
(132 Words)
Week 22
Raising his arms in a gesture of supplication, William took an a deep breath and approached his mother for approval to accompany his friends for a game of soccer. He started to fabricate a tale, promising he would work hard and improve his results. He reasoned that all work but no play would cause potential problems, such as laziness and sloppy work. William’s confident and beaming face was changing to uttermost disappointment when his mother acknowledged with a shake of her head, chiding him that no amount of flattering and apple polishing which delude her on agreeing. Dismayed that his plan was demurred again, William retreated back to his room.
(110 words)
(110 words)
Week 21
Week 21
The assassin crept through the silent, dark alley. Silhouetted against the sky, he mumbled out a curse as he continued stalking the opulent prey. The prey abruptly stopped walking, as though apprehension was scratching like a fingernail at the back of the neck. The assassin gave a sinister glare boring belligerently at the prey, clenching his fist so hard that his knuckles turned white. This prey, the scion of a wealthy businessman who had some thirty million dollars in Texas oil, caused all his misery and destitution. Pondering no more, he launched forward, and with quick nimble movements stabbed his dagger deep into his victim’s chest. The victim gasped as blood trickled down his pale quivering lips. “Brother?” He blurted out incredulously. He fell over with a thud, his eyes still opened, muttering a fulsome apology, Teh assassin triumphantly roared in laughter. He was the only sole heir to his father’s wealth.
(153 words)
The assassin crept through the silent, dark alley. Silhouetted against the sky, he mumbled out a curse as he continued stalking the opulent prey. The prey abruptly stopped walking, as though apprehension was scratching like a fingernail at the back of the neck. The assassin gave a sinister glare boring belligerently at the prey, clenching his fist so hard that his knuckles turned white. This prey, the scion of a wealthy businessman who had some thirty million dollars in Texas oil, caused all his misery and destitution. Pondering no more, he launched forward, and with quick nimble movements stabbed his dagger deep into his victim’s chest. The victim gasped as blood trickled down his pale quivering lips. “Brother?” He blurted out incredulously. He fell over with a thud, his eyes still opened, muttering a fulsome apology, Teh assassin triumphantly roared in laughter. He was the only sole heir to his father’s wealth.
(153 words)
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