The Long Road
My name is Mac.
I remember running the first few miles of my life like a seasoned marathon runner, only slowing down to hydrate myself. Running alongside me was inevitably, time, who had bronzed legs of steel, which did not buckle under any terrain and weather conditions.
There were instances that I overtook time, by half a kilometre or so, but ultimately, I lost the battle and he enveloped me, sucking my youth, but gave me something I never bargained for.
Before I had contracted cancer, I had been a fresh, astute, macho policeman who stood proud in his crisp uniform, pledging to protect the world from everything. However, after a few years in the job, I had seen all the evils I wanted to see. It was devastating; to see youthful teenagers wasting their life on petty crimes, and grown-up, mature men doing things that defied my moral code of conduct. I flushed my troubles away with a few jugs of beer and tendrils of smoke.
My youth crept away from me silently, leaving traces of clues: silvery hair amongst the chestnut and wrinkled skin. Then, when I was forty-five, I began having the symptoms. While chasing thieves, I had to stop to take many a breather. There was even this night that I was reduced to coughing up blood in the toilet.
When the symptoms persisted, Maura, my wife, had persuaded me to go to the doctor. I had gone, obligingly. That was when my nightmare began.
The doctor was baffled by my condition and referred me to the specialist at the hospital. His diagnosis - I had small-cell lung cancer, and my chest x-ray and biopsy confirmed it. Apparently, my smoking habits had caused it.
So I reluctantly stripped off my policeman suit, my rusty badge, as well as a dozen police attack equipment, and stepped into a lime green patient’s attire, cuffed on a thin paper identification tag, and booked a bed. As I lay on the duvets, I would ponder about the uncertainties of the future, like would I live to tell the tale, or would I die before I could live my life to the fullest?
And whilst I lay there, time inexorably caught up with me. My life came to an almost standstill. My life journey had reached a path with mountainous slope and treacherous edges, and I know I just might fall before I had reached the end.
The end, where there would be a vermillion ribbon, and supporters and old friends greeting and meeting me, and when I crossed that finishing line, I would disappear into a blinding light, to be whisked away to another world. Then, I would think of Maura and my three kids, their face filled of lines etched with worry, and I would come back to reality. I had to survive this cancer.
As time slipped away unconsciously, I began to become more and more dependant on the nurses. The unspoken “Florence Nightingales,” facilitating me in the most personal things, without the slightest tinge of embarrassment.
Whenever Maura brought the kids, I would see them as a reflection of my childhood. And oh, how nice it would be to smell the lovely flowers, and to taste the aromatic flavour of food and letting it slide down my throat effortlessly. How nice it would be to feel hair atop my bald head!
Maura, after six months of harsh battle with my cancer had elapsed, was now an emaciated, weary old lady. She gave me a strained smile, and squeezed my feeble hand. “You’re going to make it through,” she whispered. I could hear choked tears in her throat, and her eyes reflected light. She turned away, then bent over and kissed my bony cheek and left. I could hear her wailing along the corridor. I wanted to be devoid of feeling, but I felt a sense of grief riddling me.
I was such a burden to the family, spending off our hard-earned savings on medical bills. I agonisingly lifted my head, and saw the intravenous solutions being dripped into my veins via a tube. There was also the oxygen mask. Was I really willing to sacrifice myself for my family’s future? I did not know yet.
Barbara, one of my nurses, came in to check on me. A certain sense of guilt engulfed me, and when she stooped down for a quick equipment check, I wheezed into her ear, “Mercy…for God’s sake, please just let me go.”
She nonchalantly gave me a quick glance, and replied, “No can do. I got a job to do here.”
Her hands flew through the various equipment, but rested on the oxygen tube. Was she going to pull it? Was she going euthanise me? I braced myself. Alas, she tightened the tube to the apparatus, and paced out. I was dismayed.
The first time I had ceased to breathe, I saw myself rounding a perilous bend. I saw the finishing line, looming close ahead. Then, some force pulled me back and I found myself back on Earth. The nurse-in-charge had pressed the “code blue” button and a professional group of doctors and technicians had resuscitated me. I wished they would just let me slip away, into oblivion.
Yet, after fifty-two times of resuscitation, I gave up. No amount of words could describe my suffering, and no amount of painkillers could ease it. My immobility only caused more discomfort. I was an empty shell, just surviving on pounds of medical equipment. Life was meaningless; what was the point of surviving so long when you are eventually going to die? I was an albatross around my family’s neck, and a disappointment to myself.
A calm morning, I had my eyes shut tight, fervently hoping to slip into a coma. Then, I heard a band of resonating footsteps. Is it death, here to haul me off? I struggled to open my eyes, and moaned as I saw Barbara’s familiar silhouette.
“Pain…no more…Barbara…do something…God, let me go.”
My tears grouped in my eyes and a thin line of tears rolled down my sunken cheek. Perhaps my pleading eyes must have struck a chord within her, for she hesitated before injecting my pain medication.
“I stop,” she told me.
And I took her word for it. I closed my eyes and saw the crossing line. Both sides of my lane where full of enthusiastic supporters, and they were waving colourful banners. It was a sight to behold. I muttered thanks to Barbara, and crossed the finishing line.
The long road ends here.
Mid-Term Break
My father was a reserved person. He never let out any emotions, much rather bottling them inside him. In Physics we learned about pressure. Extreme high pressure could cause things to explode. Father exploded with such an earthly tremor upon receiving the big blow, crying instead of bottling up the tears in his typical fashion. Mother appeared stronger with anger in her stride, opting to squeeze and unsqueeze her hands with period sighs.
When I had arrived home in Jim Evans’ car, Father, a lonesome figure was hunched on the porch. Father raised his head, saw me, and continued to bury his head in his hands crying soundlessly with grief. His eyes were red and puffy from hours of unremitted crying. I bowed my head as a sign of respect, while also not wanting to witness Father’s behaviour.
Jim Evans pushed open our front door with his burly hand. “It was a hard blow,” he managed to whisper, and led me into the main hall. Instead of the atmosphere of love and coziness, it became a place where unknown relatives had gathered, lingering with the bitter taste of death. In a corner of the room however, Nadine was gurgling, obviously a contented baby. Mr Conners stood up unsteadily upon my arrival and greeted me with a nod and a barely palpable wave of his bony hand.
“Sorry for the trouble, lad,” he murmured and patted me on the back, before bidding Mother goodbye and exiting with his daughter.
Everyone was dressed in monochrome, dulled colours. For a second I felt that I had stepped into the realm of the dead. I stood out of the muted background, with my loud school blazer. I hunched my shoulders and stuffed my hands into my pockets, trying to blend in.
“The eldest…”
“Very pitiful…horrible affair…”
Muffled whispers were heard from everywhere. I looked down onto the floor, dirty and grim with oil and grime. Mother held my hand, and made heart-rending coughing sounds. Her hands were cold in mine, still wet with sweat. She led me to the sofa, a brilliant chartreuse hue but draped with black cloth. The ambulance arrived at ten to drop off Don, who was wrapped in a single white cloth.
The following morning I visited him in his cream coffin, and I tried to remember what he was like six weeks ago, when I last had the chance to see him then. He was certainly taller than I had remembered, but now drained of colour completely. Even those scarlet rosy cheeks were now the same colour as the rest of his face. Candles surrounding him softened the solemn expression on his cherubic face, and his tiny body was wrapped in a subdued piece of silk.
Only a coral bruise blemished his skin. The policeman came and told us everything. His sharing seemed personal & real. I believed the man, for he was the perpetrator.
“I wasn’t doing anything with my car and he ran in front of the road and how could I stop that poor little thing and my bumper knocked him easily. My sincere apologies Mr and Mrs Jen. I didn’t want this to happen. My deepest condolences. I really didn’t want any of this.”
And to think Popeye was only four.
(note: the name Popeye was very random heehe ><)
The Little Indian Girl
A wet stickiness clung to the air, moistening and humidifying it so; for not long, Ramita was ripe with sweat. Little muddy splotches presented themselves on the potholed road and in the grubby, fuscous-drab rice-paddies. More traces of the morning’s shower were present, but then they made way for the sun and evaporated away. A prim little birdhouse sat on the road, full of clucking and quacking of all sorts. Pretty magnolias were abundant on Nana’s head, draped over with a lilac sari as she came around the bend.
“Nana, Nana! Look what I found! A beetle with such a pree-tty colour!” Ramita raised her hand to reveal a tiny beetle with a rainbow coat of patina.
Nana jumped back, horrified. “You insolent little girl!” Nana said and tugged at Ramita’s hand. “How many times have I told you not to touch anything!” Nana pumped the metallic tap to let a blast of cold water flow over Ramita’s hand.
“But Nana…”
“No is no. I shall not tolerate this nonsense. If Ma’am or Sir sees you like this, my life is done!” Nana reprimanded. Nana fingered Ramita’s limp, murky clothes and dragged her indoors. Under the concealment of the dried banana leaves did Nana sigh and glare at Ramita.
“Now, here we are not seen, so I say you must bathe. Bathe before Ma’am comes back from her long journey!”
Nana turned around and squatted. She lifted a couple of lids and opened a few drawers, before giving Ramita a clean, unused bar of soap. It was smooth and foamy, simply the absolute epitome of elegance in the little rectangular box of it. Ramita gasped.
“Okay now shoo, shoo, shoo! Go and get bathing! You must look your best; smell your best when Ma’am arrives.”
Ramita did not need another reason to bathe. With caution, she set foot on the road again. With even more caution, she elevated the rutted steps. However, in her blind spot was there a shiny puddle.
Woops! Ramita tripped without eloquence. The prim bar of soap and its lovely container fell backwards, into the mud. Ramita steadied herself with the help of the railings, but her eyes watered at the sight of the dirtied box. She sprinted down and picked it up, cradling it in her tiny hands.
Never mind, she thought optimistically. I’ll just wipe away the mud and I can use it. She swiped of the excess mud and leapt off. She took a long bath, soaking in the glamour of using such a forbidden item; so prized was its velvety surface, so juicy was it when put in the tub! Ramita lathered and lathered for a long time, until Nana came banging at the door.
“Quick Ramita. Or else if Ma’am comes home…,” Nana shuddered. “Hurry up Ramita!” She banged the door even harder, making its rusty hinges seem like they were going to break.
Ramita knew better. With the red pail, she scooped a lukewarm portion of water from a huge blue bucket and splashed it over herself. She then threw the red pail into the bucket of water. She then hastily dried her body with a sticky towel and put on a clean Lengha, before emerging out of the door, sweet-smelling and absolutely adorable.
Nana ushered Ramita back into the kampong, and applied coconut oil onto Ramita’s hair. Ramita fidgeted in her chair and Nana slapped her hand.
“Oww.”
Then, Nana tied Ramita’s hair into two tight braids that bobbed about while she ran. She also stuck a fragrant jasmine at the top of Ramita’s head. Finally, using black ointment, Nana dotted a bindi on Ramita’s forehead, to ward off evil spirits.
“Now you are done!” exclaimed Nana euphorically.
Ramita swirled around to face the mirror, and was greeted by the ravishing reflection of herself.
False Pride
Po Ma sat cross-legged on the rattan mat, toes wiggling gleefully. She heard the kettle whistle a fine tune, and proceeded to force herself up with difficultly. The doctor had diagnosed her with rheumatism last month and advised her to sleep and rest well; but how could she? Her daughter, Guek Yin was coming over to discuss the wedding technicalities with her. Guek Yin had wanted yellow chrysanthemums adorning the entrance and walkway, all around the church! But Po Ma only shook her head firmly. “No, no chrysanthemums. Chrysanthemum represents death. Cannot.” And with that swift disapproval, her filial daughter never mentioned it again.
Po Ma emptied the boiling water into a claypot, and proceeded to toss assorted herbs in, before lidding it. She switched on the gas stove and lit a steady blue flame with the lighter, adjusted it to a lower temperature, before hobbling back onto the rattan mat. The weather nowadays was sweltering, and she had stuck on newspapers to the window grilles, in hope to prevent heat from entering. But now it was too stuffy.
She sighed exasperatedly and removed them with such sloth reluctance. She flipped through them with nonchalance, for she had read this old news six times over again since last week when she picked it up. The opposite page of the respectable Chinese newspaper featured a page-long slimming advertisement. At the side was a lean girl in skimpy clothing.
“Che.”
Po Ma clucked her tongue with fierce condemnation. In the golden days, women were treasured for their wealth of flab, chubby thighs, cheeks and all. Now? Models were as thin as the bamboos she used to swing around as a girl. Furthermore, some young, pretty girls even went to ‘rebond’ their hair! With the help of a ton of machinery, their luscious, Asian hair became permanently straightened. It was terrible! Where was the respect of your ancestors? They had passed down lustre ebony hair from generation to generation, only to be ruined by the current generation. Where was the love for your our body and looks?
Po Ma sat, wondering if ‘rebonding’ damaged the brain. With the straightening of one’s hair, it also seemed to sap away one’s love and regard for the Chinese culture. It seemed to suddenly create and emphasise their obvious preference for Western morals compared to traditional Chinese ones. The adolescents of Singapore suddenly seemed to forget the pure, naturalness of stark Asian beauty. To disregard the skin they were born in! It made Po Ma sick inside out to think of such dreadful ideas. How utterly disgusting!
Now, her Guek Yin could teach them something! Po Ma suddenly beamed with radiance. Her beautiful daughter would never, ever throw away her traditional Chinese roots for Western ones she never had any connection with. Guek Yin had inherited her Mother’s fondness of the Chinese ‘Zen’ interior design concept, while everyone was on a goose chase to upgrade their houses into contemporary-styled ones. Guek Yin had also memorized, with eager interest, the ‘San Zi Jing’, the Three-Character Classic, since a tender age. It is, as what one may say, what the Bible is to a Catholic, and what the Qur’an is to a Muslim. She had bragged about her daughter to the gossip-hungry Aunties at the Kopitiam (coffee shop).
Abruptly, Po Ma remembered about her tonic soup and heaved herself up to check on it. Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Guek Yin! Deng Yi Xia Zhi*!”
Po Ma limped to the door and unlocked it. She swung open the metal grille, only to see Guek Yin’s beautiful, unperturbed face framed with long strands of completely straight hair.
* Wait a moment!
(note: no offence to anyone with rebonded hair. It was not meant to be directed at anyone :D)
Don't forget to comment!!!! Aligato gozaimasu!!!!!!!! xD
x]
x]]]
Check this website (yup i know its wiki again.):
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gelatin_dessert
and thou has a holded belief that jelly is made up of mashed-up BONES and FAT.
Thou shall now quote from that wiki website
'Gelatin consists of partially hydrolyzed collagen, a protein which is highly abundant in some animal tissues such as bone and skin.'
So technically speaking jelly IS made up of BONES etc.
Or maybe its made up of collagen from plant sources??
Or from other sources??
(though i highly doubt so)
Hmmmm
but i hope that everyone would think twice about eating the wobbly stuff.
Demi Lovato
This Is Me
lyrics
I've always been the kind of girl
That hid my face
So afraid to tell the world
What I've got to say
But I had this dream
Bright inside of me
I'm going to let it show
It's time
To let you know
To let you know
This is the real, this is me
I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now
Gonna let the light
Shine on me
Now I've found
Who I am
There's no way to hold it in
No more hiding who I want to be
This is me
Do you know what it's like to feel so in the dark
To dream about a life where you're the shining star
Even though it seems
Like it's to far away
I have to believe in myself
It's the only way
This is the real, this is me
I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now
Gonna let the light
Shine on me
Now I've found
Who I am
There's no way to hold it in
No more hiding who I want to be
This is me
You're the voice I hear inside my head
The reason that I'm singing
I need to find you
I gotta find you
You're the missing piece I need
The song inside of me
I need to find you
I gotta find you
This is the real, this is me
I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now
Gonna let the light
Shine on me
Now I've found who I am
There's no way to hold it in
No more hiding who I want to be
This is me
You're the missing piece I need
The song inside of me
This is me
You're the voice I hear inside my head
The reason that I'm singing
Now I found who I am
There's no way to hold it in
No more hiding who I want to be
This is me
and
Jason Mraz - featuring Colbie Caillat
Lucky
Lyrics
Do you hear me,
I'm talking to you
Across the water across the deep blue ocean
Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying
Boy I hear you in my dreams
I feel your whisper across the sea
I keep you with me in my heart
You make it easier when life gets hard
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
Ooohh ooooh oooh oooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
They don't know how long it takes
Waiting for a love like this
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss
I'll wait for you I promise you, I will
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
Lucky we're in love every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday
And so I'm sailing through the sea
To an island where we'll meet
You'll hear the music fill the air
I'll put a flower in your hair
Though the breezes through trees
Move so pretty you're all I see
As the world keeps spinning round
You hold me right here right now
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
I'm lucky we're in love every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday
Ooohh ooooh oooh oooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
Ooooh ooooh oooh oooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
I think they're really nice songs :]
Sang with good vocals :]]
And also because Grace force me
So i am going to blog about my favourite foods
Yup.
Okay here goes!
Western
Ravioli
White Chocolate
Chocolate Mousse
Dark Chocolate
Creme Brulee
Spaghetti Bolognese
Basil sauce linguine
Rigatoni Carbonara
Sirloin Steak
Smoked Salmon with seasoned potatoes
Shepard's pie
Pan-fried Salmon
Quiche
Poached egg
Sauced ribs
lasagna
POTATO SOUP FROM TONY ROMAS!!!!
Pearl's sister and mother's potato salad!
Swensen's ice-cream earthquake!!!!
RATATOUILLE!!!
....
Chinese
Oyster omelette
Carrot cake
porridge specifically from Clementi (pardon the pun)
Din Tai Fung's xiao3 long2 bao1
Din Tai Fung's la1 mian4
my home-cooked cellophone noodles!!!
lian2 ou3 soup
Chicken riceeee
EGGPLANTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sweet and sour pork
chili stingray
sambal kang kong
chili crab
crab bee hoon
claypot riceee
beef hor funnn
abalone
char kway teow
...
then there's also SUSHI (pardon the pun)
and tempura udon
cheese dogs
cheese burger from IN and OUT
this funneh beef thing in some wrapped-up salad
durian!
"boston special" pizza from Rocky's Pizza!!!!
roti prata with CURRY!!
cheese WITH macaroni
my dad's spaghetti quiteNICEEEEEEEEE\
OraNgE bOWl!!!
...
oKAY THAT all I CAN THINK OF
hAPPY gRACE!!
pLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU THINK OF ANYMORE WORTH MENTIONING DELICACIES AND I SHALL ADD IN!!!
yAY!
cAUSE I HAVE A BIT OF BRAIN BLOCK?
bWAHAHAHAHA!!!
yUMyUM...>>>
But this shall be quick cause i desperately need to pack my room.
Really.
It's in such a bad condition that i have found er... should i say this? Rotting breakfast in my cupboard in one of my, er..., PINK bags. Tragic really.
But i do feel quite happy. For i found a really really really really long ant trail from my bedroom to the kitchen i found some little holes that the stupid ants travel by. Mere crevases in my house. And that is really bad since my house isn't exactly THAT old.
Okay side-tracking.
Anyway i devoted the whole of my afternoon squishing them.
Very satisfying. I shall tell you why, by reciting the history of ants in my house. The first year we had moved in it was still okay. But then during my PSLE year last year it started making long ant trails, from say, the master bedroom to my room then into the study room and through a hole between the window (that stretches from the top of the ceiling all the way to the bottom of the floor)(like a glass wall really) and the concrete wall that it is joint to. The ants then travel across the balcony and back into the house, and travels under the sofa and along the wall and into the kitchen and into the bomb shelter (??)and into the common toilet then i'm not very sure. (I know this is a fugly description...) And half of the time i was killing ants instead of studying. Then the ants decided to lie-low for a while during the December hols and after CNY.
And guess what? They're back!
Argh. Too lazy to kill them actually.
No seriously.
Am getting old.
I've got books strewn all over my bed (yay)
and clothes on the floor and hangers (that are hanging on my bed)
and CHINESE newspapers on my desk (from last-minute working on yue4 du2 ji2 cheng2)
and coloured paper flying around. (wheeee....)
Okay i think i'd better continue packing yar, before i suffocate from the mess?)
yay.
niceeee (ahem ahem) pic of my messy room
btw this is a cute ant i found on the net. I personally would like to call it the thumb ant.
hahas.
not.
I do no like certain beany teachers.
They steal curtains
that is a real crime.
They also do not know anything about class participation.
Evil beany creature.
Hahaha
I feel a whole lot better.
:]
Okay so at present am still uber upset about all of my subjects,
namely,
CHINESE,literature,geography,science.
A lil' emo
But i tink even i know i can never BE emo for very long
thanks to crystal
CRYSTALLISATION!!!!
haha
tap the crystals dry between 2 pieces of filter paper!!!!
Oh thaaaannnnkkkssss crystal
Now i'm laughing AGAIN
I'm supposed to emo like Claudia
Hmph.
Oh and yup Fanny is VERYVERY scary...
I do not like lit lessons
especially Romeo and Juliet
when i get the chance to sing out of tune
say, "HOLY MACCARONI!!!"
And be abused by Fanny
Ouch
T.T
and Pheo sings VERYVERYVERY well.
Yay.yay.yay.
Okay so let me skip again
as i was saying
PPR is a very very scary thing
and i'd much rather see bean person's WONDERFUL clothes everyday
than get that low for my lit.
Or maybe not.
HMMMMMM.....
I don't know...
Nope i think i'd stick to getting low marks?
teehee i'm such a bad evil mean person.
And my clothes aren't any better...
And i think i have finally influenced Rosy to read Artemis Fowl
Yay today she was like, "Ha Artemis Fowl!"
And she was enthu-lly reading it
And i am happyyy!!
Hahahaha
Okay anyway again skipping
Here are some people i hate for being so smart:
Name Evil smart doing
-Grace Got 39/40 for both geog and history
Got 84% for d&t and BEAT MUAH!!!
And some more just can't remember... hmmm...
-Rachel Got A1 for English (GRRRRR>>>) the only one
And some more just can't remember... hmmm...
-Crystal Got a VERY high A2 74.9%
(awwww... don't cry 0.1% to A1)
And other evil smart stuff just can't remember...
Awww c'mon these pple have a lot of achievements!!!
-Pheodora ARGH!!!@#&$!!!!
31.5/40 for geog
36.5(??)/40 for history
50/60 for science??!??!
SO murderable
And some more of course
-Rosalinda ANOTHER ONE!
WAAAAHHHH
31.5/40 for geog
36.5(??)/40 for history
ALSO SO murderable
And some more of course
-Yi Chao 79% for Chinese?!?!!??!
And some more of course
-Xiao Ru 85++% for Chinese!?!?!??!??!?!?!!?
*FAINT*
And some more of course
-Olivia 20/25 for lit.
EVVVVIIILLL!!!!
And some more of course
Actually our entire class got a lotta evil smart pple. Sad. Anyway jiayous to these smart people hope you go STRETCH class!!! (without me? Sob) Haha. Yay i must be more negative and emo. And yar Crystal you sure spam a lot. Want to join the X.spamm.X religion??? Hahaha jkjk. Emo. Emo. Like Claudia.
oHOH AND HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY PEARL!!!
Vermilion is a lovely colour. It goes with Makred Sanders' skin tone. But what about a bucket of vermilion splashed on Sanders' skin? Her legs splayed in a grotesque manner, strangled professionally. It was a rather clean job. Only for the extra blood that was not from her. No fingerprints, footprints, scraps of clothing, not even a mere sign of direction.
Sanders was a haplessly lavish girl. She had on a silky cream cheongsam with floral patterns, now blemished with streaks of blood. It was of expensive make, with a high collar and exquisite buttons. Detail was beautifully rendered. It complemented her in more ways than one. It was a figure hugging piece, a second skin. Currently, it looked like it had survived the war. It contrasted the dusty grey concrete floor very artistically. I could not help but smile.
Her ebony hair was bunned neatly with two crimson Chinese chopsticks. On them were phoenix designs, with a touch of western. It was bejewelled with nuggets of crystals, deeply encrusted so only the tips were visible. I traced her chopsticks all the way to the root, and there was her hair scalp. There were some discernible signs of dandruff, quite alarming for an affluent, promising woman like herself.
Her face was wan; the natural colour for a corpse. Her face had only the slightest tint of its original flawless beige. Her eyelids were half-closed, with long, tapering lashes of a gorgeous hue. It was shimmery too. Her nose was a simple hook, and her sun-kissed lips had on a vinaceous dab of gloss.
I sit on an upturned crate adjacent to her, elbows propped up against my knees, and wonder about how she died. Was it cruel and ghastly? Did her insipid life flash before her? And most importantly, did she know the murderer? To a morbid girl like me, it was rather fascinating.
I twirl my hair expertly, and swing my legs awkwardly. I was undoutedly alone with a corpse. Oh no, not just any corpse. It someone I vaguely knew.
It was...
------------------------------------------
Okay people trust me I'm not so macabre to normally write this sort of story. In fact I'd freak even seeing a horror movie. But I dunno why but i wrote it. (Gen's gonna love it.) And the ending is up to your imagination.
The-freaked-out-by-her-own-imagination-girl,
Go-fish
Just keep swimming, swimming
P.S. Rachel, Happy? Teehee. Smilez. ^.^
MWAHAHAHA
Teehee
oyster talk there.
:]
OYSTERS rock!!!!!
like to cha zui..tat's me!
*Ahem*
Yes,
Good day to all the talking oysters and er... puking lamas (do refer to solo mag's tagboard?)
How do you do?
haha.
And Rachel don't kill me let me crap a little to garner inspiration about what to wrtie...
Okay shall fill curious people in about my very sadly boring life...
T.T
Summary of TERM 3
BWAHAHA
Shall bore people to DEATH!!!
Tuesday 24 june: St John Ambulance Brigade Day.
On my handbook i have a lovely drawing of Fanny in full-u.
BWAHAHAHA!!!!!
Sunday 29 june: Rosy's birthday!!!
Yay.yay.yay.
The BIG 13.
And i made a niceeeee card.
Flattering miself.
._.
Thursday 3 july: I drew dungos (i don't tink this is how it is spelt... hmm...)
And a illustration of du lao shi (don't ask)
Monday 7 july: Youth day!!!
No school!!
Thursday 17 july: Crystal gave me her blue marker!!!
Tytyty!!
Monday 21 july: Racial Harmony Day! lalala!
Crystal's birthday!!!!
The BIG 13!!!!!!
And i made a niceee card tooo
Tuesday 5 August: I drew a girl that Grace likes a lot?
O.o
Saturday 9 August: You know it.
(Hint: lOOk at the dATe O_O)
National DAY!!!!
Red and White
OOHOHOHOHLALA
Monday 11 August: My official emo-cum-sad day.
O.T
Friday 29 August: Last day of SCHooL!!!!
September hols...
Summary of TERM 4
You should be yawning by now
Or maybe even asleep liaoo...
Ohoh!!!
Wait!!!!
IMPORTANT DATE ANNOUNCEMENT DURING SEP HOLS...
Sunday 7 September: CAMP ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Haha!!!
crystal should faint right about now...
IN THE FACE OF MY LAMENESS
HAHA AM I EVIL OR WHAT??
Okayokay... TERM 4
Monday 8 september: International Literacy Day
Something else Ka Onn would appreciate!
Tuesday 16 september: International Day for the Preservation of the Ozone Layer
Oops.
I tink i on the air-con that day
Haha jkjk.
Friday 19 september: Study session for MATHs
Mie pearlie gracie claudie MTie er pearlie's CO friendie
Quite fun.
Heehee
Friday 26 september: Study session for SCIENCEs
at Rosy's house
Gosh her house is PREttY
Fascinating...
haha.
Crystal was freaky.
And it was FUN!
Wednesday 1 october: Okay you should know what day this is
it was a hol
didn't go school
come on you know.
Hari Raya Puasa-cum-Children's Day!!!!!!!!!!
Sigh.
Miss being a child.
Thursday 2 october: Forgot to wish Fanny and Grace an...
International Day of Non-violence!!!
Teeheehaa.
-.x
And a lOOk into the near future tells us...
Monday 6 october: Madam Pearlie's birthday!!!!!!!
Haha be prepared for the most shocking birthday pres!!!!
(Hint: I am not the only giver)
Okay that was a lame hint but
haha!!!
Feeling NUTTY!!!
Friday 10 october: Wish Claudia a
Happy World Mental Health Day!!!
Haha
ha.
A.A
Okay...
Shall post again some other time
Or maybe Never!!!
Haha
Been reduced to SpammING
XoX
I worship the X.SpAM.X religion
No!!!
jkjk!!!
Okay i should reeeaaaaalllllyyyy goooo...
BB!!!