I almost became purple vapour

I picked out a set of blood and skin samples from the cold, grey bodies of those pseudo-ninjas and kept them into a vial, before vaporising them with a bottle of quick-acid. The rogue's best friend, they said. Then I sat down on a boulder nearby and started to read the documents recovered from the bodies. I could only make out the following words from the illegible writings: seize from the central tablet.

I promptly went back to the Plaza and searched the 'Central Tablet', where the 'poem of the day' was held. Knock knock. There was a hollow compartment at the side, and I pried it open. A shining token caught my eye. Same as the tokens found from those pseudo-ninjas. I looked closely at the engravings depicting a bull with the head of the man. An inverted Minotaur?

I trotted back to the castle where Purple was waiting for me in his office. He let out a sigh of frustration when he saw the documents and the set of five tokens I recovered.

“Those pseudo-ninjas were just having their entrance exams to enter this mercenary organisation Ruatonim. The head of the man symbolises craftiness while the bull body represents strength. Of course, those si ginas you fought just now have none of the above. HEHEHEHEHE!”

I rolled my eyes.

“I feel SOOO sorry for you wasting your time dealing with these insignificants, but your trip was not all fruitless. Thanks to you, our biology alchemists will be able to derive more information about the si gina race, MUHAHAHAHAH...” he pointed to the vials with his bony fingers, “and besides, your account helped confirm the series of increased activity from this organisation all over the kingdom. I wonder...”

He suddenly lost his grin, but he regained his composure.

“I will let you know again. You are so much better than those overpaid agents who gets nothing right. Good thing I accepted your resignation back then, so that you can choose to become free labour. Cut costs, eh? HEHEHEHEHEHE...”

I almost wanted to throw my quick-acid at him, but he would vaporise me easily on the spot before that could happen. And I wondered why I am still taking all his shitty laughters and mockings. He vaporised the Lamia that tried to eat you alive when you are a kid, dumbass. Yeah right, sometimes I wished it didn't happen at all.

I gave the sharp look of disgust in front of his Cheshire Cat grin and turned to leave.

“Before I forget, here's a little something for your efforts.”

He tossed a small pouch of silver coins and a brown dragonskin pouch to me. I caught them without looking back.

As I left the castle compound, I took a glance at Princess' tower. The lights were still on. I heard that she would head for another diplomatic trip to the land of the Dwarves soon.

I wondered again why I am still willing to go through all this shit.

Maybe I still secretly wished to be her imperial guard, but I heard just recently that the Prince sliced the Manticore into a hundred pieces when it tried to attack Princess on their way to visit the Elven embassy. He better make sure that he keeps up this good work, or else I might just sneak into his room and...

On the other hand, maybe I should just pass her my dagger instead.

Nightmare – From the Attacker

Background: The following is inspired by a nightmare a good friend had written about some time ago.

I don't really like my job. And it didn't help matters for me to have inferiority complex, which magnifies under the scrutiny of the Protected. It scares the hell out of me when they kept staring at me whenever I appear around them.

Yes, I know, I do emit and aura of fright and terror with black-tentacle-like representation of what is supposed to be just my swaying hair. And I know that I have to be consistently under the onyx hood that's supposed to be my only protection against the harsh environment they called Earth. The loud noises caused by the colliding of the air molecules gives me headaches.

Talk about 'favourable' working conditions. Compounded with unappreciative clients.

It is not an easy job watching over the Protected over a distance from the Creatures. Just some hours ago, my hair-held radar spoilt when watching over this pair of sisters in the shopping mall. I had to follow them frantically while trying to use my rusty Sense to track the flock of Creatures that were following them closely for the past few days. Man, my self-esteem hurt a great deal when those sisters fled upon seeing me. But at least they managed to get into their safe house before those flock could do anything to them. I got my radar back online later and vaporised them before they could regroup outside the safe house.

It's kinda lonely out there, staying all by myself in this old building for the next couple of years till the sisters turn twenty-one. That will be when the Creatures cannot bother them any more. Then I will use my ten-year leave entitlement to go back home and take care of my kids, which I forfeited previously because of my failure.

I am still having my share of day-mares ever since I failed my previous assignment. I could never forget her scream of anguish as the Creatures dragged her to their wormhole, as I watched helplessly just a few metres away.

It's been a long evening. I shall check out the cityscape for a moment of relaxation before commencing my nightly patrol around their house. As I stared towards the city lights, the family of them stared at me downstairs. I still remember those faces, particularly that Lucy girl who gave me a hard time many years ago. It was miraculous that she survived till now.

I chuckled to myself bitterly, and retreated to the shadows for the start of another long darkness ahead.

Haw Flakes

I was packing up my confectionery cabinet one fine day when I came across this packet of unopened haw flakes. A small packet of nine individually reddish paper-wrapped pieces with those familiar Chinese characters printed on each of them.

I snipped the package open with my scissors and a piece fell onto the table. I picked it up, tore the paper open, and took the haw flakes out. Slice by slice.

I put the first into my mouth. I felt it melting on the tip of my tongue. It broke. Then I went ahead and chewed another. The sound of crumbling sugar rang in my head as the sweetness of the flakes sipped into the end of my throat. I chewed again.

Irresistible.

I stared at the remains of the paper packet on the tabletop. And stared at the remaining eight that was tugging together intendedly. I looked at the paper shreds again.

Then, I promptly sweep them up in my hand and crushed them crumpled, throwing them into the dustbin. I opened the fridge and kept the other eight into a corner of the chiller compartment.

I opened my cabinet again. This time, I took out my favourite bag of sour gummy bears and savoured every bite of them in front of my laptop, while mourning for the loss of the world largest gummy bear.

I was coughing dust in an espionage mission

My quest in search for the Babylon candle was put on hold when I found the dagger stuck at the saddle of my stead this morning. Apparently Purple had a mission for me. Even though I have resigned from my previous job as the guard of the imperial gardens, Purple would still assign me additional missions through the teleportation dagger occasionally. Some missions were more convenient for me to carry out as I am not considered part of the kingdom's military. Mercenary, perhaps (without the pay though).

I need you to go to the tavern to collect the 'package' from the middleman. He will brief you more on the details of this, delivery. HEHEHEHEHE.

I almost could hear his menacing laughter after reading the note. Irritating as ever.

The tavern was pretty crowded, but I found the middleman relatively easily because he was, well, literally his name. Middle-sized man, a rarity in this kingdom of extreme subjects. He coughed, and passed me a stack of scrolls, tied together neatly in a butterfly knot that seemed so strangely familiar. I coughed too, because it was so dusty, but the last thing I would do was to beat the dust off. It will attract way too much attention if everyone coughed.

“You might have heard about the poetry exhibition at the Plaza Central, and we have reliable sources telling us of a possible theft tonight. By the imperial edict, we need you to infiltrate the facility and investigate. Our imperial spies are caught up with other urgent matters for now, so we need your help.”

“And by the way, this stack of scrolls are just something extra. You may deal with it whatever you like.”

He winked. I was a little confused of his gesture, but after looking closely at the ribbon, I let out a smile. A smile of relief perhaps? It's been a while since I wrote anything to her.

I stepped into the Plaza. Crowded was an understatement. The Chinese had this idiom that goes by “People mountain people sea”, which I thought fitted the description like a pixel in a LCD screen. By common sense, the 'thieves' would take action during the night when the plaza closed, so I hid myself in the toilet cubicle and continue reading the book of Percy Jackson till nightfall. I stepped out of the cubicle amidst the silence of the night, holding tightly to the stack of scrolls, and scoured the area. The softness of the moonlight soothed the tense atmosphere.

Tip tap tip tap tip tip tap tap.. squeak!

Oh rats, literally. I stepped on one and it let out a squeal so loud that the shadows around me flinched. Oh wait, flinching shadows?

Before I knew it, a dart came shooting in my direction but the aim was so terrible that I did not need to move a hair to avoid it. Then came another. And another three more. All missed. And I thought they were trap darts, so I waited. And waited.

Squeak!

But nothing happened. My turn with my darts.

Ouch! Argh! Bam! Eeek! Wah!!!

Ting!

Oh, someone managed to block my dart. A dark-robed figure stepped out of the shadows behind the main panel of exhibition and glared at me with his/her/its glowing red eyes so hard that I thought him/her/it was going to burn up in flames. That thing charged towards me. It (as I've decided) swung its mace forty-five degrees inwards my neck, followed by a backhand swerve with a side kick and a knuckle punch. I blocked, jumped, deflected and countered. BAM! I pushed it back with my Shaolin Palm strike, forgetting that I was holding on to the scrolls.

Cough cough. Cough cough cough! It was coughing from my hit at its chest, while I am coughing from the scroll's dust. Our coughs were loud enough to make the whole rat nest squeal in terror (or delight?). But luckily, I stopped coughing first and placed my dagger at its neck.

“Speak, fool.”

It looked at me with teary eyes that almost made me sympathise with it, if not for its audacity to pull off an unsuccessful sneak attack. I slit its throat.

My dagger was stained jet black.

I searched all the bodies and picked up whatever tokens or documents that could help with my investigations and scouted the area again. Before long, my eyes caught the main panel of the poetry exhibition.

The Candy Factory

Gummy bears, gummy bears,
Hear my mark.

Gummy bears, gummy bears,
Dress yourselves up
in the pot of citric syrup

Gummy bears, gummy bears,
Arm and load
with your squeaky honey gloves
and your chocolate boots

Gummy bears, gummy bears,
Brace yourself

And jump into the ogre's mouth.

I almost puked on the spot. I unrolled the stack of scrolls I had, browsed through it, and replaced that panel with one of them.

sea of sorrow

rainbow swirls caramelised
where is the pot of gold?
i walked across the lollipop arch
just to arrive at a sea of sorrow.

i squinted my eyes and strained my ears
nothing but the sound of tears
and the naked sky is ever blue
like time has freezes and
is of no matter too.

and so i stayed
thinking of escape
but no ship ever dock
and there was not even
a gull in sight
for me to tie my string to
and take flight.

day after day i gaze
at the steady waves of sorrow
crashing breaking and stealing
grains of happiness from my shore
but soon i grew used to it
that melancholy lullaby
and palm trees started growing
upon that once barren soil.

i taught myself to garden
and planted flowers from seeds formed in my heart
they're watered lovingly with sorrow
and dyed scarlet with blood.

perhaps one day ships will come
over that dusty horizon.
through their eyeglasses perhaps they'll spot
flowers growing in the fog.

maybe they'll be curious and come ashore
i hope they'll marvel and wonder then
for whom these fragrant flowers bloom
and what secrets they harbor
beneath their lovely facades.

I looked at it intendedly once more, smiled, knelt down at Her Highness' brilliance and went ahead to drag the bodies out of the Plaza.

The story of Blondilocks and the three Angels

This was meant to be part of my fiction assignment, but I decided not to submit it after writing a whole new piece of work. There are two possible endings to this one I have thought of. Please feel free to comment which ending is better.

“It's so tiring...” complained Blondilocks. She's been walking along the forest trail, having nothing better to do for the whole day. Serves her right for being tired.

Blondilocks is quite popular in her village, being nice, cuddly and sweet, but no one knows her dark side. Everyone remembers the day when the statue of King Arthur Lee Ulysses was found disfigured with over-sized facial hair drawn on his face. And the day the dress of Queen Dame Ugglie was found painted horrible bright pink. The villagers blamed the poor wicked old witch for that, just because she has a long crooked nose and a lump on her head. She couldn't even draw.

It is obvious by now who the real culprit is, though no one else ever found out. She will get her karma though.

And the karma is right in front of her. Right inside the door of this house.

***

I stared at this building for a very, very long time. I have never seen such a magnificent structure, not even in my bedtime story books. It stood at about three times my height, decorated with panels of tinted glass with portraits of two angelic figures reaching out for the stars. Rays of light shone through the kaleidoscopic range of colours, reflecting them into my eyes. I was enthralled.

I quickened my steps to the front of the asymmetrical wooden door, the size of Papa bear I read about in one of the fairy tales. I forgot the title though.

The glowing door knob beckoned me to turn it, but I decided to knock first. Knock knock, anyone there? Knock knock knock... anyone? I turned the door knob.

The living room was surprisingly small and cramped. The sweet scent of vegetable porridge lingered heavily. I looked around again. A long dining table enough for three, a grandfather clock on the wall, a burning fireplace with a cauldron of yellow coloured soup, three dull-looking massage chairs and a staircase leading upstairs. But no one around. Anyone there? No response. I heard a growl though.

My stomach. I missed my breakfast this morning.

That was when I noticed the three bowls of porridge on the dining table. I took a deep breath. Sweet. And before I knew it, I was standing on my own puddle of drool.

The three bowls were of different sizes. Large, extra large, and extra, extra large. I went over to the large bowl, and took a sip. This porridge is too hot! Then I went over to the extra large bowl. This porridge is too cold! And finally, bearing that little bit of hope, I went over to the extra, extra large bowl and gobbled it whole as it was just right. Delicious.

Yawns.

My legs were aching from all the walking. I looked at the massage chairs. And looked. Small chair, extra small chair, and extra, extra small chair. Sitting there for a little while won't hurt a bit right? I went over to the small chair. The chair is too big and hard! Then the extra small chair. The chair is too big and too soft! And finally, feeling a little more hopeful, I went over to the extra, extra small chair and fiddled with the roller functions on the remote control as it was just right. Comfortable, other than the fact that the chair broke down a few moments later.

Yawned again.

I went up the staircase. The space was even smaller than the living room. A plain, white set up with cream curtains, colours matching to the three beds. The three beds, medium, extra medium, and extra, extra medium. Which meant they were the same size. I sat on the medium bed. This bed is too hard! Then the extra medium bed. This bed is too soft! And finally, I lay down on the extra, extra medium size bed, which was just right, and went into the land where Morpheus governs.

***

Oops.

I forgot to lock the door before leaving the house to visit Grandma's old friend, the wicked old witch in the forest, with Mama Angel and Baby Angel. As usual, the poor wicked old witch ranted about the disfigured statue, the hot pink dress and the villager's discrimination. Ah, disgusting humans. Make judgement of others so easily.

We had to bid the wicked old witch goodbye when Baby Angel almost tore down the poor witch's stick hut with her wings. Because she was hungry. When we reached home, our door was ajar.

Oops.

I went ahead first before Mama and Baby. The fireplace was still burning strongly for my vegetable curry, but horror was defined by the touched spoons on the dining table, and the empty bowl that belonged to Baby.

Somebody's been eating my porridge! Mama, bad news. You better hold Baby back before she sees this.

Somebody's been eating my porridge too! Papa I've got her.

Somebody's been eating my porridge and they ate it all up!

Luckily, Mama held Baby back before she could do any real damage.

And if that's worse enough, my massage chair was switched on.

Someone's been sitting on my chair! I was hopping mad already.

Someone's been sitting on my chair too! Mama's face was as red as the fire in the fireplace.

Someone's been sitting on my chair and they've broken it all into pieces! Baby's tears of anguish almost flooded the house.

Oh no! Our beds!

We rushed upstairs. Someone's been sleeping on my bed! Someone's been sleeping on my bed, too! Someone's been sleeping on my bed, and she's still there!

I stared at her for eternity. I smirked. I sent a telepathic message to Morpheus, telling him to keep her company a little longer.

Mama dear... could you help me to sharpen my Cross Blade? Baby flapped her wings in delight.

Her head would make an excellent addition to the curry in the cauldron.

Alternate ending to be continued with previous

“Hello Morpheus dear!”

“Oh hello Blondi. I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?”

“I am fine, I suppose. But I am still feeling kinda hungry even after that extra, extra large bowl of porridge. Any suggestions?”

“Hmmm... let's see...”

Beep beep! Beep beep!

“Oh I've just got a message from your dinner tonight. He asked me to accompany you for a little while more.”

“But I am hungry already!”

“Ah... don't worry my dear, would you like to have wings for dinner later? Wait for me here while I get some marinating sauce...”

Conclusions

“Hey buddy, congratulations in getting that trophy!”

“Hey Alan, you're welcome! You did put up a good fight, you know. I was almost caught off guard.”

“Haha, yeah. Oh man, I missed my flèche by that tiny bit. I guess I was a little too impatient.”

“...”

“Hey Ben.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise me something?”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Could you take good care of Clare?”

“...”

“Yeah, don't worry. I will.”

“If you don't, I will make sure that my next flèche hit you hard.”

***

As I close the storeroom door and walk out of the sports hall, I saw Claudia at the carpark, seemingly waiting for me.

She smiled at me. I smiled back.

Then I understood what her smile meant. Someone else was waiting for her in his car.

A few moments later, we did what seems to be so common in dramas nowadays. We turned our backs towards each other, and she walked back to his car while I headed back to my bicycle.

I rode uphill back to my room after that.

***

"Leaving someone behind means you only want the best for her/him, even if it means swallowing the sad reality that, the best just isn't you."

Blue masks, red masks and the green mask

Another hard day of training at the club, and another harder night of equipment packing in the store room before going back to my room to sleep. I was alone again, hanging the suits, breeches, plastrons and the like onto the shelf and keeping the blades onto the stands where they belong.

The smell of stale sweat and saw dust lingered.

It's time to keep the masks. I always liked to arrange the masks properly in the cupboard according to their colours. Sometimes I would keep them separated into their different colours, while other times I would mix and match to form various shapes and contrasts. Made my mundane job as the logistics 'officer' a little brighter.

I stared at the big blue mask I always wear during trainings. I looked inside of it again, which was filled with nothing but the odour of my sweat.

I was suddenly reminded of the research article I read a few days ago. It was regarding the science of attraction, and the aspect of how our scent gives us an advantage in identifying a partner with different genetics so as to maximise the immunity system of our offspring. In other words, the more potential that prospective partner is, the more pleasant his or her scent is.

So out of plain curiosity, I picked up a mask and moved my head closer to it, before putting it back to that cupboard.

Aileen, Bernard, Danny, Eileen, Frank, Geraldine, Herald, Ignatius, Jacqueline, Kathleen, Linda...

And finally, Claudia. That green mask belongs to her.

I did not know Claudia for a long time, but that first day when I saw her at the club, she was familiarly strange to me. That moment was a little awkward, when I stared at her for a prolonged period of time that might have been considered rude. She turned around and looked at me too. And we finally smiled briefly at each other after a long silence.

Her movements were graceful, her steps like a dancer communicating to her opponent like her audience. I named her blade 'Ballerina's Point', but she never knew.

Once in a while, I would ask her out for lunch and we would go to the nearby food centre and order a plate of fishball noodles each. And she would take out her candy pouch full of gummy bears and offer it to me. I would reject her kind offer even though I liked gummy bears as much as she did, but she never knew.

It was never about my lack of courage. Perhaps I am just not sure about myself. Perhaps I am more afraid of myself than afraid of her. Maybe she knew, or maybe she didn't.

I stared at the green mask for an eternal second.

And took a deep breath.

The story of a woman in a little blue house

An in-class exercise for HZ101 based on the following plot lines:

1.A woman goes deaf as a result of an explosion
2.She can no longer hear partner snoring
3.She is able to sleep, takes up recreational shooting

“Boomz!”

Nancy was up in her typical day, doing her household chores in her little blue house on top of the little blue hill when her husband was out for work, when a loud explosion occurred some distance away down at the foot of the hill. Apparently, a car bomb has gone off accidentally, which was supposed to be aiming at the big blue building some streets away where the big blue mayor lives, but the perpetrator was idiotic enough to park the car too far away to have any effect.

Instead, a shrapnel flew into the kitchen window where Nancy was cooking her pie for lunch and hit her ear, causing her to go deaf.

However, instead of mourning over her loss of hearing as others would do, she was actually quite delighted because being deaf meant that she would not have to stand her husband's snoring every night, which disrupts her well-needed rest after working around the house. With her new found rest, she still has excess energy after finishing her housework. Thus having nothing better to do, she took up recreational shooting to pass time on top of the little green hill at the opposite town.

And a few weeks later, while at the range, she aimed into a little green house in front of the little green hill and shot the car bomber with her Winchester.