Ashton sat at the bar, nursing his stout stoically. The bartender across him was busy wiping down the glasses, dutifully following his request in leaving him alone.
Friday night. A typical night of reverie and fun, as people take a break from the week-long work-fest, but for a couple of hours.
The bar was as dead as a nun's sex life. Pandemic rules. There was a limit of no more than twenty five people allowed at a bar the size of this one, and even then, there was still a hard limit of table sizes of no more than five.
That ruled out the usual TGIF after work gatherings. So most people did not even bother to come out.
Ashton didn't care. He just wanted his stout. He had been deprived of it for nearly six months when he was forced to be working from home. It wasn't that he missed the stout, but that he missed the autonomy that he had from just going places after work that was not his home.
His girlfriend of five years had left him. Said that it couldn't work out. He thought of protesting, but gave up in the end.
What was there to protest? A relationship involved two people; if one did not have the commitment, how could the other change anything?
It also did not help that it happened during the time when the city was forced to do a month-long lock down to curb the rise in infected cases as emergency legislation and budgets were being put together to reduce the socio-economic impact of it all.
How could he do anything in those circumstances?
Ashton took a gulp of his stout.
The sole waitress was lounging about at a corner near the bar, responding to someone's requests every now and then. There were less than fifteen present, and it was clear that she was more than enough for them, especially since the bartender did double duty and helped with serving as well.
Ashton saw, but he did not care enough. That was just how things were, nothing for him to care about there.
Life was slightly less meaningless before when he had a future life with her to look forward to. But with her having left him, and the great pause in social life from the pandemic, and the rising economic uncertainty that was bound to come, life was more meaningless than before.
But what was Ashton to do?
Showing posts with label fragment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fragment. Show all posts
Saturday, 26 September 2020
Friday, 27 February 2015
Waiting...
Aaron leant against the lamp post, its cone of light illuminating him even as it kept his face in a shadow. It was late, for sure. No, he corrected himself, he was early and she was late. He looked at his watch again in irritation. They were supposed to have met up at eight, and yet it was almost nine. He couldn't understand the tardiness of some people, and she was definitely a chronic case of the procrastinating.
Damnit, Aaron thought as he slammed a hammerfist into the lamp post. The blow travelled along the vertical extent and shook the lamp shade above ever so gently, making his shadows dance in the gently oscillating light. He knew he shouldn't have trusted her words when she told him earlier in the day at school to meet up at eight---it was just too good to be true. But he liked her, and he was very sure she knew it too, and that was why he was now standing underneath a lamp post, loitering, and looking completely silly just slamming his fists randomly into the post itself to vent out the annoyance.
As he mulled for the umpteenth time on whether to just call it a night, he heard the pitter-patter of running feet. Small running feet. He looked up in the direction of the sound, and saw a silhouette in a knee-lengthed dress running towards him. It ran through the next nearest cone of light and he saw immediately that it was Janet dressed in a yellow sun-dress and running madly towards him, her long tresses flying about her wildly.
``Hey,'' Janet said as she rested on the arm that had braced herself on the same lamp post that Aaron was once leaning against. ``Sorry for being late. Uncle dropped by and wasn't about to leave on time due to that game of bridge. They were one short, and so I had to stay around and play with them. I tried calling your house, but your mother said you had already gone.''
``Geez Jane, catch your breath,'' Aaron replied, glad that his idiotic wait was finally over. ``Well anyway, you got to me in time. I'd left in another ten minutes. I knew that women tended to be `fashionably late', but this was just too ridiculous.''
Janet caught her breath and stood up straight once again, her hand unconsciously pushing off her hair past her shoulders. Aaron tried his best not to gape, but it was just too hard---Janet looked absolutely delightful in the sun-dress, with it hugging her figure tightly yet comfortably which, against the play of light and dark, seemed all the more exciting than he could remember. He forgot his annoyance and immediately slipped an arm into Janet's.
Damnit, Aaron thought as he slammed a hammerfist into the lamp post. The blow travelled along the vertical extent and shook the lamp shade above ever so gently, making his shadows dance in the gently oscillating light. He knew he shouldn't have trusted her words when she told him earlier in the day at school to meet up at eight---it was just too good to be true. But he liked her, and he was very sure she knew it too, and that was why he was now standing underneath a lamp post, loitering, and looking completely silly just slamming his fists randomly into the post itself to vent out the annoyance.
As he mulled for the umpteenth time on whether to just call it a night, he heard the pitter-patter of running feet. Small running feet. He looked up in the direction of the sound, and saw a silhouette in a knee-lengthed dress running towards him. It ran through the next nearest cone of light and he saw immediately that it was Janet dressed in a yellow sun-dress and running madly towards him, her long tresses flying about her wildly.
``Hey,'' Janet said as she rested on the arm that had braced herself on the same lamp post that Aaron was once leaning against. ``Sorry for being late. Uncle dropped by and wasn't about to leave on time due to that game of bridge. They were one short, and so I had to stay around and play with them. I tried calling your house, but your mother said you had already gone.''
``Geez Jane, catch your breath,'' Aaron replied, glad that his idiotic wait was finally over. ``Well anyway, you got to me in time. I'd left in another ten minutes. I knew that women tended to be `fashionably late', but this was just too ridiculous.''
Janet caught her breath and stood up straight once again, her hand unconsciously pushing off her hair past her shoulders. Aaron tried his best not to gape, but it was just too hard---Janet looked absolutely delightful in the sun-dress, with it hugging her figure tightly yet comfortably which, against the play of light and dark, seemed all the more exciting than he could remember. He forgot his annoyance and immediately slipped an arm into Janet's.
Monday, 14 July 2014
Furtive
Rudolf looked about him furtively as he crouched deep in the shadows. It was not the first time that he had visited the house, but it was the first time that he had visited it in this particular capacity. He had been in the house earlier as one of the many nameless guests seemingly invited to populate the rather sparse party of the who's who---the rich town was small, and didn't really have enough of the rich and powerful to justify the throwing of a lavish party. He had sneaked in according to plan, and done a survey of the layout of the house, locating where the ``Heart of the Matter'' was kept. It was hard to miss it though, considering that the party was thrown in order to show off that particular piece of gemstone. But unlike the other revellers, he paid more attention than they over the minutae.
And now, he was waiting in the dark, checking for the right opportunity to strike.
And now, he was waiting in the dark, checking for the right opportunity to strike.
Sunday, 13 July 2014
Caught
It wasn't a choice---there was no choice, none whatsoever. It was either to attempt an escape and die trying, or to just sit there and die anyway.
In either case, death was always an outcome, except in one it was inevitable, while the other, there was some leeway.
William knew the odds. Captured by the Japanese while trying to deliver messages from Indonesia to the guerilla forces in Malaya, he was kept as a prisoner at an internment camp, to be held there before they decided what to do with him. He had heard of the rumours; they weren't pretty. If only summary execution were the outcome that he was facing---that hadn't been the case for a long time since.
Death Railway.
The two most dreaded words that any prisoner-of-war could ever hear during the war. It was a death sentence for sure, except death didn't come in the swift way a firing squad can deliver. Being worked to death was in itself harsh, but to support the enemy's war engine in the meantime as a part of the sacrifice was on a whole new level of cruelty altogether.
At least he was on the island of Singapore. There were Allied groups in operation that could help with the hiding and eventual escape once he got out of the internment camp. If he were in any of the Malayan internment camps, he would have serious troubles getting out---the guerillas may be stronger in Malaya, but by virtue of that, they couldn't easily render assistance outside of their spheres of influence as easily as the sleeper agents out in the more urban areas.
William sighed to himself as he lay on the barren dirt ground, isolated from the other POWs. He was a messenger, one who carried intelligence to and fro, and the Japanese were adamant at keeping him from telling the other inmates information from the various fronts. Moreover, they had taken away the messages that he was supposed to be transporting, and were placing him under strict surveillance for now.
In either case, death was always an outcome, except in one it was inevitable, while the other, there was some leeway.
William knew the odds. Captured by the Japanese while trying to deliver messages from Indonesia to the guerilla forces in Malaya, he was kept as a prisoner at an internment camp, to be held there before they decided what to do with him. He had heard of the rumours; they weren't pretty. If only summary execution were the outcome that he was facing---that hadn't been the case for a long time since.
Death Railway.
The two most dreaded words that any prisoner-of-war could ever hear during the war. It was a death sentence for sure, except death didn't come in the swift way a firing squad can deliver. Being worked to death was in itself harsh, but to support the enemy's war engine in the meantime as a part of the sacrifice was on a whole new level of cruelty altogether.
At least he was on the island of Singapore. There were Allied groups in operation that could help with the hiding and eventual escape once he got out of the internment camp. If he were in any of the Malayan internment camps, he would have serious troubles getting out---the guerillas may be stronger in Malaya, but by virtue of that, they couldn't easily render assistance outside of their spheres of influence as easily as the sleeper agents out in the more urban areas.
William sighed to himself as he lay on the barren dirt ground, isolated from the other POWs. He was a messenger, one who carried intelligence to and fro, and the Japanese were adamant at keeping him from telling the other inmates information from the various fronts. Moreover, they had taken away the messages that he was supposed to be transporting, and were placing him under strict surveillance for now.
Friday, 11 July 2014
House of Mystery
Edward looked about him in pure confusion. He swore that he had backtracked perfectly along the corridor that he was on---it was only a corridor, and he remembered entering from one end and leaving at the other, without going through any doors to any rooms in between. Yet he found himself in a completely different part of the bizarre house. He cursed under his breath, and wished that he had not taken up the silly bet with his classmates to prove once and for all that he was cool.
At first, it seemed like a rather tame idea. Spend some time in the crazy-looking house that no one seemed to be staying in, exploring it, taking photographs of cool stuff inside before returning. It sounded fool proof. His classmates did not even demand that he do something as silly as exploring after dark or anything. They were genuinely curious about the crazy-looking house, and felt that Edward was too scared to actually do it for them. Bets were called and on a quiet Saturday afternoon, Edward found himself walking through the house armed with a simple point-and-shoot camera.
The house did not have any signs about it that told people to keep away, which in itself was quite unusual when it was also readily apparent that no one was actively staying in it. Rumour had it that some of the homeless would use the house for shelter from time to time, but no one seemed to see any of the homeless after they were alleged to have entered the house. That of course added on to the allure of the mystery. He could have shrugged it off and admitted that he was scared, but Susan was there, and the last thing he wanted was to look frail in front of her.
When he entered the house though, a note on the floor piqued his curiousity. He had picked it up and read it, and what he read sent chills down his spine. It was a warning memo, scrawled using what seemed like charcoal or some other improvised writing utensil of a similar nature. It told the reader that entering the house was a terrible mistake, and they had no more than thirty seconds to get out before things would turn horribly wrong. There were no details beyond that, and Edward felt a crawl on his neck when he realised that he was just one second beyond the thirty that the note talked about. His blood cold, Edward took a quick look behind him at the door that he just entered---the bright day light that he was expecting to see was replaced by a single solid wall.
Edward panicked, but tried his best to calm himself down. The fact that the note could exist suggested that there was a way of living through, and perhaps to even escape it. And since then, he had been wandering about from room to room, until that corridor that he found himself in.
At first, it seemed like a rather tame idea. Spend some time in the crazy-looking house that no one seemed to be staying in, exploring it, taking photographs of cool stuff inside before returning. It sounded fool proof. His classmates did not even demand that he do something as silly as exploring after dark or anything. They were genuinely curious about the crazy-looking house, and felt that Edward was too scared to actually do it for them. Bets were called and on a quiet Saturday afternoon, Edward found himself walking through the house armed with a simple point-and-shoot camera.
The house did not have any signs about it that told people to keep away, which in itself was quite unusual when it was also readily apparent that no one was actively staying in it. Rumour had it that some of the homeless would use the house for shelter from time to time, but no one seemed to see any of the homeless after they were alleged to have entered the house. That of course added on to the allure of the mystery. He could have shrugged it off and admitted that he was scared, but Susan was there, and the last thing he wanted was to look frail in front of her.
When he entered the house though, a note on the floor piqued his curiousity. He had picked it up and read it, and what he read sent chills down his spine. It was a warning memo, scrawled using what seemed like charcoal or some other improvised writing utensil of a similar nature. It told the reader that entering the house was a terrible mistake, and they had no more than thirty seconds to get out before things would turn horribly wrong. There were no details beyond that, and Edward felt a crawl on his neck when he realised that he was just one second beyond the thirty that the note talked about. His blood cold, Edward took a quick look behind him at the door that he just entered---the bright day light that he was expecting to see was replaced by a single solid wall.
Edward panicked, but tried his best to calm himself down. The fact that the note could exist suggested that there was a way of living through, and perhaps to even escape it. And since then, he had been wandering about from room to room, until that corridor that he found himself in.
Wednesday, 2 July 2014
Darkness
It got dark once again.
It was starting to get tiresome. I could not really explain why. It used to be something to look forward to, the darkness I mean, since the darkness's arrival meant that it was yet the end of another day and was therefore the official signal that one could legitimately take a break from the day's labours without any guilt. But now it felt like a chore; the end of the day, the start of mandatory leisure activities, not all of them leisurely.
If an activity is no longer leisurely, is it still a leisure activity?
Darkness... it matched my mood. Imperfectly of course, but close enough to be noticed. I fumed for no reason.
It was starting to get tiresome. I could not really explain why. It used to be something to look forward to, the darkness I mean, since the darkness's arrival meant that it was yet the end of another day and was therefore the official signal that one could legitimately take a break from the day's labours without any guilt. But now it felt like a chore; the end of the day, the start of mandatory leisure activities, not all of them leisurely.
If an activity is no longer leisurely, is it still a leisure activity?
Darkness... it matched my mood. Imperfectly of course, but close enough to be noticed. I fumed for no reason.
Thursday, 12 June 2014
Anshin
``Ah, but you could've looked for me earlier!'' Anshin the trickster god said as he hopped about, looking as distracted as he could. In front of him, Ju-liang looked on at him with an air of desperation.
``But it is always so hard to look for you! All those tricks, all those riddles. I can't really try to do anything about those each time I needed to look for you; they drive me insane! Also, I didn't think that this little problem was big enough to need your help...''
``You have a spine, that's good!'' Anshin said as he gave Ju-liang a stout slap in the back, which caused the latter to wince a little. ``But see what happens when things go bad; you need me once again, and this time, the `little problem' that you referred to is no longer little and will end up taking more of my effort and time to deal with it. Does that seem fair to you?''
``Cut! What the bloody hell is the ruckus about---it's ruining the damn shot!'' Director Han growled as he looked over behind his shoulder. Junhao and Liangyu got out of character and stood there, first staring at each other then at Director Han. Junhao gave a shrug; there had been many distructive distractions like this one over all the filming sessions thus far. He stood next to his co-star and watched from their positions on set at the unfolding melodrama that was real life.
``I have warned you, you no-good executive producer whatever! You must perform some rites to appease the Trickster God himself so that you can have a smoother filming schedule. It is the very nature for Anshin to quietly take poetic revenge on those who dared to slight him, even if they were trying to portray hiself in a non-cheesy sort of way!''
``Look here mister,'' Xinlong replied as he walked next to the casually dressed medium, ``there has been no incidents so far. The only incidents that are affecting our filming is your consistent barging in to get us to follow some kind of superstitious mumbo-jumbo that we don't even believe in in the first place! Now if you'll just follow me quietly so as to leave the set...''
``No! You are an ignorant fool! You all are ignorant fools! Anshin is generally a peaceable god, but he is still also a Trickster God. He can get petty at times, especially when it seems as though respect for him were to be decreased.''
``Look, I don't want to have to restate things to you again. We are making a drama series on Anshin to show his good side; why would he ever be malicious against us?''
``Because he is a Trickster God,'' Director Han boomed some six feet away from the other two men. Xinlong stood in silence when he saw Director Han---it was clear that the latter was in a foul mood, his ambience for a critical scene destroyed utterly by the new incursion. ``Look, `Reverend' Tim Oh, I don't really care if you are a 'reverend', I don't even care if you were the pope, but this is starting to get rather tiresome. Xinlong, why are you even allowing this incursion to begin with?''
``But it is always so hard to look for you! All those tricks, all those riddles. I can't really try to do anything about those each time I needed to look for you; they drive me insane! Also, I didn't think that this little problem was big enough to need your help...''
``You have a spine, that's good!'' Anshin said as he gave Ju-liang a stout slap in the back, which caused the latter to wince a little. ``But see what happens when things go bad; you need me once again, and this time, the `little problem' that you referred to is no longer little and will end up taking more of my effort and time to deal with it. Does that seem fair to you?''
``Cut! What the bloody hell is the ruckus about---it's ruining the damn shot!'' Director Han growled as he looked over behind his shoulder. Junhao and Liangyu got out of character and stood there, first staring at each other then at Director Han. Junhao gave a shrug; there had been many distructive distractions like this one over all the filming sessions thus far. He stood next to his co-star and watched from their positions on set at the unfolding melodrama that was real life.
``I have warned you, you no-good executive producer whatever! You must perform some rites to appease the Trickster God himself so that you can have a smoother filming schedule. It is the very nature for Anshin to quietly take poetic revenge on those who dared to slight him, even if they were trying to portray hiself in a non-cheesy sort of way!''
``Look here mister,'' Xinlong replied as he walked next to the casually dressed medium, ``there has been no incidents so far. The only incidents that are affecting our filming is your consistent barging in to get us to follow some kind of superstitious mumbo-jumbo that we don't even believe in in the first place! Now if you'll just follow me quietly so as to leave the set...''
``No! You are an ignorant fool! You all are ignorant fools! Anshin is generally a peaceable god, but he is still also a Trickster God. He can get petty at times, especially when it seems as though respect for him were to be decreased.''
``Look, I don't want to have to restate things to you again. We are making a drama series on Anshin to show his good side; why would he ever be malicious against us?''
``Because he is a Trickster God,'' Director Han boomed some six feet away from the other two men. Xinlong stood in silence when he saw Director Han---it was clear that the latter was in a foul mood, his ambience for a critical scene destroyed utterly by the new incursion. ``Look, `Reverend' Tim Oh, I don't really care if you are a 'reverend', I don't even care if you were the pope, but this is starting to get rather tiresome. Xinlong, why are you even allowing this incursion to begin with?''
Thursday, 27 February 2014
Patricia
PATRICIA
What glorious day this is, oh my
How sweet do the birds above sing?
I pick my flowers to form a garland;
What hope will this spring bring?
EANA
Madam wishes me to inform thee that thy suitors are here presently.
PATRICIA
Oh Eana! What dost thou thinkst of the suitors come?
EANA
I did not see them, milady, I apologise. Please return presently before Madam fulminates.
PATRICIA
`Fulminate'? My dear Eana, how has thy language improve so much? Thou hardly readst, always working, yet thou uses such words!
EANA
The words, milday, are not mine. Madam told me before what to say. Please, milady, take madam's missive and return, or else her wrath be on me.
PATRICIA
My mother she be looking for suitors for me
Nary a day passes where she speaks not of them!
As though my life is nothing more than
To meet, to marry, to mother.
O how I wish I were not born of my sex
To be released from this misery
Of inflicted matrimony.
But mother never listens to what I say
Never letting me have my way
But what is a girl like me to do?
What glorious day this is, oh my
How sweet do the birds above sing?
I pick my flowers to form a garland;
What hope will this spring bring?
EANA
Madam wishes me to inform thee that thy suitors are here presently.
PATRICIA
Oh Eana! What dost thou thinkst of the suitors come?
EANA
I did not see them, milady, I apologise. Please return presently before Madam fulminates.
PATRICIA
`Fulminate'? My dear Eana, how has thy language improve so much? Thou hardly readst, always working, yet thou uses such words!
EANA
The words, milday, are not mine. Madam told me before what to say. Please, milady, take madam's missive and return, or else her wrath be on me.
PATRICIA
My mother she be looking for suitors for me
Nary a day passes where she speaks not of them!
As though my life is nothing more than
To meet, to marry, to mother.
O how I wish I were not born of my sex
To be released from this misery
Of inflicted matrimony.
But mother never listens to what I say
Never letting me have my way
But what is a girl like me to do?
Wednesday, 5 September 2012
Ending of an Era
It was late at night, and they knew it. The curtains had come down---it was the end. The ending of an era, the start of a new phase of life. They had seen it coming three years back, but the inevitability still managed to shock them.
Inevitability. The innocence of youth, squandered in moments of fun and joy, only to be missed as time passes by fleet-footed. Many a day they had spent with each other, practising their pieces together as a unit, a whole, a band. The days were filled with laughter, each one more carefree than the last.
Yet when it was time for their final performance before graduation, it didn't really hit them till later, much later, when the curtains were long down, and the audience had long left the auditorium.
The ending of an era, the start of a new phase of life. They had seen it coming three years back, but the inevitability still managed to shock them.
Inevitability. The innocence of youth, squandered in moments of fun and joy, only to be missed as time passes by fleet-footed. Many a day they had spent with each other, practising their pieces together as a unit, a whole, a band. The days were filled with laughter, each one more carefree than the last.
Yet when it was time for their final performance before graduation, it didn't really hit them till later, much later, when the curtains were long down, and the audience had long left the auditorium.
The ending of an era, the start of a new phase of life. They had seen it coming three years back, but the inevitability still managed to shock them.
Thursday, 11 June 2009
A Soft Kiss (fragment)
He sat there, gazing into the eyes of his beloved, as they sat in the corner alcove of the posh Italian restaurant. Her pretty green eyes seemed to glisten brightly under the dim overhead light. Tantalised by her gaze, he looked lovingly at her, before he caressed her chin softly with his right hand.
``Mmmm...'' she purred as his fingers brushed ever so lightly from her neck up to the bottom of her chin. ``Did I ever mention that I love you?''
``Oh, perhaps, maybe once or twice,'' he said absent-mindedly as he closed up to her face and gave her a deep, long kiss on the lips.
Their tongues interlocked and engaged in a moment of playful caresses as they kissed each other deeply.
``Mmmm...'' she purred as his fingers brushed ever so lightly from her neck up to the bottom of her chin. ``Did I ever mention that I love you?''
``Oh, perhaps, maybe once or twice,'' he said absent-mindedly as he closed up to her face and gave her a deep, long kiss on the lips.
Their tongues interlocked and engaged in a moment of playful caresses as they kissed each other deeply.
Wednesday, 30 April 2008
Blackguard (fragment)
Gritting her teeth and gripping her broadsword with both hands in front of her, she stood at ready, her piercing eyes focused on her foe in front of her. Before her was the Blackguard, the most fearsome dark knight of the land. She didn't want this encounter to occur, but it was by a sheer twist of fate that she got involved in this duel.
The Blackguard stood his ground, a massive 7-foot character in full plate armour, himself at the ready with a longsword held to his front with both his hands. Rumours had it that he was a skilled swordsman and has slain all who dared cross his path. Looking at him, she didn't see how those rumours could be false. All in all, he was an impressive figure, and his mastery in his craft was almost apparent as he stood there motionless, waiting for her first move---there is usually less incentive to be on the attacking side when one is assured of one's defensive ability.
A bead of sweat rippled down her face in the blazing sun along the forsaken road. She held herself steady, and decided to end it once and for all. With a shout, she thrusted her broadsword outwards in a half-run, aiming for his upper right arm. Deftly, he shifted himself to the left and brought his longsword down on her broadsword as it came close to him, stopping her in that split second, and swung his blade towards her neck.
She quickly crouched and threw her broadsword towards the right, parrying the blow that was aiming for her. With quick reflexes, his longsword went over to the other side, and in panic she leapt backwards, only to find herself stumbling over an out rock.
With a satisfied laugh, the Blackguard aimed his blade at her neck and stood with a foot on her chest, crushing it slightly.
``Begone you wench! I will not waste my strength on such a petty creature like you!''
The Blackguard stood his ground, a massive 7-foot character in full plate armour, himself at the ready with a longsword held to his front with both his hands. Rumours had it that he was a skilled swordsman and has slain all who dared cross his path. Looking at him, she didn't see how those rumours could be false. All in all, he was an impressive figure, and his mastery in his craft was almost apparent as he stood there motionless, waiting for her first move---there is usually less incentive to be on the attacking side when one is assured of one's defensive ability.
A bead of sweat rippled down her face in the blazing sun along the forsaken road. She held herself steady, and decided to end it once and for all. With a shout, she thrusted her broadsword outwards in a half-run, aiming for his upper right arm. Deftly, he shifted himself to the left and brought his longsword down on her broadsword as it came close to him, stopping her in that split second, and swung his blade towards her neck.
She quickly crouched and threw her broadsword towards the right, parrying the blow that was aiming for her. With quick reflexes, his longsword went over to the other side, and in panic she leapt backwards, only to find herself stumbling over an out rock.
With a satisfied laugh, the Blackguard aimed his blade at her neck and stood with a foot on her chest, crushing it slightly.
``Begone you wench! I will not waste my strength on such a petty creature like you!''
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