Katrina kicked the dirt on the pavement, pressing her sole hard against the gravel for good measure. What on earth happened just now? She had never once - not in any recitals, school performances, or any other performances - played as badly as she did just now. Everything was a jumbled mess screaming to come out all at once.
A very real fear was creeping into her now; the fear of having screwed things up for herself. She had vested so much hope, prayed so hard, and expected so many big things to come from this that it was more than mere disappointment. A cold feeling burned inside when she recalled once more how Mr. Rogers bade her farewell with the words "try harder".
Of course, it was all her dad's fault.
Him, the pitiful excuse for a man who hated his daughter enough to threaten her like that. Well, at least she did go for the rehearsal and he didn't show up. Ha ha.
Suddenly, a black car swerved up to the side of the road where she was and promptly stopped, startling her quite a bit. The windows rolled down, revealing the last face on earth she wanted to see.
"Princess," The smartly dressed man smiled almost sinisterly. "You didn't listen to me after all."
"Enough is enough, Dad," Katrina continued walking. "If you keep bugging me, I'm going to tell Mom."
The car tailed her. "Whoa, whoa...I just wanted to ask how it went."
She didn't reply, pretending to hum a tune instead.
"Did Mr. Rogers like it?"
Still she ignored him.
"I'll bet it didn't go so well, judging from the way you look."
"You shut up!" she snapped, yelling at him. "I don't ever want to see your face again!"
She started running away as fast as she could. However, he accelerated the car and blocked her path.
"Bear with me for a moment; I'll just say two things," he said to a frozen Katrina. "First, you might or might not know that Mr. Rogers and I are sctually old friends. It would be only too easy for me to say not-so-nice things about you to him. Which, I'm ashamed to admit, I have done."
"Second, I've been doing my darndest best this past week to scout for other young piano talents. And believe me, I already have a few shortlisted. You can expect Mr. Rogers to be auditioning them soon. I've seen some of them play, and I wouldn't be so confident now if I were you."
Seething deep inside, Katrina balled up her fists. She had a very good mind to knock his teeth out right here and right now.
"Isn't life difficult, princess?" he blew a mocking kiss to her. "And oh, remember to tell Mom that I've negotiated my way out of those monthly alimonies. See you."
His car sped off.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Friday, September 23, 2005
reCAPPENING: Ghostopia, Chapters 56-60
Kat's story: Katrina, as she was called back then, had an extraordinary talent for playing the piano. However, she often was troubled by financial difficulties at home caused by the divorce of her parents. Things became worse when her father, a lawyer, refused to send alimony for the month.
However, her lucky break comes when her principal invites her to perform at a garden party in Mr. Rogers' mansion. Mr. Rogers, a planner for school children performances, is subsequently impressed and asks her to come for their concert rehearsal on Sunday afternoon.
As she practises for the big day, her father unexpectedly calls. He's gotten wind of her offer, and doesn't want her to go for the rehearsal. In his own words: "Imagine the implications if my ex-daughter became famous and started bad-mouthing me in public."
This makes Katrina very upset and eventually affects her playing on Sunday. Mr. Rogers and the conductor, Mrs. Yates, isn't too impressed and calls it a day, leading us into Chapter 61.
However, her lucky break comes when her principal invites her to perform at a garden party in Mr. Rogers' mansion. Mr. Rogers, a planner for school children performances, is subsequently impressed and asks her to come for their concert rehearsal on Sunday afternoon.
As she practises for the big day, her father unexpectedly calls. He's gotten wind of her offer, and doesn't want her to go for the rehearsal. In his own words: "Imagine the implications if my ex-daughter became famous and started bad-mouthing me in public."
This makes Katrina very upset and eventually affects her playing on Sunday. Mr. Rogers and the conductor, Mrs. Yates, isn't too impressed and calls it a day, leading us into Chapter 61.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 60: Kat's Story, Part Five
(Part Three Of An Ongoing Series: Here's another shameless plug for my much-hyped October feature, be sure you don't miss it for the life of you! And do get set for a record low of posts in a month for September, barring a last-minute avalanche. On to the story!)
"Well, here we are." A rickety blue car pulled up in front of Mr. Rogers' lavish mansion. Mrs. Williams pecked Katrina on the cheek and brushed aside her fringe. "Go make them proud of you, dear."
She nodded solemnly and got down, double-checking to make sure she left none of her notes behind. The phone call yesterday was still very vivid and troubling; so much so she hadn't practised for today as much as she should have.
Her mom had also noticed that she wasn't her usual self last night, however all questions were brushed away with a casual "I'm okay". Katrina had wanted to tell her about it, but she wasn't sure how.
"Mom, Dad called and he said he would kill me if I went for the rehearsal."
"Mom, Dad doesn't think it's a good idea if I became famous and started dissing him in public."
"Call the police, Mom! Dad won't let me play the piano!"
The more she repeated them to herself, the more ridiculous it seemed. Furthermore, her mom was troubled enough to be burdened by stuff like that.
"Try that last part again. It sounded awfully weird."
Katrina scowled to herself and repeated the final stanza. The kids started singing, but were stopped halfway by the conductor, a surly old lady by the name of Mrs. Yates.
"No, no, no," she shook her head vehemently. "Too fast. Pay attention!"
Katrina let out a very audible sigh of displeasure. Mrs. Yates' sharp ears caught it and she glared daggers at her, making her play again. However, her mind just wasn't into it. It sounded bad and she knew it.
Mrs. Yates shook her head once more.
"It's okay," Mr. Rogers said, visibly tired. "We'll continue next Sunday. Good job, everyone."
Katrina felt like the proverbial fool wanting to dig a hole and hide in it, trying very hard to not bang the piano keys in frustration. Why didn't anything go right today? Somehow she just could not hear the melodies in her head. Her mind was wandered and restless, and the lack of practice told.
"Well, here we are." A rickety blue car pulled up in front of Mr. Rogers' lavish mansion. Mrs. Williams pecked Katrina on the cheek and brushed aside her fringe. "Go make them proud of you, dear."
She nodded solemnly and got down, double-checking to make sure she left none of her notes behind. The phone call yesterday was still very vivid and troubling; so much so she hadn't practised for today as much as she should have.
Her mom had also noticed that she wasn't her usual self last night, however all questions were brushed away with a casual "I'm okay". Katrina had wanted to tell her about it, but she wasn't sure how.
"Mom, Dad called and he said he would kill me if I went for the rehearsal."
"Mom, Dad doesn't think it's a good idea if I became famous and started dissing him in public."
"Call the police, Mom! Dad won't let me play the piano!"
The more she repeated them to herself, the more ridiculous it seemed. Furthermore, her mom was troubled enough to be burdened by stuff like that.
"Try that last part again. It sounded awfully weird."
Katrina scowled to herself and repeated the final stanza. The kids started singing, but were stopped halfway by the conductor, a surly old lady by the name of Mrs. Yates.
"No, no, no," she shook her head vehemently. "Too fast. Pay attention!"
Katrina let out a very audible sigh of displeasure. Mrs. Yates' sharp ears caught it and she glared daggers at her, making her play again. However, her mind just wasn't into it. It sounded bad and she knew it.
Mrs. Yates shook her head once more.
"It's okay," Mr. Rogers said, visibly tired. "We'll continue next Sunday. Good job, everyone."
Katrina felt like the proverbial fool wanting to dig a hole and hide in it, trying very hard to not bang the piano keys in frustration. Why didn't anything go right today? Somehow she just could not hear the melodies in her head. Her mind was wandered and restless, and the lack of practice told.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 59: Kat's Story, Part Four
(Sighh...a brief flirtation with writer's block, and we've gone 11 days update-less. Have been doing some measure of soul-searching (script-searching?), but still the results are minimal. However, common sense dictates that new paths only pop up when you continue down the old ones - let's keep finding out what shall happen to the folks over at Ghostopia.)
Before Katrina could get over the initial wave of ecstasy, Sunday was already round the corner. Still she had to slowly repeat in her mind that it was real - she would finally get to do more than playing for applause in her school and informal parties. It was intimidating, knowing that much of her regular life would be disrupted if she had to travel around the country, but there wasn't much to miss about her "regular life" anyway. She wouldn't mind a bit if her mother and herself bought a trailer and lived on the road, waking up in a new city every day, just like in the movies. And then she needn't to go to school any more, for she would have one of those private tutors. Yes, that would be really cool.
Smiling to herself in the way daydreamers do, Katrina continued scribbling down notes for I Won't Grow Up. She played out a few portions, stopped and frowned, then continued scribbling. Another round of testing, and still it didn't sound right.
Suddenly, the phone rang.
She got up. "Hello?"
"Katrina?" It was a low, grating voice - exactly the sort she was allergic to.
"Yes?"
"Do you know who I am?"
Katrina swallowed. It didn't strike her at first, but now it did. "D-dad?"
"Of course it is, princess."
"What do you want, dad?" Her voice grew cold.
"Why that tone?" he chided. "Can't I just call to say hi?"
"I know you better than that."
He laughed, making her uncomfortable. "I always knew you had my brains. Now, is all that hoo-ha I hear about you performing for Mr. Rogers true?"
"Of course," she spat back. "I'll be joining him for a rehearsal tomorrow, and once that works out Mom and I will travel around the country performing with him. We'll be rich and famous, we'll have everything we need, and I hope you'll have a good time stuck in your office."
It felt really good to say that, so good she couldn't help smirking.
"You ungrateful girl," he continued calmly. "I don't really care about all that, because I know those are just castles in the sky. Take it from an older, wiser man, dear, you'll only get fifteen minutes."
"However, there is another reason why I must make sure you don't make it to the rehearsal tomorrow. See, I've finally managed to step up into the big leagues. My career and reputation is skyrocketing. Imagine the implications if my ex-daughter became famous and started bad-mouthing me in public."
"Ex-daughter?" Hot tears welled up in Katrina's eyes. "I hope you die, too!"
"I'm sorry dear, but that's just the way it is. Now, either we finish this the easy way or the hard way. I could easily arrange an "accident" for you and get away with it, or you just pick up the phone and tell Mr. Rogers that you're refusing his offer. What's it going to be?"
Katrina was so furious that she didn't know what to say. She slammed down the phone as hard as she could.
She sat at the piano, trying to shake it all out of her mind, but her father's words repeated themselves louder and louder. "I hate you," she wept. "Why do you always do this to us, dad?"
As her teardrops fell on the ebony keys, the phone rang again. Katrina didn't pick it up.
Before Katrina could get over the initial wave of ecstasy, Sunday was already round the corner. Still she had to slowly repeat in her mind that it was real - she would finally get to do more than playing for applause in her school and informal parties. It was intimidating, knowing that much of her regular life would be disrupted if she had to travel around the country, but there wasn't much to miss about her "regular life" anyway. She wouldn't mind a bit if her mother and herself bought a trailer and lived on the road, waking up in a new city every day, just like in the movies. And then she needn't to go to school any more, for she would have one of those private tutors. Yes, that would be really cool.
Smiling to herself in the way daydreamers do, Katrina continued scribbling down notes for I Won't Grow Up. She played out a few portions, stopped and frowned, then continued scribbling. Another round of testing, and still it didn't sound right.
Suddenly, the phone rang.
She got up. "Hello?"
"Katrina?" It was a low, grating voice - exactly the sort she was allergic to.
"Yes?"
"Do you know who I am?"
Katrina swallowed. It didn't strike her at first, but now it did. "D-dad?"
"Of course it is, princess."
"What do you want, dad?" Her voice grew cold.
"Why that tone?" he chided. "Can't I just call to say hi?"
"I know you better than that."
He laughed, making her uncomfortable. "I always knew you had my brains. Now, is all that hoo-ha I hear about you performing for Mr. Rogers true?"
"Of course," she spat back. "I'll be joining him for a rehearsal tomorrow, and once that works out Mom and I will travel around the country performing with him. We'll be rich and famous, we'll have everything we need, and I hope you'll have a good time stuck in your office."
It felt really good to say that, so good she couldn't help smirking.
"You ungrateful girl," he continued calmly. "I don't really care about all that, because I know those are just castles in the sky. Take it from an older, wiser man, dear, you'll only get fifteen minutes."
"However, there is another reason why I must make sure you don't make it to the rehearsal tomorrow. See, I've finally managed to step up into the big leagues. My career and reputation is skyrocketing. Imagine the implications if my ex-daughter became famous and started bad-mouthing me in public."
"Ex-daughter?" Hot tears welled up in Katrina's eyes. "I hope you die, too!"
"I'm sorry dear, but that's just the way it is. Now, either we finish this the easy way or the hard way. I could easily arrange an "accident" for you and get away with it, or you just pick up the phone and tell Mr. Rogers that you're refusing his offer. What's it going to be?"
Katrina was so furious that she didn't know what to say. She slammed down the phone as hard as she could.
She sat at the piano, trying to shake it all out of her mind, but her father's words repeated themselves louder and louder. "I hate you," she wept. "Why do you always do this to us, dad?"
As her teardrops fell on the ebony keys, the phone rang again. Katrina didn't pick it up.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Writer's Block
It's been a roller-coastery past week, one which fluctuated from "stupifyingly awful" at times to "moderately enjoyable". There're lessons to be learnt from feeling like the dumbest person on earth. Sighhh...well, at least an exciting fundraising week in college has made me considerably less ranty now.
However, I'll have you know that I was *this* close to pulling the plug on Ghostopia on Thursday/Friday night. For a long while it seemed like this story was screwed up in a major way. Screwed up so badly that the more I continued, the more I was hurting it.
I won't be afraid to admit that long-drawn stories like this work very badly in the Twisted Tales format. Planning and continuity all turn into a nightmare - not just for the writer, but the reader as well. It reminds me of one of those Hong Kong martial arts comics I read when I was younger; you'd continue reading about a certain battle for many issues and suddenly stop to wonder: "Wait a minute...why are they fighting again?"
So that explains why I've been slow to update lately...but this is probably a better pace for us. Always being 10 Chapters behind can be daunting for the reader, and I start writing for the sake of writing. It's really been while since Ghostopia was a labour of love to me. Everything's in such a mess now.
No worries guys; Ghostopia will continue, we will get the satisfying conclusion (notice how I use "we" instead of "you"). I mean, a blog shouldn't have to worry too much about pleasing its readers, should it? This is just a drawing board sketch for the bigger, better version of Ghostopia I'll rewrite next time.
Or maybe I'm being too hard on myself?
Anyways, a final footnote: Don't forget about OCTOBER! A truly inspiring month where we gather round and celebrate not one, but TWO birthdays! One of a gawky 20 year-old, another of a cooing 1 year-old!
And my point would be?
Visit this site, y'all - I shall be running a feature I've been DYING to run since June/July. It's called..."Did You Really Think I Would Let The Cat Out Of The Bag So Early?" Ahhahhahaha, meloves a peppering of sarcasm every now and then. Check back to un-bait your breath. Run along now, little ones.
Shoo!
However, I'll have you know that I was *this* close to pulling the plug on Ghostopia on Thursday/Friday night. For a long while it seemed like this story was screwed up in a major way. Screwed up so badly that the more I continued, the more I was hurting it.
I won't be afraid to admit that long-drawn stories like this work very badly in the Twisted Tales format. Planning and continuity all turn into a nightmare - not just for the writer, but the reader as well. It reminds me of one of those Hong Kong martial arts comics I read when I was younger; you'd continue reading about a certain battle for many issues and suddenly stop to wonder: "Wait a minute...why are they fighting again?"
So that explains why I've been slow to update lately...but this is probably a better pace for us. Always being 10 Chapters behind can be daunting for the reader, and I start writing for the sake of writing. It's really been while since Ghostopia was a labour of love to me. Everything's in such a mess now.
No worries guys; Ghostopia will continue, we will get the satisfying conclusion (notice how I use "we" instead of "you"). I mean, a blog shouldn't have to worry too much about pleasing its readers, should it? This is just a drawing board sketch for the bigger, better version of Ghostopia I'll rewrite next time.
Or maybe I'm being too hard on myself?
Anyways, a final footnote: Don't forget about OCTOBER! A truly inspiring month where we gather round and celebrate not one, but TWO birthdays! One of a gawky 20 year-old, another of a cooing 1 year-old!
And my point would be?
Visit this site, y'all - I shall be running a feature I've been DYING to run since June/July. It's called..."Did You Really Think I Would Let The Cat Out Of The Bag So Early?" Ahhahhahaha, meloves a peppering of sarcasm every now and then. Check back to un-bait your breath. Run along now, little ones.
Shoo!
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 58: Kat's Story, Part Three
Smiling nervously to herself, Katrina fingered a loose hair back into place for the umpteenth time. She'd spent the past week practising six hours every day and working with her piano teacher to come up with the best arrangement. And of course, the fervent daily prayer. In mere minutes, it would be hung out and dried for all to see.
Mr. Rogers, a tubby round-faced man stood and asked if everyone enjoyed their meals. The guests murmured a "Yes", and he rambled on with the usual pleasantries. Katrina tried to listen, but she could only hear the songs she'd be playing.
Oh God, please don't let anything go wrong, she practised a particularly difficult segue on an invisible piano. Please don't let anything go wrong. Please don't let anything go wrong.
A nudge from Mr. Harold, sitting beside her, jolted Katrina. She stared at him blankly, and out of the blue the guests started clapping.
It was her turn!
She didn't think her face could go any redder. Katrina got up, forced a smile, and stepped over to the piano. A few of the guests starting whispering to each other. Don't pay any attention to them. Imagine you're at home playing.
She started with a slow intro leading into Claire de Lune, probably one of her least favourite pieces. Nonetheless, it wasn't difficult and her confidence soared in no time. Already the familiar hush was descending upon the awestruck crowd.
It was strange; she actually felt more nervous before performing than during. Her fingers had taken on a life of their own now; she didn't even need to think about what to play next. A seamless segue into the more familiar Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy, one key higher to Ave Maria, then a jazzed-up Unchained Melody. Why, the crowd could even be yelling out requests for all she cared.
"Miss Williams, that was absolutely brilliant." Mr. Rogers grinned broadly and shook her hand after the party. "I mean it."
Katrina bit her lip sheepishly. "Why, thank you. I'm glad you liked it." Good thing she prepared an answer for that earlier.
"Guess Rick was right after all," he motioned to Mr. Harold. "You really could spice things up for the kids. Do you play more...um, contemporary pieces?"
"Sure I do," she giggled. "As a matter of fact, I prefer that to classical stuff."
"Wonderful! Can you come here again on Sunday afternoon? Say, two o' clock?"
"Sure." Oh boy, here it comes. He's gonna offer me that job.
"We'll be rehearsing for an upcoming staging of Peter Pan, and I'd like to try you out. Should I search around for compositions, or can you figure that out yourself as well?"
Yes! Katrina felt her heart do a little jig. "I'll work out the compositions myself, sir."
Mr. Rogers nodded approvingly. "My, my, what a gem you're going to be. So I'll be seeing you on Sunday afternoon?"
"Sunday afternoon."
Mr. Rogers, a tubby round-faced man stood and asked if everyone enjoyed their meals. The guests murmured a "Yes", and he rambled on with the usual pleasantries. Katrina tried to listen, but she could only hear the songs she'd be playing.
Oh God, please don't let anything go wrong, she practised a particularly difficult segue on an invisible piano. Please don't let anything go wrong. Please don't let anything go wrong.
A nudge from Mr. Harold, sitting beside her, jolted Katrina. She stared at him blankly, and out of the blue the guests started clapping.
It was her turn!
She didn't think her face could go any redder. Katrina got up, forced a smile, and stepped over to the piano. A few of the guests starting whispering to each other. Don't pay any attention to them. Imagine you're at home playing.
She started with a slow intro leading into Claire de Lune, probably one of her least favourite pieces. Nonetheless, it wasn't difficult and her confidence soared in no time. Already the familiar hush was descending upon the awestruck crowd.
It was strange; she actually felt more nervous before performing than during. Her fingers had taken on a life of their own now; she didn't even need to think about what to play next. A seamless segue into the more familiar Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy, one key higher to Ave Maria, then a jazzed-up Unchained Melody. Why, the crowd could even be yelling out requests for all she cared.
"Miss Williams, that was absolutely brilliant." Mr. Rogers grinned broadly and shook her hand after the party. "I mean it."
Katrina bit her lip sheepishly. "Why, thank you. I'm glad you liked it." Good thing she prepared an answer for that earlier.
"Guess Rick was right after all," he motioned to Mr. Harold. "You really could spice things up for the kids. Do you play more...um, contemporary pieces?"
"Sure I do," she giggled. "As a matter of fact, I prefer that to classical stuff."
"Wonderful! Can you come here again on Sunday afternoon? Say, two o' clock?"
"Sure." Oh boy, here it comes. He's gonna offer me that job.
"We'll be rehearsing for an upcoming staging of Peter Pan, and I'd like to try you out. Should I search around for compositions, or can you figure that out yourself as well?"
Yes! Katrina felt her heart do a little jig. "I'll work out the compositions myself, sir."
Mr. Rogers nodded approvingly. "My, my, what a gem you're going to be. So I'll be seeing you on Sunday afternoon?"
"Sunday afternoon."
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 57: Kat's Story, Part Two
(My, my, it's just struck me how strangely ironic it is that I'm writing a story about a Katrina at a time when another Katrina's caused so much havoc. But just a coincidence here folks, you can check that I already had the name Katrina locked down in Chapter 5. Prayers to the victims, since we're on it.)
Katrina walked glumly down the hall, semi-ignoring the noisy chatter around her. She felt like storming up to her father, where ever he was, and punching him in the face. It was bad enough that he'd broken up their family - the bitterness was still fresh in her mind - but now he was even scrimping on the alimony. There was no way her mom could earn enough to pay for her piano classes and the rest of the household expenses, and he knew it.
She took a deep breath and knocked sharply on the principal's door. He had called her to discuss the offer from his friend. If things went well, Katrina prayed, it would be a good-paying one.
"Come in."
She stepped in apprehensively. "Good morning, Mr. Harold."
"Take a seat, please," he beamed at her. "First off, I must really commend you again for the fantastic job you did yesterday. I had scores of parents coming up to me asking how someone as good as you isn't appearing on TV."
"It was nothing, really." she blushed.
"You needn't be so afraid of showing off your talent at times, Katrina."
"I know."
"Never mind, let's talk about what we're supposed to," Mr. Harold leaned forward. "My good friend, Mr. Eric Rogers, will be having a party at his mansion next Saturday at seven thirty, and you have been selected to perform for his guests. I have yet to ask him about the payment, but expect it to be in the range of hundreds. Think you can make it?"
Wow! Hundreds! Katrina quickly pushed her jaw back to place. "S-sure."
"But here's something else you don't know," he continued. "Mr. Rogers is actually a planner for children performances held in numerous schools round the country."
She frowned, not sure how this concerned her.
"Recently I went to one of his events, and after that he came to me asking how it could have been better. I told him that performance wise, he had everything down pat - but the music needed just that extra zing to it; something that was able to draw the audience into every scene. You know what I mean."
"Of course, I had you in mind, and he agreed to see whether you are what he needs. So, Katrina, this party performance serves also as an audition. Do your best, impress him, and he'll take you in, I promise. It'll open up far more doors than you could ever imagine."
Katrina couldn't believe her ears; this had to be the best piece of news she'd heard in years. Already she was piecing together a medley of tunes that were sounding in her head.
Katrina walked glumly down the hall, semi-ignoring the noisy chatter around her. She felt like storming up to her father, where ever he was, and punching him in the face. It was bad enough that he'd broken up their family - the bitterness was still fresh in her mind - but now he was even scrimping on the alimony. There was no way her mom could earn enough to pay for her piano classes and the rest of the household expenses, and he knew it.
She took a deep breath and knocked sharply on the principal's door. He had called her to discuss the offer from his friend. If things went well, Katrina prayed, it would be a good-paying one.
"Come in."
She stepped in apprehensively. "Good morning, Mr. Harold."
"Take a seat, please," he beamed at her. "First off, I must really commend you again for the fantastic job you did yesterday. I had scores of parents coming up to me asking how someone as good as you isn't appearing on TV."
"It was nothing, really." she blushed.
"You needn't be so afraid of showing off your talent at times, Katrina."
"I know."
"Never mind, let's talk about what we're supposed to," Mr. Harold leaned forward. "My good friend, Mr. Eric Rogers, will be having a party at his mansion next Saturday at seven thirty, and you have been selected to perform for his guests. I have yet to ask him about the payment, but expect it to be in the range of hundreds. Think you can make it?"
Wow! Hundreds! Katrina quickly pushed her jaw back to place. "S-sure."
"But here's something else you don't know," he continued. "Mr. Rogers is actually a planner for children performances held in numerous schools round the country."
She frowned, not sure how this concerned her.
"Recently I went to one of his events, and after that he came to me asking how it could have been better. I told him that performance wise, he had everything down pat - but the music needed just that extra zing to it; something that was able to draw the audience into every scene. You know what I mean."
"Of course, I had you in mind, and he agreed to see whether you are what he needs. So, Katrina, this party performance serves also as an audition. Do your best, impress him, and he'll take you in, I promise. It'll open up far more doors than you could ever imagine."
Katrina couldn't believe her ears; this had to be the best piece of news she'd heard in years. Already she was piecing together a medley of tunes that were sounding in her head.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 56: Kat's Story, Part One
(Heheh, another week-long break between posts. Let's hope it was a justified one. It's time for the startling truth behind Kat, isn't it? Just afraid I won't be able to live up to the hype, lol. Btw, I think these little preambles are quite neat, compared to lumping them all at once in a Writer's Block.)
"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for our very own Katrina Williams!" boomed Anthony, emcee for the day.
Meekly a waif-like girl stepped onstage, constantly brushing back her messy long hair. She nodded slightly at the beaming parents and proceeded to sit herself down at the piano. As her fingers stroked out the first few notes of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker, Katrina felt an uplifting joy creep through her. She wasn't the showy sort, but suddenly she loved being in front of all those ogling eyes watching in awe her dainty fingers slide effortlessly up and down. She could work the piano like magic, and she knew it.
After a good twenty minutes which felt like five, she finished her last piece. The audience clapped loud and long, and suddenly she felt shy again. She mouthed "Thank you" and walked down the steps at the side, trying very hard not to look dumb doing so.
"Mom I'm back," Katrina called out, closing the door behind her. She'd gone home straight after her performance, not bothering to stay back for the stay back for the remainder of the carnival. It felt awkward anyway, seeing all her other school mates with their parents, and being subjected to "Hey, where's your mom?" a million times.
"You're back," Mrs. Williams walked out with a basket of laundry. "So how was your performance?"
"It was okay, I guess. The principal told me that the some of his friends are interested to get me to play at their parties."
Her mom smiled and sighed at the same time. "That's nice to hear." She put down the laundry and lit up a cigarette.
Katrina scowled. "Mom, you told me you would quit that. It's really bad for health."
"Bad for health?" she scoffed. "I'll tell you what's bad for health - not having food on the table. Your dad just called - business was bad. He won't be sending us money this month."
"But, mom! That was a court order! Isn't it against the law if he doesn't send us money?"
"So whaddaya expect me to - sue him?" she cracked. "Never marry a lawyer when you grow up, honey."
Katrina sighed; she knew her piano classes were a terrible burden on her mom's finances. Already they were in the red over last month's fees, and now her dad was saying he didn't have enough to give them this month. He'd probably splashed it all on his other wife, that jerk.
"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for our very own Katrina Williams!" boomed Anthony, emcee for the day.
Meekly a waif-like girl stepped onstage, constantly brushing back her messy long hair. She nodded slightly at the beaming parents and proceeded to sit herself down at the piano. As her fingers stroked out the first few notes of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker, Katrina felt an uplifting joy creep through her. She wasn't the showy sort, but suddenly she loved being in front of all those ogling eyes watching in awe her dainty fingers slide effortlessly up and down. She could work the piano like magic, and she knew it.
After a good twenty minutes which felt like five, she finished her last piece. The audience clapped loud and long, and suddenly she felt shy again. She mouthed "Thank you" and walked down the steps at the side, trying very hard not to look dumb doing so.
"Mom I'm back," Katrina called out, closing the door behind her. She'd gone home straight after her performance, not bothering to stay back for the stay back for the remainder of the carnival. It felt awkward anyway, seeing all her other school mates with their parents, and being subjected to "Hey, where's your mom?" a million times.
"You're back," Mrs. Williams walked out with a basket of laundry. "So how was your performance?"
"It was okay, I guess. The principal told me that the some of his friends are interested to get me to play at their parties."
Her mom smiled and sighed at the same time. "That's nice to hear." She put down the laundry and lit up a cigarette.
Katrina scowled. "Mom, you told me you would quit that. It's really bad for health."
"Bad for health?" she scoffed. "I'll tell you what's bad for health - not having food on the table. Your dad just called - business was bad. He won't be sending us money this month."
"But, mom! That was a court order! Isn't it against the law if he doesn't send us money?"
"So whaddaya expect me to - sue him?" she cracked. "Never marry a lawyer when you grow up, honey."
Katrina sighed; she knew her piano classes were a terrible burden on her mom's finances. Already they were in the red over last month's fees, and now her dad was saying he didn't have enough to give them this month. He'd probably splashed it all on his other wife, that jerk.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
reCAPPENING: Ghostopia, Chapters 51-55
Darren and Nelson find themselves at The Haunt, waiting for the meeting to start. Kat appears to tell them that the meeting has been cancelled, reason being that the Spooks have discovered their meeting place and are coming to arrest them.
The three then flee through the back door, meeting Mortie in the back alley. Nelson tells Mortie that he shall be joining their meeting, and even offers to hold the meeting in his place. Mortie agrees to that, tells Kat to inform the others, and they're off.
When they reach his place, Nelson begins asking Mortie about the previous escape attempt. Suspicious, Mortie finally figures out that Nelson was one of the three survivors.
Things get more complicated when Kat, Fletcher and Amelia walk in (Todd and Scarlet have been arrested) - Nelson recognises Fletcher and Amelia as Lucas and Andrea, albeit them having changed their names to hide from the authorities. Fletcher and Nelson then get into a minor argument over how Nelson left the group previously, and it boils over to a debate, invloving the others, about living again.
Suddenly, Kat speaks up on her reason of wanting to live again - simply, hate. This prompts her to begin the story of her death, leading us into Chapter 56.
The three then flee through the back door, meeting Mortie in the back alley. Nelson tells Mortie that he shall be joining their meeting, and even offers to hold the meeting in his place. Mortie agrees to that, tells Kat to inform the others, and they're off.
When they reach his place, Nelson begins asking Mortie about the previous escape attempt. Suspicious, Mortie finally figures out that Nelson was one of the three survivors.
Things get more complicated when Kat, Fletcher and Amelia walk in (Todd and Scarlet have been arrested) - Nelson recognises Fletcher and Amelia as Lucas and Andrea, albeit them having changed their names to hide from the authorities. Fletcher and Nelson then get into a minor argument over how Nelson left the group previously, and it boils over to a debate, invloving the others, about living again.
Suddenly, Kat speaks up on her reason of wanting to live again - simply, hate. This prompts her to begin the story of her death, leading us into Chapter 56.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Writer's Block: Eventhough
Eventhough your favouritism irks us so,
When scholarships, PRs, to the undeserving go.
Eventhough your drivers are reckless and mad,
They drive too fast, too slow, and just plain bad.
Eventhough to you corruption sticks like a flea,
We've all seen the cops and their duit kopi.
Eventhough your people are rude and thoughtless,
They litter and spit like it's nobody's business.
Eventhough your politicians hold less than your average ape,
Bickering about how tudungs decrease rape.
Eventhough your values are conservative and Asian,
Banning all under the sun but Siti Nurhaliza and Raihan.
Eventhough your education system is the work of harebrained fools,
Students forget all the moment they leave school.
Eventhough your streets are as safe as a loon with a dagger,
Everyone's just waiting for the next senseless murder.
Eventhough your prices go up high, high, higher still,
Petrol now costs more than the cars it fills.
Eventhough we are seen as Malay, Chinese, Indian, or Lain-lain,
Melayu babi, Cinakueh, Aneneh - all good-natured humour, no need to refrain.
But we love you still, flaws and all,
Land of Manglish and the mamak stall.
Let us not just use our mouths,
But our heads and hearts,
Till death do we part.
(Views expressed above are not neccessarily my own - Happy Merdeka Day to all!)
When scholarships, PRs, to the undeserving go.
Eventhough your drivers are reckless and mad,
They drive too fast, too slow, and just plain bad.
Eventhough to you corruption sticks like a flea,
We've all seen the cops and their duit kopi.
Eventhough your people are rude and thoughtless,
They litter and spit like it's nobody's business.
Eventhough your politicians hold less than your average ape,
Bickering about how tudungs decrease rape.
Eventhough your values are conservative and Asian,
Banning all under the sun but Siti Nurhaliza and Raihan.
Eventhough your education system is the work of harebrained fools,
Students forget all the moment they leave school.
Eventhough your streets are as safe as a loon with a dagger,
Everyone's just waiting for the next senseless murder.
Eventhough your prices go up high, high, higher still,
Petrol now costs more than the cars it fills.
Eventhough we are seen as Malay, Chinese, Indian, or Lain-lain,
Melayu babi, Cinakueh, Aneneh - all good-natured humour, no need to refrain.
But we love you still, flaws and all,
Land of Manglish and the mamak stall.
Let us not just use our mouths,
But our heads and hearts,
Till death do we part.
(Views expressed above are not neccessarily my own - Happy Merdeka Day to all!)
Ghostopia, Chapter 55: Love And Hate
"It doesn't?" Fletcher smirked. "So now killing a human doesn't matter? Then why are you stopping us?"
"That's not what I meant. You know what I'm trying to say."
"Nelson," quipped Darren. "Who was it that you murdered?"
His face reddened. "I SAID IT DOESN'T MATTER!"
Everyone hushed, taken aback by his sudden outburst. Nelson, slightly embarassed, continued in a lower voice, "All I'm saying is that there are bound to be consequences if you return to the living world. Let the ones who're alive live their lives in peace."
"I disagree," Mortie coughed. "Do we not deserve to be alive as well? Was it not by mere accidents, coincidences, and unfortunate circumstances that we're all gathered here today in this pitiful wreck of a world, instead of growing older with our loved ones?"
"All we're trying to do, Nelson, is to give ourselves a second chance," Amelia said. "Don't you want that too? Have you forgotten how unjustly you died?"
"Unlike you, I don't believe we died by chance. We all think we'll keep living forever, but just because you don't see your death coming, does that make yours a wasted life? Isn't the existence of Ghostopia itself a second chance? What're you gonna do if you go back, and die unjustly again? Keep going back until you manage to die grey and wrinkled?"
"Ahem," The strangely-quiet Kat cleared her throat, making everyone turn their heads. "The way I see it, there're two reasons why a Ghost would want to live again - love or hate."
"Love would be those instances which you've just heard; wanting to see your loved ones, wanting a death that didn't suck so badly, disliking the way things are done in Ghostopia - basically, love for your own life. Under those motivations, I would have no problem agreeing with your views." she said to Nelson. "But of course there's always another side to the story. Hate. I am one of those driven by hate to return."
One side of Nelson's lips twitched. "Really,"
She glanced uncertainly at Mortie, who responded with a comforting nod. "I am about to tell you all a story which I've never told anyone save for Mortie. Not a single other soul, I swear. The story of how I died."
"That's not what I meant. You know what I'm trying to say."
"Nelson," quipped Darren. "Who was it that you murdered?"
His face reddened. "I SAID IT DOESN'T MATTER!"
Everyone hushed, taken aback by his sudden outburst. Nelson, slightly embarassed, continued in a lower voice, "All I'm saying is that there are bound to be consequences if you return to the living world. Let the ones who're alive live their lives in peace."
"I disagree," Mortie coughed. "Do we not deserve to be alive as well? Was it not by mere accidents, coincidences, and unfortunate circumstances that we're all gathered here today in this pitiful wreck of a world, instead of growing older with our loved ones?"
"All we're trying to do, Nelson, is to give ourselves a second chance," Amelia said. "Don't you want that too? Have you forgotten how unjustly you died?"
"Unlike you, I don't believe we died by chance. We all think we'll keep living forever, but just because you don't see your death coming, does that make yours a wasted life? Isn't the existence of Ghostopia itself a second chance? What're you gonna do if you go back, and die unjustly again? Keep going back until you manage to die grey and wrinkled?"
"Ahem," The strangely-quiet Kat cleared her throat, making everyone turn their heads. "The way I see it, there're two reasons why a Ghost would want to live again - love or hate."
"Love would be those instances which you've just heard; wanting to see your loved ones, wanting a death that didn't suck so badly, disliking the way things are done in Ghostopia - basically, love for your own life. Under those motivations, I would have no problem agreeing with your views." she said to Nelson. "But of course there's always another side to the story. Hate. I am one of those driven by hate to return."
One side of Nelson's lips twitched. "Really,"
She glanced uncertainly at Mortie, who responded with a comforting nod. "I am about to tell you all a story which I've never told anyone save for Mortie. Not a single other soul, I swear. The story of how I died."
Monday, August 29, 2005
Writer's Block
"My love for him is like the deep blue sea - veli deep, veli blue, and veli sea."
Pardon that quotable quote people, still hung over my first impulsive theater viewing yesterday. It was a surprisingly entertaining piece entitled "Romi and Joo Lee dan Lain-lain" and as you might guess, is a farce on Shakespeare's star-crossed lovers. Not too heavy for a first-timer, hillarious beyond words, and very much Malaysian (or Manglish!). Well, what can I say? Suddenly a new alternative of entertainment has popped up for me, one that wallops TGV in edge-of-the-seat-ness. And it doesn't hurt that it makes you feel CULTURED~!
CULTURED~!
cUlTuReD~!!!
sEe, iM sO cUlTuReD i WrItE iN aLtErNaTiNg CaPs AnD sMaLl LeTtErS~!
"Oi fei chai, you want culture ah? Go eat yoghurt lah - faster effect."
Okok, back to non-theatericality. Ghostopia is again at a juncture of sorts, but aiyah, I dunno if we still care or not. I'll give everyone, myself included, the benefit of the doubt and assume that nails are still being bitten and breath is still bated for the finale.
So there you go, Fletcher and Amelia have been given the roles of Lucas and Andrea's alter egos. Another self-applaudingly "killing two birds with one stone" decision on the part of moi, as I get to elevate them both and give Nelson that depth, that past, that zing he needs. If I might even say, his feud with Mortie would've gotten quite ridiculous had those two not shown up. But of course now Nelson bears a grudge against him for creating false illusions for his buddies (Darren included).
Hey, wait! You should be figuring these stuff for yourself.
And since we're going much into their botched first escape, Nelson's insistence that "the dead should stay dead" etc etc, this presents a perfect chance to dish out those "underlying themes" of...second chances lah, death lah, life lah...that's what seperates the men from the boys, bay-beh.
Currently in my mind, a perfect scenario leading to the climax would be everyone having their individual motivations for the escape - of course, some of these ideologies would clash and ultimately it all comes blazing into a fiery finish. Still contemplating on making it fiery, but it'll have to be tragic in some way, I guess. I mean, what's the point of making and nurturing characters if you don't murder them senselessly in the end? Die, Darren, DIE!
August's drawing to an end, and I figure I'll just manage to squeeze in the mimum quota of 15 posts per month, partly thanks to the 31st day. Haha. And boy oh boy, you better stick around for October, which marks both the birthdays of Twisted Tales and myself. Cos I've got a neat-o complete-o idea lined up for the entire month - a birthday bash of sorts. Brace yourself for a torrid time, I'm gonna be plugging this for the whole of September.
So sit back, puff up your seat real nice, and prop up your feet - cos there really isn't any excuse not to soak it all in! See you in the very-immediate future. =^)
Pardon that quotable quote people, still hung over my first impulsive theater viewing yesterday. It was a surprisingly entertaining piece entitled "Romi and Joo Lee dan Lain-lain" and as you might guess, is a farce on Shakespeare's star-crossed lovers. Not too heavy for a first-timer, hillarious beyond words, and very much Malaysian (or Manglish!). Well, what can I say? Suddenly a new alternative of entertainment has popped up for me, one that wallops TGV in edge-of-the-seat-ness. And it doesn't hurt that it makes you feel CULTURED~!
CULTURED~!
cUlTuReD~!!!
sEe, iM sO cUlTuReD i WrItE iN aLtErNaTiNg CaPs AnD sMaLl LeTtErS~!
"Oi fei chai, you want culture ah? Go eat yoghurt lah - faster effect."
Okok, back to non-theatericality. Ghostopia is again at a juncture of sorts, but aiyah, I dunno if we still care or not. I'll give everyone, myself included, the benefit of the doubt and assume that nails are still being bitten and breath is still bated for the finale.
So there you go, Fletcher and Amelia have been given the roles of Lucas and Andrea's alter egos. Another self-applaudingly "killing two birds with one stone" decision on the part of moi, as I get to elevate them both and give Nelson that depth, that past, that zing he needs. If I might even say, his feud with Mortie would've gotten quite ridiculous had those two not shown up. But of course now Nelson bears a grudge against him for creating false illusions for his buddies (Darren included).
Hey, wait! You should be figuring these stuff for yourself.
And since we're going much into their botched first escape, Nelson's insistence that "the dead should stay dead" etc etc, this presents a perfect chance to dish out those "underlying themes" of...second chances lah, death lah, life lah...that's what seperates the men from the boys, bay-beh.
Currently in my mind, a perfect scenario leading to the climax would be everyone having their individual motivations for the escape - of course, some of these ideologies would clash and ultimately it all comes blazing into a fiery finish. Still contemplating on making it fiery, but it'll have to be tragic in some way, I guess. I mean, what's the point of making and nurturing characters if you don't murder them senselessly in the end? Die, Darren, DIE!
August's drawing to an end, and I figure I'll just manage to squeeze in the mimum quota of 15 posts per month, partly thanks to the 31st day. Haha. And boy oh boy, you better stick around for October, which marks both the birthdays of Twisted Tales and myself. Cos I've got a neat-o complete-o idea lined up for the entire month - a birthday bash of sorts. Brace yourself for a torrid time, I'm gonna be plugging this for the whole of September.
So sit back, puff up your seat real nice, and prop up your feet - cos there really isn't any excuse not to soak it all in! See you in the very-immediate future. =^)
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 54: So That's Who They Are!
"You have no idea what a pleasure it is for me to meet you, Mr. Nelson," Mortie grinned so gleefully it was almost frightening. "I've been searching high and low for you, and now here you are sitting in front of me. This is so surreal...now the trio is complete."
Nelson frowned. "What trio?"
"Acting dumb, eh? Have you forgotten the other two who came back with you?"
A knock sounded on the door. Darren got up to open it.
"You mean Lucas and Andrea are with you?" Nelson asked.
"Who?"
A soaked Kat walked through the door, impolitely wringing the water from her clothes to the floor. "Bad news, Mortie. Todd and Scarlet have been arrested. I only managed to get Fletcher and Amelia to come."
Fletcher and Amelia stepped through behind Kat. Nelson glanced at them, and gasped in utter disbelief.
"LUCAS? ANDREA? What the heck are you guys doing here?"
The two stared at him, shell-shocked themselves. "Nelson?"
Mortie eyed the three of them over and over. "Oh, now I get it - Fletcher and Amelia, you changed your names!"
A faint gasp escaped Darren's lips too. He couldn't help it - it was quite a relevation for him. So Fletcher and Andrea were actually the two survivors Nelson spoke of!
"Yeah," Amelia bowed her head. "We couldn't go on as Lucas and Andrea - the authorities were hot on our heels after the ExorPrism incident. I'm surprised you didn't change your name as well, Nelson."
"I tried to," Nelson said. "But it was just too much trouble. In the end I settled for laying low as a peddler in the marketplace."
"Well, I'm glad you've finally decided to do the right thing for a change," Fletcher snorted. "Because if I remember clearly, you were the one who botched our second escape. We could've done it with that last ExorPrism you had, but you had to walk out on us."
Nelson laughed. "I beg to differ. In case I didn't make myself clear, I'm not here to help you guys. I'm here to put a stop to your plans."
Darren grimaced, not sure what the reaction of the room would be.
"Very good," Mortie chuckled, clapping his hands mockingly. "So the infamous Nelson is going to make life difficult for us. Ha ha ha ha."
Fletcher gritted his teeth. "You're not doing this again, you imbecile. I've waited so long, worked so hard for this chance to live again, and I'll be darned if you're gonna be in my way."
Nelson and him locked eyes intensely. "You're still as naive as you were back then. Haven't you gotten it into your head already that we're supposed to be dead? Trying to undo that is only going to hurt ourselves, and those who're still alive." said Nelson.
"Still harping on that one you killed, eh?"
"Don't you start on that," he inhaled deeply. "It doesn't matter any more."
Nelson frowned. "What trio?"
"Acting dumb, eh? Have you forgotten the other two who came back with you?"
A knock sounded on the door. Darren got up to open it.
"You mean Lucas and Andrea are with you?" Nelson asked.
"Who?"
A soaked Kat walked through the door, impolitely wringing the water from her clothes to the floor. "Bad news, Mortie. Todd and Scarlet have been arrested. I only managed to get Fletcher and Amelia to come."
Fletcher and Amelia stepped through behind Kat. Nelson glanced at them, and gasped in utter disbelief.
"LUCAS? ANDREA? What the heck are you guys doing here?"
The two stared at him, shell-shocked themselves. "Nelson?"
Mortie eyed the three of them over and over. "Oh, now I get it - Fletcher and Amelia, you changed your names!"
A faint gasp escaped Darren's lips too. He couldn't help it - it was quite a relevation for him. So Fletcher and Andrea were actually the two survivors Nelson spoke of!
"Yeah," Amelia bowed her head. "We couldn't go on as Lucas and Andrea - the authorities were hot on our heels after the ExorPrism incident. I'm surprised you didn't change your name as well, Nelson."
"I tried to," Nelson said. "But it was just too much trouble. In the end I settled for laying low as a peddler in the marketplace."
"Well, I'm glad you've finally decided to do the right thing for a change," Fletcher snorted. "Because if I remember clearly, you were the one who botched our second escape. We could've done it with that last ExorPrism you had, but you had to walk out on us."
Nelson laughed. "I beg to differ. In case I didn't make myself clear, I'm not here to help you guys. I'm here to put a stop to your plans."
Darren grimaced, not sure what the reaction of the room would be.
"Very good," Mortie chuckled, clapping his hands mockingly. "So the infamous Nelson is going to make life difficult for us. Ha ha ha ha."
Fletcher gritted his teeth. "You're not doing this again, you imbecile. I've waited so long, worked so hard for this chance to live again, and I'll be darned if you're gonna be in my way."
Nelson and him locked eyes intensely. "You're still as naive as you were back then. Haven't you gotten it into your head already that we're supposed to be dead? Trying to undo that is only going to hurt ourselves, and those who're still alive." said Nelson.
"Still harping on that one you killed, eh?"
"Don't you start on that," he inhaled deeply. "It doesn't matter any more."
Friday, August 26, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 53: Three Glasses
"Here, have a seat," Nelson ushered Mortie and Darren to some plastic chairs which he just brought out. "Coffee or tea?"
"Water'll do."
"Same here. Get some for the others as well."
"Here you go," Nelson reappeared with a tray. He set it on the table, handed each one of them a glass of water and sat down.
The three drew long sips.
"So," Mortie broke the silence. "How did you meet Darren?"
"I found him pretty much lost in the marketplace right after he came. So I let him stay over at my place."
"I see...so you're his godfather of sorts?"
"Heh, heh, heh." Nelson let out a weak laugh, and Darren followed suit.
"But, jokes aside," Mortie's face turned serious. "Why the keen interest in our group all of a sudden, Nelson?"
"I couldn't help noticing, not after that piece you guys did on the Lower Level Office. It was splashed all across the papers. Nice work."
"Mm hmm. Anything else?"
"Just curious," smiled Nelson. "Have you heard of the escape attempt by Ezisa four years back?"
"Of course I have."
Nelson pantomimed an applause. Mortie smirked.
"You know what happened to them in the end?"
"Yup. All of them died, except for three."
"Impressive," he said. "You know why they died?"
"It's called Exorcism," Mortie leaned forward. "They didn't manage to become human enough."
"So of course, I must ask you this - how do you plan on overcoming that this time around?"
For a moment Mortie didn't say anything, seemingly shocked that Nelson would dare ask something like that. "Excuse me - is that any of your business?"
"Whoops, sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "Got a little carried away."
But Mortie continued glaring at him. "Wait a minute...you suddenly seem very familiar." Then he slapped his forehead. "Why, of course! Nelson 61295, am I right?"
Nelson nodded.
"Of course, of course," Mortie kept muttering. "You're one of the three survivors."
"Water'll do."
"Same here. Get some for the others as well."
"Here you go," Nelson reappeared with a tray. He set it on the table, handed each one of them a glass of water and sat down.
The three drew long sips.
"So," Mortie broke the silence. "How did you meet Darren?"
"I found him pretty much lost in the marketplace right after he came. So I let him stay over at my place."
"I see...so you're his godfather of sorts?"
"Heh, heh, heh." Nelson let out a weak laugh, and Darren followed suit.
"But, jokes aside," Mortie's face turned serious. "Why the keen interest in our group all of a sudden, Nelson?"
"I couldn't help noticing, not after that piece you guys did on the Lower Level Office. It was splashed all across the papers. Nice work."
"Mm hmm. Anything else?"
"Just curious," smiled Nelson. "Have you heard of the escape attempt by Ezisa four years back?"
"Of course I have."
Nelson pantomimed an applause. Mortie smirked.
"You know what happened to them in the end?"
"Yup. All of them died, except for three."
"Impressive," he said. "You know why they died?"
"It's called Exorcism," Mortie leaned forward. "They didn't manage to become human enough."
"So of course, I must ask you this - how do you plan on overcoming that this time around?"
For a moment Mortie didn't say anything, seemingly shocked that Nelson would dare ask something like that. "Excuse me - is that any of your business?"
"Whoops, sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "Got a little carried away."
But Mortie continued glaring at him. "Wait a minute...you suddenly seem very familiar." Then he slapped his forehead. "Why, of course! Nelson 61295, am I right?"
Nelson nodded.
"Of course, of course," Mortie kept muttering. "You're one of the three survivors."
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 52: Nelson, Meet Mortie
"They're here!"
Kat froze in place, eyes darting around for somewhere to hide.
"If you're thinking of hiding, I advise against that. Those darned Spooks will search the place inside-out." said Nelson. "Is there another exit?"
Kat nodded. "There's one at the back, next to the meeting room."
"Let's get out first before talking."
She hurriedly led them past the gyrating dancers to the back of the cafe. Sure enough, an inconspicuous steel door stood just on the left of the meeting room. She opened it for them, revealing behind a damp back alley. It was starting to drizzle outside. The three stepped outside and Kat closed the door behind them, careful not too make too much noise.
"Hey, look." quipped Darren. "There he is."
Mortie leaned against the wall half-drenched, a weird scowl plastered on his face. "Oh," he flicked his cigarette to the ground. "You came."
His eyes darted over Darren, Kat, then stopped at Nelson. "And you would be?"
"Nelson. Mortie?"
"Mortie's the name all right." They shook hands.
"I was about to attend your meeting tonight, actually."
Mortie frowned for a moment, then grinned. "You're Darren's friend, right?"
"Right."
"Then sure, why not? Only problem now - we've got nowhere to meet."
"I'm willing to lend you guys my house."
Mortie wiped his wet forehead. "Excellent! Kat, tell the others that we'll be meeting in Nelson's house. Where's it at, Nelson?"
"Level 20 - 1 below the marketplace."
"I see...why the keen interest in our little group all of a sudden, may I ask?"
"Hohoho. There'll be a time for talking - shouldn't we be getting ourselves somewhere dry now?"
"Yup. I guess we should," Mortie chuckled. "Kat, I'll be seeing you with the rest at Nelson's house."
She nodded. "Sure thing."
Darren nervously checked out both the faces of Nelson and Mortie. There seemed to be an unsettling calmness in their expressions, one that threatened to boil over to a gentlemanly debate or a fistfight at any moment.
Kat froze in place, eyes darting around for somewhere to hide.
"If you're thinking of hiding, I advise against that. Those darned Spooks will search the place inside-out." said Nelson. "Is there another exit?"
Kat nodded. "There's one at the back, next to the meeting room."
"Let's get out first before talking."
She hurriedly led them past the gyrating dancers to the back of the cafe. Sure enough, an inconspicuous steel door stood just on the left of the meeting room. She opened it for them, revealing behind a damp back alley. It was starting to drizzle outside. The three stepped outside and Kat closed the door behind them, careful not too make too much noise.
"Hey, look." quipped Darren. "There he is."
Mortie leaned against the wall half-drenched, a weird scowl plastered on his face. "Oh," he flicked his cigarette to the ground. "You came."
His eyes darted over Darren, Kat, then stopped at Nelson. "And you would be?"
"Nelson. Mortie?"
"Mortie's the name all right." They shook hands.
"I was about to attend your meeting tonight, actually."
Mortie frowned for a moment, then grinned. "You're Darren's friend, right?"
"Right."
"Then sure, why not? Only problem now - we've got nowhere to meet."
"I'm willing to lend you guys my house."
Mortie wiped his wet forehead. "Excellent! Kat, tell the others that we'll be meeting in Nelson's house. Where's it at, Nelson?"
"Level 20 - 1 below the marketplace."
"I see...why the keen interest in our little group all of a sudden, may I ask?"
"Hohoho. There'll be a time for talking - shouldn't we be getting ourselves somewhere dry now?"
"Yup. I guess we should," Mortie chuckled. "Kat, I'll be seeing you with the rest at Nelson's house."
She nodded. "Sure thing."
Darren nervously checked out both the faces of Nelson and Mortie. There seemed to be an unsettling calmness in their expressions, one that threatened to boil over to a gentlemanly debate or a fistfight at any moment.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 51: They're Coming For Us!
(Whew! Over a week since the story was last updated. Well anyways, better late than never.)
"Aha, hip-hop night," said Nelson, patting the ExorPrism in his pocket. "Good thing I'm not here for the entertainment."
Head-thumping beats filled the air as scores of Ghosts in oversized or undersized clothes grooved in The Haunt. Nelson, however, was sharply eyeing every face in all four corners of the place.
"You looking for Mortie?" Darren asked.
"Nope. Just trying to familiarise myself with the faces here. As a matter of fact, I've never even seen Mortie before."
"You haven't?" It came somewhat as a surprise to him.
"Nahh...just word of mouth. He's making quite a name for himself among the authorities, you know. It's remarkable how he rose from being a nobody to becoming the Gatekeeper in just three years."
"And now, the leader of the Ezisa."
Nelson paused and shook his head slowly. "I don't think it's as simple as that. There's something very strange about him - I can't figure it out, but I know he has a secret plan up his sleeve. Believe me, there's more to this escape plan of his than meets the eye."
A wannabe rapper decked in full street gear went onstage spewing some generic lines. Darren couldn't help looking.
"And I've figured the ExorPrism issue out," continued Nelson. "Lucas and Andrea must have resurfaced and be helping Mortie in some capacity. Perhaps they're in the Ezisa team from Unprotected Ghostopia."
Darren was about to say something when he saw a familiar figure walk through the door. It was Kat, back in her usual black top, black jeans, black boots, and ridiculously large earrings. She seemed to be rather flustered, as if she was late for something.
"Hey Kat! Over here!"
"Oh, there you are," she came to their table. "Bad news - tonight's meeting will have to be cancelled."
"Cancelled? Why?"
"The authorities got wind that we've been holding meetings here. A team of Spooks are on their way here now to search the place."
Nelson cocked an eyebrow. "That can't be good."
Darren peered out the window and to his horror, a line of Spooks were already marching towards the entrance.
"Aha, hip-hop night," said Nelson, patting the ExorPrism in his pocket. "Good thing I'm not here for the entertainment."
Head-thumping beats filled the air as scores of Ghosts in oversized or undersized clothes grooved in The Haunt. Nelson, however, was sharply eyeing every face in all four corners of the place.
"You looking for Mortie?" Darren asked.
"Nope. Just trying to familiarise myself with the faces here. As a matter of fact, I've never even seen Mortie before."
"You haven't?" It came somewhat as a surprise to him.
"Nahh...just word of mouth. He's making quite a name for himself among the authorities, you know. It's remarkable how he rose from being a nobody to becoming the Gatekeeper in just three years."
"And now, the leader of the Ezisa."
Nelson paused and shook his head slowly. "I don't think it's as simple as that. There's something very strange about him - I can't figure it out, but I know he has a secret plan up his sleeve. Believe me, there's more to this escape plan of his than meets the eye."
A wannabe rapper decked in full street gear went onstage spewing some generic lines. Darren couldn't help looking.
"And I've figured the ExorPrism issue out," continued Nelson. "Lucas and Andrea must have resurfaced and be helping Mortie in some capacity. Perhaps they're in the Ezisa team from Unprotected Ghostopia."
Darren was about to say something when he saw a familiar figure walk through the door. It was Kat, back in her usual black top, black jeans, black boots, and ridiculously large earrings. She seemed to be rather flustered, as if she was late for something.
"Hey Kat! Over here!"
"Oh, there you are," she came to their table. "Bad news - tonight's meeting will have to be cancelled."
"Cancelled? Why?"
"The authorities got wind that we've been holding meetings here. A team of Spooks are on their way here now to search the place."
Nelson cocked an eyebrow. "That can't be good."
Darren peered out the window and to his horror, a line of Spooks were already marching towards the entrance.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
reCAPPENING: Ghostopia, Chapters 46-50
News of the break-in is reported in the papers, with the authorities saying that security will be tightened around both the Main Offices. Nelson suddenly becomes angry with Darren, warning him that trying to escape from Ghostopia, like what he did with the Ezisa years back, is a folly.
His story: after he arrived in Ghostopia, he made friends with two guys named Lucas and Greg. The three wanted to set up their own stall in the marketplace, but were denied licences for being "too young". Finally, they discovered the Ezisa. Led by the leader of the organisation, James, they easily managed to steal all four records and re-enter the living world.
However, Nelson ends his story there with the revelation that they killed a human in the living world. (Writer's Note: You should know that almost the whole group ends up getting Exorcised, leaving only a few survivors.) Then to Darren's shock, Nelson brings out an ExorPrism which he has hid for three years.
Apparently, Mortie, Lucas, and Andrea, the only survivors of the escape, were the ones who invented the prism. Nelson is puzzled at how Mortie could've gotten his hands on one, seeing that the authorities destroyed all the original prisms and recipes, and that it would be near impossible to make one from memory.
Nelson finally decides to follow Darren to the night's Ezisa meeting to confront Mortie, leading us into Chapter 51.
His story: after he arrived in Ghostopia, he made friends with two guys named Lucas and Greg. The three wanted to set up their own stall in the marketplace, but were denied licences for being "too young". Finally, they discovered the Ezisa. Led by the leader of the organisation, James, they easily managed to steal all four records and re-enter the living world.
However, Nelson ends his story there with the revelation that they killed a human in the living world. (Writer's Note: You should know that almost the whole group ends up getting Exorcised, leaving only a few survivors.) Then to Darren's shock, Nelson brings out an ExorPrism which he has hid for three years.
Apparently, Mortie, Lucas, and Andrea, the only survivors of the escape, were the ones who invented the prism. Nelson is puzzled at how Mortie could've gotten his hands on one, seeing that the authorities destroyed all the original prisms and recipes, and that it would be near impossible to make one from memory.
Nelson finally decides to follow Darren to the night's Ezisa meeting to confront Mortie, leading us into Chapter 51.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Writer's Block
And here comes your regular Writer's Block, where I once again assume the persona of some bloke posting stories on the net.
Hmm...an issue crept to my mind, one which I should bring up before someone else does. I've noticed that my stories have all so far been VERY Western-influenced, and that can't be altogether a good thing. Blame it on a steady diet of Enid Blyton and R. L. Stine, but all of a sudden I feel ashamed that my definition of a good story this far has been how close it imitates the works of both authors. At certain points of "Ghostopia" I even cringed at how blatantly I was fashioning Darren's life after your run-of-the-mill all-American high school drama.
So what the heck, I will throw in some Malaysian-isque elements in my next story. (Hopefully this won't equate into the odd bunga raya here and there, baju kebaya, wau, congkak, and the like.) 'Cos I sure don't fancy myself as one of those who sees our homeland as a conservative Third World country festering with greedy Chinese, lazy Malays, and Indian thugs. Nope. I might be a naive kid sheltered from the "real world", but I don't ever believe in hating something without understanding it completely. Of course, you'll never understand something completely, which is precisely why you shouldn't hate! HAH!
Brakes, please. We're supposed to be talking about the story, aren't we?
Again, Chapter 51 sees a new scene starting, with Nelson confronting Mortie. There's potential here for a ton of mysteries to unravel, and lots of light shed on characters. Kat's background should be looming near, possibly Mortie as well. Just figuring avenues of making that happen, rather than them getting faraway looks in their eyes and blurring into flashback mode. Without giving too much away, I've already woven some twists here and there to make things "fit". Nothing too spectacular however, don't expect a Sixth Sense bang.
Allow me to dish out a line I haven't used in ages: We're inching towards the climax. I haven't figured out the ending yet, but already there're plenty of paths leading there I can see. The character settings are still a teensy-weensy vague, but we'll soon find out who the good guys and bad guys are. Ooh, EXCITING~! And the sooner the better, I say. This story's been hogging my blog for near six months now and it isn't gonna stop anytime soon. As a result, readership has dropped - reCAPPENINGs or not, no way anyone new's gonna stay tuned to a story already 50 Chapters in progress.
No worries on a ham-handed ending though, it ain't happening. Even if by some chance it does, I've already planned on re-writing this story WHILE the next one is in progress. Many times I've run through the backbone of the story on my head, and it does impress me. Like I've said, the stories posted serve as drafts for better stories, and I'm gonna take this one and shine it up reeeeal nice.
Of course, some little flaws that'll have to be fixed:
a) Not having Darren die so quickly at the start. It was quite a waste, really, seeing that it could've served as an introduction to him of sorts. As a result, he limped all the way in the race of character development, and we're still having a hard time buying him and his thing for Emily.
b) Another option would be to switch back and forth between Darren's, Nelson's, and Kat's lives, eventually leading to their respective deaths. Downside: a lot of the intrigue of the new characters would be gone.
c) Doing away with the story told solely from Darren's point of view. Stiffling, monotonous, and makes it seem more like a narrative than a story. Not a major mistake, but I don't quite like it.
d) Something feels weird about the Ezisa so easily accepting Darren into their ranks, seeing that they're a secret organisation. Again, not a logic loophole, but things would be much better if it was made clear.
e) And, uh...still not really sure what this is about, but Nelson's too wimpy a name for a gangster. Maybe Francesco? Valentino? Giordano? Hahahahha.
And...we're done. Term breaks are here for me, technically, so stick around as I attempt to spend my time constructively! By rambling on with the exploits of Darren, of course. ;^)
Have a nice day!
Hmm...an issue crept to my mind, one which I should bring up before someone else does. I've noticed that my stories have all so far been VERY Western-influenced, and that can't be altogether a good thing. Blame it on a steady diet of Enid Blyton and R. L. Stine, but all of a sudden I feel ashamed that my definition of a good story this far has been how close it imitates the works of both authors. At certain points of "Ghostopia" I even cringed at how blatantly I was fashioning Darren's life after your run-of-the-mill all-American high school drama.
So what the heck, I will throw in some Malaysian-isque elements in my next story. (Hopefully this won't equate into the odd bunga raya here and there, baju kebaya, wau, congkak, and the like.) 'Cos I sure don't fancy myself as one of those who sees our homeland as a conservative Third World country festering with greedy Chinese, lazy Malays, and Indian thugs. Nope. I might be a naive kid sheltered from the "real world", but I don't ever believe in hating something without understanding it completely. Of course, you'll never understand something completely, which is precisely why you shouldn't hate! HAH!
Brakes, please. We're supposed to be talking about the story, aren't we?
Again, Chapter 51 sees a new scene starting, with Nelson confronting Mortie. There's potential here for a ton of mysteries to unravel, and lots of light shed on characters. Kat's background should be looming near, possibly Mortie as well. Just figuring avenues of making that happen, rather than them getting faraway looks in their eyes and blurring into flashback mode. Without giving too much away, I've already woven some twists here and there to make things "fit". Nothing too spectacular however, don't expect a Sixth Sense bang.
Allow me to dish out a line I haven't used in ages: We're inching towards the climax. I haven't figured out the ending yet, but already there're plenty of paths leading there I can see. The character settings are still a teensy-weensy vague, but we'll soon find out who the good guys and bad guys are. Ooh, EXCITING~! And the sooner the better, I say. This story's been hogging my blog for near six months now and it isn't gonna stop anytime soon. As a result, readership has dropped - reCAPPENINGs or not, no way anyone new's gonna stay tuned to a story already 50 Chapters in progress.
No worries on a ham-handed ending though, it ain't happening. Even if by some chance it does, I've already planned on re-writing this story WHILE the next one is in progress. Many times I've run through the backbone of the story on my head, and it does impress me. Like I've said, the stories posted serve as drafts for better stories, and I'm gonna take this one and shine it up reeeeal nice.
Of course, some little flaws that'll have to be fixed:
a) Not having Darren die so quickly at the start. It was quite a waste, really, seeing that it could've served as an introduction to him of sorts. As a result, he limped all the way in the race of character development, and we're still having a hard time buying him and his thing for Emily.
b) Another option would be to switch back and forth between Darren's, Nelson's, and Kat's lives, eventually leading to their respective deaths. Downside: a lot of the intrigue of the new characters would be gone.
c) Doing away with the story told solely from Darren's point of view. Stiffling, monotonous, and makes it seem more like a narrative than a story. Not a major mistake, but I don't quite like it.
d) Something feels weird about the Ezisa so easily accepting Darren into their ranks, seeing that they're a secret organisation. Again, not a logic loophole, but things would be much better if it was made clear.
e) And, uh...still not really sure what this is about, but Nelson's too wimpy a name for a gangster. Maybe Francesco? Valentino? Giordano? Hahahahha.
And...we're done. Term breaks are here for me, technically, so stick around as I attempt to spend my time constructively! By rambling on with the exploits of Darren, of course. ;^)
Have a nice day!
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Whiner's Block
Aha...now a brilliant idea this is. I shall try regular blogging for once, in a brand-new column called the "Whiner's Block".
Regular blogging.
Right. Where you complain about the haze, exams, homework, parents, and friends.
First off: this month has been so unlucky for me that it's getting a little creepy. I mean, it's not just regular unlucky, but unlucky supersized with extra toppings and a cherry on top.
This tale starts two Thursdays ago when I was in Friend A's house using his computer to finish an assignment for Billboard Design. So blahblahblahblah, after several weird computer mishaps which left me in the grip of The Last Minute yet again, I was ready to save the work into my pendrive.
And then it happened.
"This file cannot be saved because the path is too deep."
Huh?
File, Save As, Save...once again, "This file cannot be saved because the path is too deep."
Oh, man.
So never mind, I burned it into a CD. Then later on in class, more freaky computer mishaps happened, but we needn't elaborate on that...'cos the best is yet to come.
Suddenly! For no comprehensible reason! My pendrive dies! Yeah, dies. None of the computers could detect it. Though I anxiously go around sticking it into every laptop I could find, the results came out the same every time: My Pendrive Had Ceased To Exist Functionally.
And you thought that was the "best yet to come"? Nuh-uh. Later on that very same night, My Pendrive Ceased To Exist Physically as well! It disappeared, I swear! One minute it was in my pocket, the next it wasn't.
So kind Friend B lent me his spare pendrive as a temporary stand-by, which I accepted gratefully. I went home, drained to say the least, and proceeded to take off my glasses to wash my face.
Snap.
Out of a random improbable chance, the frame of my glasses broke. Sigh. Thank God I wouldn't be needing them while sleeping.
But wait, that's just Day One.
Day Two (Sunday) kicks off with me shifting my whole computer to Friend A's house to finish up my a website project. So I slip Friend B's pendrive into my pocket, complete with all the neccessary files. Fast forward to said house, and voila! Now you see pendrive, now you don't.
*curses* This is beyond unreal MAN. Who in the history of humankind has ever lost 2 pendrives in 4 days? I should be in the record books or something. Oh well, the silver lining would be that Friend A's computer had my files too. In an unrelated incident, I bumped my car slightly into his gate as I was reversing. No damages done, which is why it's unrelated.
Moving on.
Monday, and fortunately my portfolio website didn't screw up or anything. Things went well classes-wise, apart from the fact that the exasperated Visual Studies lecturer claimed that our 80% empty class was the "worst Advertising class he had ever taught".
But here comes the unlucky-ish part. I was supposed to go straight home after class at 4.30 and start work on my assignment due Wednesday. However, as "luck" would have it, I ended up fetching a sick Friend C home in nearby Subang. Quite an innocent lil' trip, you might think.
Sadly, her directions for a shortcut back to Sunway were misunderstood by me, and I spent the next 2 hours wandering around in remote places like Bukit Jelutong, Shah Alam, Subang Airport and the like. Heck, I even watched the sun set with Friend A and D (who happened to be dragged along by me for the ride). Oh, and did you know that there IS a place called "Kampung Subang" and "Bukit Subang"? Now you kow. Suffice to say, I reached home extremely late and tired, giving way to an almighty rush on Tuesday and Wednesday.
And then came the killer blow just last night (Saturday). Penniless ol' me withdrew RM50 to pay for printing, and I clearly remember the guy at the shop giving me back RM42 change. Logically speaking, I would've put it back into my wallet. I'm pretty sure I did.
But if logic was the theme of this post, then the RM42 would still be in my wallet. Instead of me opening it to pay for a drink and discovering to my horror that it disappeared.
Disappeared.
Vanished.
Dematerialised.
Take your pick, but that was the final straw...it confirms the black halo floating above me that says "BAD LUCK". Did you watch Final Destination? Well, that happened to several people. This time, I'm taking all the shots. Curiously, this month coincides with the Chinese Hungry Ghost Festival, and I had a giant Chinese character of "Ghost" splashed on my desktop last week.
Grrr...on a brighter note, today's Fundraising For Graduation Campaign Flea Market At Amcorp Mall went off quite well for a first time. Raked in RM400, and a jumbo-sized THANK YOU to the 3 caricature artists who worked their butts off the whole day long. Not forgetting the Henna tattoo people, birthday girl-cum-president Xin and everyone else who helped out in one way or another (the category of choice for yours truly, hohoho). But the caricature artists were the ones who really made me go wow.
If things go well, we'll probably get to double that amount of earnings for the Sunway Lagoon activities next week or future rounds in Amcorp Mall. But all that aside, it was good to see Batch 26 working together, each contributing with their individual strengths. Everyone felt to me like a part of a massively talented and creative team, not students whom the committee had to "take care of". Good times, good times, I wouldn't mind seconds. =^) Just wish I didn't have to skip church for the next two Saturdays.
And ya lah, I'm studying in The One Academy, the draw-draw one ah. Art, you know? Next to Sunway Pyramid? No, not Sunway College. No, not Limkokwing.
So hehe yeah, it's been a pretty long post, but that's what you call value for money. Not that you're paying, but...you catch my drift. Will likely be posting a Writer's Block tomorrow, where we drown away all our sorrows and down ourselves with Ghostopia...
Till then, bye!
Regular blogging.
Right. Where you complain about the haze, exams, homework, parents, and friends.
First off: this month has been so unlucky for me that it's getting a little creepy. I mean, it's not just regular unlucky, but unlucky supersized with extra toppings and a cherry on top.
This tale starts two Thursdays ago when I was in Friend A's house using his computer to finish an assignment for Billboard Design. So blahblahblahblah, after several weird computer mishaps which left me in the grip of The Last Minute yet again, I was ready to save the work into my pendrive.
And then it happened.
"This file cannot be saved because the path is too deep."
Huh?
File, Save As, Save...once again, "This file cannot be saved because the path is too deep."
Oh, man.
So never mind, I burned it into a CD. Then later on in class, more freaky computer mishaps happened, but we needn't elaborate on that...'cos the best is yet to come.
Suddenly! For no comprehensible reason! My pendrive dies! Yeah, dies. None of the computers could detect it. Though I anxiously go around sticking it into every laptop I could find, the results came out the same every time: My Pendrive Had Ceased To Exist Functionally.
And you thought that was the "best yet to come"? Nuh-uh. Later on that very same night, My Pendrive Ceased To Exist Physically as well! It disappeared, I swear! One minute it was in my pocket, the next it wasn't.
So kind Friend B lent me his spare pendrive as a temporary stand-by, which I accepted gratefully. I went home, drained to say the least, and proceeded to take off my glasses to wash my face.
Snap.
Out of a random improbable chance, the frame of my glasses broke. Sigh. Thank God I wouldn't be needing them while sleeping.
But wait, that's just Day One.
Day Two (Sunday) kicks off with me shifting my whole computer to Friend A's house to finish up my a website project. So I slip Friend B's pendrive into my pocket, complete with all the neccessary files. Fast forward to said house, and voila! Now you see pendrive, now you don't.
*curses* This is beyond unreal MAN. Who in the history of humankind has ever lost 2 pendrives in 4 days? I should be in the record books or something. Oh well, the silver lining would be that Friend A's computer had my files too. In an unrelated incident, I bumped my car slightly into his gate as I was reversing. No damages done, which is why it's unrelated.
Moving on.
Monday, and fortunately my portfolio website didn't screw up or anything. Things went well classes-wise, apart from the fact that the exasperated Visual Studies lecturer claimed that our 80% empty class was the "worst Advertising class he had ever taught".
But here comes the unlucky-ish part. I was supposed to go straight home after class at 4.30 and start work on my assignment due Wednesday. However, as "luck" would have it, I ended up fetching a sick Friend C home in nearby Subang. Quite an innocent lil' trip, you might think.
Sadly, her directions for a shortcut back to Sunway were misunderstood by me, and I spent the next 2 hours wandering around in remote places like Bukit Jelutong, Shah Alam, Subang Airport and the like. Heck, I even watched the sun set with Friend A and D (who happened to be dragged along by me for the ride). Oh, and did you know that there IS a place called "Kampung Subang" and "Bukit Subang"? Now you kow. Suffice to say, I reached home extremely late and tired, giving way to an almighty rush on Tuesday and Wednesday.
And then came the killer blow just last night (Saturday). Penniless ol' me withdrew RM50 to pay for printing, and I clearly remember the guy at the shop giving me back RM42 change. Logically speaking, I would've put it back into my wallet. I'm pretty sure I did.
But if logic was the theme of this post, then the RM42 would still be in my wallet. Instead of me opening it to pay for a drink and discovering to my horror that it disappeared.
Disappeared.
Vanished.
Dematerialised.
Take your pick, but that was the final straw...it confirms the black halo floating above me that says "BAD LUCK". Did you watch Final Destination? Well, that happened to several people. This time, I'm taking all the shots. Curiously, this month coincides with the Chinese Hungry Ghost Festival, and I had a giant Chinese character of "Ghost" splashed on my desktop last week.
Grrr...on a brighter note, today's Fundraising For Graduation Campaign Flea Market At Amcorp Mall went off quite well for a first time. Raked in RM400, and a jumbo-sized THANK YOU to the 3 caricature artists who worked their butts off the whole day long. Not forgetting the Henna tattoo people, birthday girl-cum-president Xin and everyone else who helped out in one way or another (the category of choice for yours truly, hohoho). But the caricature artists were the ones who really made me go wow.
If things go well, we'll probably get to double that amount of earnings for the Sunway Lagoon activities next week or future rounds in Amcorp Mall. But all that aside, it was good to see Batch 26 working together, each contributing with their individual strengths. Everyone felt to me like a part of a massively talented and creative team, not students whom the committee had to "take care of". Good times, good times, I wouldn't mind seconds. =^) Just wish I didn't have to skip church for the next two Saturdays.
And ya lah, I'm studying in The One Academy, the draw-draw one ah. Art, you know? Next to Sunway Pyramid? No, not Sunway College. No, not Limkokwing.
So hehe yeah, it's been a pretty long post, but that's what you call value for money. Not that you're paying, but...you catch my drift. Will likely be posting a Writer's Block tomorrow, where we drown away all our sorrows and down ourselves with Ghostopia...
Till then, bye!
Friday, August 12, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 50: Lucas And Andrea
"WHAT?" Darren squawked. "You have an ExorPrism too?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's with the big reaction, pal?"
"Erm, well...Mortie has one too. He used it to Exorcise those Spooks in the Lower Level Office."
Nelson's eyes widened. "Mortie has an ExorPrism? The very same as this?" He twirled the prism in his hand for Darren to see.
Darren nodded.
"Did it turn white when he Exorcised the Spook?"
"Umm...yes it did."
"Holy cow," Nelson frowned. "This can't be good. Someone must have figured out how to make them again. This was the only one we managed to save from destruction."
Darren started putting two and two together. "So you and Lucas survived the trip to living world, then you cam back, and both of you were the ones who created the ExorPrism?"
"Correction. There was another girl too - Andrea."
"Andrea...and Lucas. Where are they now?"
"I don't know. After the authorities cracked down on us, we just parted ways. They were devastated, to say the least, that there would be no second chance at escape. I, on the other hand, was resigned to the fact that the dead should stay dead."
"Wait," Darren said. "That figures. Isn't it likely one of them is the one making new ExorPrisms?"
"Impossible. The authorities destroyed all the recipes as well."
"But what if they rediscovered the recipe, or made them from memory?"
Nelson muttered something inaudible. "I doubt it. There is just no way you can make an ExorPrism from memory."
"Well, maybe they somehow got luc-"
"There's only one thing for me to do," he cut him off. "Darren, when is the next meeting?"
"Tonight."
"Good. Count me in. I'm going to confront Mortie - and hopefully talk some sense into him."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's with the big reaction, pal?"
"Erm, well...Mortie has one too. He used it to Exorcise those Spooks in the Lower Level Office."
Nelson's eyes widened. "Mortie has an ExorPrism? The very same as this?" He twirled the prism in his hand for Darren to see.
Darren nodded.
"Did it turn white when he Exorcised the Spook?"
"Umm...yes it did."
"Holy cow," Nelson frowned. "This can't be good. Someone must have figured out how to make them again. This was the only one we managed to save from destruction."
Darren started putting two and two together. "So you and Lucas survived the trip to living world, then you cam back, and both of you were the ones who created the ExorPrism?"
"Correction. There was another girl too - Andrea."
"Andrea...and Lucas. Where are they now?"
"I don't know. After the authorities cracked down on us, we just parted ways. They were devastated, to say the least, that there would be no second chance at escape. I, on the other hand, was resigned to the fact that the dead should stay dead."
"Wait," Darren said. "That figures. Isn't it likely one of them is the one making new ExorPrisms?"
"Impossible. The authorities destroyed all the recipes as well."
"But what if they rediscovered the recipe, or made them from memory?"
Nelson muttered something inaudible. "I doubt it. There is just no way you can make an ExorPrism from memory."
"Well, maybe they somehow got luc-"
"There's only one thing for me to do," he cut him off. "Darren, when is the next meeting?"
"Tonight."
"Good. Count me in. I'm going to confront Mortie - and hopefully talk some sense into him."
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 49: Skeletons In The Closet
So it was possible. Hearing Nelson talk about how he once escaped from Ghostopia made Mortie's cause seem less far-fetched now. More so when Nelson was the one who'd planted the most doubt in him.
"Once we had all four records, it was just a matter of taking care of the gatekeeper. Good thing he was smart and joined us at last. Otherwise James would've had him killed."
"After we went through the other side of the bookcase, we could each see the places where we died. It was like being in a dream; you can just see it, but you're not really there. The final thing to do then was to look for fear."
"Fear? Why fear?" Darren asked.
"That's how Ghosts come back to the living world - it's a gateway of sorts. Once someone in the group comes across fear, everyone focuses on it and boom! Welcome back to life."
Nelson stopped, nodding his head repeatedly. Something was troubling him.
"You know how the rest of the story goes, don't you?"
"Uh-huh," Darren nodded. "You couldn't make yourselves human again, and almost everyone got Exorcised."
"That's right," he murmured. "Just three of us. Lucas, me, and another girl. But there's something else you don't know."
He paused again, as though for dramatic effect.
"We killed someone."
Darren frowned, trying to fathom the impact of the sentence. "You mean, in the living world?"
Nelson stared at the ceiling for several seconds. "Yes. In the living world."
"But...how? Weren't you powerless as Ghosts?"
"Come," he stood up. "Let me show you something."
Darren followed him out of the room to some attic downstairs. He rummaged through a few neatly-stacked boxes, finally stopping at one which was heavily taped up. He carefully removed the sealing and opened the lid. It was filled with blank papers.
"Ah, still there sitting pretty," He smiled, peering into the box after he took out the papers. "I don't think I've seen it once in three years."
"What's it?"
Nelson carefully held up a glowing green prism. "Say hello to my ExorPrism."
"Once we had all four records, it was just a matter of taking care of the gatekeeper. Good thing he was smart and joined us at last. Otherwise James would've had him killed."
"After we went through the other side of the bookcase, we could each see the places where we died. It was like being in a dream; you can just see it, but you're not really there. The final thing to do then was to look for fear."
"Fear? Why fear?" Darren asked.
"That's how Ghosts come back to the living world - it's a gateway of sorts. Once someone in the group comes across fear, everyone focuses on it and boom! Welcome back to life."
Nelson stopped, nodding his head repeatedly. Something was troubling him.
"You know how the rest of the story goes, don't you?"
"Uh-huh," Darren nodded. "You couldn't make yourselves human again, and almost everyone got Exorcised."
"That's right," he murmured. "Just three of us. Lucas, me, and another girl. But there's something else you don't know."
He paused again, as though for dramatic effect.
"We killed someone."
Darren frowned, trying to fathom the impact of the sentence. "You mean, in the living world?"
Nelson stared at the ceiling for several seconds. "Yes. In the living world."
"But...how? Weren't you powerless as Ghosts?"
"Come," he stood up. "Let me show you something."
Darren followed him out of the room to some attic downstairs. He rummaged through a few neatly-stacked boxes, finally stopping at one which was heavily taped up. He carefully removed the sealing and opened the lid. It was filled with blank papers.
"Ah, still there sitting pretty," He smiled, peering into the box after he took out the papers. "I don't think I've seen it once in three years."
"What's it?"
Nelson carefully held up a glowing green prism. "Say hello to my ExorPrism."
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 48: The First Escape
"Lucas was all worked up, jumping and yelling, telling me how he couldn't believe he had found something so amazing. So I decided to follow him there the next day to see what the big deal was. Of course, we dragged that reluctant Greg along as well."
"Before I continue, let me ask you something," Nelson stopped suddenly. "How was your first Ezisa meeting like?"
"I told you about it, didn't I?"
"Not in detail. How did you feel?"
"Um...it was totally weird. I had no idea what was going on, and then boom! I was part of a secret society."
"That's it? No sense of joy, relief, or maybe even accomplishment?"
"Not at that moment."
"Well, maybe that's because you haven't been dead long enough. You don't want to go back to the living world badly enough yet."
"You're wrong," Darren snapped back. "I didn't at first, but last night I had a dream. I was at my graduation ceremony all over again, hanging out with my friends, about to ask Emily for a photograph. You know, moments before I died."
"Ah, flashbacks to your final scenes of life," nodded Nelson. "That's what usually happens after the novelty of being dead dies down."
"You can imagine what great hope discovering Ezisa brought to me," he continued. "You see, just like you my life was taken away from me at the worst possible moment - my mother had become sick and I'd found myself a job to pay for her bills. Too bad the gangster life caught up with me before I got out of it."
"And there we were - me, Lucas, Greg, a few others, and the Ezisa leader, talking about how being dead sucked enough without the discriminating policies in Ghostopia. This leader was a tremendously bright lad, the sort you could see becoming famous in the future. This guy, James, had enough connections to know where exactly the four records were and how and when to steal them. Incredibly, we carried out all four operations in the same night. All four were successful - the Spooks were really lousy back then. By the following night, we were ready to make the big jump."
"And you did it?" Darren asked disbelievingly.
"We did it. We re-entered the living world."
"Before I continue, let me ask you something," Nelson stopped suddenly. "How was your first Ezisa meeting like?"
"I told you about it, didn't I?"
"Not in detail. How did you feel?"
"Um...it was totally weird. I had no idea what was going on, and then boom! I was part of a secret society."
"That's it? No sense of joy, relief, or maybe even accomplishment?"
"Not at that moment."
"Well, maybe that's because you haven't been dead long enough. You don't want to go back to the living world badly enough yet."
"You're wrong," Darren snapped back. "I didn't at first, but last night I had a dream. I was at my graduation ceremony all over again, hanging out with my friends, about to ask Emily for a photograph. You know, moments before I died."
"Ah, flashbacks to your final scenes of life," nodded Nelson. "That's what usually happens after the novelty of being dead dies down."
"You can imagine what great hope discovering Ezisa brought to me," he continued. "You see, just like you my life was taken away from me at the worst possible moment - my mother had become sick and I'd found myself a job to pay for her bills. Too bad the gangster life caught up with me before I got out of it."
"And there we were - me, Lucas, Greg, a few others, and the Ezisa leader, talking about how being dead sucked enough without the discriminating policies in Ghostopia. This leader was a tremendously bright lad, the sort you could see becoming famous in the future. This guy, James, had enough connections to know where exactly the four records were and how and when to steal them. Incredibly, we carried out all four operations in the same night. All four were successful - the Spooks were really lousy back then. By the following night, we were ready to make the big jump."
"And you did it?" Darren asked disbelievingly.
"We did it. We re-entered the living world."
Friday, August 05, 2005
Writer's Block: Starless Nights (A Very Strange Poem Indeed)
One day I went back
Under a starless sky black
Where we sat before
But she was there no more
I called out, sobbing
All was dark
All was still
What a terrible thing to happen
The angry men marched, marched, and marched
They shouted, shouted, and shouted
Terrified, she
Vanished into the night
We made too much noise, the men became angry men
They wanted us to be quiet
Somehow, she found them adorable
And laughed so hard that
I laughed too
I remember that night
When dawn broke she would disappear
Till the sky turned black
I knew I would be lonely
Under the gleaming moon we danced
Through the wet grass we pranced
She winked at me
I smiled back
She stuck out her tongue
And we laughed happily
A starless sky black
That was when I met Lullabelle
She was a long floppy bunny
Sometimes green, sometimes blue,
Sometimes pink
But never white.
Under a starless sky black
Where we sat before
But she was there no more
I called out, sobbing
All was dark
All was still
What a terrible thing to happen
The angry men marched, marched, and marched
They shouted, shouted, and shouted
Terrified, she
Vanished into the night
We made too much noise, the men became angry men
They wanted us to be quiet
Somehow, she found them adorable
And laughed so hard that
I laughed too
I remember that night
When dawn broke she would disappear
Till the sky turned black
I knew I would be lonely
Under the gleaming moon we danced
Through the wet grass we pranced
She winked at me
I smiled back
She stuck out her tongue
And we laughed happily
A starless sky black
That was when I met Lullabelle
She was a long floppy bunny
Sometimes green, sometimes blue,
Sometimes pink
But never white.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 47: It Happened A Long Time Ago
"She told me you've been dead for more than four years, even before her."
Nelson didn't say anything.
"Is that true?"
He just kept staring at Darren with unblinking eyes.
"So it's true. You've been here longer than both of us."
"Both of us?" he laughed. "So now you're gonna marry her?"
Darren could feel his face flush with both anger and embarassment. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you've gone nuts. Or jealous. Or something."
"Jealous? What piece of you do I have to be jealous of?"
"You're jealous...because you can't get back to the living world like I can."
"You seriously think you'll live again?" Nelson scowled mockingly. "Just because you and your playmates had a good time taking candy from a baby yesterday?"
"Take a good look," he continued, pointing to a line in the article. "Security around the Main Offices in Protected and Unprotected Ghostopia has been beefed up. I know what you guys are planning next, and they know it too. No way you're getting in and out so easily this time - believe me, I've been there."
"You've been there?"
Nelson pondered for a moment, then sighed deeply. "Like it or not, I can't keep hiding this from you. Darren, what Kat told you was true. I was a member of the Ezisa four and a half years back, and I was involved in that infamous escape attempt."
Darren felt a lump grow in his throat. That escape had been orchestrated by the Ezisa? And Nelson was one of the survivors?
"I'm telling you this because I don't want you to do what I've done in the past."
"I had just arrived in Ghostopia and was feeling bitter over the way I died, like you. Mortie wasn't the Gatekeeper then, and that other guy wasn't as nice. He sent me straight out there without any idea what to do next - get a job, meet people, and all that. So I wandered in the marketplace for my first week, living off scraps like a common tramp. Unlike Kat, I wasn't blessed with her charm and quick wit to turn to full-time crime."
"However, it wasn't long before I got to know some of the other homeless guys at the marketplace. Eventually, three of us - what were their names again - myself, Greg, and Lucas, came up with the idea of setting up our own stall in the marketplace."
"That's where all the trouble began. The authorities refused to give us permission, closing down our stall time after time on the grounds that we were "too young". With the whole place being run by old hags, there was no way we the minority could do anything but live on the streets."
"And then, one night," He nodded proudly like a scientist about to reveal his latest invention. "Lucas told us about an organisation named Ezisa."
Nelson didn't say anything.
"Is that true?"
He just kept staring at Darren with unblinking eyes.
"So it's true. You've been here longer than both of us."
"Both of us?" he laughed. "So now you're gonna marry her?"
Darren could feel his face flush with both anger and embarassment. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you've gone nuts. Or jealous. Or something."
"Jealous? What piece of you do I have to be jealous of?"
"You're jealous...because you can't get back to the living world like I can."
"You seriously think you'll live again?" Nelson scowled mockingly. "Just because you and your playmates had a good time taking candy from a baby yesterday?"
"Take a good look," he continued, pointing to a line in the article. "Security around the Main Offices in Protected and Unprotected Ghostopia has been beefed up. I know what you guys are planning next, and they know it too. No way you're getting in and out so easily this time - believe me, I've been there."
"You've been there?"
Nelson pondered for a moment, then sighed deeply. "Like it or not, I can't keep hiding this from you. Darren, what Kat told you was true. I was a member of the Ezisa four and a half years back, and I was involved in that infamous escape attempt."
Darren felt a lump grow in his throat. That escape had been orchestrated by the Ezisa? And Nelson was one of the survivors?
"I'm telling you this because I don't want you to do what I've done in the past."
"I had just arrived in Ghostopia and was feeling bitter over the way I died, like you. Mortie wasn't the Gatekeeper then, and that other guy wasn't as nice. He sent me straight out there without any idea what to do next - get a job, meet people, and all that. So I wandered in the marketplace for my first week, living off scraps like a common tramp. Unlike Kat, I wasn't blessed with her charm and quick wit to turn to full-time crime."
"However, it wasn't long before I got to know some of the other homeless guys at the marketplace. Eventually, three of us - what were their names again - myself, Greg, and Lucas, came up with the idea of setting up our own stall in the marketplace."
"That's where all the trouble began. The authorities refused to give us permission, closing down our stall time after time on the grounds that we were "too young". With the whole place being run by old hags, there was no way we the minority could do anything but live on the streets."
"And then, one night," He nodded proudly like a scientist about to reveal his latest invention. "Lucas told us about an organisation named Ezisa."
Monday, August 01, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 46: Stirring Up Trouble
"Huh? What morning news?"
"This morning news." Nelson flipped the Ghost Times to a page with a screaming headline: "SECOND BREAK-IN!"
Darren read on, much more awake now.
"Second Lower Level Office breach in three days, Spook Exorcised"
"The Level 94 Office was broken into late last night by a group of intruders who managed to destroy the copy of Records Of New Ghosts stored in the quarters. This comes a day after a similar attempt in the Lower Level Office of Unprotected Ghostopia.
The decapitated corpse of a Spook was recovered, also believed to be the work of the intruders. Authorities have yet to gain a lead on the identity of the group responsible.
Lester 61330, the head of security of the Level 94 Office said the group, consisting of seven members, had left their GIC cards with him.
"I refused to give them back till their leader filed a full report detailing their organisation. Which of course, he didn't do. However, all checks on their GICs have brought nothing up. It appears the cards have been blocked."
Sketches of the suspects are to be released soon, he added.
Meanwhile, security around the Main Offices in Protected and Unprotected Ghostopia has been beefed up, as they are rumoured to be the next targets."
Darren put down the paper, not sure what to say. Twenty years in the living world and he never made it further than the campus journal, and now he was in the news after a week in Ghostopia? "Hats off to you guys," Nelson smiled. Or was he smirking? "I never imagined you would pull it off so quickly. And kill a Spook in the process."
"It...it was a team effort."
Suddenly Nelson slapped his hand on the paper in anger. "You're feeling pretty good about this, aren't you? Two down, two more to go, is that it?"
His sudden change in emotion surprised Darren. "Hey...what's wrong?"
"You have no idea." he shook his head . "NO idea. You just got yourself in a whole lot of trouble, pal."
"What, the authorities are gonna imprison me now?"
"It gets much more complicated than that. Trust me, you have no idea."
A short pause ensued.
"Speaking of no idea, Nelson - I had no idea that you had a past with the Ezisa."
Nelson widened his eyes. "Me? Ezisa? Who told you that?"
"Kat did."
"Kat, that girl who conned you the moment you came here?" he rolled his eyes. "Sure."
"This morning news." Nelson flipped the Ghost Times to a page with a screaming headline: "SECOND BREAK-IN!"
Darren read on, much more awake now.
"Second Lower Level Office breach in three days, Spook Exorcised"
"The Level 94 Office was broken into late last night by a group of intruders who managed to destroy the copy of Records Of New Ghosts stored in the quarters. This comes a day after a similar attempt in the Lower Level Office of Unprotected Ghostopia.
The decapitated corpse of a Spook was recovered, also believed to be the work of the intruders. Authorities have yet to gain a lead on the identity of the group responsible.
Lester 61330, the head of security of the Level 94 Office said the group, consisting of seven members, had left their GIC cards with him.
"I refused to give them back till their leader filed a full report detailing their organisation. Which of course, he didn't do. However, all checks on their GICs have brought nothing up. It appears the cards have been blocked."
Sketches of the suspects are to be released soon, he added.
Meanwhile, security around the Main Offices in Protected and Unprotected Ghostopia has been beefed up, as they are rumoured to be the next targets."
Darren put down the paper, not sure what to say. Twenty years in the living world and he never made it further than the campus journal, and now he was in the news after a week in Ghostopia? "Hats off to you guys," Nelson smiled. Or was he smirking? "I never imagined you would pull it off so quickly. And kill a Spook in the process."
"It...it was a team effort."
Suddenly Nelson slapped his hand on the paper in anger. "You're feeling pretty good about this, aren't you? Two down, two more to go, is that it?"
His sudden change in emotion surprised Darren. "Hey...what's wrong?"
"You have no idea." he shook his head . "NO idea. You just got yourself in a whole lot of trouble, pal."
"What, the authorities are gonna imprison me now?"
"It gets much more complicated than that. Trust me, you have no idea."
A short pause ensued.
"Speaking of no idea, Nelson - I had no idea that you had a past with the Ezisa."
Nelson widened his eyes. "Me? Ezisa? Who told you that?"
"Kat did."
"Kat, that girl who conned you the moment you came here?" he rolled his eyes. "Sure."
Sunday, July 31, 2005
reCAPPENING: Ghostopia, Chapters 41-45
Darren tries to get them both out of the narrow shaft when Kat, being claustrophobic, suffers a breakdown. Suddenly Mortie appears with Amelia, much to their relief.
Shortly after that, the Spook which has been trailing them for a while catches up with the group, and Mortie confronts the Spook who is intent on arresting Darren and Kat. The conversation soon turns sour and Mortie reveals a hidden weapon - the ExorPrism. The glowing green prism gives off devastating effects to the Spook, eventually causing it to wither and die in agony.
When asked, Mortie tells Darren that the ExorPrism was created after the botched escape attempt years back. After the few remaining Ghosts who escaped Exorcism returned, they secretly created the ExorPrism which had great power over anything that wasn't a Ghost. However, the authorities put an end to production and destroyed the recipes after the prisms were misused to Exorcise Spooks. The original makers were never found.
After the explanation, Mortie leads them out of the building along with Todd, Fletcher, and Scarlet. Sure enough, Mortie confirms that the records were taken care of. Unfortunately, Lester demands a full report from Mortie tomorrow before their GIC Cards can be returned. Mortie obliges, and the group walks out to cheers of their first mission accomplished.
Fast forward to the next morning, where Darren is dreaming of his graduation day all over again. Suddenly, Nelson wakes him up with news that Darren is featured in the morning paper - leading us into Chapter 46.
Shortly after that, the Spook which has been trailing them for a while catches up with the group, and Mortie confronts the Spook who is intent on arresting Darren and Kat. The conversation soon turns sour and Mortie reveals a hidden weapon - the ExorPrism. The glowing green prism gives off devastating effects to the Spook, eventually causing it to wither and die in agony.
When asked, Mortie tells Darren that the ExorPrism was created after the botched escape attempt years back. After the few remaining Ghosts who escaped Exorcism returned, they secretly created the ExorPrism which had great power over anything that wasn't a Ghost. However, the authorities put an end to production and destroyed the recipes after the prisms were misused to Exorcise Spooks. The original makers were never found.
After the explanation, Mortie leads them out of the building along with Todd, Fletcher, and Scarlet. Sure enough, Mortie confirms that the records were taken care of. Unfortunately, Lester demands a full report from Mortie tomorrow before their GIC Cards can be returned. Mortie obliges, and the group walks out to cheers of their first mission accomplished.
Fast forward to the next morning, where Darren is dreaming of his graduation day all over again. Suddenly, Nelson wakes him up with news that Darren is featured in the morning paper - leading us into Chapter 46.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 45: Morning News
"Oh, lookie lookie," Robin elbowed Darren in the ribs. "Jonathan's hitting on that new girl again."
"Again? That's like the sixth time or something, man!"
Though he cringed mockingly, Darren felt an uplifting lightness in his heart as he watched everyone he'd known in his four years in university mingle. Boys and girls in robes hugged each other, smiling and crying at the same time. Some of the scholarship students were shaking their lecturers' hands furiously. Cameras went off everywhere like fireworks. At the far end of the field, he could even spot a group of guys tossing Thomas in the air, repeatedly singing some march anthem.
Darren smiled to himself, content to soak in the scene from afar.
Then she walked past.
Emily, her layered black hair bouncing in the slight breeze, giggling with her girlfriends at a joke one of them made. She gazed at him momentarily, then made her way to a circle of guys fiddling with an expensive camera.
"Hey."
"Dude," Robin nudged him, pointing at Thomas' group. "Let's go join them."
Darren's feet felt heavy. He should be making good of his chances - this was his last day being able to walk up to Emily and talk to her so easily. Reunions always bore the stigma of catching up and pleasantries. Phone calls required some previous goodwill. Internet messengers? Phooey. He didn't fancy being one of the five simultaneous conversations she was probably having.
Why yes, it seemed like the perfect thing to do. Take a picture with her, then maybe get her phone number. He'd figure out an excuse for calling, no doubt about it.
"Uh, why don't you go ahead first? I'll come by later."
"Hey. Wakey-wakey."
Puffing up his chest, Darren walked up to her. He might not look like the most suave guy on the outside, but inside he was brimming with confidence. He tapped her on the shoulder. Untimidly, you might add.
"Um, Emily...would you, er, mind taking a picture?"
Oh, no. It was starting again. He was sounding like a practiced nerd.
"Hold on, Darren. Right after these guys. CHEESE!"
"YO! I said, WAKE UP!"
The scene blacked out. Darren could feel his eyes blink twice. He was lying on his side on something soft, a lumpy pillow resting between his arms. He turned around to find Nelson standing by the bed, arms akimbo.
It had all been a dream. Darn.
But what was he, in the first place, doing here in Nelson's house? Darren tried hard to remember, but nothing was registering. It felt like a hangover without alcohol.
"You're lucky I was up late last night. Otherwise you would've freezed to death outside my door."
Oh yeah. There was some vague memory of Nelson letting him into the house.
"What can I say? Thanks." he mumbled groggily.
"Oh, you'll be saying a lot more," Nelson waved a newspaper in front of his face. "Congratulations, Darren. You made it to the morning news."
"Again? That's like the sixth time or something, man!"
Though he cringed mockingly, Darren felt an uplifting lightness in his heart as he watched everyone he'd known in his four years in university mingle. Boys and girls in robes hugged each other, smiling and crying at the same time. Some of the scholarship students were shaking their lecturers' hands furiously. Cameras went off everywhere like fireworks. At the far end of the field, he could even spot a group of guys tossing Thomas in the air, repeatedly singing some march anthem.
Darren smiled to himself, content to soak in the scene from afar.
Then she walked past.
Emily, her layered black hair bouncing in the slight breeze, giggling with her girlfriends at a joke one of them made. She gazed at him momentarily, then made her way to a circle of guys fiddling with an expensive camera.
"Hey."
"Dude," Robin nudged him, pointing at Thomas' group. "Let's go join them."
Darren's feet felt heavy. He should be making good of his chances - this was his last day being able to walk up to Emily and talk to her so easily. Reunions always bore the stigma of catching up and pleasantries. Phone calls required some previous goodwill. Internet messengers? Phooey. He didn't fancy being one of the five simultaneous conversations she was probably having.
Why yes, it seemed like the perfect thing to do. Take a picture with her, then maybe get her phone number. He'd figure out an excuse for calling, no doubt about it.
"Uh, why don't you go ahead first? I'll come by later."
"Hey. Wakey-wakey."
Puffing up his chest, Darren walked up to her. He might not look like the most suave guy on the outside, but inside he was brimming with confidence. He tapped her on the shoulder. Untimidly, you might add.
"Um, Emily...would you, er, mind taking a picture?"
Oh, no. It was starting again. He was sounding like a practiced nerd.
"Hold on, Darren. Right after these guys. CHEESE!"
"YO! I said, WAKE UP!"
The scene blacked out. Darren could feel his eyes blink twice. He was lying on his side on something soft, a lumpy pillow resting between his arms. He turned around to find Nelson standing by the bed, arms akimbo.
It had all been a dream. Darn.
But what was he, in the first place, doing here in Nelson's house? Darren tried hard to remember, but nothing was registering. It felt like a hangover without alcohol.
"You're lucky I was up late last night. Otherwise you would've freezed to death outside my door."
Oh yeah. There was some vague memory of Nelson letting him into the house.
"What can I say? Thanks." he mumbled groggily.
"Oh, you'll be saying a lot more," Nelson waved a newspaper in front of his face. "Congratulations, Darren. You made it to the morning news."
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Here's More Writer's Block
Hahahahhahahaha.
AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA.
Props to Jillie, she never fails to keep me on my toes...do refer to her post in the tagboard which goes as follows:
<jillie>: hmm, funny how i also realized that darren reminds me of your everyday generic bimbo, who wishes he could see emily, but not people like his parents/family. *sweat* is that on purpose? ahahah!
I was almost about to reply that yups, Darren did at times seem like a dumb blonde, what with his endless "Oh I see"s and inadequacy to hold an unfumbling conversation with Kat. However, Jill's perspective was something altogether new - I'd always figured Emily alone would suffice for all of Darren's cherished memories of the living world, and now there's talk of family. Sheesh.
Then it dawned upon me.
Of course!
The clueless guy persona, the loser with chicks, then now continuously pining for his "girl" (a very loosely used term here) but not his family? The pieces of the puzzle fitted perfectly! The blurred edges became crisp as a freshly baked cookie!
There could only have been one dude I was unconciously basing Darren on!
It was...
it was...
Fry of Futurama!
Hahah! Figures, doesn't it? And no prizes for guessing who plays the part of the orphaned-at-birth, kick-butt Leela! Now all we need to do is to get Nelson to start smoking cigars and downing beers like water.
Heck, it doesn't end there...you could even draw certain parallels between Mortie and Zapp Branigan, or the Spooks with those two annoying cop guys.
Oh, mannnnn....
I was, all the while, getting inspiration from a defunct cartoon series! A fabulous one, but nonetheless a cartoon series!
Well hey, that's creativity for you...fashioning something new out of stuff you've seen and heard before.
Going back to our beloved protagonist Darren, I do believe the ship can still be steadied with the suddenly-crucial next exchange between Nelson and him. So we now have one more item added to the "to accomplish" list there - establish a neat lil' story for Darren's past that extends beyond "American High School Sitcom". Remember how I said in my previous Writer's Block that Kat is the only one whose past we don't know about? Well, scrap that off. We need pictures on all their pasts.
At the end of the day, what our lead dude is lacking here still boils down to likeability. Something which there's no recipe for. I could blah-blah-blah on about how the story would be better, but that would just be that: blah-blah-blah. Let's instead be assured that the story will get better!
AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA.
Props to Jillie, she never fails to keep me on my toes...do refer to her post in the tagboard which goes as follows:
<jillie>: hmm, funny how i also realized that darren reminds me of your everyday generic bimbo, who wishes he could see emily, but not people like his parents/family. *sweat* is that on purpose? ahahah!
I was almost about to reply that yups, Darren did at times seem like a dumb blonde, what with his endless "Oh I see"s and inadequacy to hold an unfumbling conversation with Kat. However, Jill's perspective was something altogether new - I'd always figured Emily alone would suffice for all of Darren's cherished memories of the living world, and now there's talk of family. Sheesh.
Then it dawned upon me.
Of course!
The clueless guy persona, the loser with chicks, then now continuously pining for his "girl" (a very loosely used term here) but not his family? The pieces of the puzzle fitted perfectly! The blurred edges became crisp as a freshly baked cookie!
There could only have been one dude I was unconciously basing Darren on!
It was...
it was...
Fry of Futurama!
Hahah! Figures, doesn't it? And no prizes for guessing who plays the part of the orphaned-at-birth, kick-butt Leela! Now all we need to do is to get Nelson to start smoking cigars and downing beers like water.
Heck, it doesn't end there...you could even draw certain parallels between Mortie and Zapp Branigan, or the Spooks with those two annoying cop guys.
Oh, mannnnn....
I was, all the while, getting inspiration from a defunct cartoon series! A fabulous one, but nonetheless a cartoon series!
Well hey, that's creativity for you...fashioning something new out of stuff you've seen and heard before.
Going back to our beloved protagonist Darren, I do believe the ship can still be steadied with the suddenly-crucial next exchange between Nelson and him. So we now have one more item added to the "to accomplish" list there - establish a neat lil' story for Darren's past that extends beyond "American High School Sitcom". Remember how I said in my previous Writer's Block that Kat is the only one whose past we don't know about? Well, scrap that off. We need pictures on all their pasts.
At the end of the day, what our lead dude is lacking here still boils down to likeability. Something which there's no recipe for. I could blah-blah-blah on about how the story would be better, but that would just be that: blah-blah-blah. Let's instead be assured that the story will get better!
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Writer's Block
What, it's not time for a Writer's Block again so soon? You're darned right it isn't, so count your lucky stars!
Heheh, I distinctly recall a time when Writer's Blocks would come by no less than every 5 Chapters of the story. Perhaps with Ghostopia turning out into such a long story, it's inadvertently "stretched" everything. To prove my point, you might've noticed that, horrors, the whole of this month was spent on ONE SCENE. That break-in scene, in fact, has spanned NINE CHAPTERS. Which is almost as long as the final scene of "Blogspot", but that was updated more frequently.
But does updating more frequently count? People don't drop by the site everyday anyway. Hmm...
Moving on!
It's great that the break-in scene is done with, plus having left behind many interesting tidbits to follow through on. It was rather a wild shot in the dark, mentioning Emily's name out of nowhere in that last part - I just can't' believe that I've gravitated towards hints of romance here. HAH! Cringe at the sheer cheesiness of it all!
And Nelson, Nelson. The next scene will have to do wonders for his character depth, not to mention lay the groundwork for Ezisa's future. Scene-wise, that would translate into the break-in to the Main Office or them returning to the human world. Hope I'm not making anything seem too obvious here.
As with Nelson, Darren will benefit from the coming few Chapters, finally giving him a stand on the situations. Time to bring out the flashbacks.
By the way, is anyone still curious on the way he died? Remember?
Kat, on the other hand, already has a stand, but it would be cool if I could add some "twists" to her. Her past plays a very important part in shaping her character, and yet she benefits from us having ZERO knowledge of her past at the moment. She needs something unpredicatable to break through. Everyone does, actually.
Too lazy to touch on Mortie right now, basically it hasn't changed much from the views I pointed out in the previous Writer's Block. Oh yeah, musn't forget to address the ExorPrism.
Blearghh...is it just me, or are these Writer's Blocks getting dry? I mean, there're only so many times you can talk about character development and plot focus before they start becoming show-off gibberish.
Doesn't storytelling become so unromantic when you write not for yourself to see the world, but for the world to see yourself? Should it be both ways? Or neither? I dunno, I've been typing this paragraph for the past half hour.
My back aches, and my eyes hurt. Boo hoo hoo.
Heheh, I distinctly recall a time when Writer's Blocks would come by no less than every 5 Chapters of the story. Perhaps with Ghostopia turning out into such a long story, it's inadvertently "stretched" everything. To prove my point, you might've noticed that, horrors, the whole of this month was spent on ONE SCENE. That break-in scene, in fact, has spanned NINE CHAPTERS. Which is almost as long as the final scene of "Blogspot", but that was updated more frequently.
But does updating more frequently count? People don't drop by the site everyday anyway. Hmm...
Moving on!
It's great that the break-in scene is done with, plus having left behind many interesting tidbits to follow through on. It was rather a wild shot in the dark, mentioning Emily's name out of nowhere in that last part - I just can't' believe that I've gravitated towards hints of romance here. HAH! Cringe at the sheer cheesiness of it all!
And Nelson, Nelson. The next scene will have to do wonders for his character depth, not to mention lay the groundwork for Ezisa's future. Scene-wise, that would translate into the break-in to the Main Office or them returning to the human world. Hope I'm not making anything seem too obvious here.
As with Nelson, Darren will benefit from the coming few Chapters, finally giving him a stand on the situations. Time to bring out the flashbacks.
By the way, is anyone still curious on the way he died? Remember?
Kat, on the other hand, already has a stand, but it would be cool if I could add some "twists" to her. Her past plays a very important part in shaping her character, and yet she benefits from us having ZERO knowledge of her past at the moment. She needs something unpredicatable to break through. Everyone does, actually.
Too lazy to touch on Mortie right now, basically it hasn't changed much from the views I pointed out in the previous Writer's Block. Oh yeah, musn't forget to address the ExorPrism.
Blearghh...is it just me, or are these Writer's Blocks getting dry? I mean, there're only so many times you can talk about character development and plot focus before they start becoming show-off gibberish.
Doesn't storytelling become so unromantic when you write not for yourself to see the world, but for the world to see yourself? Should it be both ways? Or neither? I dunno, I've been typing this paragraph for the past half hour.
My back aches, and my eyes hurt. Boo hoo hoo.
Ghostopia, Chapter 44: Mission Accomplished?
The three of them followed Mortie down the stairs, constantly wary not to attract any more attention. Somehow, Darren didn't feel like the worst could happen with him leading the way.
Down one flight of stairs, and they reached the second floor without any further hair-raising encounters.
"Oh goodie, there they are." Fletcher, Todd, and Scarlet were almost waiting for them near the foot of the stairs. "Minus the rampaging Spooks."
Darren caught Kat hanging her head slightly in shame.
"So, did you get the records?" they asked him excitedly.
"Hoho, good thing you reminded me. I completely forgot about that, with all the thrill that was going on up there just now."
Whoops! Darren felt like an idiot for not asking that earlier. It was, after all, the sole reason they were there.
"We took care of it." Amelia said in a reassuring tone.
A collective smile of relief registered on everyone's faces before Mortie jolted them back to the situation at hand. "Come on now, the potion's not going to last longer than ten more minutes. Out, the same way we came in."
The group stepped confidently down to the first floor. Lester was standing with his arms crossed at the same spot they first saw him.
"Leaving so soon?" He cocked his head and beamed at them.
"Yup," Mortie replied. "Our GIC Cards, please."
"Oh yes, before I forget," He lay the seven cards on the table. "You're not getting these back without a full-filed report of which organisation you're from, and what you did here."
"That's impossible. Am I supposed to produce a report out of nowhere right here?"
"Send it to my office tomorrow morning. Here's the address." Lester handed him a hastily-scribbled piece of paper.
Mortie studied the address and frowned. "Okay. No problem. I'll drop by your place tomorrow with the report."
"Good. I'll be there with your card."
"Come on guys," Mortie grinned at the rest. "Let's go."
Once they stepped into the cold outside, the group laughed and slapped each other high-fives. "Well, what can I say? Mission accomplished!" Mortie punched the air.
"Ac-com-plished!"
"You can say that again!"
"I wouldn't mind saying it all night," Mortie couldn't stop grinning. "But you guys are all probably dead tired now, myself included. Let's call it a night and catch up tomorrow night at The Haunt. Same time, same place as always. Great working with you, guys!"
Again they cheered like a stadium crowd. Darren hadn't felt this sort of rush since taking his class graduation photo. Of course, that was mere seconds before his death.
"Hey, Darren," Kat smiled at him. "Thanks for taking care of me when we were in that shaft. I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome," he smiled back.
"See you tomorrow."
"Yeah, see you too."
A quiet wind picked up and gushed dried leaves around his feet. Suddenly, Darren wished terribly he could see Emily again.
Down one flight of stairs, and they reached the second floor without any further hair-raising encounters.
"Oh goodie, there they are." Fletcher, Todd, and Scarlet were almost waiting for them near the foot of the stairs. "Minus the rampaging Spooks."
Darren caught Kat hanging her head slightly in shame.
"So, did you get the records?" they asked him excitedly.
"Hoho, good thing you reminded me. I completely forgot about that, with all the thrill that was going on up there just now."
Whoops! Darren felt like an idiot for not asking that earlier. It was, after all, the sole reason they were there.
"We took care of it." Amelia said in a reassuring tone.
A collective smile of relief registered on everyone's faces before Mortie jolted them back to the situation at hand. "Come on now, the potion's not going to last longer than ten more minutes. Out, the same way we came in."
The group stepped confidently down to the first floor. Lester was standing with his arms crossed at the same spot they first saw him.
"Leaving so soon?" He cocked his head and beamed at them.
"Yup," Mortie replied. "Our GIC Cards, please."
"Oh yes, before I forget," He lay the seven cards on the table. "You're not getting these back without a full-filed report of which organisation you're from, and what you did here."
"That's impossible. Am I supposed to produce a report out of nowhere right here?"
"Send it to my office tomorrow morning. Here's the address." Lester handed him a hastily-scribbled piece of paper.
Mortie studied the address and frowned. "Okay. No problem. I'll drop by your place tomorrow with the report."
"Good. I'll be there with your card."
"Come on guys," Mortie grinned at the rest. "Let's go."
Once they stepped into the cold outside, the group laughed and slapped each other high-fives. "Well, what can I say? Mission accomplished!" Mortie punched the air.
"Ac-com-plished!"
"You can say that again!"
"I wouldn't mind saying it all night," Mortie couldn't stop grinning. "But you guys are all probably dead tired now, myself included. Let's call it a night and catch up tomorrow night at The Haunt. Same time, same place as always. Great working with you, guys!"
Again they cheered like a stadium crowd. Darren hadn't felt this sort of rush since taking his class graduation photo. Of course, that was mere seconds before his death.
"Hey, Darren," Kat smiled at him. "Thanks for taking care of me when we were in that shaft. I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome," he smiled back.
"See you tomorrow."
"Yeah, see you too."
A quiet wind picked up and gushed dried leaves around his feet. Suddenly, Darren wished terribly he could see Emily again.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 43: The ExorPrism
Taken aback, Darren stared at Kat and Amelia. They shrugged back, equally clueless what was going on.
Mortie held the object even closer to the Spook's face. It bent over to the floor, still screaming in agony and trashing wildly. It tried desperately to snatch away what was in Mortie's hands, but he always kept it out of its reach.
Soon a grotesque thing happened to the Spook. It shrivelled and cracked up like a heated glass, lumps of jelly-like substance peeling off. Screeching like it was terrified for its life, it tried slithering away, leaving behind a trail of colourless goo, but Mortie's object glowed even more intensely.
"Amelia," Kat nudged her. "Do you think that's..."
She nodded slowly. "It...it...probably is. But where could he have gotten one?"
"What?" Darren asked. "What's that? Is he going to kill the Spook?"
Kat's reply was cut off when the Spook let off a beastly roar. In a crazed frenzy it started ripping apart its own face to shield itself from the green rays.
Mortie's lips quivered rapidly, as though muttering something. "Now you DIE!"
The object burned so brightly it became white. Gripping it tightly in his palm, Mortie drove it into the Spook's face. At once the Spook's screams became muted as its whole head disintegrated. Mortie muttered something again before turning to face them, forehead glistening with sweat.
"Cool, huh?" he grinned.
"Mortie," Kat said slowly. "Pray, tell me that isn't..."
"It is. One of the last few ExorPrisms remaining in Ghostopia. Quite an acquistion, this."
"But that's impossible! They were all wiped out!"
Darren raised his hand to halt the conversation. "Before you guys get carried away...what's an ExorPrism?"
"This," Mortie proudly held up the object which resembled a prism. "Is an ExorPrism. You might've heard there was a previous escape attempt years back. Of course, it was a disaster and only a few of them returned - the rest were Exorcised."
"However, the remaining ones, having seen the Exorcism process at close range, were determined to find a way to counter it. They launched a secret project and after two years, a small batch of ExorPrisms were made. The ExorPrisms would have devastating effects on anything that wasn't a Ghost, as you've just seen."
"Unfortunately, word leaked out on the project and someone started misusing it to Exorcise Spooks. The authorities stuck their noses in and the guy was eventually caught. He ratted on where the rest of the ExorPrisms were hidden in exchange for his freedom, and all of them were destroyed, along with the recipes. They never did, however, manage to catch the makers."
"Interesting." was all Darren could muster.
"Then how did you get your hands on one?" Amelia quipped.
"That story, my dear, will have to wait." Mortie winked. "For now, we've got to get the others and leave this place before the potion loses effect."
Mortie held the object even closer to the Spook's face. It bent over to the floor, still screaming in agony and trashing wildly. It tried desperately to snatch away what was in Mortie's hands, but he always kept it out of its reach.
Soon a grotesque thing happened to the Spook. It shrivelled and cracked up like a heated glass, lumps of jelly-like substance peeling off. Screeching like it was terrified for its life, it tried slithering away, leaving behind a trail of colourless goo, but Mortie's object glowed even more intensely.
"Amelia," Kat nudged her. "Do you think that's..."
She nodded slowly. "It...it...probably is. But where could he have gotten one?"
"What?" Darren asked. "What's that? Is he going to kill the Spook?"
Kat's reply was cut off when the Spook let off a beastly roar. In a crazed frenzy it started ripping apart its own face to shield itself from the green rays.
Mortie's lips quivered rapidly, as though muttering something. "Now you DIE!"
The object burned so brightly it became white. Gripping it tightly in his palm, Mortie drove it into the Spook's face. At once the Spook's screams became muted as its whole head disintegrated. Mortie muttered something again before turning to face them, forehead glistening with sweat.
"Cool, huh?" he grinned.
"Mortie," Kat said slowly. "Pray, tell me that isn't..."
"It is. One of the last few ExorPrisms remaining in Ghostopia. Quite an acquistion, this."
"But that's impossible! They were all wiped out!"
Darren raised his hand to halt the conversation. "Before you guys get carried away...what's an ExorPrism?"
"This," Mortie proudly held up the object which resembled a prism. "Is an ExorPrism. You might've heard there was a previous escape attempt years back. Of course, it was a disaster and only a few of them returned - the rest were Exorcised."
"However, the remaining ones, having seen the Exorcism process at close range, were determined to find a way to counter it. They launched a secret project and after two years, a small batch of ExorPrisms were made. The ExorPrisms would have devastating effects on anything that wasn't a Ghost, as you've just seen."
"Unfortunately, word leaked out on the project and someone started misusing it to Exorcise Spooks. The authorities stuck their noses in and the guy was eventually caught. He ratted on where the rest of the ExorPrisms were hidden in exchange for his freedom, and all of them were destroyed, along with the recipes. They never did, however, manage to catch the makers."
"Interesting." was all Darren could muster.
"Then how did you get your hands on one?" Amelia quipped.
"That story, my dear, will have to wait." Mortie winked. "For now, we've got to get the others and leave this place before the potion loses effect."
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 42: Can We Leave Now?
Darren's head jolted back in utter fear. A hoarse croak, intended to be a scream, escaped his trembling lips.
"Shhh. It's me."
Mortie! Darren felt like collapsing with the sudden rush of relief.
"Have I ever felt more glad to see you," Kat smiled. "We've got a bunch of Spooks on our heels, in case you don't know."
Amelia stepped out from behind Mortie. "Would that explain those footsteps?"
Darren, still rather out of breath, nodded.
Then to his horror, a silhouetted form came into focus down the shaft. With the methodical steps of a hunter approaching its prey, it half-lumbered and half-glided to them, never once letting up on the haunting thud thud thud.
Darren turned to Mortie, who had a stern look on his face. "Now this is going to be difficult. Let's see if we can talk things out."
And he turned back towards the approaching Spook.
"Mortie!" yelled Kat. "Are you mad?"
But it was too late. Mortie was already face-to-face with the Spook.
"Anything seems to be the problem?"
"I suppose those two are in your charge."
"All three of them." He beckoned to Darren, Kat, and Amelia.
"I am putting them under arrest for suspicious behaviour."
"Hah!" Mortie laughed. "Since when did 'suspicious behaviour' become a crime?"
The Spook drew its face so close to Mortie's they almost touched. "You wisecrack like that one more time and I'll have you arrested as well."
"Hey, hey, lighten up. No offense. But anyway, we're due to report back in ten minutes. Can I send you these two for interrogation later tonight? Just leave me your station address."
"No. They're coming with me right now."
"I told you, they can't. We have to report back immediately."
"I'll explain it to your officer. Bring those two to me."
"For the last itme, they're not coming with you - and that's it."
The Spook turned a scorching shade of crimson. "There's something about you four I don't like." It rasped. "You're up to no good, and I know it. I'm going to call the rest here."
A gaping hole opened in the middle of its face, forming a mouth.
"Wait!" Mortie called. "Before you do that, I have something to show you."
He fished some sort of triangular object, gleaming with an enchanting emerald glow, out from his pocket.
Before they even had time to react, the Spook howled shrilly.
"Shhh. It's me."
Mortie! Darren felt like collapsing with the sudden rush of relief.
"Have I ever felt more glad to see you," Kat smiled. "We've got a bunch of Spooks on our heels, in case you don't know."
Amelia stepped out from behind Mortie. "Would that explain those footsteps?"
Darren, still rather out of breath, nodded.
Then to his horror, a silhouetted form came into focus down the shaft. With the methodical steps of a hunter approaching its prey, it half-lumbered and half-glided to them, never once letting up on the haunting thud thud thud.
Darren turned to Mortie, who had a stern look on his face. "Now this is going to be difficult. Let's see if we can talk things out."
And he turned back towards the approaching Spook.
"Mortie!" yelled Kat. "Are you mad?"
But it was too late. Mortie was already face-to-face with the Spook.
"Anything seems to be the problem?"
"I suppose those two are in your charge."
"All three of them." He beckoned to Darren, Kat, and Amelia.
"I am putting them under arrest for suspicious behaviour."
"Hah!" Mortie laughed. "Since when did 'suspicious behaviour' become a crime?"
The Spook drew its face so close to Mortie's they almost touched. "You wisecrack like that one more time and I'll have you arrested as well."
"Hey, hey, lighten up. No offense. But anyway, we're due to report back in ten minutes. Can I send you these two for interrogation later tonight? Just leave me your station address."
"No. They're coming with me right now."
"I told you, they can't. We have to report back immediately."
"I'll explain it to your officer. Bring those two to me."
"For the last itme, they're not coming with you - and that's it."
The Spook turned a scorching shade of crimson. "There's something about you four I don't like." It rasped. "You're up to no good, and I know it. I'm going to call the rest here."
A gaping hole opened in the middle of its face, forming a mouth.
"Wait!" Mortie called. "Before you do that, I have something to show you."
He fished some sort of triangular object, gleaming with an enchanting emerald glow, out from his pocket.
Before they even had time to react, the Spook howled shrilly.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Writer's Block
Fun Fact For The Day:
Did you know that if you search for "Twisted Comma" or "Ghostopia" in Yahoo, this beauty you behold before your eyes comes in second on the list of results? Same goes for "Ghostopia" in Google! Strangely, "Twisted Tales Blogspot" bears no fruit.
That was your Fun Fact For The Day, brought to you by Monday!
Moving on.
Sigh...another three weeks or so since the last story-progress Writer's Block, guess this'll be the rate I can muster at the moment. Story's really taking its own sweet time to unravel too - always a fine line away from draggy - but I'm betting on it being well built up.
And what has the cook served up since our last Writer's Block? I'm pretty pleased with the whole "break-in" scene - it didn't open up any logic loopholes, it had enough helpings of excitement to keep things going, and we got more insight on Nelson. Kat too, if you count the claustrophobia thing. You never know, it might be a major plot device later on. But FYI, the whole idea only came as I was writing it!
You know, the most difficult part of "slogging" (as opposed to blogging) is that it really "slogs". Already I have almost the whole skeleton of the story in my head, but I can't write it all in one shot. Of course, updating daily would be the ideal solution but nahhh...I have trouble even keeping to a schedule of brushing my teeth twice a day. So, I have no choice but to constantly further the story in little spurts, while the whole thing bubbles and boils in my head most waking moments. Seriously - most waking moments! I must be going crazy!
On the upside, the story can only get better after so much editing and re-editing. You could say slogging is the ultimate form of not rushing through a masterpiece. A classic example of a good story delivered prematurely has to be "Insanity". Hmm, hmm, hmm...a thought just crossed my mind. We are still lacking a fourth story, after all.
A little low-down on where the characters in Ghostopia stand now, from a character development point of view:
a) Darren - For a dude with the story told through his eyes, he's revealing fairly little. Yeah, he's timid around girls, he's clueless about Ghostopia, but there's gotta be more. Needs a serious tune-up after the break-in.
b) Kat - At this point, Kat's biggest selling point has to be her intruiging past - which leads to my utmost fear that it'll all be a letdown. Gotta be careful not to over-exaggerate her qualities, otherwise she'll turn into a caricature, not a character.
c) Nelson - A glimmer of hope came for Mr. Monotone Sidekick when Kat revealed that Nelson had old ties with the Ezisa. Needless to say, this history will be the cause of many conflicts of beliefs-slash-taking sides as the Escape From Ghostopia draws near.
d) Mortie - Gotta love his value as a "throwaway" character. He isn't so pivotal that the story can't do without him, but yet he has enough spice to become a very instrumental character. Meaning: I could kill him off to "create impact", or polish him into a powerful...I dunno, villain? Lots to explore here.
e) Fletcher/ Scarlet/ Todd/ Amelia - Also throwaway characters a few notches below Mortie. It would be very difficult to delve into the backgrounds of all four characters - if I were to elevate anyone, it would most likely be Fletcher or Amelia. Otherwise, they'd be good as props, "killing-for-impact" subjects, or anonymous followers.
f) Spooks - Probably need a Spook head honcho to give a face to the battle against Spooks. Throw in some incident that'll make the Spook community take notice, and we've got a bunch of dastardly antagonists nicely gift-wrapped.
g) Emily - Somehow I can't let go of her, eventhough I'm still scratching my head on how to get her involved in the story. Maybe it's because she could be the perfect key to adding more depth to Darren.
Yup yup yups, that's all my weary fingers are gonna dish up to your teary eyes. And one last thing...it's official! Barring a shocking end to the story in the next Chapter, Ghostopia will surpass Blogspot as the longest story yet!
A smiley, the only way fitting to end this edition of Writer's Block: %^)
Did you know that if you search for "Twisted Comma" or "Ghostopia" in Yahoo, this beauty you behold before your eyes comes in second on the list of results? Same goes for "Ghostopia" in Google! Strangely, "Twisted Tales Blogspot" bears no fruit.
That was your Fun Fact For The Day, brought to you by Monday!
Moving on.
Sigh...another three weeks or so since the last story-progress Writer's Block, guess this'll be the rate I can muster at the moment. Story's really taking its own sweet time to unravel too - always a fine line away from draggy - but I'm betting on it being well built up.
And what has the cook served up since our last Writer's Block? I'm pretty pleased with the whole "break-in" scene - it didn't open up any logic loopholes, it had enough helpings of excitement to keep things going, and we got more insight on Nelson. Kat too, if you count the claustrophobia thing. You never know, it might be a major plot device later on. But FYI, the whole idea only came as I was writing it!
You know, the most difficult part of "slogging" (as opposed to blogging) is that it really "slogs". Already I have almost the whole skeleton of the story in my head, but I can't write it all in one shot. Of course, updating daily would be the ideal solution but nahhh...I have trouble even keeping to a schedule of brushing my teeth twice a day. So, I have no choice but to constantly further the story in little spurts, while the whole thing bubbles and boils in my head most waking moments. Seriously - most waking moments! I must be going crazy!
On the upside, the story can only get better after so much editing and re-editing. You could say slogging is the ultimate form of not rushing through a masterpiece. A classic example of a good story delivered prematurely has to be "Insanity". Hmm, hmm, hmm...a thought just crossed my mind. We are still lacking a fourth story, after all.
A little low-down on where the characters in Ghostopia stand now, from a character development point of view:
a) Darren - For a dude with the story told through his eyes, he's revealing fairly little. Yeah, he's timid around girls, he's clueless about Ghostopia, but there's gotta be more. Needs a serious tune-up after the break-in.
b) Kat - At this point, Kat's biggest selling point has to be her intruiging past - which leads to my utmost fear that it'll all be a letdown. Gotta be careful not to over-exaggerate her qualities, otherwise she'll turn into a caricature, not a character.
c) Nelson - A glimmer of hope came for Mr. Monotone Sidekick when Kat revealed that Nelson had old ties with the Ezisa. Needless to say, this history will be the cause of many conflicts of beliefs-slash-taking sides as the Escape From Ghostopia draws near.
d) Mortie - Gotta love his value as a "throwaway" character. He isn't so pivotal that the story can't do without him, but yet he has enough spice to become a very instrumental character. Meaning: I could kill him off to "create impact", or polish him into a powerful...I dunno, villain? Lots to explore here.
e) Fletcher/ Scarlet/ Todd/ Amelia - Also throwaway characters a few notches below Mortie. It would be very difficult to delve into the backgrounds of all four characters - if I were to elevate anyone, it would most likely be Fletcher or Amelia. Otherwise, they'd be good as props, "killing-for-impact" subjects, or anonymous followers.
f) Spooks - Probably need a Spook head honcho to give a face to the battle against Spooks. Throw in some incident that'll make the Spook community take notice, and we've got a bunch of dastardly antagonists nicely gift-wrapped.
g) Emily - Somehow I can't let go of her, eventhough I'm still scratching my head on how to get her involved in the story. Maybe it's because she could be the perfect key to adding more depth to Darren.
Yup yup yups, that's all my weary fingers are gonna dish up to your teary eyes. And one last thing...it's official! Barring a shocking end to the story in the next Chapter, Ghostopia will surpass Blogspot as the longest story yet!
A smiley, the only way fitting to end this edition of Writer's Block: %^)
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 41: Claustrophobia
Kat froze in dread. "Do you hear that?"
The rumble went up to a steady thud, thud, thud, not unlike that of ominous thunder before a downpour.
Darren could feel his heart knotting itself in fear. Those were the unmistakable footsteps of enraged Spooks after their necks. Was there any chance they could hide behind one of the doors? Already Kat was trying that, but it didn't seem like any of doors were opening.
Thud! Thud! Thud! They were sounding deafeningly close now, maybe even just round the corner.
"Run!" He grabbed Kat's hand to try and run further down, but she wouldn't budge. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, eyes shut and drawing long, controlled breaths.
"I-I'm afraid...of...small spaces."
Darren racked his brain for options. The thought of carrying her away in his arms crossed momentarily, but he quickly swiped it away. Nah, not him. He wasn't one of those buffed TV heroes who always had the situation in grasp.
Breathing so hard the veins in her neck throbbed, Kat forced a few steps. "I'm okay."
They shuffled through the strangely-wet shaft for a few more minutes. All the while, the footsteps sounded terrifying close, always teasing the chance of a Spook clutching them from behind.
Suddenly Kat stopped ahead of him.
"You okay?"
Her knees buckled for a moment before she sat herself down. She puffed her cheeks in and out and shook her head from side to side.
"Guess that's a no."
She smiled weakly at him. "I-I must look l-like such an i-idiot."
"Nah," he grinned. "I once had a friend who wouldn't take the lift, no matter how many floors up he had to go."
"L-lifts are okay," Her breathing became more regular. "But this ceiling...the walls..."
She inhaled deeply.
Kat pressed her elbows against the floor, again forcing herself up. "No time for talk."
Whatever glimpses of light there had been earlier were becoming dim as they ventured further in. On the other hand, the rhythmic thuds never ceased.
Stopping without warning again, Kat coughed and wheezed loudly.
So loudly, in fact, that Darren didn't hear a pair of arms approach him from the back.
And grab his stiffened shoulders.
The rumble went up to a steady thud, thud, thud, not unlike that of ominous thunder before a downpour.
Darren could feel his heart knotting itself in fear. Those were the unmistakable footsteps of enraged Spooks after their necks. Was there any chance they could hide behind one of the doors? Already Kat was trying that, but it didn't seem like any of doors were opening.
Thud! Thud! Thud! They were sounding deafeningly close now, maybe even just round the corner.
"Run!" He grabbed Kat's hand to try and run further down, but she wouldn't budge. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, eyes shut and drawing long, controlled breaths.
"I-I'm afraid...of...small spaces."
Darren racked his brain for options. The thought of carrying her away in his arms crossed momentarily, but he quickly swiped it away. Nah, not him. He wasn't one of those buffed TV heroes who always had the situation in grasp.
Breathing so hard the veins in her neck throbbed, Kat forced a few steps. "I'm okay."
They shuffled through the strangely-wet shaft for a few more minutes. All the while, the footsteps sounded terrifying close, always teasing the chance of a Spook clutching them from behind.
Suddenly Kat stopped ahead of him.
"You okay?"
Her knees buckled for a moment before she sat herself down. She puffed her cheeks in and out and shook her head from side to side.
"Guess that's a no."
She smiled weakly at him. "I-I must look l-like such an i-idiot."
"Nah," he grinned. "I once had a friend who wouldn't take the lift, no matter how many floors up he had to go."
"L-lifts are okay," Her breathing became more regular. "But this ceiling...the walls..."
She inhaled deeply.
Kat pressed her elbows against the floor, again forcing herself up. "No time for talk."
Whatever glimpses of light there had been earlier were becoming dim as they ventured further in. On the other hand, the rhythmic thuds never ceased.
Stopping without warning again, Kat coughed and wheezed loudly.
So loudly, in fact, that Darren didn't hear a pair of arms approach him from the back.
And grab his stiffened shoulders.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
reCAPPENING: Ghostopia, Chapters 36-40
The guard, Mr. Lester, finally is convinced and lets them in in exchange for their GICs (Ghost Identification Cards). The plan - Darren and Kat will go to the fourth floor, while Todd, Fletcher, and Scarlet go to the second. Mortie and Amelia will then trick the Spooks on the third floor into going to the second and fourth floor, leaving them both free to work on the records.
As the plan dictates, Darren ends up on the fourth floor with Kat. While passing time, he finds out from Kat that Nelson has actually been in Ghostopia for over four years, and had connections to the Ezisa in the past.
Shortly, the Spooks sent by Mortie come up. Kat tries to deceive them by means of a "faulty security wiring". However, the bluff falls flat as both Kat and Darren say the wrong things. Things go from bad to worse when the two real Spooks on that floor appear, giving them away. Kat and Darren flee to the third floor in search of Mortie, eventually coming to a narrow shaft with many doors - one of which Mortie is behind. As the two, on their wits' end, try to figure out which is the correct door, Darren hears the thundering footsteps of the Spooks coming for them - leading us into Chapter 41.
As the plan dictates, Darren ends up on the fourth floor with Kat. While passing time, he finds out from Kat that Nelson has actually been in Ghostopia for over four years, and had connections to the Ezisa in the past.
Shortly, the Spooks sent by Mortie come up. Kat tries to deceive them by means of a "faulty security wiring". However, the bluff falls flat as both Kat and Darren say the wrong things. Things go from bad to worse when the two real Spooks on that floor appear, giving them away. Kat and Darren flee to the third floor in search of Mortie, eventually coming to a narrow shaft with many doors - one of which Mortie is behind. As the two, on their wits' end, try to figure out which is the correct door, Darren hears the thundering footsteps of the Spooks coming for them - leading us into Chapter 41.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Writer's Block: Borrowed Time
'Scuse me sir, 'scuse me sir,
Mind sparing a pinch of Time?
Of course not, you haven't given back
That chockful you borrowed last week.
Oh, that! I think Mr. Homework has it
I recall him saying he was running short.
But didn't that happen last month?
That was quite a handful I loaned you.
That was no fault of mine, no it wasn't,
Miss Friends came and demanded for it.
She couldn't have taken it all, surely!
There was more than your share.
Yes there was, but have you forgotten?
That Lil' Sleep came begging for scraps.
And you gave him more than he needed?
I couldn't say no to those tear-stained eyes...
Sigh...will you ever learn? What about
that gift-wrapped box I gave you on New Year's?
It would still be here, had they not come knockin',
Aunt Leisure and Uncle Laidbackness.
Those two, never up to any good,
What did they say to ask for it?
They needed to feed their hungry children
TV Junior, Compudear, all the rest.
That ladle, filled to the brim, while the holidays?
Oops! Left it in Grandma Family's home.
How about that cartful on Sunday?
Ack! Stashed it in Pastor Church's coat.
And that one glass I passed you over the fence?
Hmm...don't know, don't know where it went.
Truth be told, I think you got it all wrong
They told me there was a prowling thief
He might've sneaked your Time off
Oh well...here's a last pinch I can spare.
Why, thank you, kind sir!
I'll manage this one the best I can.
Mind sparing a pinch of Time?
Of course not, you haven't given back
That chockful you borrowed last week.
Oh, that! I think Mr. Homework has it
I recall him saying he was running short.
But didn't that happen last month?
That was quite a handful I loaned you.
That was no fault of mine, no it wasn't,
Miss Friends came and demanded for it.
She couldn't have taken it all, surely!
There was more than your share.
Yes there was, but have you forgotten?
That Lil' Sleep came begging for scraps.
And you gave him more than he needed?
I couldn't say no to those tear-stained eyes...
Sigh...will you ever learn? What about
that gift-wrapped box I gave you on New Year's?
It would still be here, had they not come knockin',
Aunt Leisure and Uncle Laidbackness.
Those two, never up to any good,
What did they say to ask for it?
They needed to feed their hungry children
TV Junior, Compudear, all the rest.
That ladle, filled to the brim, while the holidays?
Oops! Left it in Grandma Family's home.
How about that cartful on Sunday?
Ack! Stashed it in Pastor Church's coat.
And that one glass I passed you over the fence?
Hmm...don't know, don't know where it went.
Truth be told, I think you got it all wrong
They told me there was a prowling thief
He might've sneaked your Time off
Oh well...here's a last pinch I can spare.
Why, thank you, kind sir!
I'll manage this one the best I can.
Ghostopia, Chapter 40: You Get What You Give
He tried to nudge Kat, but she was too occupied to take note of him. "My superior is downstairs. I'm whisk him up here to explain the situation to you guys."
Darren watched in horror as the other two Spooks noticed the small crowd and swooped over. He whispered through gritted teeth, "Kat...the real Spooks are here. We have to go."
She looked where he was looking and a lump stuck itself in her throat. What in the world were they doing here? She wouldn't know what to say if they revealed themselves also to be Spooks guarding the fourth floor. "W...we'll be back up in a few minutes."
She hurried down the stairs, two steps a time, not even bothering to make sure if Darren was behind. He was, of course.
"Idiot," Kat muttered to Darren. "You didn't know Spooks have no gender?"
He shook his head sheepishly.
"Well, keep that in mind next time. For now, I think we have to get Mortie and leave at once."
Before they could even make it to past the tenth step, a slight commotion played itself out upstairs. It didn't take too long for the Spooks to figure out something was terribly amiss with the two 'Spooks' they'd just seen and give chase.
"Shoot, they're coming after us."
They sprinted down the last flight of stairs, straight to the third floor in search of Mortie.
"Those two had better be done with the records." Kat muttered again - Darren wasn't sure to herself or to him.
A terrifying march of footsteps rang out above them. For such seemingly lumbering beings, the Spooks could move frighteningly fast.
"Here! Stop!" Kat took his hand and dashed through a crevice between two yellowed walls, so small an untrained eye would have passed on it. It led them to a claustrophobic shaft with an array of doors.
"ARGH! The map never mentioned so many doors! How am I supposed to know which one they're in?"
She seemed on the verge of pulling her hair out. Darren, feeling a little headache creeping in, didn't know what to do.
Meanwhile, the low ceiling quivered with a distant rumble of footsteps.
Darren watched in horror as the other two Spooks noticed the small crowd and swooped over. He whispered through gritted teeth, "Kat...the real Spooks are here. We have to go."
She looked where he was looking and a lump stuck itself in her throat. What in the world were they doing here? She wouldn't know what to say if they revealed themselves also to be Spooks guarding the fourth floor. "W...we'll be back up in a few minutes."
She hurried down the stairs, two steps a time, not even bothering to make sure if Darren was behind. He was, of course.
"Idiot," Kat muttered to Darren. "You didn't know Spooks have no gender?"
He shook his head sheepishly.
"Well, keep that in mind next time. For now, I think we have to get Mortie and leave at once."
Before they could even make it to past the tenth step, a slight commotion played itself out upstairs. It didn't take too long for the Spooks to figure out something was terribly amiss with the two 'Spooks' they'd just seen and give chase.
"Shoot, they're coming after us."
They sprinted down the last flight of stairs, straight to the third floor in search of Mortie.
"Those two had better be done with the records." Kat muttered again - Darren wasn't sure to herself or to him.
A terrifying march of footsteps rang out above them. For such seemingly lumbering beings, the Spooks could move frighteningly fast.
"Here! Stop!" Kat took his hand and dashed through a crevice between two yellowed walls, so small an untrained eye would have passed on it. It led them to a claustrophobic shaft with an array of doors.
"ARGH! The map never mentioned so many doors! How am I supposed to know which one they're in?"
She seemed on the verge of pulling her hair out. Darren, feeling a little headache creeping in, didn't know what to do.
Meanwhile, the low ceiling quivered with a distant rumble of footsteps.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 39: Here Come The Spooks
Darren braced himself, following Kat's lead. He wasn't sure what to expect.
Mortie's words came back to him. "Those Spooks will see you as Spooks - and Spooks are always in control. Never betray that fact."
"So what's the problem here?"
Darren gulped. Two intimidating Spooks, both four heads taller than him, stepped up to him. So close he could hear their scratchy breaths.
"There...well, there was..."
"A problem," Kat deepened her voice as much as she could. "With the security wiring."
"Which section?"
"Section Four." she replied without even stopping to think.
"Section Four? Don't they name them by colours?"
"Oh, you guys are still going by the old system, I see. Well, I'm not too familiar with that one. Let me take you there instead."
She started walking off, Darren tailing cluelessly behind. The Spooks went with them, probably already a bit suspicious. He had to resist the urge to glance backwards to see whether they really were. A couple of minutes later, Kat pointed out a circuit board on the wall to them. "Here's the faulty one."
The first Spook took a closer look. Its empty face turned a darker shade of red. "Did I hear you wrongly?"
Was that a brief look of uncertainty on Kat's face? This wouldn't be a good time for their cover to be blown away.
"I said, this is the faulty electrical wiring."
"If there's anything faulty here, it's you." The other Spook snapped. "This isn't part of the central security wiring, it's a peripheral circuit. Is this some kind of joke?"
"No, it is not," Kat retorted. "The Office doesn't use central wirings anymore, they switched to parallels last month. You guys must be new here."
"That's a mightily rude way to be talking to a senior Spook, pal. Whose division are you in?"
Darren knew he had to save Kat. "Forgive her, sir. She's new."
For reasons unknown, Kat glared daggers at him, eyeballs bulging wide.
"HER? Since when did Spooks become female?"
"You two are acting way too weird. I'm going to have to report you to Mr. Lester."
"Wait," Kat said in a thinly-veiled fuming voice. "You two stay here. I'll go to the floor below to check things out."
"Check things out? Isn't this the floor with things to check out?"
Darren was about to say something when his jaw fell open in horror. At precisely the worst moment possible, the two actual Spooks who were guarding the floor appeared from the distance.
Mortie's words came back to him. "Those Spooks will see you as Spooks - and Spooks are always in control. Never betray that fact."
"So what's the problem here?"
Darren gulped. Two intimidating Spooks, both four heads taller than him, stepped up to him. So close he could hear their scratchy breaths.
"There...well, there was..."
"A problem," Kat deepened her voice as much as she could. "With the security wiring."
"Which section?"
"Section Four." she replied without even stopping to think.
"Section Four? Don't they name them by colours?"
"Oh, you guys are still going by the old system, I see. Well, I'm not too familiar with that one. Let me take you there instead."
She started walking off, Darren tailing cluelessly behind. The Spooks went with them, probably already a bit suspicious. He had to resist the urge to glance backwards to see whether they really were. A couple of minutes later, Kat pointed out a circuit board on the wall to them. "Here's the faulty one."
The first Spook took a closer look. Its empty face turned a darker shade of red. "Did I hear you wrongly?"
Was that a brief look of uncertainty on Kat's face? This wouldn't be a good time for their cover to be blown away.
"I said, this is the faulty electrical wiring."
"If there's anything faulty here, it's you." The other Spook snapped. "This isn't part of the central security wiring, it's a peripheral circuit. Is this some kind of joke?"
"No, it is not," Kat retorted. "The Office doesn't use central wirings anymore, they switched to parallels last month. You guys must be new here."
"That's a mightily rude way to be talking to a senior Spook, pal. Whose division are you in?"
Darren knew he had to save Kat. "Forgive her, sir. She's new."
For reasons unknown, Kat glared daggers at him, eyeballs bulging wide.
"HER? Since when did Spooks become female?"
"You two are acting way too weird. I'm going to have to report you to Mr. Lester."
"Wait," Kat said in a thinly-veiled fuming voice. "You two stay here. I'll go to the floor below to check things out."
"Check things out? Isn't this the floor with things to check out?"
Darren was about to say something when his jaw fell open in horror. At precisely the worst moment possible, the two actual Spooks who were guarding the floor appeared from the distance.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Writer's Block: A Final Cendol Story
The sky was cloudy, maybe even to the verge of a late afternoon downpour. My car rattled down the starkly empty road in Sri Petaling back home, me and Friend putting up a great fight to stay awake. For my part, at least. Nothing, and truly nothing, would stop me from getting home and curl up in bed ASAP, I told myself.
Already the strangest time and place for A Final Cendol Story to take place.
And yet it did.
Before I even realised it, my car had parked itself by the road, right before the Cendol Stall of lore. It was by no means a calculated decision - I was still deadset on giving in to my sleepiness at the traffic lights five seconds ago. Something about the lonely white Cendol truck framed by waving trees, gloomy clouds, and everything but people just struck me. The same manner run-down houses rumoured to be haunted always made you look twice, and sometimes even go in.
Only a middle-aged Indian lady stood there, tending to both the rojak and Cendol. I couldn't recall seeing her there before, there usually were some Indian men in funny black and white costumes.
"Dia adik saya."
Oh. She was the elder sister to one of them, in case you didn't get that.
Without me even noticing, she was already filling two bowls of shaved ice with brown sugar solution and coconut milk. The ladle hit the bottom of the big pot, echoing a half-hearted thunk, thunk. Two scoops of beans for me, two scoops for Friend.
I sipped long and hard. It was, as the woman had earlier asked me, nearing six. Soon cars of tired people longing to forget the day they'd been through would throng the streets. Yellow and black buses ferrying yapping kids home where they stopped yapping. Even the Indian man in black and white, who appeared from nowhere, was folding up the tables and packing the stall umbrellas. A big curtain drew itself down on the whole day. It felt like something big was about to happen, something everyone was preparing for. The night? The rain? Their homes?
The last of the plastic chairs stacked up. We had apparently been their last customers for the day.
"Well, that was...neccessary." Friend said to me as we drove away, the Cendol stall fading in the distance.
I winked back. "Told ya."
Already the strangest time and place for A Final Cendol Story to take place.
And yet it did.
Before I even realised it, my car had parked itself by the road, right before the Cendol Stall of lore. It was by no means a calculated decision - I was still deadset on giving in to my sleepiness at the traffic lights five seconds ago. Something about the lonely white Cendol truck framed by waving trees, gloomy clouds, and everything but people just struck me. The same manner run-down houses rumoured to be haunted always made you look twice, and sometimes even go in.
Only a middle-aged Indian lady stood there, tending to both the rojak and Cendol. I couldn't recall seeing her there before, there usually were some Indian men in funny black and white costumes.
"Dia adik saya."
Oh. She was the elder sister to one of them, in case you didn't get that.
Without me even noticing, she was already filling two bowls of shaved ice with brown sugar solution and coconut milk. The ladle hit the bottom of the big pot, echoing a half-hearted thunk, thunk. Two scoops of beans for me, two scoops for Friend.
I sipped long and hard. It was, as the woman had earlier asked me, nearing six. Soon cars of tired people longing to forget the day they'd been through would throng the streets. Yellow and black buses ferrying yapping kids home where they stopped yapping. Even the Indian man in black and white, who appeared from nowhere, was folding up the tables and packing the stall umbrellas. A big curtain drew itself down on the whole day. It felt like something big was about to happen, something everyone was preparing for. The night? The rain? Their homes?
The last of the plastic chairs stacked up. We had apparently been their last customers for the day.
"Well, that was...neccessary." Friend said to me as we drove away, the Cendol stall fading in the distance.
I winked back. "Told ya."
Monday, July 04, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 38: Nelson And Kat
Four years? Nelson had been dead for more than four years?
"But why would he want to lie about that?"
"Not sure. But I know that he was in some way related to the Ezisa - a long time ago, even before Mortie joined us."
Darren listened in silence, very much shocked. He had always wondered if there was more to Nelson than the good-natured peddler who died young like him. And sure enough, if Kat was to be believed, there was a whole lot that Nelson had kept from him.
"Did you know him before you met me?"
"Of course," she smirked. "Weren't you listening?"
"No, I mean personally."
"Can't say we're friends," she said. "Or even acquaintances, for that matter. I knew about him through my minor affiliations with the Ezisa some years back. As for him, he probably heard about me after I gained fame for conning gullible newcomers."
"Gullible newcomers like me, huh?" Darren cracked.
They laughed.
"Wait, wait, we're steering a little off course here," Darren said. "Wasn't I asking you about your former life?"
"Umm..yeah, I believe you were."
"So?"
"So," Kat bit her lip. "Heheh. It's a long story, really."
"Well, we've got lots of time."
"Actually, we're supposed to be on our toes for the Spooks to arrive."
"And they're not here yet."
She looked at him, half-grinning. "Sheesh, don't you ever give up. All right, I was in high school when I died. Six days short of my sixteenth birthday, in fact. Good enough?"
"Hm. Hardly. What did you die of?"
To his surprise, her face turned downcast at once. "It's not something I want to talk about."
Whoops. He somehow had a knack for spoiling fine conversations. "Why of course, who likes to reminiscence about their own death. I hate the way I left too."
She forced her lips into a smile. "Well, you never told me about that."
"It was...oh, really unexpected. I still don't know what happened. And you know the worst thing? It took place right durin-"
Suddenly Kat raised a hand to interrupt him. "Shh...listen."
It was the sound of steady, thudding footsteps, growing louder at a rapid pace.
"The Spooks are coming."
"But why would he want to lie about that?"
"Not sure. But I know that he was in some way related to the Ezisa - a long time ago, even before Mortie joined us."
Darren listened in silence, very much shocked. He had always wondered if there was more to Nelson than the good-natured peddler who died young like him. And sure enough, if Kat was to be believed, there was a whole lot that Nelson had kept from him.
"Did you know him before you met me?"
"Of course," she smirked. "Weren't you listening?"
"No, I mean personally."
"Can't say we're friends," she said. "Or even acquaintances, for that matter. I knew about him through my minor affiliations with the Ezisa some years back. As for him, he probably heard about me after I gained fame for conning gullible newcomers."
"Gullible newcomers like me, huh?" Darren cracked.
They laughed.
"Wait, wait, we're steering a little off course here," Darren said. "Wasn't I asking you about your former life?"
"Umm..yeah, I believe you were."
"So?"
"So," Kat bit her lip. "Heheh. It's a long story, really."
"Well, we've got lots of time."
"Actually, we're supposed to be on our toes for the Spooks to arrive."
"And they're not here yet."
She looked at him, half-grinning. "Sheesh, don't you ever give up. All right, I was in high school when I died. Six days short of my sixteenth birthday, in fact. Good enough?"
"Hm. Hardly. What did you die of?"
To his surprise, her face turned downcast at once. "It's not something I want to talk about."
Whoops. He somehow had a knack for spoiling fine conversations. "Why of course, who likes to reminiscence about their own death. I hate the way I left too."
She forced her lips into a smile. "Well, you never told me about that."
"It was...oh, really unexpected. I still don't know what happened. And you know the worst thing? It took place right durin-"
Suddenly Kat raised a hand to interrupt him. "Shh...listen."
It was the sound of steady, thudding footsteps, growing louder at a rapid pace.
"The Spooks are coming."
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Ghostopia, Chapter 37: Kat Talks
"Hey, you got all that?" Darren turned to Kat as they strode up the gradually steeping staircase. "I mean, the plan."
"Uh-huh," she looked back. "You didn't?"
"Nah, just asking."
They went up another flight of stairs, ignoring any Spooks they came across. It was intimidating to have their massive bodies glare your way for a few seconds before coming to the strange conclusion that you were one of them. Faithful to Mortie's advice, Darren and Kat just returned passing glances and went on their way.
"Okie-dokie, here we are," Kat said at the end of a remarkably difficult flight of stairs. "Now we just wait for the Spooks Mortie send to show up.
"Right." He nodded, wanting to add something but unable to.
She clasped her hands together.
Was he supposed to say something?
Darren tried to listen out for any sounds from the lower floors, but only a holed-up silence echoed. He stared at Kat again. Now her eyes were shut, as if trying to recall something.
Oh well, Darren sighed to himself. He was being silly again. Nothing to it, you idiot. Just start a freaking conversation.
"Kat?"
"Mm?"
"How was your life like? When you were alive."
She laughed. It sounded a little nervous. "It was okay. Died young, not much of a story. Bleh."
"You know, you're sometimes very hard to understand Kat," He was surprised he actually said that. "You have such strong viewpoints about Ghostopia, about life, about just anything, but I have no idea what shaped these viewpoints."
She couldn't help raising an eyebrow.
"Uhh, I'm sorry if I was rude," he said. "I've been wondering, that's all."
She laughed again, louder this time. "Didn't Nelson tell you about my past?"
"Nelson? He told me about your exploits as a consperson, but I figure that's all he knows."
"Liar. He knows a whole lot about me."
"Why would you say that?"
"I bet he told you that he hasn't been here for long too."
"Hmm...about a year."
"A year? Crap!" She faked a laugh. "He came in before me. And I've been dead for four years."
"Uh-huh," she looked back. "You didn't?"
"Nah, just asking."
They went up another flight of stairs, ignoring any Spooks they came across. It was intimidating to have their massive bodies glare your way for a few seconds before coming to the strange conclusion that you were one of them. Faithful to Mortie's advice, Darren and Kat just returned passing glances and went on their way.
"Okie-dokie, here we are," Kat said at the end of a remarkably difficult flight of stairs. "Now we just wait for the Spooks Mortie send to show up.
"Right." He nodded, wanting to add something but unable to.
She clasped her hands together.
Was he supposed to say something?
Darren tried to listen out for any sounds from the lower floors, but only a holed-up silence echoed. He stared at Kat again. Now her eyes were shut, as if trying to recall something.
Oh well, Darren sighed to himself. He was being silly again. Nothing to it, you idiot. Just start a freaking conversation.
"Kat?"
"Mm?"
"How was your life like? When you were alive."
She laughed. It sounded a little nervous. "It was okay. Died young, not much of a story. Bleh."
"You know, you're sometimes very hard to understand Kat," He was surprised he actually said that. "You have such strong viewpoints about Ghostopia, about life, about just anything, but I have no idea what shaped these viewpoints."
She couldn't help raising an eyebrow.
"Uhh, I'm sorry if I was rude," he said. "I've been wondering, that's all."
She laughed again, louder this time. "Didn't Nelson tell you about my past?"
"Nelson? He told me about your exploits as a consperson, but I figure that's all he knows."
"Liar. He knows a whole lot about me."
"Why would you say that?"
"I bet he told you that he hasn't been here for long too."
"Hmm...about a year."
"A year? Crap!" She faked a laugh. "He came in before me. And I've been dead for four years."
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