This is a project of mine, a thriller based on real life experience. I’ve recently picked it up and adding some parts here and there.

Prologue

Excerpt from the prologue:

“… chilled night air was refreshing and I was wide awake, lost in my thoughts, entertaining a series of flashbacks so vivid that I shuddered to the thought of it.

This tale happened on one of the many nights before tonight, exactly eight years ago, when I was a high school freshman…”

Part I

The air was chilly and the lamppost flickered. I watched with sleepy eyes as the bulb struggled to emit the yellow wash of light for a moment before it sputtered, and the light died off. Two rows ahead, another freshman stirred in her sleep, hugging herself even more tightly to ward off the coldness of the bare concrete and the merciless night air.

I should’ve slept, but I couldn’t, since lying on the floor was torturous. Every intake of breath caused me a coughing fit enough to wake the whole camp, and we had a morning drill tomorrow morning. Hence, I resorted in sitting upright. The night was silent but it was far from peaceful. I could sense that something was not right, but I wasn’t so sure. It was as if something was happening out there, on the other side of the unlocked wooden door. I had no idea how long I sat, but when I dozed off, it was an uneasy sleep.

I was awakened by the sound of activity around me. The sun had already risen, and the time for the morning had long passed. I was amazed and horrified at the same time. I was amazed for the fact that nobody pounded the wooden door to wake us up and horrified that we would be receiving punishment from the camp leader for being late. I woke up, prepared myself hastily, and joined my fellow freshmen on the field.

Once again, I was startled. The cocky camp leader was nowhere to be seen. The air was grim, as if something bad happened. Nobody spoke for a long, long time. Finally, the assistance camp leader arrived. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat nervously. And when she spoke, she spoke with a tone so grave that I was startled to the core. What came from her next was the least expected. Instead of barking the usual commands all she said was a sentence. Not exactly a sentence, but a question.

“Did anyone of you heard anything yesterday?”

For further information, please visit Jason Mumbles.

I couldn’t help but to be in awe with my sister sometimes, as she had the tendency to act in such a way that she gives the urge to bang my head against the wall. To think that we shouldn’t have any generation gap for we were born three years apart was totally wrong. I couldn’t even fathom the way she think, and she, I.As far as I am concerned, she did great for her SPM, scoring all As safe for a lone B3 for EST. So, logically thinking, it is the time where she stood at the crossroad, contemplating on which path to choose, weighing the consequences of each and every possible alternatives to which opportunities await.

Now, correct me if I am wrong. With results as such, one could at least try her luck by applying for everything. By everything I mean she should apply for public/private university entrance, JPA, matriculations and the most important of all, scholarships. It is to my understanding that straight As students are a dime a dozen out there, but hey, there’s no harm trying right?

I was quite appalled by her lackadaisical attitude for the first time I chatted with her through instant messaging. As usual, I asked her what she wanted to do. She said she had no idea, and I could comprehend with that. When I asked her about Form 6, she seemed reluctant, but yet she was not too hot on the idea of applying for anything either. As, usual, using my best I-am-your-elder-sister tone, I advised her to apply for everything, due to the fact that even if she had wanted to study Form 6 in the end she could at least try to look at every single options available.

Apparently, there is no reason not to apply. To try and being rejected is better than not trying at all. Why is she acting that way? Had I not remind her constantly I think she would have just sat at home and apply for nothing. And don’t try to preach me on being a kiasu, forcing my sister to do things that she doesn’t want to. If I have a choice I would rather shut up, stand aside and let her do whatever she likes but this is a once in a lifetime where opportunities to choose are aplenty. Sitting there quietly looking at the opportunity pass by is not a very wise way of conduct. I just couldn’t comprehend it.

I think I am gonna pester her to apply. Yes, that’s the only way. Period.

Updates : My sis is not gonna apply for anything. Reason? LAZY. I rest my case. *Two legs in the air, mouth foaming*

A quick browse through my blog reminds me that I seldom write things which are unhappy, a record which I think I am going to break today. I usually thought that unhappy incidents shouldn’t be penned down, for the fear of a lasting reminder that there are times when smiles are hard to come by and tears were overflown. However, certain incidents are worth to be mentioned, as it touches the hypocrisy of humanity in everyday life and the depreciation self respect personally.

All in all, it wasn’t something big to begin with. Life now is full of approaching deadlines, unfinished assignments, no-idea-where-to begin projects, and of course, some mediocre midterm test marks, and oncoming final examinations to boot. Everything is so cluttered, but I am sure that it will be alright as long as I am on the right track. But, am I on the right track? It is sad to speak, but in times like this, the situation brings out the worse in all of us.

Conversely, the things I am going to say are remotely connected to the first two paragraphs. Words aforementioned depict my current situation, and what I am going to say next is my perception towards, well… people in general.

It is unnerving to say that relationships between people nowadays are somewhat insincere, as we are being subject to judgments by the other party before being deemed as worthy to befriend of. I might be judgmental myself for uttering the former sentence, but it certainly seems so to me most of the time. I’ve been judged again and again, consciously, subconsciously, intentionally, unintentionally and it feels downwardly depressed when I found out that I am not the person qualified to associate with. It is as if I am a worthless person. And it deflates my self esteem. Truth to be told, I do not consider myself as a victim, for I am merely voicing something that I am powerless against.

I am sure everyone knows about the bombastic SPM result that had been released recently. In every corner of the country, parents were amazed by the fact that it is possible for someone to garner such a long string of A’s and some might berate that why their offspring are not capable of doing so. It is sad to speak but, academic achievement has once again being proved as the best way to measure a person’s … everything. Even now, here, at this moment, I am sure if I were to meet someone, chances are that they might judge me by the amount of my CGPA… a sickening thought. Sickening in the sense that I might somehow be shunned for being an underdog in the academic world, and sickening for being judged that way. It’s not good to mention, but I know that there are people out there who judged me in such a way, and I am aware of it. I guessed that this is the way akin to how the world goes round, and I am sure that, given the blessing of being superior in academic, one might gain a popular number of acquaintances, but how many of them are true, only the person could tell.

Academics apart, there are some materialistic soul out there that will scrutiny the amount of material wealth that a person owns. I am sure that the same kind of person who is impressed by a friend driving a BMW and wearing branded from head-to-toe will despise another friend who is plain and going on foot. It is a harsh world out there and money is the root holding the minds of people. Everything done should be accorded to the amount of benefits that will be reaped from that particular action. No intention is out of goodwill and everything is business, hence it must be profitable. For those who failed to give anything in return for a mere friendship shouldn’t be a friend in the first place. How sad. How ironic.

Of course, superiority in academics and mass amount of wealth isn’t the only factor worth judging for; there are things such as physical appearances to think of. Well, speaking about physical appearance, one can imagine a flower flocked by bees, all wanting to taste the sweetness of the nectar. Such is the metaphor for some beautiful creatures, always surrounded by admirers, which again reminds me that it will only happen to me a gazillion of years later. But, since physical appearance is a gift of God plus some salon modification, I am not up to much grumble unless to go for plastic surgery. However, it is an anguish thought to be penalized by imperfections, one which provoked questions from inquisitive people. More often than not, people will ask about the freckles on my face. Some rude and insensitive women had the nerve to say, “What an ugly little girl, with so many housefly shit on the face!” I used to be quite offended by those remarks when I was a small, but over the years, I learn to accept that I am myself and I should love myself no matter what others say. Again, I am sure that there are people out there who judge the book by its cover. To this I can only say that, physical beauty changes through the time, the inner beauty is longer lasting, and if you can see a person through the outer appearance, you will know that it makes a different in the world.

It’s a long story up there and it should be more or less enough to speak for my mind. It is frustrated sometimes that you are being looked upon that way and although you may argue that not every single person I met treat me as such, I am well aware that some people does. With this I would like to take a break from writing, partly because of my workload and exam, and also partly because I just need to take a break before I blurb something incoherent, with wrong tenses and awkward sentences. I take pride in my writing, and hence I hope that I will write grammatically correct and logically coherent post. Good bye for the time being. Until we meet again.

Have a nice day.

Standing and viewing the world at 5’2’’ is really saying something. I don’t think of myself as particularly short, nor do I view myself as very tall. However, there are really some disadvantages for those who are standing a little over five feet that I would like to mention here.

1. I will get pain-in-the-neck when I talk to those tall people. Usually occurs when the person I am talking to is around 5’9” or around the height.

2. Eye level view has a different meaning to me. I don’t get to have eye contact with the person I am conversing with if I don’t crane my neck. I only get to see people’s chest. Or their cleavage if the person is a tall girl/lady/woman.

3. I will be drowned in a sea of people, and if everyone stood near to one and another, I will be suffocating with the smell of sweat and unwashed hair. (Or armpits?)

4. I have this impression that people are looking down at me when I am talking to them.

5. Imagine the agony of having to watch movie in a cinema where the person in front of you is a tad taller than you and has an outrageous beehive hairstyle.

6. Cinema again. Why is it that I’ve always ended up behind people who are taller than me? Or is it because everyone is taller than me in general?

7. Hypermarket stocks are forever reaching the ceiling. Ironically most of the items I need are placed at the shelves that I couldn’t reach.

8. Bell bottom pants? Forget the bells. Those pants are practically sweeping the floor and by the time I managed to alter them, those bell bottoms were half gone, leaving me a pair weird bottom pants. And I suspected that they make me look fat.

9. Pants again. Most, if not all the pants on the market are two to three inches longer than the perfect length for me, leaving me with three choices: First choice - alter them. Second choice - fold them. Third choice - fold them and drag them along the road until you bore nice holes around the hems, effectively severing the extra length. That is if you drag them long enough on the floor. In the meantime, just hope that you won’t trip over your own pants.

10. You will be denied the privilege of applying for cool jobs such as pilots, air steward and air stewardess. Any other jobs that need minimum height requirement?

At least I haven’t heard of anyone calling me a shortie. Or is it because I am to short to catch their word?