Hotel Room

I stepped gingerly into the room, casting my glance instinctively. You only need to be mugged once in your life while walking through a darkened room through the door to know that you should always be aware of your surroundings. Apart from the obvious darkness, it was inky black throughout, nothing out of the ordinary.

I quickly shut the door behind me and heard the familiar click as the door locked itself from the outside. I flicked the light switch and squinted a little as the bright overhead lights came on and cast their unforgiving brightness upon the contents of the room.

It was as I expected from a quiet motel, a simple room with a bed, a dresser, a table, a couple of chairs, and a bathroom to the side. The bed was made, thank goodness, and the curtains were closed. I stood away from the curtains as much as I could---already I felt vulnerable having the lights so bright and my silhouette easily viewed by anyone outside without me having the chance to make sure I was safe.

I hugged the walls of the room towards the bathroom to keep it a look-see. The last time I was mugged, it was from someone who had hidden himself in the bathroom, one of the places that I so happened to not have to go to before I turned in for the night, a mistake that cost me quite a bit of money and anguish in the end. The bathroom door was closed---not a good sign. I took a deep breath and braced myself as I gripped the door knob firmly with both hands, give it a quick twist before pushing hard on the door.

The door swung inwards, creaking slightly. The light of the room did not make its way into the bath room, and I waited impatiently for a few seconds to try and detect any movement from within. Seeing none, I reached over and flicked the light switch that was next to this door. The fluorescent light overhead flickered alive and illuminated the bath room. The shower curtains were drawn; the bath tub was empty. And there was no one sitting at the toilet bowl itself. Safe; for now.

One last place to look: the dresser. It was one of those walk-in cabinet type of dressers, and only because it was cheaper to have one of these built into the building than to have to allow destructible furniture to be put in. I stepped away from the bath room and made my way to the dresser, again careful to stay as close to the walls as possible. The door to the dresser was ajar, not a good sign.

With my heart in my mouth, I swung open that door as quickly as I could. Apart from a couple of abandoned hangers, there was nothing else in there.

I started to breathe a little easier. I guess it will be a good night tonight.

Priorities

Kian Seng stood up from his desk and stretched himself out, extending his hands high into the air as much as possible, and giving himself a good stretch. He had been at work for the last thirteen hours, and it was nearing the evening. If he had his way, he would be working even more, but the office management was adamant that all staff had to leave the office by seven o'clock in the evening; that was when the entire building would go into lock down mode, with the air-conditioning and lights switched off, and the doors electronically locked. He had undergone such a situation before, and didn't like the outcome. The office at night was stuffy despite the general coolness of the darkness, and perspiration had a way of just clinging on without ever letting go.

He completed his stretch and locked the screen to his computer and made his way to the subway station that was just outside the office complex. Like all the other late leavers, Kian Seng had already stuffed his ears up with his ear buds that were hooked to his cell phone which doubled up as his portable media player. He tapped his contact-less fare card at the turnstile and made his way on to the subway platform with Tristania blasting through his ears. Soon, his train arrived and he hopped on to it, oblivious to the world and held his ground in the rocking train as the doors closed and the subway moved off. Some thirty minutes later, Kian Seng was already back at his apartment.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks as he closed the main door with his butt, after which he unbuttoned his sleeved shirt and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Dinner was a microwave quick meal that he had stocked up just the weekend before, and as he ate, he started to boot up and log into his desktop computer.

While the office management had a hard lock down in place, there was still a work around for those who simply had to get work done. The company servers were not shut down, and those who had private network access to the machines could still do some work from the relative comfort of their homes. Kian Seng's team was facing a hard deadline for a big project, and he had no choice but to keep such non-stop working hours for the past month just to keep up. Living alone had its advantages, among which was the freedom to wear whatever one was comfortable with to do work remotely. Kian Seng sat at his desktop computer dressed in nothing more than a pair of boxers that he had put on after the shower. The evening air was humid and stagnant, and the apartment did not have any form of air-conditioning whatsoever. No matter though, he was comfortable the way he was.

He kept on typing on his computer, working for two hours without stopping. Then his cell phone rang. Ignoring it, he kept on typing out line after line of code. But the phone kept ringing. Irate, he stopped his work and picked up the call.

``Kian Seng here. Who's calling?''

``It's Tian Xing,'' a soft female voice replied on the other end.

``Oh sis? What's this about?''

``Mum's in hospital.'' Tian Xing sounded as though she had been crying on the other end. Though her sentences were short, they were barely audible.

``You have to speak up. Did you say that mum's in the hospital? What happened to her?''

``She hurt herself bad when she fell off the ladder while cleaning up the house during spring cleaning, when none of us were home.''

``Okay,'' Kian Seng replied as he rested the cell phone on his shoulder and began typing anew. ``What do you want me to do? I have a project deadline that is coming up this Friday. I can't leave or anything.''

``You're a terrible person!'' Tian Xing shrieked through the phone. ``Your mum fell and hurt herself bad enough to be hospitalised and before I can even say anything you're telling me you can't even be bothered to come visit her? What kind of son are you?''

``You shut up!'' Kian Seng roared through the phone. ``You're just a little brat still going through college. What do you know about the real world and the need to make money to make ends meet? Don't you dare lecture me on things like this, you ingrate! Who do you think is the one sponsoring your education!''

``Well, I can't be bothered with you!'' Tian Xing replied in a cold yell. ``I didn't want to call you, but mum insisted I do so. You do what you deem fit!'' And with that, Tian Xing slammed the phone down.

Kian Seng heard the line cut off, the end-of-call beep repeating itself at regular intervals. He dropped the phone down on to his lap skilfully before picking it up and putting it on the table.

He paused for a moment to contemplate the exchange, before shrugging and going back to his work.

Looking for Anton

``Oh where are you Anton?'' Susan cried as she rode along the path in the forest on her donkey. ``Why did you ever decide to take the advice of that stranger and go on the perilous journey through the jungle? It's not as though you were someone who was used to jungle walking in the first place!''

But there was no reply except for the rustling of the leaves in the upper boughs of the trees that make the canopy. It has been two months since Anton had made his trip into the jungle, gripping his brand new walking stick. Susan had begged him not to go, saying that she had a premonition that it will not end up well, but Anton was adamant. He reacted like a man possessed, one who had lost most of his faculties of reason, as though some deeper or higher power had taken over his very being. He ignored her calls and pleas for him to stay. He said that it was his destiny or something ludicrous to her ears, and remembering about what he had said before he left made Susan shed a tear or two.

The donkey made its way slowly along the path. Originally she didn't want to take the donkey along, but her neighbours suggested that she did so given her relatively frail nature. Actually, some of them had volunteered to help her search for Anton, but she wouldn't hear anything about it. Anton was hers, and so she would be the one to find him. Not anyone else.

Suddenly the donkey stopped and brayed out loud. Susan clutched the reigns to maintain her balance. The animal started to walk backwards tentatively, skittish about something. Ahead, Susan strained her eyes, but she did not see anything of note.

What did the donkey see that she didn't? And where was Anton?

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 19-Jan-2014 13:17:45)

The Device: Part II

(Story begins here.)

``So this part of the entrance is straightforward,'' Tom said as he led the way on. ``There is nothing odd about this. Regular entrance to the observation tower.''

``Okay...''

``Now we walk along the spiral slope. If you recall, this thing runs around the exterior of the cylindrical structures, hugging it, and leading to the top of the observation tower,'' Tom said as he started to walk on to the slope, slowing himself down a little to wait for Sally. Sally's back wasn't really that good to begin with, and having to walk up the slope meant that she had to bend forwards at an odd angle to ensure that she doesn't tip over backwards. That had a tendency to slow her down a lot.

``No need to patronise me Tom,'' Sally said as she carefully took steps up the slope. ``You know full well that I've been here before on other occasions.''

``Yes, but please forgive me. Force of habit. I have to explain this to the people who got me to study this. They told me that I needed to get an engineer to come along to help verify that this device does... what I had suggested it could do.''

``But there is almost no field of engineering that can explain what you are suggesting. Unless you want to talk about the fringe stuff that no one really cares about,'' Sally said as she continued taking small steps up the slope.

``That's not the intention, I think,'' Tom replied, a couple of paces ahead of her. ``I think they just wanted to make sure that someone who was well-known to be a hard scientist was present to make sure that I didn't screw anything up by being the anthropologist I am.''

``That's just cruel,'' Sally said.

Tom remain silent. It was one of those moments that made him realise why he and Sally couldn't be together as lovers. She was too straightforward. Tom wanted someone straightforward, yes, but he also wanted someone who was empathetic enough to know when being straightforward and blunt was more harmful than not. Sally seemed to have sensed his inner thoughts and didn't press for any more conversation.

The minutes passed slowly as the two of them made their way up the circular slope. By the time they were at the top of the observation tower, they had already circumnavigated the structure for three whole revolutions.

``I can't believe it's this breath-taking,'' Sally finally said, breaking the silence. She was reminded of that magical date that she and Tom had a long time ago where they would make their way up the observation tower during the middle of the night just to look far and beyond and watch the twinkling of the stars which were almost eclipsed by the yellow street lamps of roads in the industrial park far ahead and below them. Head lights of cars zoomed past them along the roads, and the wind of the night blew gently at times and strongly at others, keeping a pseudo-random rhythm that was at once haunting and exciting. But memories were just that, memories, and Sally made a mental note to ignore what nostalgia threw up at her.

``Yeah, good location for an observation tower,'' Tom mumbled as he moved away from the peripheries and towards a cordoned off area. Beyond the tape was a door that seemed to open into the store room or control room of some sort. Tom pulled out a regular looking key from his pocket and pushed it into the key hole in the door.

``I'll take it that this is not the key that the national parks authority gave you?''

``Of course it isn't,'' Tom replied with a tone of mild annoyance. ``This is just the regular key to our work area where we catalogue the things that we observe of this structure.''

``And you keep the key in there?''

``Yes, in a matter of speaking,'' Tom replied after unlocking the door and opening it by the knob. Inside was a tinge of inky blackness. Tom walked on and flicked a switch near the side of the door, and the dark room was illuminated by the flickering fluorescent light before it held itself in a steady glow. Sally ducked the tape and followed Tom into the room.

The work room was quite bare except for a table, a chair and a shelf. Apart from the fluorescent lamp above, there were no other sources of illumination as the room itself seemed to be walled-in on all sides. On the table were papers strewn about, both architectural blue prints and hand-written loose leaf paper were present. In a corner was the waste bin, and there were many crumpled balls of paper there, witnesses of frustrating periods. But on the shelf, Sally saw something a little extraordinary. It was a small cube of concrete, or at least, that was what it looked like, roughly three inches long on each side. It stood out strongly because it was the only thing on the shelf that had that height, and for some reason, it seemed to be reflecting the light above specularly.

`Could this be the key that Tom was talking about?' Sally thought to herself as she stood quietly by to wait for Tom to make his move.

``If you are wondering if that is the key, you are partially right. This thing on the shelf is technically half of the key.''

``Half? So where's the other half and how it combines together?''

``I have the other half, and no, it doesn't quite combine in the way that you would normally associate with things being `combined','' Tom replied, fishing out a strange looking object from his pocket.

It had the shape of a cockroach.

(Story continues here.)

Jungle Walk

Anton gripped his walking stick tight as he navigated through the dense undergrowth. It was more than he had bargained for. The beginning of the jungle walk started off innocently enough, with obviously visible dirt trails to follow, clearings to help him take his bearings, and enough canopy cover to provide comfort from the hot sun beating upon his head above.

But then, it started to rain. And as he continued along, following the instructions on the map that he was given, Anton found himself deviating strongly away from the well-worn trails and bashing into virgin jungle, where the dense undergrowth hid tangles of roots, snakes and other animals that were there.

And soft muddy soil that would suck in whatever landed on it. That was the reason for the walking stick. It was not something that he would normally carry about, but before embarking on this journey, he was strongly recommended to bring along a stick just in case.

He was glad that he did after all.

The rain made the already terrible terrain just that bit more insidious, with the red mud hiding ever so maliciously beneath the grasses and undergrowth bushes that were there. Already he had nearly lost his boot when he had accidentally landed on a patch of soft red mud with his full weight in it, without having first tested the solidity of the ground with the walking stick. That alone took him around ten minutes just to get out, complicated by the fact that he somehow managed to get his other foot entangled on to some vines that were creeping along the ground. After that one incident, Anton was starting to more conscientiously apply the walking stick to the grounds in front of him before he let himself send his entire body weight forward.

He wanted to turn back. But he had gone too far in, and the only way out was through the other side. There was really no point in trying to turn back now, partly because the instructions only worked in one direction, and given the decreased visibility from the rain that had been pelting down for hours, it was even more dangerous to attempt to back track.

He wanted to look for cover, but there was little to be found. Each involved having to climb moss-infested trees, which was made more slippery by the rain. So all he could do was move onwards.

Soon he found himself at a clearing of some sort, with a cluster of huts on the other side. That was his objective, the reason why he even came out here in the first place. But the clearing was in the way. It wasn't full of short grass, if anything, it looked like a foreboding bog of some sort. The group of huts were only a hundred metres or so away, but they seem even further. Gritting his teeth and clutching his walking stick, Anton started forward gingerly once again.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 2014-01-17 19:49:20)

That Tunic...

Artemis raised his aegis and cast a dispelling spell. The bolt of spell ricochetted around the passageway and struck the gnomish wizard right in the nose. The sphere of invulnerability was completely nullified by the spell and David raised a fist in pleasure.

``Yes!'' He cried out loud. ``I can't believe that the new costume we picked up actually helps Artemis to cast that dispelling spell accurately.''

``I cannot believe it,'' Mary replied from her computer opposite of him. ``Why the hell did you manage to pick up that blessed tunic? I thought it was supposed to be dropped only on my end?''

``Well this is the latest patch of the game. I think they made it such that twice as much loot drops in a multiplayer context, and everyone can now pick up anything.''

``That's a stupid system,'' Mary said as she clicked on her screen to guide her avatar towards the gnomish wizard to strike blows at it.

David shrugged. Artemis dropped his aegis and charged in with staff in hand to help Mary's Athena, who was already thwacking away at the gnomish wizard with her short sword. For a wizard, it seemed to have too many hit points -- even with Artemis striking away at it, it still took nearly twenty to thirty blows before the gnomish wizard was felled. And it wasn't even a boss character either.

``Is it me or did they screw up the balance again?'' Mary asked as she clicked on the gnomish wizard's corpse to loot it. ``Sweet, rare short sword!'' She clicked on it to pick it up and equip it on Athena. The latter's right arm was now holding a short sword that was glowing blue.

``Lucky...'' David said. ``But I think my blessed tunic is better.''

``Only if you are a squishy magic user! Plate armour for the win!'' Mary laughed. ``Next floor!''

Artemis and Athena walked past the now looted gnomish wizard corpse and made their way to the blackness that was the entrance to the stairs to the next floor of the dungeon, or as David put it, ``loading zone exit''. The images on the screens paused for a while before revealing yet another new level, with Artemis and Athena starting at roughly the same place.

The new dungeon featured different tiles from the previous one. The one they just went through had a stony appearance, as though some masonry work had been done to build the dungeon. But in this next one, the default tiles seemed to suggest a slightly more natural cave setting, with dirt and coal pillars everywhere.

``I don't think you should use fire spells here, David. I've got a funny feeling that you might set the place on fire.''

``No worries, I don't have any fire spells prepared. It should be fine.''

Artemis raised his aegis and led the way, with Athena close behind. The aegis was a side effect of the blessed tunic, and according to the statistics page for equipment, granted a bonus to defense that was higher than the plate armour that Athena was wearing. The caveat was, of course, that the aegis effect only lasted for thirty seconds. It also amplified the success chance for spells, which explained why the dispel spell worked well.

Out of the blue, a lightning bolt hit Artemis and struck down the aegis in one shot. A ring of fire centred on Artemis grew outwards and lit the coal pillars on fire. Both Artemis and Athena started taking lots of damage as David and Mary clicked desperately to get their respective avatars out of the area. But they were not close enough to any exit, and so both Artemis and Athena died and had to respawn back in the town.

``Dude! David! What the hell! I thought I told you no fire spells!''

``I didn't cast that! Didn't you see that there was a lightning bolt that hit me?''

``Yeah, but all it did was to knock out the aegis---'' Mary was suddenly silent.

``How the hell can we get a cursed blessed tunic in this game?'' David suddenly said out loud.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 2014-01-16 17:29:14)

Testimony

Hi I'm Elle. I work at the local grocery store nearby ever day as a cashier. I like to read during my free time, and find knitting to be really fun.

No I'm not Elle. I lied. I'm a compulsive liar. I'm really Elsie. I work at the local video rental store, one of the few that is left, prefer playing video games and watching the TV than to do any knitting. In fact, I actually hate knitting a lot.

Lies! I am not Elsie nor Elle. I'm Eileen. I don't work at the grocery store nor the video rental store (who the hell still has that running these days anyway) but at a local secretarial group. I spend my time typing up documents from the pool of small companies that hire us, and handle phone calls for one of the companies as and when those come in. I prefer just chilling at home and listening to music instead of reading or playing video games or even knitting. Urgh. Knitting is so boring.

No no no! All of you shut up! I am Elle. That day when I was coming home from my work at the grocery store, I saw this guy standing in front of another guy who was looking really really scared. I think the first guy wore some kind of coat and it looked like he was intimidating the other one. It was hard to tell because it was in an alley that was near the main road. I walked quickly away because I got scared.

Quit hogging the limelight Elle! I'd rather be the one to talk about this. I'm Elsie, by the way, and I was about to go to work at the video rental store when I passed by the grocery store that Elle works at and saw a man in a tan trench coat standing with legs apart, and his shoulders squared. I couldn't tell what was happening, but it was very suspicious. I've always walked past that alley on the way to work, and have always been wary of it due to the distinct lack of light that shines into it. A bit like that horror film setting where it is night time, the clouds are out hiding the moon, and then the rain comes on and someone just standing there, all silhouette and scary looking.

Elsie, you are spouting your silly video nonsense again, if it can be called a video. Frankly, you are more unbearable than some of the clients I had to deal with while being on the phone with some of them. Anyway, I was going to work as well when I passed by the alley. I saw a man who looked as though he was trying to defend himself -- he seemed rather scared for some reason. He wasn't tall, maybe five feet three at the most? He wore a regular black sports jacket, because you know, cold-ish weather and all. I could only see him from the back. I don't know about anything else.

Eileen dear, if your information is so scant, why don't you just keep quiet and leave the poor detective alone? It's not as though what you are saying is going to be effective anyway. Anyhow, as I walked on from the grocery store, I suddenly saw the man raise his arm and swung it downwards towards the other man. It looked like it could've been a punch or a stab, but I really cannot tell.

Ha! And you dare tell Eileen off. You are seriously too cocky, Elle. The man in tan, he was the one who lifted his arm high and slammed it down. I caught a glimpse of a reflection when his hand was held high, so I think it was probably a knife of some sort. There was a loud cry, but I didn't stay around enough to see what happened.

Elsie, if you too only saw part of the action, why are you talking so haughtily as though you knew exactly what was going on? The poor man in the black jacket fell when something shiny or metal hit him in the shoulder. He yelled a bit, probably in pain, but it wasn't clear if he was hurt or not. By that time, I had already scampered off towards the office.

The detective nodded as he took down the rambling testimony of the woman.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 2014-01-15 17:46:31)

My Eyes: Part IV

(Story begins here.)

To my surprise, everything seemed to go back to normal. Or rather, back to the original state in which I had once seen them. I could feel my heart racing, my head suddenly feeling very light. There was something rather strange going on, and I haven't the foggiest clue what it was. I reached for the door once again, and found that I wasn't hallucinating earlier---the door did not have a knob.

``Why are you trying to run away?'' Uncle San said with a quizzical voice. ``Why are you acting so confused?''

``Junhao, calm down,'' Shumei suddenly said. ``I know what you are experiencing.''

``Lies!'' I shouted. ``Utter bullshit and lies! What the hell is going on here? Why did you bring me to this weird place? And what is Uncle San exactly? Why is there no way of leaving this shop?''

Uncle San made a move that was too quick to see, and suddenly he was already next to me, despite being behind the counter earlier. He held out his hand and rested it heavily on the top of my head with his palm. He mumbled a few words under his breath, words that I did not manage to catch, and I slowly felt a tingling sensation that was moving from my body upwards from my spine up to the crown of my head. I could feel my panic subsiding, my breathing normalised and my heart rate slowing back down. Then, he stopped, raised his hand from my head and brought it back to his side, chuckling a little to himself.

With the new-found sense of calm, I started to look about me once more. Shumei was still standing there, somewhat emotionless once again, while Uncle San had walked back to his original position behind the counter. I walked forward towards Uncle San, stealing a glance at Shumei, who was still standing there and looking onward with little affect. I started to wonder if it was her that I heard who told me to calm down.

``Well Junhao, let's start this all over, shall we? I am San Chin-Fong, but most people call me `Uncle San'. You are in my shop, and I know what is wrong with you and why you had that sudden reaction.''

``What did you do to Shumei?'' I demanded, emboldened by his relatively meek-looking demeanour.

``Shumei? I didn't do anything to her. It's a side effect of this place and what you are experiencing. She had called me earlier today to inform me that you were acting as though your Eyes had finally opened, and I told her to bring you over as soon as she could before you started to hurt yourself from the things that you have seen.'' Uncle San paused for a moment and cleared his throat. ``Besides, Shumei is one of my agents.''

``Agents? What do you mean?''

``Shumei is a member of our sect since young. Her parents are also a part of the sect. We go around looking for people who have opened Eyes and try to help them deal with the consequences of having their Eyes opened. Not all members have opened Eyes though. Shumei is one of those who doesn't have her Eyes opened, but she has seen enough people who have that she can tell if someone is undergoing the steps that causes their Eyes to open.''

``Then why is she standing there like that?''

``Like I said,'' Uncle San replied. ``It's a side effect of this place.''

``And just what is this place?'' I asked.

(Story continues here.)

Pilgrimage of Penance

Samuel took one deliberate step forward and paused, and then he took another one forward before pausing. Each step taken was slow, deliberate, calculated. In his clasped hands was a rosary necklace, and his thumbs kept moving one bead after another as he took each step, his pace and rhythm unaffected.

He had been walking like this for the last six hours, from the dawn of first light till now, roughly the middle of the day. Beads of sweat had gathered along his clean shaven head and dripped off to the sides from the edge of his eye brows. His was chanting non-stop under his breath; if one stepped closer they would hear the mantra that he was repeating to himself over and over.

The midday sun beat upon him, heating up his body. Perspiration soaked through his saffron robes, the attire of those in his order.

It was a pilgrimage of penance. To walk for nine and forty days at the given pace, from sun up to sun down, stopping to rest only where his feet land at the end of the day, eating only what the charitable passers-by were willing to give.

In another life, he had been a very successful banker. He made a killing during the early 2000s, but when the 2008 came about, the accounts and hedge funds under his charge lost nearly sixty percent of their value from the massive financial collapse. He was a part of the problem then, for he had constantly pushed the very financial products that caused the fall in the first place. For a while, he managed to get away with only a small penalty through the loss of his job, but as the days went by, his unemployment and guilt got to him.

And that was when he joined the order. The head abbot suggested he take the pilgrimage of penance first before becoming a full-fledged member.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 13-Jan-2014 21:06:10)

Aileen

Aileen held the cigarette holder in her hand, Hepburn styled, and took a smoke out of it. It was one of those long nights where no one was actually out prowling the streets and looking for love. Already she was about a month over due for her rent, and her pimp wasn't making things easy with his threats to disfigure her for not bringing in as much money as the other girls.

But there was little choice in the matter. It was just a bad month, what with the cold winters and all. Asking a working girl on the streets to make as much during winter as in fall was just bordering on the impossible. She could change her pimp, but he was known to hurt others really bad if he discovered that his girls were stolen and taken over by others.

Aileen wasn't ugly. She looked skinny, like that Ally McBeal character on the TV. She had to wear fishnet stockings and a short mini-skirt to work the streets, but thankfully, her pimp wasn't that evil to demand that she wear only a tube top---she had a faux mink coat on to keep warm. Standing along the street corner and smoking on her cigarette the way a 1950s woman would gave her a certain classiness that was hard to find among the other street walkers.

A car pulled up, and the driver slowed down while rolling his window down. He gawked at Aileen. She could feel his lecherous eyes tracing her black heels up her fishnet covered legs up to her short black mini-skirt and up to her faux mink coat, mentally undressing her along the way. Despite being in the business for nearly two years now, the initial encounter with a client always creeped her out. It was at that moment that she felt the most demeaned, like as though she were a hunk of meat hung out for public scrutiny and examination.

The driver whistled at her and gesticulated. Aileen pulled the cigarette away from her and walked towards him, her legs moving one in front of the other in a straight line, with her hips swaying seductively. When she arrived at the window, she bent over while keeping her legs straight, sticking her hips into the air and bringing her face close to his, while exposing some of her cleavage through the hanging top opening of her faux mink coat.

She blew some of the menthol smoke from her cigarette into the driver's face, and he gave a smile of approval.

``What're you doing for?''

``Twenty a blow, thirty a massage, fifty for the full package and one hundred for the GFE,'' Aileen rattled off from memory. ``You pay for wherever you take me, and I have protection.''

``I like those numbers,'' he replied as he winked at her. ``Get in the car and let's go somewhere fun.''

Aileen stood back up and removed the cigarette stub from the holder and dropped it onto the ground, extinguished it with the foot of her heels, before walking over to the passenger side of the car and letting herself in.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 12-Jan-2014 16:08:42)

Intel

Susan crouched along the side of the wall, frozen in place, her eyes darting left and right, straining to find the source of that cough. There wasn't supposed to be anyone there -- that was the whole purpose of the intel briefing that she had just hours before she had been injected into the compound. But that cough, it was proof, proof that there was something contrary to what they had initially believed.

She waited quietly for a couple more minutes, starting to be well aware of the slow rhythmic beating of her own heart. Very few things ever fazed Susan -- calm and collected was one of the characteristics that she had that made her an ideal candidate for the dark art of clandestine operations. That there was a cough was only an indication that someone was near, and even then, it was just one of the many possibilities that they had gone through in the briefing earlier. She was an executioner -- one who follows the plans that were made by those above her. Sometimes if the intel wasn't good, like this one, they would also give her the mandate to operate semi-independently, but for the most part, they did all the thinking, while she did all the leg work.

There it was again. Two coughs. Susan quickly estimated the direction and distance from which it came. It sounded like it could have been from two different people, but that was highly unlikely; no one coordinates coughs that way. She estimated a distance of roughly fifty yards, and just around the corner of the wall that she was currently taking cover at. Not good. This would rule out the easier route into the compound. She hugged close to the wall and slowly moved her left eye beyond the wall's perimeter to glance out at the direction she estimated. Against the moonlight, she made out two silhouettes. Another improbable situation had occurred. She ducked back into her corner and weighed her options.

Intel said that there was no one else going to be there, yet there were two guards. What else that she was given was wrong? Silently, she ducked back further along the wall, and started to scale it silently in the dark. At least some elevation would give her a little more insight on just what she was up to and help her complete the mission.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 11-Jan-2014 23:49:07)

The Three of Us

Jun Hao took yet another small step forward, his left hand advancing his walking stick by the length of one foot-step. Walking was starting to get hard, and he was really about to give up trying to take walks in the evenings given the increasing difficulty to get his legs to work well at his age. They have said that he was lucky to be living so long, but he thought that it was a curse to be living in a body that was slowly falling apart at its seams.

But his grandson would hear nothing of it.

It was his grandson who convinced his son to get a walking stick for him. His grandson went with his son to the store downstairs and spent some time picking the style of the walking stick. It was originally supposed to be something out of aluminium, which his son favoured due to its light weight and strenght, but his grandson was adamant that Ah Gong should have a nice solid wooden one. Kid said that seemed more appropriate for Ah Gong because ``it looked like it was a part of natural world''.

Jun Hao took another step forward and advanced his walking stick once more. It would take him around twenty minutes to walk from his son's apartment block to the school to pick up his grandson given his walking speed, and it would of course take another twenty or so minutes to walk back. He sighed. His son was in agreement with him to stay at home more rest up due to his advanced age. But his grandson overruled them all; he had countered that since ``Ah Pa doesn't come back to work in time, he didn't want to stay in school to wait for Ah Pa and would rather Ah Gong come and pick him up''. His daugher-in-law had divorced his son after giving birth to his grandson -- she had cited ``irreconciliable differences'' as the reason for the divorce. He shook his head. Kids these days, they never seem to try and fix their own marriages, always trying to find the easy way out. The last he heard, she had already gone on to date another man, someone richer than his son, and was probably about to get married for the second time, if rumours were to be believed.

He took another step forwardd and advanced his walking stick. Three generations under one roof -- his grandson, his son, and he. And now, his walking was starting to get bad. The walking stick was helping a little, but for how long? How long more to go before he would become yet another burden for his son?

Jun Hao thought to himself as he walked on slowly with his wooden walking stick towards his grandson's school.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 11-Jan-2014 00:04:58)

The Password

Esther lay on the ground in a pool of her blood. The bullet had hit her in the stomach and exited from her back, missing her spine. But the damage was already done. Her intestines were bleeding profusely, and she was struggling to keep the exsanguination by applying whatever little strength she had in her hands to add pressure. Her gun man had left, satisfied that she would never get up again, confident that no one would find her alive to get the information that she stole, and miserly reminiscing the money that he saved from not having to fire another bullet through her head to confirm the kill.

`I must not die this quickly,' Esther thought to herself as she took in measured breaths to calm herself down. That helped her keep a smoother blood flow and gave her a rhythm that ebbed and flowed with the pain from all the internal damage and blood loss.

`Bloody amateur,' she continued to think, keeping her mind away from her current situation as much as possible.

`Who the hell doesn't confirm the kill? I just hope that Thomas would make his way here soon enough.' She took in a couple more breaths. Already she was starting to feel light-headed, a sure sign that the blood loss was getting dangerously close to knocking her out completely. `Damnit Thomas, where the hell are you?'

As if in reply to her plea, she heard a set of familiar foot steps that grew increasingly closer. `Thomas!' she thought to herself.

``Oh my god, Esther! Who did this to you!'' A frantic male voice accosted her as strong hands started stroking her face before leaving it in confusion as their owner realised that there was a bullet hole. Thomas saw Esther trying to stem the blood loss with her ever-weakening grip and immediately clamped one hand on top of hers. The added pressure changed the steady state a little and Esther coughed.

``No no no... don't die!'' Thomas cried as he fumbled his phone to call the paramedics.

``Thomas, no, I will die,'' Esther replied weakly. ``But there's one thing you must know. Sly Sam...''

``Stop talking love,'' Thomas cut her off. ``Save your strength.'' She ignored him and continued.

``Sly Sam's data files are on the server, and the password is... I love you...''

``NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!'' Thomas let out a feral cry.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 09-Jan-2014 22:43:39)

``Friends''

Jill pounded away at the door. Bam! Bam! Bam! But there was no response. Why would there be? Wasn't it the only entrance to the room that she had unwittingly entered as part of a ``prank'' that her ``friends'' had got her involved with?

She leant on the door and slid down, dejected but still mentally alert. She wasn't about to give up -- there was no reason to. She surveyed her surroundings.

It was clear that the room had been meticulously prepared. Cold grey concrete all around, bare, a single small cross-barred reinforced glass window set high in the wall was the only source of illumination. In one corner, a metal framed single bed with a foam mattress on top with no sheets. In the opposite corner, a hybrid stainless steel latrine sink, welded into the ground, with a single roll of toilet paper sitting on top.

Her top had been brutally ripped off, exposing her naked breasts. There were a few bruises here and there from the struggle that she had tried to put up, but being over-powered by that many ``friends'', there was little that she could do. It was of little comfort that she was still in her jeans. Her phone had been removed from her, and her high heeled shoes were forcibly removed as well when she was thrashing about.

Then she remembered.

In one of the long side pockets of her jeans were a torsion wrench and a pick. She had been to the maker's fairre just the day before in the same pair of jeans, and didn't send it for washing yet. Her hopes up, she quickly turned about to re-examine the door.

It was a heavy wooden door with a brass door knob that had a key hole in it. It was clear that it was meant to be locked from the outside because of the key hole. But the locking mechanism was designed for internal doors only -- there were no other indications on the key hole that it was ever meant to be installed on the main door.

Jill felt her hopes rising. She removed the torsion wrench and pick from her pocket and slowly slid both of them into the lock. It would take a while, but she knew that she had learnt something from the fairre.

She was definitely not about to find out what that bed was for, nor what her ``friends'' had in store for her.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 08-Jan-2014 22:51:03)

My Eyes: Part III

(Story begins here.)

I stepped back, partly in confusion, partly in anger. Things were not going well at all; I have no idea what the deal was, and this Uncle San and Shumei were acting weirder than I would have thought. I blinked my eyes.

The room, formerly dull with the grey cabinets and counter, suddenly presented itself in an amazingly fierce colour of red. ``Uncle San'' himself was a major source of the fiery red colour, his entire silhouette encompassing the sort of red that one would associate with that of a flame. Shumei was standing near him, and despite the fact that she was relatively dark in colour compared to the red emitted throughout the room, I could see that the red aura of ``Uncle San'' had engulfed her.

I kept on backing up, while looking around frantically. The counter and cabinets had shapes of red that reminded me of various curios that one might find in some kind of god-shop, except that some of them had shapes that were more akin to idols and skulls, rather than the more regular joss sticks and incense. I could almost see ``Uncle San'' smiling at my confusion and fear through the shades of red that was present, with Shumei standing next to him, nearly emotionless.

The red that was emanating from the interiors of the cabinets and counter seemed to be flowing and increasing in their reach, until tendrils seemed to reach out from them and snake towards me. I continued to back up, my fear increasing, my anger abating, until I hit the door from which I had entered. I turned around and tried to open the door, but found to my horror that I could not find the handle nor the knob. I couldn't remember if the door had a knob or handle in the first place -- it was Shumei who led me into the shop in the first place. Panicking a little, I turned around once more to face the snaking red, with the closest already trying to wrap its tendrils around my foot.

I screeched in horror and jumped up, blinking my eyes.

(Story continues here.)

Too Far

Tim sat there on the ground, his eyes smarting from the pain. Ah Seng stood there in front of him, fists raised, his lips locked in a smirk.

Tim could feel the blood dripping from his eye lids from the cut sustained when his glasses was cracked by the punch. The lenses had cracked, and the pices had sliced fairly deep into his eyelid.

``You bastard! I told you to give me your lunch money, but nooo, you had to be the tough guy, eh?'' Ah Seng gloated. ``See what happens?''

Tim could feel the pain coming on as tears streamed and mixed with the blood.

``I... need my glasses...''

``Go to hell!'' Ah Seng shouted before giving the seated Tim a firm kick in the stomach before strutting off like a bantam cock.

Tim felt the acute pain from the kick and picked up the lens pieces from the ground. The frame was dented out of shape from the punch, and his high degree glass lenses were ruined. He picked up the frame from the ground and tried to stare at it through his injured eyes. He hugged his knees together as he realised that without those glasses, he was effectively blind.

He cursed Ah Seng under his breath. This was the second time that year that his glasses were ruined by the bully. The last time he had his glasses thus damaged, he got into a lot of trouble with his parents. They were not from a rich family; life was hard but tolerable. He was the first child that they had managed to send to school -- his two other brothers never really had the opportunity to. But all that reading and studying probably contributed to his gradual increase in myopia, and the cost of the glasses was extremely high compared to what they could afford.

He got hell from them just to replace the first pair of glasses. Now he didn't know how to approach them to replace this second one.

Ah Seng had gone too far. It's time for a payback. But first, Tim had to cross a burning bridge.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 06-Jan-2014 23:42:50)

Walking...

I walk, alone, along the path that lay before me. The sky was a sickening blue, the kind of colour that I didn't really enjoy because it reminded me of a time that was impossible to get at, a time of peace, happiness and comfort. There was none of this to be had.

I keep on walking. The sun beat down upon my head as ruthlessly as it can possibly be, while the wind howled against my face in as harsh a manner as it could. Each step that I take feels leaden. Dead. A strong sense of discomfort that was incongruous with the paradoxical weather.

I walk on. I have to walk on. Behind me I could hear the pitter-patter foot-steps of those who are in pursuit of me. My pursuers sounded like they were in a hurry, but they never managed to catch up, even as I take my heavy steps forward at a walking pace. It didn't sound possible. No, it was just not possible. No wait. It is possible. Under one and only one circumstance.

I am dreaming. I have to be. Otherwise it will make no sense.

Realising that I am dreaming, the sky transmogrified itself. The sun no longer beat upon my brow, the wind no longer blasted through my skin as though it weren't there. The same footsteps that I had been taking suddenly feel less heavy. But the heart, my heart, I can still feel the heaviness there.

No.

I cannot be dreaming, can I? This walk, I have to take this walk. From where I was to where I will be. I cannot avoid it. Perpetual pursuers aside. I cannot stop. I cannot return. This is real -- is it not the dirt that I feel between my toes as I take each deliberate step forward?

From afar, I can hear the increased hurriedness that my pursuers had. There was an unmistakeable sound. No way to mistake it, ever. But I still just keep walking. No other way about it.

I have to continue the trip. I have to make it to where I had to go. It doesn't matter if they catch up with me -- they can't catch up with me. I need to be at my destination, no matter the cost.

Especially if I am truly dreaming.

If I can't even reach my goal in my dream, how am I supposed to reach it in real life?

I stuck my hands deep into my pockets and kept my head low. The sun became relentless once more, and the wind continued its merciless cut through me. Far behind me, the pursuers were still chasing, but they never sounded any closer than they were just a short moment before.

It is going to be a long way left. I hope I can reach it before I wake up.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 05-Jan-2014 21:59:00)

Crossroads

Joel stood there at the crossroads and thought to himself as he watched the sun's rays wafting through the trees that were growing on that one side of the road. It was not of his choice to be here, but there was just something he had to be sure of, something that he needed to confirm.

Before her death, his grandmother had summoned him to her and said to him. ``Joel, reach into that drawer over there next to my bed.'' He followed her orders and opened up the drawer of the dresser. There was a leather bound book in there. The cover was old and worn, showing its age very clearly, but other than that, it was surprisingly well kept. ``Pick up that book, Joel.''

``Yes grandma,'' he had said and picked the book up and handed it to her. His grandmother touched the cover, and he could almost see her eyes glowing somewhat lovingly for a fleeting moment before returning to its quiet demeanour. ``Take this diary of your grandfather's and read up on what we had gone through. You may wish to travel to some of the places mentioned to check on the things that he had written. I was there when it all happened, but I never saw the need to revisit old haunts. Perhaps you might find it an interesting exercise in discovering your heritage.''

That happened around two months ago.

Joel had read the diary. It was a well-kept journal chronicling the times of the second World War. His grandfather was one of the British infantrymen who was part of the defense of Malaya against the Japanese, while his grandmother was one of the local girls who ended up marrying to his British-born grandfather. The diary was written in a clean cursive that was characteristic of that era, small and clean. Paper was hard to come by, and leather bound paper was an even rarer luxury.

There were a coupld of rather disturbing yet interesting things that were written in the journal. The moment he saw them, Joel knew what his grandmother meant when she suggested that he might be interested in taking a little travel here and there to check up on the locations that were talked about.

He had spent the last two months travelling all over modern peninsular Malaysia, the scion of the old Malaya that was torn asunder by the atrocities that was the Japanese occupation. And in each of the five or so places that he had gone, he managed to correlate what he saw with what was written.

And now, he was at the final location hinted in the journal. A crossroad of two rather ancient paths that criss-crossed the peninsula.

Buried beneath one corner was supposedly the body of a man that his grandfather had to kill in order to survive.

Buried beneath the opposite corner was supposedly a cache of valuables that his grandparents had before the war came and made it all impossible to move on.

He stood at the crossroads and carried on thinking.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 04-Jan-2014 21:00:06)

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

He took one step forward, stopped, looked about, and took two steps back. He paused again, his head sticking out like a tortoise out of its shell, and glanced about, before taking two steps forward. Then, one step ahead from the position he began, he start the ritual again.

He didn't walk like that on all places. It was only on grounds that were checked like a chessboard. There was something that seemed compelling to him to partake in the rather odd walking method whenever tiled floors were concerned. And they had to be checked tiled floors, not just regular square tiles tessellated, but arranged with the familiar dark-and-light alternate texture.

He didn't care if they stared at him while he was walking like that in the mall. That particular series of moves had saved his life once, and somehow that became ingrained in his psyche as a type of obsession that took on a compulsive role.

It was a long time ago, roughly when he was merely a lad of three. His parents, they took him out to an amusement park once. It was one of those fancy semi-permanent amusement parks that featured rides and stations that were there all year round, opening when the weather was not too cold and wet. It was his first time there when the incident occurred.

There was this maze/puzzle sort of game that one could take part in. There were mirrors, and some harmless booby traps that basically ejected those who fell into them out of the game room safely on to the bouncy mats below. And of course the ground was marked in a checked scheme to help folks figure out the relative positions of everything. Every month, the configuration of the puzzle was changed, thus ensuring novelty and encouraging children to visit the amusement park more often.

What wasn't said that a rather sadistic operator had taken over the puzzle during the time that he visited, and had reconfigured the maze to be far more deadly. In those days, the supervision was very lax, and so no one noticed that the puzzle was made to be life-threatening. It just so happened that he happened to be the first person to play the puzzle since the reconfiguration from the sadistic operator.

Three-year-old him cried as his parents waved at him and cajoled him to enter the puzzle on his own. He had bumbled his way through the puzzle as best as he could, but when he took that step forward, he heard a click. Scared, he retreated twice, only to hear another click. At that point, the tile that he had stepped on that clicked suddenly glowed red, and he just made a mad dash forward, succeeding in moving back on to the square. Seeing that it wasn't going to go well, he moved forward by another tile and the glowing went away. He then charged forward as much as he could.

Some other kid followed behind him, and was promptly hurt by the fall through the trap of the formerly glowing tile. There were knife edges along the sides that sliced deep into the flesh of the falling kid, and through the frantic screams, the sliced up ball of flesh landed on the mat.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 03-Jan-2014 22:52:27)

Information Longs to be Free

The night was silent. Sandy sat there alone in the dark, the soft glow from her screen reflecting on her spectacle lenses. Rows of text scroll by as she digested all the information that was passing through.

IRC. The network of the modern day equivalent of the Gods. Talking with people she would probably never meet in person this life time. All meeting and chatting here, united under one cause.

Freedom.

The situation was dire. Information clamp down was rampant. Already some of their brethren had fallen prey to the over-broad powers that their respective governments had granted themselves to overcome what they had perceived to be the anarchic tide.

Except it was the age of Information, where freedom featured strongly. Freedom of Information.

Sandy sighed. They were having a rather animated debate over IRC with regards to the latest findings of the celebrated whistle blower, Edward Snowden. Some denounced his deeds, saying that obtaining such vital information through the way he did was trickery, illegal and morally reprehensive and therefore cause them to lose the higher ground.

Others said that it didn't matter how he got the information; the information stood for itself, and if Snowden did not get it out the way he did, someone else might have. Or the NSA would have accidentally leaked itself. Secrets are hard to keep, and big ones are even harder.

Sandy lurked online. She was a founding member of the group that was currently chatting on the channel, but she kept most of her thoughts to herself. They were mostly on the right track. She would have defended both sides the way they did. But she wouldn't do so. Not on IRC. No.

Her way was more subtle. Let the Snowden's of the era work their social engineering magic to expose the misdeeds of the power grab. Let them debate all they want about the ethical outcomes of such endeavours.

She was in it for the long run. Playing the long con.

Already she had her tendrils in the many state intelligence agencies. Agents. Computer agents. Little pieces of software that run hidden on the mainframes and servers that populate the digital landscape. They sit there, quiet. Waiting. Unseen.

Sandy smiled to herself as she watched the more vocal participants on the channel lambasting one of the arguments another had posed. IRC was nothing. Their debate was nothing. There was no debate.

Freedom.

Information longs to be free. And Sandy has set up enough exit points that when the time arrives, she will be the one who liberates it all.

Everything is in place. Everyone is just acting their roles as puppets in the whole show.

She was the puppet master. She held all the strings. Metaphorical strings. But her computer was key. Without her computer, nothing would happen. Nothing could happen.

She was smart enough to squirrel away back up machines all over the planet that can be obtained if and when her main machine was compromised. Not if, when. She knew that she would be long gone, locked up, before it would all begin.

She was prepared. She smiled.

Information longs to be free.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 02-Jan-2014 22:05:58)

Odd Accident

Simone sat in the waiting room, her arms crossed, her eyes darting from person to person, beads of sweat forming along her furrowed forehead and dripping off to the side with a silent ``plop''.

She didn't escape unscathed. Minor abrasions here and there, a sprain in her shoulder and mild whiplash from the sudden braking of the car. For all purposes, she was fine and she knew it.

Tom was less lucky.

They were driving along the new highway, with Simone as the driver and Tom sitting shotgun. The signs on the highway were fairly cryptic, and she was trying her best to navigate her way through while keeping an eye on the road. It was a relatively quiet drive, no problems right there. That is, until they reached viaduct.

That car came from no where. Simone was driving at a steady eighty kilometres an hour, the standard speed for the highway. The offending car was on the ramp through the viaduct, speeding, and tried to merge into the lane that Simone was on. It didn't slow down; it was speeding up. Simone's eyes registered the problem and her reflex was to slow down as fast as she could, jamming the brakes hard and pulling up her hand brake. But the offending car's driver was acting weird. Instead of keeping his acceleration going to overtake Simone, he slowed down a little, seemingly timing himself to cause a collision.

Simone's car stopped hard, and the car that filtered in smashed into the passenger side, crushing it deep. Tom was initially sleeping when the sudden deceleration from Simone's braking woke him up, and the collision shook him to full alert, just in time to register the excruciating pain that had started in his lower extremities. The impact caused Simone to jerk uncontrollably from her seat, restrained by the seat belt, incurring some abrasions and a whiplash. She was shocked but alert. She glanced over to look at Tom. It wasn't good -- his legs were pinned by the crushed vehicle.

She turned herself slowly to look at the other car. The driver was no where in sight. She saw that the passenger door was open, and a man of short stature was running down the viaduct ramp. As the rescue team came to extricate Tom, and the police came to ask her questions, she realised that the driver had manipulated the car from the passenger side to cause the serious collision since the police couldn't find any body on the driver side of the offending car that was crushed beyond repair.

Simone sat there in the waiting room, glancing from person to person. Tom had been in the operating theatre for quite a while now, and it was not certain if they could save his legs. She hoped to herself that he would be fine, and that they would learn who it was who tried to cause them such grievous hurt.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 01-Jan-2014 15:11:59)

Feelings

I wouldn't really trust myself about my own feelings. It is one of those things that one slowly learns as time goes by, nothing particularly special, but just something that happens to occur. I didn't want to be in this position, but sometimes, it is hard to just tear myself away from the emotional mess that I had found myself in. After all, who could really predict that this was going to happen?

It all began a couple of years ago. I met her at the pub, on one of those exceedingly rare occasions that I turn up at such a place. I wasn't much of a drinker then, and was only at the pub because it was one of my colleague's birthday. I was cajoled into joining the small group, all in the bid for some notion of ``esprit de corps'', a strange notion considering that we were more of a corporate company than some general uniformed group entity like the soldiers or anything. Already I feel that I was too much of a loner, so I didn't really have much of a choice on the matter.

The colleague in question was one of those party animal types -- he was always out at night living up the night life, yet he still managed to find the energy to come to work early and contribute meaningfully to his work. I had always wondered if the ``party animal'' moniker was an act or exaggeration of what he really did, and I suppose that on the night that we were celebrating his birthday, I would find out.

So the group of us were sitting at a table that we had apparently reserved, pouring vodka mixers and talking and being generally boisterous. I took part in as much small talk as I could get away with, sipping ever so little from my first glass of vodka. I didn't really like the taste of vodka -- it tasted like really strong cleaning alcohol and burned my taste buds -- but that was all that they were ordering, so I just went with the flow. The attention gradually shifted toward the birthday boy, of course, and little by little I found myself quietly alienated by the crowd.

That was when I saw her.

She was sitting at the bar, wearing one of those little-black dress numbers with a rather wide and low cutting for the back. She had straight and long black hair, while her skin was fair, even under the strong yellow spot lights of the bar. Even though her back was towards me, I could tell that she had very long and nearly perfect legs, as seen through the bar stool that she was sitting on. I had no idea why I would suddenly be drawn towards someone like her -- she wasn't even looking at me or anything -- but something just happened at that point.

She suddenly stood up from the bar, a martini glass in her hand, and turned around. For a brief moment, her eyes met mine, and I felt a strange electrifying sensation. It was a very foreign feeling, and I had no idea what to make of it. I felt my face flush, and I quickly turned away from her. Through the cocktail banter of the pub I could hear the distinct clip-clop sound of high heels that was slowly increasing in loudness. Then, a soft and warm hand touched my forearm from the side, and I sensed a strangely warm body near me.

``Hi there,'' a soft voice said. ``I've been observing you for a while. This is not quite your scene huh?''

Startled, I turned around to the source of the voice. A pretty smiling face framed by long, straight black hair greeted me. I could once again feel the flush in my own face, and I wasn't sure if that was from embarassment or from the vodka that I had sipped on when I turned my head away from her earlier.

``Nah, I don't really like pubs,'' I said, realising in vain that my colleagues had completely ditched me when they started playing drinking games with each other (and the birthday boy of course) on the other end of the table, leaving me more or less alone on the opposite end. ``I'm only here because we're celebrating my colleague's birthday.''

``Mmm, I see,'' she replied, her eyes twinkling rather unexpectedly. She took another sip of her martini and I felt the flush again. There was just something about her that I couldn't quite place. I swallowed, hard, trying not to think about anything else.

``So, what's your name?'' I asked, trying to break the awkward moment.

``My, my, aren't you a fast one,'' she replied, winking. ``You can call me Sally.''

``I'm Tom,'' I replied.

``Hi Tom, nice to meet you,'' Sally said as she extended her other hand towards me. Bashfully, I took her hand and shook it. For the rest of the night, we were basically talking with each other almost exclusively, and it was only when the bartender came over to inform us that the pub was closing for the night that we realised the night was over. For some reason, my colleagues had left me behind; perhaps they saw that I was having a rather interesting conversation with a cute girl and decided to just let me be.

``Tom,'' Sally said as we both stepped out of the pub and into the cool night, ``will you send me home? I think I might be a bit drunk.''

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.

Arthur

Arthur stood there, his eyes scanning the depths of the dark forest that surrounds him, his hand holding on to his long sword, at ready. It was a duel of some sort, most definitely, but what he wasn't counting on was the general enveloping darkness that the forest provided.

``Too quiet,'' he thought to himself as he tried to figure out where his adversary might be. ``This is just too quiet -- there is no forest that is this quiet. Not by a far degree. Something is amiss.''

Arthur gribbed the hilt of his weapon and took a tentative step forward. Almost immediately, he could feel the rush of wind blowing towards him. Reacting instinctively, Arthur slashed upwards with his long sword as quickly as he could.

A shriek echoed through the forest. When his senses came back, Arthur could see no evidence of what he might have just sliced at -- there was just nothing visible, except for some dark liquid at the edge of his blade.

``Come out you fool! I know you're hurt and you're somewhere! I can sense you!''

The dark forest kept its silence. Arthur took another step forward. Nothing. He took another. At this point, his long sword started to glow in an uncanny yellow light. Only at one other time did it happen, and during that time, it was said that massive destruction had occurred all throughout Kindarvin.

Arthur heard of the legends, and suddenly he understood everything. That was no ordinary long sword he was wielding, in spite of what he was told by the blacksmith. It was the Sword of the Ancients, a legendary weapon that was said to possess the ability to cut through dimensional creatures. It was supposedly forged at a time where strange visages ebbed and flowed and could never be truly killed, till this sword came about. Once there were many, but as the millenia passed, only a scant few were left.

The yellow glow was stronger. Arthur, like all others who have heard the stories, knew that a dimensional creature was near. It was no longer a normal duel between him and another swordsman -- it was the battle of light and darkness.

With great trepidation, Arthur held his sword loosely in his hands, as he took small steps forwards. Without warning, a sudden swoop came towards him from the left side of his rear. Arthur spun around as quickly as he could and slashed the general direction with his sword.

A hideous cry of pure pain echoed throughout the forest as a burst of yellow light temporarily blinded Arthur. When his vision finally cleared, he saw that he had levelled a good amount of the forest around him, and that sunlight was shining on him from above.

Was it victory? He could not tell.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 09-Jun-2012 09:47:20)

Betrayer

``But it is not as though I loved him... you know full well that it is you I love, Tom!'' Sally said in a pleading voice.

``That is not the point!'' Tom replied, trying his best to control his anger. ``You slept with him, for crying out loud! What man would allow himself to be cuckolded like this? Am I an unsatisfying lover? Do I not fulfill your fantasies? Do I not give to your pandering?''

``Tom,'' Sally said, her eyes slowly tearing up. ``Tom, dear, I love you for all your attention and care. And yes, you do satisfy me. You do role-play the way I want. But sometimes, all I need is just a hard fucking without all that softness and concern---''

`` `Just a hard fucking'?'' Tom interjected, his voice raised in pure rage. `` `Just a hard fucking'? For crissakes, you could have told me! Why must you turn to some other... man for that? Am I not your damn husband? What are you trying to imply, that I'm not man enough to give my wife `just a hard fucking' when she wants it? What kind of sick twisted logic is that?''

``Tom...''

``Don't interrupt me! Woman... you have tried my patience. I know for sure that this is not the first time you have slept with him.''

``Tom! How... how did you know?'' Sally said, her voice turning quiet, her eyes large with fear and realisation.

``Because I am a fucking attentive husband and lover! All those excursions, high-tea moments, late nights out... I trusted you Sally, I trusted you. You said that you had to work---so I respected that. Excursions and high-teas to network---I respected and accepted that. Late nights in the office working---I believed that. But what do I get in return? Your increasingly distant attitude towards me, that sparkle in your eyes each time you told me that you were heading out, that seeming sullenness whenever I asked if you had time to go for a nice meal with me. A lover sees, a lover knows.''

``Oh Tom... I really didn't mean to---''

``Sally, just stop. I don't want to hear about it any more. I trusted you, and you betrayed my trust. Just... just get out of my house, now.''

``But Tom, where can I go?''

``Go find that man whom you look for `just a hard fucking'. I'm sure he cares enough about you to take you in.''

``Tom...''

``I'm sorry, I really am. I can't bring myself to look at the woman whom I wedded and trusted with all my life to betray all that said trust without any remorse. It's obvious where we stand now. Just go...'' Tom said as he pointed towards the door, looking away from Sally.

Realising that nothing she could do at that point would change anything, Sally tearfully headed towards the apartment's exit.

Beneath his hardened exterior, Tom cried. The woman of his dreams, his adoration, his love, was now a betrayer of all that he once cared about.

Cortical Soliloquy

Hello.

If you can see this, it means that they have managed to understand my EEG signals and interpret what I'm trying to say.

No, I'm not dead yet; I'm most definitely not lying somewhere in a vegetative state.

That would imply I had a body to lie about in.

All I am now is an eye and a brain.

Seems like that's all they could save. For now.

You would think that at this time and age, they would have perfected this.

Well it is sort of perfect, just not perfect enough.

Still took them this long to figure out what I'm thinking.

Obviously they don't know how to talk to me yet.

But I can sort of read lips, only if they are speaking English.

Sometimes I wonder why I thought this was a good idea.

I know, intellectual and all, but I need my body damn it!

Kinda funny just being... here and thinking... and nothing else.

I can't even scratch my nose, which is itching like mad.

Could have sworn that my legs were numb, but it's not really possible. I don't have a body now!

So this is how being bedridden feels like; except I'm missing my damn body.

If not for this eye, I doubt I can stay awake. Hard to think when I can't see anything.

That silence is deafening. Weird to not hear a thing, not even that tinnitus thing.

I don't know how long I have been here, days? Months? Years?

I can't really sleep unless the lights are completely turned off, which they have not done so in a while. Strangely enough, I don't get headaches, not because I don't really have a head, but... I don't know.

I'm not a neurosurgeon after all.

Hm, the lights are flickering. That does not seem right.

Damn it! They are gone! Did they switch it off?

Something's not right, I can't see anymore!

What is going on now?

Help! Help! Help!

Stupid. How can they hear me?

Maybe the circulatory system is dead. Power failure?

I wonder how long more before I slip into an unconsciousness?

Damn scientists...

The Device: Part I

``No way!'' Sally said as Tom told her about his discovery yet again. ``I don't believe that there is such a device in the world!''

``It's true!'' Tom said for the umpteenth time. ``It does exist and is sitting right under our noses!''

``Show me then!''

``If that is all it takes to satisfy you, then okay, let me take you there.''

Sally was a little stunned---that was hardly the reply that she was expecting. Clearly if Tom was actually bluffing, he was really not about to just give up the ghost like that. Still, Tom was making some rather extraordinary claims, and extraordinary claims definitely required extraordinary proof. Besides, Sally was curious to whether Tom was pulling her leg or not.

Tom and Sally had known each other for years, since college days, in fact. Tom did his major in anthropology, while Sally was an engineering student. While both of them were in diverse fields, a one-time romance between them cemented the friendship that was to last long into their professional lives. Recently though, it seemed that Tom was studying various pseudo-mechanical artefacts, and had, on occasion, ask for Sally's professional advice to how and what the devices might be for. For the most part, the things that Tom discovered were easily understood by Sally, since they were often some ancient clockwork designed to simplify certain types of computations. But this time round, Tom was suggesting something altogether different, something that was a little out there even for Sally to accept as an engineer.

``So, how are we going there?'' Sally asked.

``Well,'' Tom began, ``I will drive us to the site. It is not exactly a dig site, but the various access panels and such of the device are well camouflaged that the whole structure sits in full view of the general public, who have no idea what the implications of such a device are.''

``Hold on a minute,'' Sally said, her keen mind latching on to something that sounded crucial. ``You are telling me this thing is sitting in full view of everyone and that people actually frequent it?''

``Uh huh...''

``That makes it even more impossible to believe!'' Sally said, her skepticism out in full force. ``I sure hope you have solid proof about what you have been claiming.''

``Rest assured, I do,'' Tom said with an air of confidence.

`Tom, Tom, Tom,' Sally thought to herself as she followed him to his car. `Why do you always look so sexy when you are assertive of yourself? Why did we break up at all...?'

------

``So,'' Sally said as she fastened her seat belt in Tom's car, ``are you going to tell me the location or are you just going to make it a surprise?''

``Well,'' Tome said as he adjusted his rear mirror, ``I'll tell you the location, no need to bring in the snark. It's on top of that hill-park near the bird park tourist attraction.''

``No way,'' Sally said as she recalled the location that Tom pinpointed. ``That place is a public park for crying out loud---I'm pretty sure the national park authorities would know of something like this. They have been administering the location for years now.''

Tom gave a grin as he eased the car out of its parking lot carefully.

``I don't know if they know, but the study of the historical relevance of the hill-park location was commissioned by the national parks authority. I found it kind of weird for such a study to be commissioned, considering the fact that it was done after the site had been developed into a public park, and not before. That would probably have destroyed many markers and artefacts that would have made the place historically significant,'' Tom replied as he drove his hatchback out of the basement car park.

Sally sat there quietly, taking in Tom's words and weighing them as she looked at the passing scenery.

``Sounds a little sketchy to me,'' she said finally as Tom made a turn out into a slip road.

``Yeah,'' Tom replied. ``I'm hoping that you might have a better explanation for what I found; that's why I looked you up on this one.''

Sally nodded and looked out of the window in silence.

Outside, passing cars and roadside trees flashed past in a blur as Tom accelerated towards their destination. The silence between them was simultaneously comforting and wounding, comforting because they each had space to think their own private thoughts, wounding because it would keep reminding them ever so subtly why they divorced in the first place.

A few more turns later, Tom finally broke the silence.

``We're nearly there.''

Ahead was the bird park, and to the left was a long inclined road that flanked the little hill. Tom downshifted his gear to the second and turned onto the inclined road. The engine purred softly as the tachometer edged past the two thousand mark.

The inclined road they were on wasn't too steep, but it was steep enough to have its presence felt. Sally could feel her back pressing into the back rest of the seat sa gravity did its job. Tom grinned to himself---Sally wasn't one who liked going up hills in cars, since her back wasn't really comfortable with all the compressive forces on it. In fact, when they were still living together a long time ago, she always slept prone, which became a little awkward when they tried to make love, since he liked being the top and... Tom shook his head. Now wasn't the time to think of this.

As the inclination of the road went up, Tom carefully slipped the hatchback down to the first gear. It was the final part of the entry anyway, and it was a little steep even for a slope. With a louder purr, the tiny engine revved and carried the car over the speed bump that sat at the top of the climb.

``Ow,'' Sally said. ``Stupid bumps.''

``Aand, we are here,'' Tom said as he upshifted his car to the second gear. ``Let me park this first and we can go up and have a look at the device.''

Sally nodded nonchalantly, her mind obviously elsewhere. She had reclined the seat and was sitting upright so as to ease the compression of the back rest on her back. That was something that she did very often, and Tom knew that, so he did not kick up any fuss.

------

Tom and Sally stepped out of the car and walked in front of it.

``So, where's the device?''

``You are staring at it.''

``Huh?'' Sally looked about confusedly. ``I don't get it.''

``What do you see?''

``Some rock garden, and the observation tower.''

``Uh huh.''

``You don't mean---''

``Yes, the observation tower. That's the device.''

There was something strange about what Tom just said, and suddenly it clicked in her head.

``Wait, the observation tower is the device? It is not the place where the device is stored?''

``Nope,'' Tom shook his head as he repeated his words carefully. ``The observation tower is the device itself.''

Sally looked skeptical once more.

``Okay, that's not funny. Show me the proof that makes you claim that the observation tower is the device and that it does what you had claimed it did.''

``In due time,'' Tom replied. ``But first, let me get the key.''

``Wait, key? What key?''

``The key that the national parks authority gave us when they commissioned the study.''

Sally fumed slightly.

``You are telling me the the national parks authority gave you a damn key to the observation tower for the study and that they have no idea that it was a device for...''

``That's right. It was a key that they found near the observation tower when they took over the location to develop into a public park. They didn't know what to do with it, since there didn't seem to be any lock that the key would fit in the general location.''

``The fact that there was an observation tower already existed before they developed the place into a park did not faze them at all?'' Sally was sounding more incredulous by the minute. ``I'm not buying this; too fishy.''

``Well,'' Tom explained as the both of them walked towards the observation tower's entrance. ``It wasn't exactly the observation tower in the form that we see today that was there---it was just some dilapidated looking cylindrical structure. The national parks authority didn't want to tear the existing structure down to rebuild, so they just did some renovations on it and integrated it into the park's design as an observation deck of sorts. It fit well into the whole theme of the park though, since it is on a hill and all.''

Sally shrugged. The story that Tom was telling seemed to be getting a little out of hand by now.

(Store continues here.)

My Eyes: Part II

(Story begins here.)

Shumei led the way as I followed her groggily, as though my head were weighed down by something that I couldn't really describe. There was just something amiss that I could feel but was unable to pinpoint exactly---then it suddenly occurred to me---Shumei was reacting rather strangely. There was something odd about her demeanour, and that she had to run an errand with me in tow. Her reply when I asked where we were heading was surprisingly muted, as though she were trying to hide something. Perhaps all these hallucinations that I have been seeing are related to her errands.

We rounded the corner and found ourselves on a quieter side of Katong Shopping Centre, the kind of quiet place where most people would pass by without a second glance; that was how off-the-road it was. The off-shoot corridor felt a little dimmer than most places, even though I was sure that the lighting system in shopping centres were mostly consistent since they are all installed by the same contractors at construction time. Yet the corridor did have that darkened feeling about it. Unconsciously, I blinked my eyes and what I saw confused me further.

Where we were standing, outside of the corridor, the mall had that same husked feeling that I got when I first realised that I had entered the mall. But within the corridor itself, instead of the dark and quiet husk, the entire corridor was painted in hellish colours of red all over, with swirling maroon clouds emanating from one particular shop door, with the rest seemingly unlit and passive looking. The redness seemed to be concentrated most at that one particular door, and as the distance from it increased, the hellish red seemed to give way to the dull darkness that made up the rest of the mall. Horrified at what I saw, I blinked my eyes once more, and everything seemingly went back to normal.

``Junhao?''

``Yeah,'' I replied as reassuringly as I could. ``I'm fine. Maybe I'm just too tired and need some rest.''

``Maybe...''

``Will you be taking long?''

``Hmm... not too sure. Anyway, let's go to the place together,'' Shumei said as she led the way again.

Out of curiousity, I asked her which shop we were heading to. What she pointed to me startled me a little.

It was the same door that I saw the red light emanating in that moment of strangeness!

Trying hard to hide away my discomfort, I followed Shumei as she led the both of us towards the shop.

The door gave a little creak as Shumei twisted the handle and opened it. I could feel a sudden coldness that was emanating throughout my body, as though someone has suddenly decided to turn up the power of the air conditioner, with the only difference that this time, the ``air conditioner'' that was powered up higher was within my body itself. I shivered for a slight moment before shrugging it off. Couldn't really bring myself to look like a wuss in front of Shumei; my pride just wouldn't stand it.

Shumei had already stepped through the door of the shop at that point, and I followed suit. The interior of the shop was an oddly dim location, with inexplicable sources of ambient light that gave the room with enough illumination to allow one to manoeuvre through it without tripping over anything. Apart from the general darkness of the shop, there was a general orderliness within that made it look just like any other shop that was in the shopping centre---there was a counter that stretched from the left side of the door all the way to the back, where columns of cabinets dominated. While on the outward glance the shop looked ordinary save for the low lighting, there was still something that was odd about it. Then it hit me.

There was no clue what the shop was selling. It was true---the counter was a solid mass of grey, while the cabinets lining the back had no windows to show what they were holding. All in all, a very strange place indeed.

I was tempted to ask Shumei if she had make a mistake, but she had already gone towards the rear of the shop already. As if on cue, a person stepped out from behind a hidden curtain at the rear and approached Shumei with a grin in his face. I couldn't bear to stand at the entrance of the shop looking like an idiot, so I walked into the shop tentatively, waiting and observing what was going on.

``Hi Uncle San!'' Shumei said to the newcomer on the scene, ``I'm here with Junhao.''

``Eh heheheheh,'' Uncle San started, ``so you came with Junhao?''

``Mhm.''

``Veerry good, veerry good,'' Uncle San continued, his voice creaking and screeching at the same time. I shuddered a little when he started to speak.

``Hold on a minute Shumei,'' I said, finally finding my voice. ``I thought you were supposed to be doing some errand?''

``I am,'' Shumei said as she turned around to face me.

``Then what has this got to do with me being here or not?''

``Don't you understand?'' Shumei replied, with a face of forlornness. ``My errand is to take you here.''

``What?!'' I ejaculated. ``What is this place? Why did you have to take me here? Who is this `Uncle San'? Answer me Shumei, answer me! Just what the hell is going on?''

Shumei giggled in a most disturbing way and stepped aside to give Uncle San a better view of me.

``Ah!'' Uncle San said, seemingly oblivious to my outburst, ``you have indeed brought Junhao here.''

I swore under my breath. Just what was going on in this place?

(Story continues here.)

Start of the End of Marriage

``April showers bring May flowers,'' or so the conventional wisdom says. But at this point at this place, that's the last thing that I really gave a damn about. I just sat there at the covered bus stop, as the torrential downpour continued its relentless charge against the dryness of the ground.

That feeling of the rain striking the ground with great force having fallen over a thousand feet from the sky was one that I could really identify strongly with, considering what I had just been through.

I sat there, thinking to myself about what had transpired a little earlier.

------

``No Tom! You are not going anywhere! I forbid it!''

``Who the hell do you think you are, my mother?''

``When you married me that day two years ago, I've already told you that I wanted you beside me always!''

``Sure! But this is ridiculous! Why must I be chained perpetually to you and be unable to do things that I want? It's not as though I'm having a mistress or something...''

``Ah ha! You've finally admitted to having a mistress now, mister!''

``What? Look, you are talking nonsense---since when did I say that I had a mistress outside?''

``Denying it just makes it all the more suspicious!''

``I am not fucking denying anything!''

``Then you admit to having a mistress outside!''

``What the... you are going irrational, woman...''

``Irrational?'' Susan repeated, her eyes turning into a fiery red. `Uh oh,' I thought to myself, `this is going to be bad.'

``Me, irrational? Marrying you was an irrational mistake then? Living with you is irrational too, right? Caring about you, well that's also irrational right?''

``I don't mean it that way...''

``Oh yes you do! First you have a mistress outside, and now you are calling ME irrational? What nerves you have!''

I sighed. As predicted, what could have been a simple conversation has escalated into a full-blown argument that threatened the peace of all withing a five-hundred metre radius. Once she started on her fugue, it would be impossible to sway her back to whatever the topic was at hand, whether or not she was actually making sense. I braced myself for the impact.

``I am not calling you irrational... can you please calm the fuck down?''

``Me? Calm down? Are you saying that I'm NOT CALM?''

``THAT'S IT!'' I bellowed, unable to contain my chagrin any longer. ``You have crossed the line. I'm not going to talk to you for now; you are obviously not in the right state for a proper conversation...''

``Yes I am!''

``DON'T INTERRUPT ME!'' I lashed out again. There was a stunned silence from Susan---she probably wasn't expecting me to do this. I wasn't one who would easily raise my voice, but whenever I did, it always produced the same effect that Susan is experiencing right now.

``I'm going to step out right now so that we both can calm down and talk things over. And no, I do not approve of you being the sole dictator of my life. We are married for goodness sake, and that is not some slave-master relationship.'' I took a deep breath and continued, ``I will go out now, and you will not stop me.''

I picked up my satchel from the couch that I stood from and exited through the main door. All these while, Susan just stood there in stunned silence.

------

The rain pelted down intensely as I tucked up my legs to avoid the water that was fast flowing into the drainage behind. I had gone for the event that triggered the whole brouhaha in the first place, and at its conclusion, I have been sitting at this bus stop, just to think and wait, to wait and think. The rain came quickly of course, which explained why I was still at the bus stop---in my haste, I hadn't put an umbrella into my satchel, and now, just three hundred metres away from my apartment, I have to wait out the rain. I didn't really want to go back all drenched (and in a foul mood) and get involved in yet another fight.

`Divorce.'

I blinked my eyes, suddenly even more aware of the surroundings than before. Was it something that I had heard?

`Divorce.'

There it was again! I was more certain that I had heard something this time. But there was no one else in the bus stop---just what was it that is whispering words to me?

`Your unconscious.'

I sat upright, startled at the answer. That an answer was returned made me most confused, almost as though some hidden part of me was trying to break through and talk to me.

I listened harder, but all I could hear was the ambient noise from the heavy rain. There was little else in terms of the words.

But whatever it was, it seemed to make some sense though; divorce was a possibility that I have not considered. True, it was only two years of marriage, but already there were strong irreconciliable reasons why we just couldn't go on. I knew early on in my relationship with Susan that she had a possessive streak, but it was only after we got married that the true extent of the possession was. It had gotten to the point that I would be unable to meet up with my friends after work, be they male or female. And even when I was at work, she would call in once every couple of hours to check in on me. For a while it was the envy of my colleagues, since they thought it was sweet of her to talk to me throughout the day. But as time went by, it was clear that even my colleagues were thinking that it was a little too excessive, the way she was calling.

Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was shame, but I put up for two years. Or maybe it was love---I'm sure I loved her at some point in time---but as the possessive streak continued, that love probably evaporated itself ever so slowly and consistently that today, as I sat there under the bus stop sheltered somewhat from the rain, I suddenly discovered that I did not really like her that much any more; she was the very epitome of what was making my life hell.

I suppose a divorce would be the best course of action. But how do I broach this topic, that will be something to think about.