Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Monday, December 17, 2007


The pages are now blank. Only the old writings are seen, slowly eroding to whiteness.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Syuib's Qalam: The end of our lands

The wind blows steadily at my robe. The cloth flaps following the motion of the air. Standing unmoved, I await patiently and stare straight ahead. I await outside the tent with Farouk and Jamal, for they stand guard for our safety. Farouk with his eyes on the tent and Jamal on the lookout. A bird screeches above us.

Guards at the tent stare back at us suspiciously, holding their spears close. though the desert wind blows strongly now, these guards move not a single muscle.

"Does it usually take this long?" asked I.

"You know it yourself poet that the message must be delivered in its original form. The Caliph will take as long as he wants." replied Jamal.

I half-smirk half-wince, also trying to withstand the heat and blinding light. An eagle flies overhead.

After a while the reciting voices die out and the Caliph walks out with the tribesmen leader. A shaman perhaps, I am not sure of his status.

The leader has blond hair like that of sand. His eyes black like shadows, watching our every move. The Caliph and him shake hands and part ways.

"How did it go my Lord?" I asked but the Caliph simply nods to both of his henchmen and we are walking straight to our rides. He says nothing for the most part. I may not be familiar with the ways of Dawah but I can tell it didn't go as planned.

The Caliph holds his hand up high and gives the salam to our hosts. They wave back and we leave. We ride out of the encampment and continue into the desert.

"Where to my Lord?" asked Farouk.

"We keep heading Northwest, towards the frozen lands. The desert people have heard of us enough." answered the Caliph.

The winds start to die out, it is a calm quiet afternoon. Too quiet perhaps for the Caliph. He looks at the overhead sun and surveys the land carefully. He seems troubled by the journey ahead while I, can't seem to let go of our previous encounter. We have had many visits to various tribes and encampments yet we have achieved nothing.

Finally the Caliph slows down and moves towards Jamal. "Jamal, scout ahead and report back. I am sensing something wrong." commands the Caliph.

"At once my Lord" exclaims Jamal and with one fluid motion, jumps off his steed leaving his baggage. He leaves his robe and native spear on his ride and doing so exposes some parts of his spotted body fur. He lets his long feline tail hanging. I have heard some about Jamal's people, plains runners who at first hunted with their teeth but soon evolved into using more civilized weaponry. Now they are a proud race of hunters and farmers carrying their gifted personal spears wherever they go.

The African born stretches his limbs and starts to skip forward. He starts slow but slowly picks up the pace. Soon enough my eyes only see a mirage of his image running at incredible speed.

We move further forward albeit much slower than our athletic companion.

"My lord, if i would be so bold to say. Shouldn't we try to persuade them harder my lord? We come from the very same lands. We almost live the same way. Why waste our times speaking of peace when we can achieve faster results through slightly more aggressive persuasion. The end justifies the means as they say." I asked.

"Quiet yourself Poet. You know not the delicate ways of Dawah. Persuasion and aggression is always frowned upon by the Prophet. Do not question the Caliph's ways..." remarked Farouk.

"Enough. We have no time for this. I sense someone or something following us." interrupts the Caliph. He awaits something over the horizon, patiently.

And then suddenly in an instant, a bright orange light comes zooming towards us, faster than the desert wind. It comes crashing to a halt nearby creating a flurry of dust and sand.

I was shocked by this but both Farouk and the Caliph seem calm as if witnessing this before. They walk first towards the crash site.

Closer i found it to be only Jamal, crouched on all of his four limbs panting heavily and exposing his fangs. The hair on the back of his neck stands tall and tears run down his black streaks on his face. Farouk comes and gives him some water.

"I saw... (pants) a creature... (pants) running away as soon as it saw me... (pants heavily). I almost caught up to him but somehow... somehow it took flight and disappeared in the blinding desert sun. I have lost him since then." explains Jamal.

The Caliph frowns, "Worry not, it wishes only to observe us. If it was hostile it would've attacked us by now. Probably a scout for a bigger party."

"A scout? From the sand tribe?" I asked.

"Perhaps not. It has followed us even before we reached here. Never mind that then, we must continue our journey. Well done Jamal. Let us move."

"At your service my Lord" replies Jamal.

Jamal gets back on his steed and holds his spear close to his side. Ready, we ride out.

Farther up, our party leaves the desert sands and arrive to grassy plains. I look overhead, and admire the cloudy grey skies. This land is wet and cold. I don't like it. Even in this climate no birds fly overhead. Perhaps rain is coming or perhaps something else. My Arabian skin is easily irritated by water, especially cold rain.

I have never been to these lands. Neither have any of us but this is what we were set out to do. To travel northwest, meet new tribes and spread the word. I pray that the scout earlier isn't part of a more savage tribe. I pray that the natives aren't hostile. But I can only pray. The world holds many surprises. I have a feeling we will be meeting a native tribe soon, and I have a feeling it won't be a friendly encounter such as before.

Friday, August 31, 2007

Toddie: De Fact

*Intercom* You piece of shit! all I asked you to do is keep the reactor steady for 1 whole minute and you cant even do that! When this is over i'm gonna make you scrub the ship with nothing but a tooth brush!

Ass hole... he thinks he's the captain of this ship and he has control over Everything! If he can why does he take me to watch this engine!.... One day ill tell you one day when i get out of this .... this gloomy engine room! I'll blast the shit out of him! And ill knock first to say, 'Eat this Bitch!' before blasting him to kingdom come!

Ermmmm whats happening to my hands?

Its glowing! .... Oh noes... the shields are down.....

Help! Captain im being beamed by the enemy ship!....

*intercom* Toddie! Get the Reactor to full power! I need the Power for the blasters! Theres someone being beamed off... Im gonna blast that ship! ....-but sir! The person being beamed may get killed!
*intercom* Who cares! it Aint me! Blasting in 3 ....2 ....1..... Bwahahahahhaha!

-***** The engine room humms in the back ground ******-

Friday, August 24, 2007

Lacy Splinters : Facing You

I had been scrubbing this tub for the last hour.

Before that I had washed the bedsheets.

Before that I did the laundry.

My bathroom is spic and span now.

But as I stopped whatever I was doing, flashback flooded through my mind like a broken dam.

Holographic recordings of MY husband fornicating with another woman. The way he kissed her all over. The way he touched her. The way he made her feel how I felt.

I threw away the brush and grabbed my hair, pulling it till my scalp threatens to tear. Slowly I slide down the wall to sit on the floor.

My whole body hurts now. Not just my stomach in a knot. My skin itches so bad I scratched it till it bled in certain places. My head is pounding like a Taiko drum in a Japanese summer festival. My eyes sees blotches of colors, it no longer desires any focus. My body trembled like I had Parkinson's.

Then there was a brief sound of keys jumbling before the main door creaks open.

He's back.

Oh my god...


What do I do? How do I act? He's going to see through me that I am not going to act normal.


Why should I even try to act normal?

This was never my fault.

"Hunny?" I heard his call.

"Hunny where are you?" he's entering the bedroom.

I looked up the door and kicked it shut, effectively pushing on the lock button as well.

I need to think.

How to confront him?




He knocked on the door. "What's wrong, hunny?"

I tried to drown his voice.

I hate that voice.

I'm disgusted.

Help me...

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Lacy Splinters : The button

I took a sip of my morning cocoa.

My eyes never left the brown package, sitting silently on the kitchen counter.

I don't feel like going to work today.

I took a deep breath and reached for the object in obsession.

Slowly I pulled off the tapes like a patient child opening her birthday present.

I take my time.

It revealed a portable hologram player and a few envelopes labeled 1 and 2.

Left the player on the table and started looking through envelope 1.

There's a letter. I guess it's for me...


Hi, you don't need to know who I am. But just know that your husband was involved in another marriage sometime earlier. It's somehow a contract marriage.

You see, I had accidentally divorced my wife. But I had since regretted my decision and I wanted her back. But in order for that to happen, she has to marry someone else, consummate, then divorce her current husband before she can come back to me. It is a tedious task, but I must have her back. I have my reasons.

So she chose one of her ex-boyfriends, which happens to be your husband - sorry to say.

I can imagine the feeling of your stomach knotting as you read this.

As you imagine you husband kissing another woman.

As you imagine them making love.

All these while the trust you nurtured in your relationship, all crushed due to the knowledge of this fact.

His whispers of I love yous...

His promises of your solitude with each other...


His kisses which are now shared by another stranger - on your part.

THEY are reliving their younger days...

While YOU sit alone, betrayed...

Why am I telling you all this? Well, you see... I am, a very very spiteful and bitter person. All my life I have been. And I don't really fancy the fact that my wife(ex?) has to go through your husband before coming back to me. And there is also a chance she would not leave your husband at all. Then you will have to share him. And she wont come back to me. Therefore I spite your husband. I hate him with all my guts.

So I send this to you.

I'm sure he didn't mention ANYTHING to you at all... did he?

He's always your loving husband, loyal... a man of his words(?) A person with a calm attitude, albeit too calm it is now serving as his facade in front of you.

Well, in the other envelope are the copies of their legal marriage papers.

In the player? Well, you will have to push the PLAY button to know what is inside. I'm sure you will be as sore as I am after watching it. But doesn't curiosity just kills you?


So reads the letter...

I never realized I was chewing on my own lips until I finished reading the letter, then tasted the tangy flavor of blood.

He is right. My stomach is in knots now. It hurts.

I scrambled for the other envelope and tore it open. There it was, the documents which pronounced MY husband and this other person, Man and Wife.

I chewed harder.

My fingers trembled even harder as I reached for the player.

Do I want to know?

Would anything else destroy me more?




Son of a gun.

We're in this together. at least that is what I thought when I let the barrel out, piercing the thick skull of that filthy, sneaky, .....rat. It didn't occured to me, that, this act of villainy was never appreciated by my sole partner.

No. It didn't.
So I asked,

"What do we do now?"

And, he said nothing. He kept quiet, watching the room.

The guilt didn't strike him, or me. I know that we did it for a reason.

That when it strikes me.


I did it. But he pulled the trigger. He wanted to kill that man. He wanted to kill him. It wasn't me. Obviously it was him.

I got my guilt wrapped me. Bounded my cold hard shells. He left. Leaving me in the middle of the room.


Now how could I ever possibly say anything. I can't express my anger, or my hesitant. Without no one to pull my trigger.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Syuib's Qalam: My companions

We ride for miles. We have left late but we must arrive early. The Caliph and his bodyguards ride up front. My own steed tries its best to catch up but are no match for the Caliph's camels. Them and the Caliph's right hand man, Farouk.

Now Farouk is a natural born warrior. He runs strong and tall, never a step back from wind or blizzards. Always strong beside the Caliph. Eyes wild, making sure we're safe. His stride is steady yet graceful. If I hadn't known better I would've mistaken him as the Buraq should I see him from a distance.

We spoke very little for the first day. By now the sun paints red streaks in the sky, signaling its rest for the day.

"We can make camp up ahead my lord. A small stream runs up ahead." says Farouk, and that was the first time i heard him spoke.

The Caliph nods in agreement. Happy to rest, I smile to Farouk, but he doesn't smile back. In fact Farouk has never smiled ever since we started to ride together. His brow frowns most of the time and his mouth rarely opens unless to speak of something necessary. When ordered by the Caliph, he only nods and affirms in one short sentence. Being the cautious one, Farouk walks off to secure the perimeter, while we all prepared for Wudu.

After Maghrib, we rested, tending to our packed meals. Only a small fire is made, just enough to keep us warm. Whilst checking parchments, I sat next to Farouk. He sits taller than me despite resting his four legs on the soft ground. Though at rest, he has his weapon close to him, ready for anything. As he bite on his loaf of bread, he stares at me while I flipped through my writings.

"How long have you been writing?" asked Farouk.

"As early as I can remember holding the quill in my hand" I replied.

"Then you will write about us well"

"Indeed I will. And how long have you been a warrior?" I asked.

"As early as I remember holding a sword in my two hands. And yes, I will keep us safe and well. No man will harm you" Said he.

I looked at his strong build, convinced. "Or centaur" I suggested.

"Or anything" he replied.

We didn't exchange much words after that. We were mostly silent throughout the night. The others slept soundly except me. I couldn't help staring at the star lit sky, pondering about my journey up ahead. What dangers lies ahead and what sort of people we shall meet on the way. The anticipation to write about my future experiences excite me. But even an imaginative poet as I gets tired of thinking, or wondering. Putting down my qalam and writings aside, I decide that I should probably rest my excited mind for tomorow. As I turn to my side to try and sleep, I noticed that Farouk wasn't really sleeping at all. Though his eyes are closed, he opened them once in a while to look around.

Curious, I asked "Won't you be tired later tomorrow?"

"It is my duty. I must be sure of our safety. Besides, my kind doesn't sleep much. We were made to run through the fields, not rest for a whole night."

"You will keep wake for every night?"

"Not every night. Some nights I let Khalid stand guard."

"Then I will rest easy knowing that we are safe. You have my thanks. Good night Farouk."

He simply nods and closes his eyes.

Early after Fajr prayers, we packed our stuff and prepared to continue our journey. As we wait for the sun to shine some light on the dark land, Farouk asked me.

"Tell me poet, if you were to write about me in your parchments, how would you describe me, telling me apart from other centaurs?"

"Describe you by your physique? Never!"

"How then?"

"Like I would describe a man. Only stronger. Much stronger. Strong not in your stallion legs or your powerful arms. Strong in your stance, your readiness for battle. In your loyalty to our Caliph." I explained.

Farouk's face slowly cracks a smile, the first I have seen in my journeys.

The Caliph has observed us for a while and comments on this with a smirk. "Then let us ride strong, for the sun is about to rise"

The Caliph got on his steed and by the first sign of light, we rode out.

We ride far and wide. Across grassy plateaus and rocky hills. Nothing will stop us. Wind, rain, or any beast. Nothing, for as long as we have Farouk keeping us guard.

Friday, August 17, 2007


The atmosphere in this room has been quiet ever since I could remember. I am trapped here like a bird trapped in its cage. Loneliness is a curse that one can't bear for a long time. In my case, the time duration has surpassed the limit of my own. I want freedom! I want to interact! I want to voice out!

I could still remember the day when I was put into this room. It was years back. Hell, if I'm not mistaken Michael Jackson was still black when I first arrived in this room. The room was lively, overjoyed, filled with emotions from various creatures that I refer to as human. Yes, what a bunch of odd lifeforms...

*door swings open*

Oh? Who could it be? Is it you master? Wait! I'm in a mess right now! Don't come in! I don't want you to look at me in my current condition. Not now!

Master, your fingers are getting more delicate. But, I'm ashamed of myself. I can no longer scream or sing melodically to you. Your touch is making me alive again. This feeling... It's something that I haven't felt for ages. It's like first experience all over again. Oh, how long has it been since I am trapped in this room?

Ouch! Master, it hurts! You're hurting me with those rough strummings. Please, strum me gently like you always did. Not this way! Not like this! My strings are about to burst, Master! Please... I can't withstand this...

*string bursts*

Urghhhh!! This is painful... Why Master? I have done nothing wrong to fulfill your musical desire. I sang to every note u played on me. I sang loudly, I sang softly, I sang with your emotions. Why? Do I deserve this? What have I done? Erk??!? Master! What are you doing??! Stop! Put me down please... No! No! No! No!

*guitar being smashed onto the wall*

*man walked out and closes the door*

I can't breathe... I... I... Is this the end for me?

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Silent Screams: Routines

12:01 am.

The light sign of the shop hums monotonously, like a song. My song.

I stare at the bottom of my teh tarik glass. A fly has accidentally fallen inside and is struggling to wriggle out. Accidentally by me.

The mamak workers don't really notice me. Like zombies, they run to and fro attending to their annoyingly loud customers, only stopping to see who scored the goal on the big screen. They don't care for conversations, heck I don't think they want to. They only care of what I want and how quick I want it. All they know is I come here every night asking for the same glass of teh tarik. Every single fuckin routine night. My worthless nights would be, well worthless without it. It helps me withstand the inner screaming.

In the sea of worn out plastic tables and chairs, drowned in a crowd I feel right at home with my own loneliness. I watch the others yak and bellow out laughters all night long. Their stupidity comforts me.

Shit there she goes again. She's staring at me again from the other table. None of her other friends, or boy friends, notice me. Guys don't bother me. Only the girls stare at me with a caution in their eyes.

What is it they say? Girls can sense evil? Hotak kau.

I don't blame her though. I'd stare at me too if I had a lump-of-brainless-mass-sorry-excuse-for-a-boyfriend. Fucker just seems to be more interested in the football game and chatting with his other rempit friends. With their strong macho built bodies, they overlook my small figure. Heh bodoh siot.

Football. What's with rempits and football? Man.

I pry out the fly from out of the glass and hold it between my fingers.

Such an insignificant fly, so small and so weak. Yet you come with so much dangerous pathogens and bacteria that you bring even the most bulky tough rempits to their knees. Cho-fuckin-lera. That's right my little friend. Only you and I know that the weak can be strong as well. Much stronger than we seem.

I pinch the fucker to death. Its juices crawl through its pores and broken abdomens, like worms from a bad apple. It wriggles no more.

Geli siot. Why do I love doing that?

Is she flirting with me with her eyes? Fuck... A cold breeze chills my spine and gives me goosebumps. Before long the waiter approaches me, as if knowing the time.

The zombie mamak asks for 90 cents. They always change the price. Twats. As if I don't know. But then again I don't care. I pay the man and leave my greasy table. He wipes it, making it greasier.

1:02 am

End of the late show. Time to head back home. Time for some Solemn Peace. With my little pet project. My stomach growls in pain.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Toddie: To surf or not to surf?

Despite the fact that out side is space and i'm trapped in this tin can, in the engine room with no window but my screen lighting up... showing all those figures and numbers about engine status and what not...... i got this huge urge to turn on the "Great Galactic Genome".... the G3.... our only source to gain info about every thing in our Galaxy!

I was wondering if its a good idea to surf the G3... considering theres a battle going on out there ... and i need to keep an eye on the engine... maybe theres some cool gadgets that just came out... a new Turbo saloon to do my hair would be nice... the last one i got only lasted a few nano seconds after doing my hair in space just before the graduation ... and boy did i spent a lot on that one.

But then gain .... its not like any thing is gonna happen if i ... say..... surf a bit.

Oh hell i'm bored.... ok lets see wheres the icon... okay ... inserting address....

Oh Hell! Can't connect to server! .... whats that ... your connection is being block by a firewall... please lower your shileds to allow transfer of data to servers....

Okay.... turning shields down.....

Okay that should do it....

*A big blast hits the room*

*intercom* Engine room Status report!

Urm..... was that the shields for the transfer or was that the ships shields?

erm we took a hit sir! engine is failing and we are going at 98% as we speak sir!
I urm ... don't know what hit us sir... one second it was at 110% now its at 98%....

*intercom* Dammit! we are screwed!
gee .... for once your right sir!

Owh shit..... guest we wont make it out this Battle alive......

Feathered Dew : Body Language

It's hard to figure out.

This morning was... exceptionally weird...

I guess it was our turn to get auctioned. The sun was barely up when we were hauled up from our slumber, kicked off the ground, chained into a line of human(?)-train and being led into a spiraling tunnel.

The smell of fresh air made me choke.

It was a good 3 second joy before my body was attacked by the blistering cold.



Automatically my body turned around but the chains tugged my limbs, forcing me to go back into position.

Against my will I was making my way into a chamber, lighted by oil lamps. The smell of kerosene agitated my gag reflex and I threw up.

A sharp pain was soon felt on my back and immediately after that I was introduced to the floor.

"Get up!" growled the thing that had kicked me in the spine.

I scrambled back into position and we were lined up against the wall.

Before I could reset my bearings, showers of cold water rained on us.
My wings covered my body at the sudden attack.

"Get yourselves nice and clean. No one buys a dirty slave"

After getting used to the cold, I scrubbed my body frantically. I want to be bought.

Crammed up in a wagon, I hugged myself tight. 2 pigs and a pen of chicken accompanied our journey. Haha, you all must have been turned to stews by now.

I looked up at the horizon and saw the barely rising sun.

Quick. I want the warmth of the sun.



I thought there were more of us.

Lined up in the line we did, each with a white sheet to cover indecencies.

My black hair still matted on my body.

I was the 2nd being bought after a pink haired female.

She had fleas. heh.

"You got good body language."

He told me.

"I'm sure my daughter will take a liking to you."

He patted my folded wings and loaded me into his wagon.

Lacy Splinters : The Video

I stared at the package in my hand.

It was this morning after breakfast, that my bureaucrat husband left for work. He was as sweet as a man can be also a very responsible husband.

He looked up from donning his shoelaces.

A soft smile fell on his handsome face, he opened his arms and caught me gently into his embrace. "I love you so much, hunny. Forever and ever more." he said as he breathed into my hair. "I was thinking of our last holiday trip just now. No work, no one else, just you and me. I wish it could be forever like that."

I smiled. "I love you too, sweetheart." and tightened the hug.

He was so warm.

He kissed my left cheek before leaving; left a tingling sensation that will last me through the hours he will be away from me.

5 whole years.

My cheek still tingles like a schoolgirl every time he gave me the kiss.

So chaste.

So delicate.

I watched as the door shuts, as I turned around.

Then it came.

Approximately 4 minutes after my husband left. There were 3 knocks on the door.

I opened the door, half-expecting him to return with a sheepish grin - "Sorry hunny, but I left my keys."

But there was no one when I opened the door.

Only a small package on the ground.

I blinked. 2 times.

I held the spot on my left cheek as I looked at the package.

A small card on the brown package wrote.

"Your husband is not the man he seems to be "

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Toddie : Battle at Zone Beta 56

Argh why the heck did i signed up for this job in the first place? I should be up there in the cannons! not here in the engine room fixing this double by pass tri-linear hyper drive reactor! This piece of junk is so old, i think earth was still using fossil fuels by that time!

*intercom*Engine room status report!

I pressed the button on the intercom. "Its going at 110% as you requested sir, but it won't hold for shields, so blast those interceptors quick!"

*intercom*Don't tell me how to shoot my cannons! Just hold it so we can hopefully get out of this mess.

Some times I wish the enemy could blast the captain and then ill be in control of the ship!

Oh well this engine will hold as long as its in the yellow zone. This battle has been on for quite some time now. I wonder how many interceptors have been blasted by our cannons...

*the ship rumbles and grumbles*

hmm the engines doing fine....

Why the heck am i down here.... the actions are all up there! Im gonna request for a transfer as soon as we get back to our solar system. With any luck it would be by the end of the week. but till then I guess its this room and me.

It would be a miracle if we get out of this mess....
* looks up *
Oh boy... why am i here.....

Friday, August 10, 2007

Feathered Dew : Whistles

I tripped over the bodies in the dark to get to the side. A place where I can write. It's dark but I try using this small candle we're given every night to put it to good use.

I don't know anyone here. But we live together in this space.

A space where not a single thread of light from the outside comes through. A space where the sounds of breathing and coughing echoes throughout. A space where damp flooring was our bedding. A space where breathing was a chore.

We want to talk to each other. But there's nothing to talk about.

I place my bet that we're at least 50 feet underground.

My wings itch.

It should. Last time i had a bath was... well, about 3 weeks ago.

I gathered the damp blanket tighter around me.



I hear it again.

It's very faint. But when I close my eyes, fade out the noise from this room and leaned close to the stony walls, I can hear it.

I cupped my right ear closer to the cold ragged surface.


I shut my eyes tighter.



Tuesday, August 7, 2007

The Waking: Drifting

Before long, I am walking through the cold desert, carrying my newfound treasure. Nothing else resembles that of reality, except myself and my companion. Just miles and miles of sand. Fuck I used to love beaches.

I cant tell how long I've been walking, or how long I've been reading. I'm reading as I walk, or when I stop to rest from the walking. Wait I can't even get a hold of the sense of time. I can't tell time. What the fuck is going on ?

I'm sitting down reading again in the calm desert.

I read the book as I wade through a strong storm.

I'm drifting.

Shit I'm talking like a fucktard.

The next series of entries are a jumbled mess. I'm just reading through. It's the only thing I can do to keep myself sane in this... this... oh fuckit I'll just read.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Syuib's Qalam

"You will follow the Caliph even to the Icy North."

And he repeated that twice, to make sure I understood that.

"Even to the Icy North"

Of course I agreed. Anything for the respected Caliph. Why I'd even be flattered to just be in charge of keeping his shoes safe whilst he attends his Isha'a, let alone be given the task to follow his personal Dawah journeys and record them in my writings.

"The path will be long and perilous, but that is why we chose you Syuib. You and no other"

Why? Because I am the infamous Syuib, the wandering poet, part time writer. It is not my writing that fascinates them. It is my will and constitution in my creativity, through hard times and under constant danger, will I be able to record every single event in detail. And that is why I'm chosen. Others will break and falter in battle, writers I mean. Me, I was taught the quill by my mother and the sword by my father. I fear not battle, I long for it. To see the Caliph wield his spectacular forked sword would be spectacular. Why I'd write many poems describing his grace.

"Refrain from battle, focus on your stories. The Caliph has his bodyguards, you just worry about your poems."

By the prophet's beard, that's what I was born to do.

So begins my journey with the Caliph. We travel by camelback through the grassy plateau, west, towards the setting sun. The message has to be spread, the world must know, and I will follow them as they bring it to the ends of the land. Only Allah knows how thrilled I am with this.

I just hope the western tribes aren't too hostile with our party. We may come in peace, but we also come well prepared.

"Have you got your Quill and parchments ready Syuib? " asked the Caliph.

"I have my Lord. Forever light to record our journeys." said I.

"Then let us ride now. The sun is near to set and the winged beasts of north will come out at night. My stomach is empty and we must make camp soon. Will you follow me Syuib?"

Our camels start to gallop, leaving our oasis city, towards the setting sun. My gut feels as if jinns are tickling it from the inside. I smile to the Caliph and ride side by side by him. His bodyguards ride further up front.

"Even to the Icy North my lord. Even to the Icy North. "

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

The Waking: A strange book

The first journal entry is a very interesting read. I never knew myself as a person who enjoys reading diaries much. I always hated to see others in their own shoes. But anything that will keep my sane from this accursed place.

Bloody hell I still can't figure out where the fuck I am. The wind blows strongly still preventing me from seeing ahead. Still, I see a large lone jagged rock, jutting out from the surface. Perhaps I should run there for shelter.

The rock is quite far away so I start to flip through the next page of the journal. It seems to be an entry by someone else. The writing is much more curvy and has letters connecting together. Like a calligraphy, but not quite. I don't know what they call it, but I'm sure the writer really takes his time in putting his thoughts into his journal. As if to have others read it someday. Not like the previous entry where the strokes were harsh and bold. It shows the expressions and emotions in the writing.

But enough of that. Let's see what this fucker is on about.

Silent screams

Thank god it's Tuesday though it's still a long way from Friday. Still it's a lot better from Monday. God I hate Mondays. Not hate like the way that stupid orange cat does. I hate it because it reminds me of who I'm supposed to be, who I pretend to be.

Dim lights soothe the crappy piece of hell hole I'm supposed to call the place I work. The monitor of my Computer is almost blinding me, had I not have been used to it by now. It is late and others have already gone back home. I stare at the scar of my knee, it bleeds softly like a dripping sap from a large tree. Injury from sports. It's supposed to have dried up by now but somehow it keeps on bleeding. I stare a little longer, fascinated by it. That which I love most, flows through my very own body.

The pain starts to scream again deep within my belly. It hurts so much but I mustn't show my weakness in public. Not here. Not now. Not when others will raise suspicions of me. They'd think I'm a monster. Spawn of the devil, not like the Geeky wimp that I portray myself to be. Greg and his writing they'd say. I'll gladly let them keep it that way.

I must log off and head back home now. Dinner awaits home and I mustn't let it rot before I quench my hunger. God I love burgers.

I pinch my stomach and squint my eyes, trying to withstand the screaming inside. I must hold on for a while. I must remain normal.

Still, I think sooner or later someone's bound to know. Stalking me to wherever I go. Like my own shadow.

Ok fuck it. It's time to go home.

The pain. It screams. I must feed soon.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

The Waking


Complete utter silence.

And then, a monotonous ringing is heard, accompanying my consciousness, or rather, reminding me the i have one.

I start to breathe. Inhale, then exhale.

Slowly my senses start to kick in. First the ringing dissipates, into something deeper, a long howling banshee sound, like that of a wind.

I feel my hands, my fingers. They tell me of something uncomfortable beneath. Around. Everywhere. I can feel my organs inside, wrapped around a thin layer of skin. Skin irritation comes with the howling sound. It feels like small little ice particles pricking on my face. maybe that's what it is.

Squint, because that's what we do before we open our eyes. We squint first to make sure our eyes are in place. I squint and feel knives stabbing my eyes. Moments later the pain is bearable and I slowly open my lids.

Something hard jabs at my tear ducts. I flick it off with my finger. A sand particle. It should be normal for people coming up from sleep, except mine is real sand. No wait, there's more. In fact, it's all around me.

As the blurry white slowly melts into shapes, I now see myself lying on a dune sea, with the winds howling, throwing more sand around on my face.

Is this real?

Am I Real?

Fuck, my chest hurts. I guess that's real. Is that my lungs, oww damn. My heart's beating fast, painfully fast. Well now I know Im alive, or at least I feel a live.

Where the hell am I? What am I? As I stand up amidst the chaos sands, I know one thing's for sure. I'm alone, for nothing else resembles that of life, or what I make of life, for miles away.

I start to walk, slowly, painfully. God damn shoes would be a great idea.

Time flows through almost like a stream, almost non existent. I don't remember how long I walk, was it 5 minutes or 5 years? A million questions and thoughts run through my already heavy head. I don't know if it's the thoughts that's giving me this bloody headache or the rough sand storm.

I keep thinking and keep walking and keep wondering and SHIT OW FUCK!!

My toe, my god damn fucking toe. Stupid fucking rectangular rock. Wait, what the hell.

A book. What the hell is it... oh fuck it. As I brush the sand off the cover, I recognize a logo, that of a broken hourglass. Let's see what's inside.

Writings... Pages upon pages of different handwritings. They seem to be telling a story, a journal perhaps. Yeah that's what it is. A journal, with a broken hourglass, and handwritings of different people.

Hmm... perhaps I should read one entry. It's not like I have anything better to do anyway.

The first entry seems rough and hard, the pages almost tearing a part. Still, it seems pretty well written.