Not writing anything this weekend. Verrry sleepy today.
*yawns*
29 February 2008
28 February 2008
Chapter 1, Part I
He crouched silently in the corner, hidden from view.
Training his keen eyes on the white-washed suburban home, he watched her henna-dyed red hair bobbing about as she frantically moved from room to room. Searching. Calling out the name of her loved one in vain. Should he help ease her worries?
No.
He is determined to give her no such relief. Not after the horrendous crime he witnessed this morning. His eyes narrowed at the thought.
Pressing his slim frame as close as he could possibly manage against the wall, he held his breath a few seconds a time before exhaling slowly, careful to minimise the whoosh of air coming escaping from his mouth.
The sun is rising, its light filtering through obsessively symmetrical shrubbery. The morning dew evaporates at the gentle touch of the warm rays, giving off curiously musty hints of damp leaves, insects, bird feathers, earthworms and dirt, all fused into one intangible aroma.
He is beginning to sweat - the cement floor greedily drinks in the liquid as small drops quickly spread into large, deep grey polka dots. And the poor workmanship of his cheap cotton t-shirt (with the words "Who let the dawg out?" emblazoned in red across the back) was starting an itch just below his shoulders. He badly needed to scratch it.
A tiny spider industriously spins its web on the wall, near his face. He could feel the cold and sticky threads just barely touching his nose. How he loathes araneae in all their disgusting eight-legged existence. Yet he remained in that corner, motionless and unnoticed by the world.
The woman has stopped her search momentarily. He knew from the rumble of the house's main water pump that she was in the shower, getting ready for work. In his mind's eye, he could see her stepping daintily out of the steam-filled shower, dressing up in clothes carefully matched the night before, styling her hair and giving her eyes and lips a "quick swipe" of make up before balancing her brown plastic 80's-style spectacles on the bridge of her nose. The same routine, just as he has observed her doing every weekday, year in and year out.
Exactly 5 seconds more before the main door opens.
5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
The heavily-polished rubber wood door swings open, and the woman spots him almost immediately. Damn.
His cover is blown. The operation is over. He would need to think of a valid reason...no, three valid reasons...for this unforgivable failure, by way of explanation to the Chief.
"There you are...where have you been all morning? You had me worried sick!"
He shared none of those sentiments with her as he casually strolled into her waiting arms, the morning's crime erased from his memory through sheer generosity and forgiveness.
And what sort of name is Dot Kueh for a regal and intelligent Pekingese like him, anyway?
Stupid human.Training his keen eyes on the white-washed suburban home, he watched her henna-dyed red hair bobbing about as she frantically moved from room to room. Searching. Calling out the name of her loved one in vain. Should he help ease her worries?
No.
He is determined to give her no such relief. Not after the horrendous crime he witnessed this morning. His eyes narrowed at the thought.
Pressing his slim frame as close as he could possibly manage against the wall, he held his breath a few seconds a time before exhaling slowly, careful to minimise the whoosh of air coming escaping from his mouth.
The sun is rising, its light filtering through obsessively symmetrical shrubbery. The morning dew evaporates at the gentle touch of the warm rays, giving off curiously musty hints of damp leaves, insects, bird feathers, earthworms and dirt, all fused into one intangible aroma.
He is beginning to sweat - the cement floor greedily drinks in the liquid as small drops quickly spread into large, deep grey polka dots. And the poor workmanship of his cheap cotton t-shirt (with the words "Who let the dawg out?" emblazoned in red across the back) was starting an itch just below his shoulders. He badly needed to scratch it.
A tiny spider industriously spins its web on the wall, near his face. He could feel the cold and sticky threads just barely touching his nose. How he loathes araneae in all their disgusting eight-legged existence. Yet he remained in that corner, motionless and unnoticed by the world.
The woman has stopped her search momentarily. He knew from the rumble of the house's main water pump that she was in the shower, getting ready for work. In his mind's eye, he could see her stepping daintily out of the steam-filled shower, dressing up in clothes carefully matched the night before, styling her hair and giving her eyes and lips a "quick swipe" of make up before balancing her brown plastic 80's-style spectacles on the bridge of her nose. The same routine, just as he has observed her doing every weekday, year in and year out.
Exactly 5 seconds more before the main door opens.
5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
The heavily-polished rubber wood door swings open, and the woman spots him almost immediately. Damn.
His cover is blown. The operation is over. He would need to think of a valid reason...no, three valid reasons...for this unforgivable failure, by way of explanation to the Chief.
"There you are...where have you been all morning? You had me worried sick!"
He shared none of those sentiments with her as he casually strolled into her waiting arms, the morning's crime erased from his memory through sheer generosity and forgiveness.
And what sort of name is Dot Kueh for a regal and intelligent Pekingese like him, anyway?
(c) Maggie Chong, 2008
Epilogue
"Do you know what your problem is?"
Beatrice reluctantly moved her attention from the delicious novel that she was just diving into to the owner of the voice with the accusing tone. It was Mika, arms akimbo over her fashionable dress, her expertly made-up-to-look-like-there's-no-makeup face stern, her long silky blue-black hair whipping in the cool morning breeze.
"Huh? Apa dia?"
"Do you know what your problem is?" Mika repeated.
"No, what is my problem?"
"Your nose is either stuck in a book or glued to the PC. When are you going to get a life? And a date?"
"I do have a life, okay!" Beatrice protested weakly. "I have you, and my Dot, and my 'net friends, and um... erm..."
At that, Mika smiled broadly at her. Rather too quickly in fact, Beatrice realised a little too late.
"Beatrice Kueh! Its high time you came out of your shell, woman. You are wasting your life that way. What are you... 35 this year? How are you going to meet someone like that? Come on lah... you can't be hiding your fabulous self from people all the time. And pets die sooner or later. Lets go shopping and give you a nice makeover!"
"Tapi ha..."
"Uh huh...No 'but's! You are coming with me!"
Beatrice heaved a sigh of resignation. Growing up with Mika since their kindy days, she knew when she was beaten, fairly or not. Once Mika made up her mind to shop, nothing short of an unnatural disaster occuring in Malaysia could stop her. And foundation on her sensitive, easily-inflamed skin? Aih...
'Hmm... if I can divert her attention with the 50% discount bins, I may still have some daylight to stroll in the park with' she schemed as Mika happily strategised the day's shopping agenda.
"Ahah! If we do this right, we may be able to stay in the shopping complex the entire day. Oooh... this is so exciting!" Mika bubbled.
Beatrice groaned inwardly and outwardly at the same time. And prayed really really hard that there would be a cute guy or two to catch Mika's eye.
'And then maybe, just maybe, I will be able to escape the madness!'
Beatrice reluctantly moved her attention from the delicious novel that she was just diving into to the owner of the voice with the accusing tone. It was Mika, arms akimbo over her fashionable dress, her expertly made-up-to-look-like-there's-no-makeup face stern, her long silky blue-black hair whipping in the cool morning breeze.
"Huh? Apa dia?"
"Do you know what your problem is?" Mika repeated.
"No, what is my problem?"
"Your nose is either stuck in a book or glued to the PC. When are you going to get a life? And a date?"
"I do have a life, okay!" Beatrice protested weakly. "I have you, and my Dot, and my 'net friends, and um... erm..."
At that, Mika smiled broadly at her. Rather too quickly in fact, Beatrice realised a little too late.
"Beatrice Kueh! Its high time you came out of your shell, woman. You are wasting your life that way. What are you... 35 this year? How are you going to meet someone like that? Come on lah... you can't be hiding your fabulous self from people all the time. And pets die sooner or later. Lets go shopping and give you a nice makeover!"
"Tapi ha..."
"Uh huh...No 'but's! You are coming with me!"
Beatrice heaved a sigh of resignation. Growing up with Mika since their kindy days, she knew when she was beaten, fairly or not. Once Mika made up her mind to shop, nothing short of an unnatural disaster occuring in Malaysia could stop her. And foundation on her sensitive, easily-inflamed skin? Aih...
'Hmm... if I can divert her attention with the 50% discount bins, I may still have some daylight to stroll in the park with' she schemed as Mika happily strategised the day's shopping agenda.
"Ahah! If we do this right, we may be able to stay in the shopping complex the entire day. Oooh... this is so exciting!" Mika bubbled.
Beatrice groaned inwardly and outwardly at the same time. And prayed really really hard that there would be a cute guy or two to catch Mika's eye.
'And then maybe, just maybe, I will be able to escape the madness!'
(c) Maggie Chong, 2008
The Series
Have you ever had that moment when characters (with a main plot to boot) suddenly materialse in your mind?
I had one yesterday during my shower.
This is going to be one fun experiment! :)
I had one yesterday during my shower.
This is going to be one fun experiment! :)
05 February 2008
Persoalan
Mampukah ku
menyandang kesemua
limpah kurniaMu?
Mampukah ku
menyerahkan segala
hati dan batinku setibanya siang?
Mampukah ku
berubah menjadi
perempuan yang disayangiMu?
Mampukah ku
melihat wajahMu
memegang tanganMu
menyujud kakiMu?
Mampukah ku
begitu
tanpa kasih suciMu?
menyandang kesemua
limpah kurniaMu?
Mampukah ku
menyerahkan segala
hati dan batinku setibanya siang?
Mampukah ku
berubah menjadi
perempuan yang disayangiMu?
Mampukah ku
melihat wajahMu
memegang tanganMu
menyujud kakiMu?
Mampukah ku
begitu
tanpa kasih suciMu?
04 February 2008
I'm Not Crazy, Just Compartmentalising
That's right, this is where all poems, stories, etc will be posted as of today. :)
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