Time for the third installment.....
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Paul has been teaching public speaking and conversation classes at Chung-Deh for 8 years.
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21 comments:
Mimi
Anna opened the photograph album, seeing many picture of her child’s time, touching them, reminding of her childhood’s time. She remembered often go to harbor with Mom to wait for her Dad, and they often went earlier to wait her Dad from day to night. Her Mom’s facial expression looked serious but did not say anything; Anna had never asked her Mom what she was thinking about. They always kept quite until her Dad came back.
Once her Dad bought a big kite for her, Anna was very happy but her Mom’s attitude was not very kind. Her Mom even commanded Anna to throw the kite away, Anna’s Dad and Anna were so astonished by Kate’s attitude so they asked her why. She refused to answer their question just kept silent. Kate usually was very nice and kind to Anna but that day she was so differently. Anna did not want to make her Mom upset and then finally she threw the kite away. She threw it into the ocean; her Mom stared at the kite without saying any word.
“There must be something wrong about the kite” Anna thought and tried to find answer but couldn’t. Sometimes she tried to ask her Mom; Kate always changed the topics until Anna stopped asking her. Gradually Anna forgot this thing, many years past, one day Anna cleaned up the room for Kate. In a big box she discovered a big kite; it was an old one as being played many times, Anna dare not ask her Mom why she kept the kite for so many years, she only can kept the kite as it was one of her secrets.
Rita 1-10-2010
At least five or six cigarette buds lying next to her feet, no one knew how long the lady had been sitting there, maybe she was struggling with unsolvable trouble, perhaps because she had no one to talk to, had no lovely family to support her, no place to release her sadness, but perhaps she just had too much proud to tell the truth. Steph made a U-turn hiding in the shade of a big truck passing by the lady, yes that was her – Victoria.
Part 3
The night sky was overcast, filled with the hazy light of the city. Steph, Vic and the thirteen years old Lauren strolled casually into the close park. As a teenager Lauren had more attitude than usual and seemed dreaded to talk to her mom; nevertheless, for the first time Aunty Steph felt she did not know her little niece, who has been always closed to her. While Vic and Steph were talking about how fast this little old town had been changed, Lauren remained dead silent. Three days after their arrival, Steph noticed Dorian got drunk more often after dinner, Lauren deliberately kept her silent. Even if Vic was acting the same; however, this sophisticated lady and the woman who was sitting on the hay with arousing smoke were just not matched.
On New Year Eve, grandma asked all kids gave themselves and their parents a best wish, but Lauren still kept the same tone.
Dorian said, “Hay! Wish everyone a Happy New Year!”
“There was nothing to be happy about it next year,” said Lauren.
“Pardon me! Apologize to everybody…” Vic raised her tone.
Lauren stood up and walked back to her room.
After the dinner, she appeared tired and worn, as if the pace of her life and the battering had exhausted her. “We will be divorced in six weeks.”
“What happened?”
“We were too young. It was my idea to go to New York. I had always told myself to tough it out when the difficulty accorded. I though through courage, strength and succeed would be the way of my internal happiness. But I was wrong,” she choked on the last word, her breathing labored as her heart could no longer holding the weight of all these chaos. Looking at her sister, Steph felt scared, she realized the charmed life she had envisioned that Vic’s living did not come without price.
“Vic, listen, I know this has been very difficult to you, why don’t you stay with us for a while?”
There was a pause, Steph understood her hesitation. “I think I will,” she said, and began to talk about this failure. While Steph was listening, pity and a new awareness crept into her heart. She realized it had been wrong to feel envy for her little sister’s courage and feel inadequate.
At that time, Vic had stood at the edge of the pool of chances. She dove in it and swam with powerful strokes which took her away from home and her own family. But Steph had waited at the shallow end, swimming slowly, more cautious strokes. Steph also achieved her goals and developed her talents, but she only did in the way she could – by remaining close to her family. Regardless, which routes they had chosen they found the irreplaceable value of home and gaining strength from each other on their separate journeys.
Jessica
Part I
The fact that Chad was buried didn’t seem to him to prove that he was dead. He had always been a difficult man to convince. That he really was buried, the testimony of his senses rejected him to believing. His posture is that flat upon his back with his hands crossed upon his stomach and tied with something that he easily broke without profitably altering the situation - the strict confinement of his entire person, the black darkness and profound silence, made a body of evidence impossible to controvert and he accepted it without complaint.
But was he really dead? He was probably very ill, wasn’t he? He also had the invalid's apathy and did not greatly concern himself about the uncommon fate that had been assigned to him. No philosopher was he -- just a plain, commonplace person gifted, for the time being, with a pathological indifference: the organ that he feared consequences with was dull. So, with no particular apprehension for his immediate future, he fell asleep and all was peace with Chad.
But something was going on overhead. It was a dark summer night, shot through with infrequent shimmers of lightning silently firing a cloud lying low in the west and portending a storm. These brief, stammering illuminations brought out with ghastly distinctness the monuments and headstones of the cemetery and seemed to set them dancing. It was not a night in which any credible witness was likely to be straying about a cemetery, so the three men who were there, digging into the grave of Pete, felt reasonably secure.
Two of them were young students from a medical college a few miles away; the third was a gigantic black known as Pete. For many years Pete had been employed about the cemetery as a man-of-all-work and it was his favorite pleasantry that he knew 'every soul in the place.' From the nature of what he was now doing it was inferable that the place was not very populous as its register may have shown it to be.
Outside the wall, at the part of the grounds farthest from the public road, were a horse and a light wagon, waiting.
The work of excavation was not difficult: the earth with which the grave had been loosely filled a few hours before offered little resistance and was soon thrown out. Removal of the casket from its box was “easy”, but it was taken out, for it was a perquisite of Pete, who carefully unscrewed the cover and laid it aside, exposing the body in black trousers and white shirt. In the instant the air sprang to flame, a cracking shock of thunder shook the world and Chad quietly sat up. With almost speechless cries the men fled in terror, each in a different direction. For nothing on earth could two of them have been persuaded to return. But Pete was of another breed.
Jessica
Part II
In the grey of the morning the two students, colorless and weakened from anxiety and with the terror of their adventure still beating carelessly in their blood, met at the medical college.
'You saw it?' cried one.
'God! yes -- what are we to do?'
They went around to the rear of the building, where they saw a horse, attached to a light wagon, hitched to a gatepost near the door of the dissecting-room. Mechanically they entered the room. On a bench in the obscurity sat the Negro Jess. He rose, grinning, all eyes and teeth.
'I'm waiting for my pay,' he said.
Stretched naked on a long table lay the body of Chad, the head defiled with blood and clay from a blow with a spade.
Chad’s dark mind on Marilyn – Before and after
The sun was setting so slow it was like time was trying to stop suddenly. Pure gold, orange, and red colors flashed through the sky. Chad crouched silently and cautiously. Chad didn’t want to scare away any animals. This was naturally their home. Chad is just a traveling visitor. The golden wheat bended and twirled gracefully in the wind like a ballet dancer. Twisting and turning like a hidden dance. Kept secret from the rest of the world. The ground was just getting over a down pour of rain a few days ago. Even from my far distance Chad unique eyes let him see a piercing image of a scare crow guarding the field as the farmer was busy with something else. Chad felt like that scare crow. Forgotten, empty, and stuffed with hay, Chad was forced to keep inside of himself.
Chad cursed them as he blinked to direct them to something else amongst the field. A maiden, Marilyn, dancing softly in the wind and spiraling strands of it surrounding her like a bright raging fire of pure gold. Her eyes were soft and tender looking. They were piercing light blue with a little touch of violet in them. Her lips were pink as soft as rose petals. Her skin was glistening in the sun. It looked so smooth…so beautiful. She was wearing a wavy free soft light pink color dress that came down to her knees. That had a white sash just below her breast area. Her whole body had this flow to it like a waterfall or something peaceful and memorable. She looked young and innocent too. She was bare foot with dainty feet. Her fingers were tiny long like piano fingers. She looked so tiny and delegate. Like one to attack her she might break. Like a china doll. So fragile and helpless she looked. Chad gulped loudly. The pressure was lodged in my throat for more then I expected it to this time. The guilt was getting bigger. Consuming as my hands twitched instantly.
Chad never ever had this happen to him before! Never have he regretted this much over a frail human girl. Chad always felt regret, quilt, remorse, and sorrow for my victims but not like this. Maybe he knew that this girl was so helpless looking and lost in a world of pure fantasy and knowing I would kill her for her blood. Her scent was overpowering me! It was so sweet and succulent to his tongue. His tongue could actually feel her taste on it, never wanted someone’s blood more then that girl’s blood. Marilyn danced carefree and she looked like she was dancing on the air. Her smile was so bright and precious. Soon that smile will turn into pure horror and disgust.
Jessica
Chad flinched, and took deep breathes. He had to do this. If he didn’t, he would kill more innocent people. Marilyn skipped merrily, and spinned like a little girl at play. She was definitely a teenager she just had this pure child innocence to her. A frown plastered on her face. Chad fiddled with my fingers and bites my thumbnail in frustration. He was tensed and he knew that.
Chad just had to do this no matter what. If he doesn’t….he shuddered. More innocent souls will perish from him if he doesn’t get enough human blood. Chad paced back and forth on the thick tree branch he was standing on. She was still dancing around unaware of the dangers that lurk in the shadows. He cursed my existence silently. She bent down and gently picked a flower off the side of the road. She smelled it, smiled, and played with it by twirling in between those dainty long fingers of hers. Chad had to abandon my thought of the feeling of those fingers running through my black short hair. My reds eyes watched every movement of their prey. Chad grinds my teeth together. He couldn’t hold my inner hunger back any longer. It desired her blood so damn badly. I clutched the tree trunk with all my might to resist the urge of lunging at her and devouring her sweet pure blood.
Chad ripped instantly a whole big chunk of tree with my inhuman powers. He threw the piece with anger with himself. Chad could hear it make a crash noise upon the forest ground then echo around him. The frail girl looked up startled and looked my direction. He felt like her gaze was on me so he turned his face away slightly. He didn’t want her to see him. Chad was a monster in the darkest mind of in medical school.
And always will be. Chad closed his eyes as he collected himself inside. I focused on the task at hand and decided to follow my natural approach of handling my prey. He cleared my throat as he slowly opened his eyes. He lifted his hand slowly like a preacher would . My white gloves were still white, not for long though. They always get stained thick with blood. Chad extended his hands out and started to moves his arms like a conductor would or a puppet master. He attended to control her with his song. Chad opened my mouth and let the words flow naturally from his lips. Each one tickling his lips before they exited.
Chad saw Marilyn’s ears perk up to listen and she turned to the forest, to the direction of my school.
She closed her eyes as she fell victim to my trap.
She inhales deeply as his song sunk into her mind like approaching night fog.
She wasn’t a flower like the other girls that fell prey to me. Chad quickly changed the lyrics around as it flew from his eager lips.
Chad hummed softly and seductively to finally reel her in. Marilyn stood their motionless as her eyes held nothing within them. No glimpse of light or emotion. She was under my trance. His hypnotic voice always gets them in the end. She stared blankly at him like she as already dead. He couldn’t hold that part of him back anymore. He lunged at her ad bite into her neck.
Chad felt so alive for the first time drinking that velvet like honey blood of hers. Sweet and pure delight. Chad was consuming so much blood it started to spill some on my clothes. His white gloves were already staining quite quickly. Then his eyes widen he felt something sting his senses. Something felt wet on my forehead. Chad licked some up quickly. He was like a curious wild beast. His tongue burned a little from the salt in them. They were fresh human tears.
(TO BE CONTINUE)
Jessica
PART III
They were falling from Marilyn’s face. She quickly and shockingly turned around while I was still sucking the life out of her. Chad’s eyes widen in horror. His gut felt like it was going to explode. His dead heart ached deeply in pain. Marilyn placed her thin arms around him and brought me closer to her. Chad felt that if he removed her arms they were so fragile looking that they would shatter from one swift and fast move he made. Chad controlled himself the best he could. His eyes were wide as they could be. Here he was sucking blood out of her while she is embracing him with human affection towards him. Chad was completely baffled. Marilyn wrapped her arms around him a little tighter. Chad was so surprised and awed that she had energy at all. She must be stronger then she looks. She spoke a little above a whisper. “You are not a monster even though you believe it. I still see a human soul deep within her. I forgive you for all of this happening. I… forgive you.” her voice faded as Marilyn became weaker and weaker from so much blood loss. I unloosened my grip on her neck and body. She forgave me? Even though Chad is torturing her soul and making her suffer with excruciating pain she did not deserve? Chad let go of her as she fell to the cold earth below. The sun was at its peek of disappearing among the sky before him. Chad stared with hate to himself at her blood that stained his white gloves. Marilyn laid there below her feet like a rag doll. It took everything within him to stop sucking her blood out of her tender and soft neck. I stared coldly at the ground. Her golden hair was spread all around her like a halo. Her dressed was stained with her rich blood. Her feet were covered in clumps of dirt and mud stuck together with pieces of grass. Chad stared as the sun settled and departed from the sky.
Marilyn tiny long fingers extended like they were trying to reach his feet. Chad stared at her with empty eyes. Chad didn’t want to have the burden of destroying yet another soul resting on my shoulders. Chad couldn’t kill her! At of all the innocent victims Chad killed he fined a way to control himself long enough to save this girl. “Now you will know the tortures ways of being a monster. Welcome to the darkness of hell you‘ll ever known.” Chad squatted down and removed a few strands away from her delegate and beautiful face. Knowing when those eyes open they will be bright red lusting for human blood. Chad brought another monster into this world. Was his soul made to rot and perish in hell for always and eternity? Chad took off into the night as the girl transformed in the night alone and surrounded by darkness. Forced upon her to live in hell for eternity as a cold hearted monster. He transformed himself to be the person in the dissecting table Pete was performing the autopsy on him.
Sorry Paul, I post my assignment late last week, so I think I will re-post it on here again.
Part I
Something is not right. Months ago, I met my first best friend in high school, Jacob. We spend lots of time together; we shared lunch, hang in the library everyday after school for he fail too much on history. I like having conversations with Jacob, for he is a real good secret keeper, he contains my mistakes, and he knows my shortcomings which I am terribly bad at sports, he would sneak out with me even if he would probably get flunk by doing it. Jacob is certainly a listener, I trust him, and I love having him around. But somehow, something has been changed; something doesn’t remain the same anymore.
Someday between the seasons changing time, heavy rain came down torrentially without warning; I had to burst into the music room to get away from the wet. There, a sorrowful and gratification place; where I failed my piano courses, where I got humiliated from did not play the right notes, and where I first met him. Times traced back to the month we meet; beautiful melody came from somewhere in the rooms, its melody flooding in the air, the sound of nature spills all over my heart, urging my foot to move faster. I slightly pushed the door little crack, there, sits a person with straight uniform on, body moving back and forth gently while hitting the keys on the spotless piano, Jacob, a name that caused my heart palpitations. Spellbound, I lean against the wall to find a balance, but all of a sudden “Bang!” a noise draw me back to the reality, I accidently hit something down, and then, he turned.
One sunny afternoon, Jacob and I went to the piano room as usual; he teased me when we passed that very cupboard where I bumped into, the sound of laughter was all over the place. I am not a conspicuous girl, people seldom notice me in the crowds; the shyness makes me don’t even say a word if not necessary. I don’t do things that most girls do, probably that’s the reason why I don’t have girl friends. But Jacob, this incredibly perfect man, have had brighten up my insipid life. I enjoyed soaking myself into Mozart and Beethoven’s notation; I enjoyed those magnificent notes that itches my nerves of hearing. I enjoyed those moments I spend with Jacob, and I enjoyed those slender and magic fingers on the piano keys. But one day, eccentrically, without a warning, somehow he did not recognize me anymore.
Part II
He ignored me while walk through, no greetings, no expressions, not even a glance. Like a stranger pass though, and get gone. I tried to talk to him, wait for him in that familiar place, but every time, all I received was an unfamiliar stranger in a familiar place. Sometimes he stared at me as if he knows, as if he recognized those old stories; my heart would bud for hope, but every time, his reaction break down my dreams. I imagining many perhaps for him for ignoring me, but those perhaps, none of them seems to be real. Only one thing doesn’t change, he still plays the piano. But sounds more powerful, mighty, sounds like a piano story teller, sounds good but different.
That’s Mozart’s notes. I have long for these familiar melodies; I can no longer stop myself by stepping into the piano room, pacing closer towards him, finding myself placed in the midst of the piano room. Somehow, I hang back. Something is not right; his facial expression stretch taut, huge sweat drips drop down from his forehead, he looked nervous, unease and even frightened. In that crescendo point we both favorites in, he stops, silent was about to force me to stifle. Before I know it, I found he ran away and disappeared again. And there, left a friendless person and a lonely piano, with a shocked sight of lurid blood oozed from the very piano keys.
What’s going on with the piano? What’s going on with Jacob? I kept letting these questions bothering in my head over and over again, then one day, surprisingly, Jacob came to me.
Part III
Years ago Jacob fallen in love with Sarah, whom used to be his everything. Sarah was a nice girl, she’s tender, she’s mild, she’s nimble, she’s generous, she’s considerate, also she is intelligent. She is concurrently a perfect lover and friend. Sarah knows when Jacob is in trouble, she went though difficulties with Jacob, and she loves to listen to Jacob’s piano. Sarah’s goodness, perfect, her everything was about to force Jacob to fall with her without control. But only one thing that has been always a secret that is, Sarah is a vampire, although the good one. Like many other vampires, she only forages during the night, and that was how he found out the truth. Sarah was sucking Jacob’s school opponent’s blood by his neck. Frightened Jacob ran with fear.
Jacob’s family decided to move away from this dangerous town, begins with a whole new life. New environment, new neighbors, new college, new people, everything is new; and of course a new girl friend, which is I myself. Felling likes a substitute of Sarah, but I really don’t mind. Somehow Jacob choose to mention them with me, for I made him reminds of Sarah so much, a horrible memory he could hardly recall.
One afternoon back to the day he started ignoring me, he was playing the piano all by himself. When hitting that very chorus Jacob and I both in loved with, strangely, the keys wouldn’t make a sound. Jacob thought of something unfortunately, thought of Sarah, then me. Somehow I reminded him of Sarah. This one time Jacob decided to face the situation, therefore he starts all over of the song from the beginning, realizing the notes in the chorus were silent as if you could hear the needle drops down. Stubborn Jacob opened up the piano lid determinedly, realizing there were fingers replacing the original keys. Dread howls full of the piano room, Jacob was about to blow up his nerves of sight. Jacob’s story is incredible, for I personally saw that lurid blood on the keys.
I can tell from Jacob’s facial expression that he is feeling relieved from telling me this unbelievable story, still support and stay with him even it sounds fearful. In fact, I felt relieved, too. I am glad he would told me the truth, I am happy I will still be his friend, I feel joyful because he trusted me. One thing that delighted me is, he would never know I am actually that very Sarah.
Tiffany
Kennie
Saturday, I got up early. I used shampoo to wash my face, fell down when I got into the bus, brought the wrong book to the class, and did all the things wrong this morning. The terrible thing today was I ran into Tank in the school pool. He stood in front of me and asked
“Do you want to join us this afternoon?”
I nodded my head and gave him a smile. He looked very happy and said
“Do you want to go to the movie with me tonight?”
Movie? With you? Oh no! I shook my head and ran away, he made me fell disgusting.
I went down the stair to the court at 4:00; I saw Henry and Tank with their friend. Tank saw me and apologized to me for the offense today. I smiled to him.
The ball game was start; I sat down, watched Henry, and wished he has good luck. Obviously, my pray was no effect. Henry was collided with Tank, as if a rabbit collided with an elephant. Henry’s glasses were broken and his eye was hurt.
“Are you ok?” asked by Tank. “I told you, you need to wear the contact lenses when you play ball. It’s dangerous to wear glasses.”
I took the Band-Aid to cover his wound.
“That’s ok, I’m fine. That’s continuing the game.” Henry stood up and continued the game.
When they finished the game, invited me to eat dinner with them, but I refused. Henry touched the Band-Aid, looked at his feet and thanked to me.
A week past, I was very worry about Henry. His glasses were broken, is he ok without the glasses? I bought contact lenses to him, but how do I take it to him? I don’t want to ask Tank, because he is disgusting. But one day, I found where Henry is living. I was so happy, went home, took the contact lenses and backed to his house. Should I push the doorbell? Or call his name? No, it’s strange. So I went home, wrote a letter:
Hello, Henry
How are you? Feel better? I brought contact lenses to you. Tank is right, don’t wear glasses to play basketball.
Annie
And I deliver the letter and the contact lenses to his letterbox.
I knew he got the mail, because I received his letter two days later. I saw he post the letter on the wall in the court. I was afraid, yes, really scared. I don’t know what will happen when I send the letter to him. What he feel when he receive the letter? Happy? Shock? Hate? If he has girlfriend, is the letter bother him? Curiosity killed the cat. I went to the court to see the letter from him
Hi, Annie,
Thanks your care, I was convalescing. And thanks for the contact lenses.
p.s. turning around when you finish the letter.
Henry
Turning around? I was turning around, and he stood behind me, no glasses on his face.
“Hi, Annie,” He said. “Don’t be scare; I just want to thank you. Thanks for the contact lenses.” I shocked and nodded my head.
“Uh, I feel nervous…too.” He said.
I was so nervous now, but I can’t control my emotion.
“How much are the contact lenses?” He said it and took out the money.
No no no, it’s for you. I shook my hands.
“ok, how…how about….” He stammered.
What?
“I invite you have dinner with me tomorrow, ok?”
His face turned red, sweat flow down. “I want to thank you.” he said.
I want to say yes, but I have no confidence. I would like to have dinner with him, but I can’t. I like him, but if I say yes, I will hurt him. Looked his eyes, I knew I can’t tell the lie to him. I picked up a stone, wrote a sentence on the wall
“I am a mute.”
I’ll never forget his shocked face when he saw the sentence I wrote.
I won’t blame him, because a lot of boys know I am a mute, they don’t want to be a friend with me, and never want to talk to me.
In my world, I can’t hear, so I learn the lip language and dactylology very hard.
I have no CD, no alarm, no KTV, no movie, no all the thing have voice, because it’s no use to me, I am a mute and I can’t hear too.
I just can depend in my eye, that’s why I was every worry about Henry’s eyes.
Everything to me are different, I read people’s lips, or write down the words I want to say.
Two months passed, I still watched people play ball on the court everyday, the “I am a mute” still on the wall. I know, nobody want a mute be his girlfriend, I can understand. Today, I ran into Tank, he wanted to show me something so he took me to the wall which wrote the sentence “I am a mute.” Then he said to me “Look it clearly.” And I found there are a small sentence under the “I am a mute.” And someone was touch my back, I turned around, is Henry. Then he used his hand to tell me something like the sentence on the wall “Can I love you by silent?”
Fine before Eleven -3/3 (sheba)
A powerful storm was threatening Taipei. The cloud was darker, ran faster than before. Perhaps because of his loving of the plants and animals in the park, or perhaps of his kind nature, he decided to put down his camera and did something.
Long grey hair, tall, in worn blue jeans, around his early 60, frowning, he was worried about the coming terrible storm. He had spent several months on observation the lives in the park, recording the species of the living things, photographing the changes as if this place was his lab.
He was especially fond of the herons, the brown big couple, hatching now and expecting to have their chicks soon. Hiding behind the pines, he watched them around the clock. Gradually the man and the birds became acquaintance, walking under the trees, standing in the pond, fishing together.
One on another, he piled some big rocks around the bushes, thought they might be able to protect the big birds’ home from the furious wind. The glittering beads of sweat, like twinkling pearls, emerged from his bared chest. As if there was a scary monster coming, the animals often seen were gone. Hush in the air. Soon, leaves flying all over the place, the red, pink, purple, yellow petals falling down on the ground, the branches swinging, the wind was blowing in gusts.
The song of the wind dancing in the air, along his sigh, while his looking up the gloomy sky, he left.
Part III
Meg finds out another student was very odd. His name is Nick. She doesn’t know what exactly he is doing in everyday life and what he really likes. Nick is a smart kid, loving to sing a song in his leisure time, but his parents expect him to study hard to get into medical school without knowing the other side of their son. One day, Meg wants to improve Nick’s English because of his poor mark on the mid-term exam. She asks Nick to stay after school to study English, but Meg was persuaded to go to KTV with him after school instead. While munching food in the KTV room, Meg sees Nick’s future; he will be a businessman whose interest is singing. On one hand, Meg is really happy to discover Nick’s favorite because she believes she can teach him English by singing songs. On the other hand, she worries about Nick whose parents blame him for not going to medical school. When the time goes by, Nick doesn’t realize his English gets improved until he talks to a black guy, asking for some toilet paper when they are sitting on the toilets next door to each other. Throwing the toilet paper through the partition, listening to the black man’s singing, washing hands, Nick talks about the music with the man. When saying good-bye and coming out of the restroom, he sees his parents angrily ask Meg what happens to his son, who does nothing but singing. Meg tries to explain what is good for Nick, and finally she accidentally tells his parents the fact that their son can’t be a doctor. While hearing that, he honestly tells his parents he loves singing and also English. Now Meg is worried because her grandfather has warned her against telling people’s future. Meg is in a hurry to grab food, putting in her mouth, eating without stopping until she sees another future of Nick, who is going to be a singer. Hugging Nick, crying for happy, Meg is so relieved that she doesn’t screw Nick’s future. Everyone shockingly looks at her crazy behavior and no one knows what is in her mind. The confusion remains to Meg, whether it’s a mission to help people without telling the fact or it’s a misfortune that she needs to take risk telling people’s future which perhaps turns out to be worse.
Lu-Ting
Part III:
I remained sitting in the room, wondering how she could sing when so many emotions were surging through her : sadness, hatred, confusion. She hated not just one man, but all men.
She was very sensitive. As if she had read my mind. She took my shoulders, looked into my eyes
and rubbed her head against my forehead. Then she stood up and continued singing gently the part
I had just remember.
... So remote is that hopeless place
missing you has made my hair grey
(from a song was translated)
''Yes, it is my turn to sing now.''
She walked out.
It had been a long time since I had had the opportunity to listen to her singing live, and I had been
waiting for that day. But now I did not want to listen to her. I was afraid that she could fail on the
stage, afraid that I would hear only a scattering of applause, so I decided to sit in the room for
sometime and leave later.
But when she walked on to the stage and bowed, the applause was loud and long. She did not
know herself what was it that gave her a gift. Everybody who came her performance, could feel
whatever song it was that she had sang. People loved and respected her, it was as if they were
standing in front of a superman with amazing powers, not in front of a truly talented singer.
She began singing. I heard it as if it was coming from the air, from space, from the old days, from
our childhood,vows and rows that pulled us near and pushed us away. She was singing. No, she
was not singing, perhaps if she tempered her own passion, she had find the time on the stage, perhaps she was giving herself up to the passion of love, letting her emotions pour out.
I went out. She was so beautiful and brilliant, her eyes were so tender and fresh, like the dewdrop
in the dawn, seeming tohypnotize audience, flashing questions that had all men, bend their heads
guilt for betrying their love, begging to be forgiven and to come together again.
As she finished, the applause was deafening. People rushed on the stage with bouquets of
flowers. Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
I walked slowly back to my house. One question was burning within : How could she sing so
beautifully despite her broken heart, her resentment, her....?
Then suddenly I realised that when Molly had walked on the stage today, there was a moment of
enchantment that only a talent singer can catch.
Annie
Waiting for his wife to sign the divorce agreement already for three months, he was quite depressed, worrying, perhaps because of his responsibility to the coming baby. Then he got e-mail from his wife.
Dear Lyle,
We met each other at graduation ball of our high school, since that moment I have been completely smitten by you. My affection for you grew with each passing day in the past 40 years. All I'm trying to say is, perhaps because l love so much, after deep consideration l have finally awakened to the reality that our marriage has come to the end. I have decided to sign the divorce agreement. My last request that you come to have the last dinner with me, and take the document.
Affectionately Yours
Cynthia.
He finished reading the letter and relaxed back in his chair, with a sigh of relief. He decided to go for the dinner and bring the paper back.
He came back to their house, nothing changed, the dinning table was decorated with flowers and lighted pink candles, the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen, and it was his most favorite food, braised beef. A friendly dinner, almond mousse was served as dessert. Then he said." This almond mousse has strong flavor, it is a richly－flavored mousse, you must have double ingredients. Didn't you? " She just turned her back to him walked to the kitchen, and picked up a bottle under the water tank with a label on the bottle.“CYANIDE”."Yes I did" she answered while coming back to the dinning room and found him already collapsed in agony on the table. She walked toward him, combed his hair affectionately, and kept repeating his name softly over and over again, she trembled all over, and finally drank down the remaining portion in the bottle, perhaps because she was passionately attached to him, that she wanted to be with him for ever.
**** Waiting for his wife to sign the divorce agreement already for three months, he was quite depresses , worrying, perhaps because of his responsibility to the coming baby.**** Regina
Yvonne's story Part 3
It lay next to the mask, though seen motionlessly, making steadily ticks from under its elegant, carved golden cover, a token from him before they parted, a pocket watch, engraved with an initial “K.” She felt its weight in her palm, held it up to her ear, and leaned to listen to the time ticking. She wound the watch as her start of every single day.
While she was working in the kitchen, she constantly looked out the window, staring over at the sea for a while, turning on the music, yet immediately turning it off to listen to if there was any steaming horn from the ocean, afraid of missing any approaching ships; a Spanish ship was said to arrive soon. Though she had a sense of disappointment yesterday, it didn’t take away her hope. Never was it a matter for people in this little town - punctuality. Time is absent here.
Heavy fog came faster than the darkness, and streetlamps had been lit up, sometime before the night fell. By the foggy shore away from town, with soft lighting inside, the bar was like a small lighthouse, standing alone.
J. sat in front of the grand piano, the magical music box, sweet memories of her mother playing those moving pieces for her when she was little. The customers eagerly turned towards the piano, quieted down, waited patiently as usual, when she put out her cigarette, closed her eyes for a while, and then, ran her fingers over the black and white keys. Mr. R. rose up and asked Mrs. R. for a dance to the passionate Polonaise of Chipon, melodies flowing in the bar, haunting this little town by the sea through the tranquil night.
A man walked in silently, as if a sailor drawn by sirens. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, sitting in the corner behind, his table with a few empty whisky glasses, his pipe puffing tobacco smoke, his eyes slightly hidden behind his hat.
Later when Antonio played a tango on his concertina, everyone leapt and slid into the small paradise in the middle, since it was one of their favorite dances; Peter dancing with his sister, who farm their family herd with great enthusiasm, playing music for their cattle while grazing, providing fresh milk for town people, making fine cheese and dairy; Mr. Smith there, used to have been a locksmith before he settled himself here, now happily thinking about starting a new life, since locks, that blocking trust between people, fencing sharing of joy and sorrow, aren’t needed in this little town; Miss Dicarlo, an Italian artist, teaching people how to capture various colors of light and shadow and how to paint their fervency onto their canvas; Simon and Susie, a new couple, loving each other as if children concentrating on a new game,a new world belonging to their very moment.
Among them, J. was with Dennis, a regular patron, a great dancer, her fair legs dancing with spirited rhythm, her scarlet high-heels stamping, her cardinal skirt swaying, her hair flying, tangled with the whirls, her charming red lips slightly opened and her eyes glowing with a concentrated expression, an enchanting smile, hot sweat rolling down her brow and cheeks. When she turned, somehow, her hand was led over by another, a gentle touch with that Danish W.วพ.Larsen vanilla fragrant. “It is you,” J. looked up at him, and said, “Once I heard there was a wanderer, getting lost in the ocean of time, chasing time all over the rotating globe, searching for it through sunset and sunrise, trying to seize its wings in his hands.” She smiled longingly, “Have you caught it? Has time stopped for you?”
A low voice said, “Once I heard there was a lady dwelling in a little town by the sea, with people living at the moment of immortality, toasting to Carpe Diem, dancing to the immenseness of time.” K. lovingly looked at her eyes, that pair of eyes once hidden behind the mask, now even more bewitching, and he said, “It is you.”
They twirled into the tango, with the pocket watch ticking, with the ocean waves whispering, “ No regrets …”
“What is it all about? – for you…”
“IT?”
“This journey...”
Kristine
(Part III)
Looking back, she'd never imagined herself to walk thus far.
Kisbeth tossed her body sidewards, turned to face the man sleeping soundly beside her, examined his distinct features and gently held up her finger, slowly tracing his eyes, nose, cheeks in the air. This man who held her hand, who gave his first kiss to her at the altar, who promised her forever.
Did he remember the night before they started dating? Probably not: the wine was flowing freely by the end. She had briskly recounted her difficult childhood in North Korea, her abusive father and drunken half-Spanish single mother, her confused teenage years whereby no guys ever caught her eyes so all her friends thought she was gay, the terrible accident that happened to her one day when she jerked a locked glass door and the broken glass landed all over her and the doctor had to pick out 387 tiny fragments out of her body, and then her five-year wanderings in South Africa and just about everything she said hurled him into the state that he have remained in ever since – of complete and utter adoration.
She asked if, while in South Africa (trying to comprehend the endless, lonely grasslands she had described), was she not near any reasonable sized town?
And her reply came without hesitation : “ Honey, we were so not near any town of whatever darn size, they aren't true!”
He gaped, and then laughed. Their eyes met in the thickening twilight.
And then he said, “ I like you”, cheeks blushing red, as if he was a shy kindergarten boy confessing to the little girl sitting beside him.
At the thought of his response that night, which perhaps required all his courage and confidence, her lips stretched into a quiet smile and she gave a gentle peck on his nose.
Just as her thoughts intended to take her further back, a soft wail of a baby snapped her back to reality and she got down from the bed. Carrying the little infant girl in her arms, she hummed a soft lullaby, swaying her rhythmically left and right, whispering into her baby's ear just like her father used to whisper into her ear. Magically, the baby went back to sleep within seconds.
Her life, before the age of twenty-two, seemed too distant for reconciliation. Perhaps some things in life, if you intend to forget, you really do forget. Perhaps some memories you hold on to, if you force yourself not to recall, ultimately you really do lose the ability to summon them back. Perhaps every time you had wanted to be good, you knew there is a way to be good - but that way is a matter of choice, and perhaps a bit of luck.
** My cheeks burned, my eyes stared wide in unbelief, struck dumbfounded, too shock to recover from the tight slap across my face
The little boy turned the door, in residue of the light in the evening, producing a sharp “click” sound, the room full of silence but yet, full of whispering, those fingers pointed at his face, the laughter with their mouth wide-opened, full of the shouting and yelling of the gangs, full of anger and shame. He put down his bag on the chair near the table, feeling a sharp pain from the release, decided to take a hot shower. The rain spreading from the nozzle touched his skin, like the snow touches the withered tree, not having a basic shelter of the autumn leaves, or as jumping into the chilly Bering Sea in the winter, where his father started his risky journey of whaling. The cold water sprayed on the bruise on his face, piercing into the epidermis, numbing the feeling of pain, leaving the air extracted of the warmth. The boy tried to turn on the next tap, logistically correct. The rain falling down again, a cold spring at the beginning, needing time to heat up in the gas chamber, letting the hot water ejected into the rusted cold pipe, finally reached the opening, the cascade, the comfort. The water ran down again, but in a more chilly way, the way his father used to bath in, the same temperature, the salty water, holding the spear in the up-and-down rhythm, the rhythm of fighting against the nature. There’s one time his father threw the spear to the whale, while lifted by the coming surge at sudden, falling into the water and hit by the bow, drowned, nearly dead. One fisherman jumped with a rope at the waist, finally pulled him out of the water.
The little boy knows nothing about it but a wrinkled picture, torched yellow, his father on the left, himself in the middle, smiled unhappily, seemed to sense the moisture of the coming storm. After that accident his father usually got drunk, alcoholic blush of capillary on his face, waving his belt, whipping everything he saw, tore the skin of the little boy as the rotten peel of the orange. In memory, the shipping days of his father would always be a sunny day between storms, although the storm is still somewhere around. The boy touched his wounds indifferently, not recognizing from which been slashed, from whose hands. He stood lethargically, not knowing which memory should be extracted to cover his coldness, finally crouched down, as if sunk down to the bottom of the ocean, where his lost father couldn’t reach yet.
--
Arron
Grace
(part 3)
"No! Ninjabear, no!" Kevin cried in horror.
But Ninjabear pulled himself free from the scabbard and fell into the deep chasm.
With hands still strenching, Kevin was dumbstriken as Ninjabear was devoured by the merciless dark. Then he outburst a cry: "No! No! Don’t leave me alone!"
Suddenly, the sky was covered by enormous cumulus, then a bolt of lightning flashed over his head,followed by a great crash of thunder, which,without any precaution, deliberately hit the scabbard held by a shivering hand, whose owner was astonished by the sight in front of him: The scabbard started to shine, just like a candle lit up by a match. Precisely speaking, a rocket ready to launch.
Feeling a great upward force, Kevin was lifted by the scabbard.He pulled himself onto the ledge and found a button made from amber left abandoned on the ground. He recoginized it’s the decoration embedd on the scabbard, whose owner was supposed to be his friend and protector all his life. With great sorrow, he picked it up, and placed it back, his arm hugging the scabbard, tears falling on the button.
Surprisingly, the button shoot a beam of light to the sky, making the doorway to his bedroom appear in front of him.Holding sword and scabbard, he took one last look below him then sadly walked through.He woke up with a start. "Oh! What a horrible nightmare!" he thought. He turned around to talk to Ninjabear.But all that lay beside him was a ninja sword and scabbard.
Six o’clock in the morning, half a year later, Melrose opened her weary eyes and caught an impressive scene of mother nature: traces of violet and yellow light began to dye on the immense dark blue sky, and birds joyously humming their cheerful melodies, waking up the rest of the asleep world. Although feeling drowsy, her weak body now carried with lesser pain, she tried moving up slowly on the bed, tilted her head to the left, comforted to see her husband smiling aside, and in his arms carefully held a beautiful little baby girl who looked just like her father. Nick leaned over to the side of his wife’s bed from his chair, handing over the tiny one into her mother’s arms, and then kissed on his wife’s forehead. Once a woman troubled by infertility, Melrose was thankful for the miracle in which she had successfully gave birth to a healthy girl. This morning was filled with an indescribable happiness, she was overjoyed to see her firstborn child; she had never felt like this before in her life; she had finally become a real mother. “Violet,” Melrose spoke in a fragile voice, glancing with love at the sleeping girl, reaching her fingertips over to feel the baby’s soft body bundled in blanket, “we’ll name her Violet.” Delighted, Nick nodded his head as he starred at the lovely picture of his wife and daughter. He took out a camera from his bag, placed it on the table in front, set it on self-timer, put his arm around Melrose’s shoulder, facing the camera eye, counting down the seconds left for the first family picture to be taken.
Diane
All his friends knew how difficult for him to have such buffet as if the thunderbolt hit right on his head, splitting apart from his daily routine, they taking turn to be with him for not committing suicide. He cried a lot when he got in touch with his feeling especially at night. Lacking desire in life, he tried hard to keep himself in one piece. He ate little, watched no more movies and talked less.
Now, he’s sitting inside his gym room. This morning he just took his son to a museum then had a great breakfast with his wife, too. Twelve years has passed, as he looked at this statue, the memory was slipping into a corner of his mind… He went to Johnson’s funeral, holding back his feeling to not show too much emotion he had towards Johnson because he had his own wife and a little son. Putting the cold and wet soil on the lid of coffin, from one shovel to another, sobbing sound from the friends and relatives, his tears dripping, quietly, the grief wasn’t buried with him, instead, more pain was created the moment Johnson had become part of the earth, hardly finding the coffin expect the ground.
He was, probably, empty. For nothing could describe his feeling.
Soon after, he turned to Johnson’s wife and arranged the following practical things. He collected money from friends to support this family, a quiet mother saying nothing except ”thank you”, an innocent boy thinking his father was in a place called heaven.
More, he bought a Buddha statue with Johnson’s name behind it to commemorate him. No one knew what is behind the statue, written in black and golden words : “Beloved wife—Johnson’s memory tablet”. He didn’t care any taboo, didn’t mind how people think, neither the future. He has always wished Johnson could be his wife one day even thought it can’t be in a real world but in his heart.
The first year, he still remembers. He bought flowers, food Johnson liked, a shovel for planting seeds, to see again his grave yard written his name on still caused great sorrow.
The pain always there was turning into tears, totally like a child, flooding-like tears wet his T-shirt. He cleaned it gently and slowly told him what he did this year and how he missed the life without him.
He did this for several years until he understood something. He realized if he loved someone dead so much, it would be much better to love someone alive next to him. For his mother’s wish, he married a woman working in the same bank. She is as tender and warm as him. They had a son, soft like him. He’s a good husband just like he was a good lover.
A knock on the door brings him back to this room. His son and wife are waiting
him for the coming cartoon movie. He has always been enjoying with his family. He’s standing up with a soft gazing to the statue and opening the door.
**Calling from somewhere far away, whispery, like a silent sound, the wind flipped the leaves of trees.
supriya
She felt anxious to tell lei lei what she is going to say, facing someome who truely cares about her, no matterept "what mean good for a person" form. She told her friend, her boss, her care taker as a mother, she would like to go independent by herself, looking around from her own eyes, judging by her own experience, not wanting to meet all the time, going everywhere together, meeting each other once in a while, having a cup of coffee or a meal, that would much precious for her. Lei-lei looked a little suprising for the talking and looked worried, but also knowing her had made descision.
She felt such relief next morning, perhaps because she had said what she mean to say for a long time, perhaps because something new is waiting for her on the way. Lei-lei went out before she woke up, hearing birds singing outside of the windows, sensing the free space around her, smelling the fragrance of flowers she bought last night, touching skin of her own face, so soft, getting up, taking her own time having a nice shower, preparing herself for the day.
She walked on the roadside, so relaxing, as if she was living on this land for a long time not few days, smelling the fresh air after rain, all the dust falling with water, feeling ike a butterfly, graceful and being at home. She was curious about this new place and the people. In the center of this place was a buddha hall designed by a German man, without any pillars, a few thick, strong iron lines holding the tent like roof, white marble floor, enclosing by mosquito net as a wall, seeing and feeling the changes of light, trees, open sky, and nature through the net. She could hear music playing through the net, watching people dancing inside and outside of the buddha hall, people talking, laughing and hugging, ufamiliar but feeling alive for her.
Finally it's time for le-lei to go home, but couldnn't leave without worring, finding a couple from their home country, asking rita to stay with them not to learn bad behavior from all the stranger in this place. This couple's life style was exactly same as they live in their home land. She wished rita would not change. Rita kept lei-lei's words like a obeying good girl , even though lei-lei was not physicaly with her anymore.
She went to the couple's flat for lunch, chatting about the people from their homeland, listening the man complained about what had happened in the ashram and seeing the woman longing for the life so close to her but not daring to take it, like a slave wouldn't talk her own wish, the situation keeing on going like this till dinner and after , keeping like this days after days. Till one day while she was sitting there ,listening the words from recording of osho, his voice full of compassion ,soft and strangth touching, suporting and comforting her. And most of all, she felt he was there for her even though he had passed away few years ago. She was waiting for her whole life that someone could love her, be there for her, and from that moment dream has come true, tears falling, body warming up.
She really started her new life in the ashram, staying there most of the day, participating different activities, meeting new friends, talking joks, dancing and etc. Life wasn't always great, sometimes comfuse, sometimes so content, up and down. Few months later she met her fist boyfriend, taking all the sweetness in, and then broken up, taking all the sadness in, most important of all, tasting the life, and all after all someone is there for her always.
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