Writer's programme
Thursday, March 4, 2010 | 3:42 AM
so weird. yesterday i slept at 12.30am chionging a project, and couldn't really sleep at night either. however, when i woke up at 5.45am for school, i felt like super refreshed. not the super groggy me when i wake up after seven hours of sleep.
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i'm submitting my writer's programme application tomorrow.
1.
Title : Fight back
When fierce winds tear at you, when raging storms dishearten you,
When swords slash at you, when they stab at you,
Fight back.
When pain screams its lungs out, but nobody hears the sound,
When nobody cares, when you are alone,
Fight back.
When ‘evil’ becomes unclear, when caving in to temptation seems the easy way out,
When greed runs uncontrolled, when even the basic values that we hold dear to are clouded by desire,
Fight back.
When injustice is rampant, when all is against your cause,
When you are outnumbered, when you have no place to run,
Fight back.
When the despair is overwhelming, when doom appears unavoidable,
When the last sliver of light is gone, when hoping is deemed ridiculous,
Fight back.
When everything collapses, when the world is in ruins,
When everything is irreversibly destroyed,
When the clock stops-
Even then.
You fight back.
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2. title : Reflection
I looked at him.
He was fit, buff and wore a crisp, blue shirt. He sported a neat hairstyle, brown hair combed to a side. If not for the five centimeter scar that he got from a sports accident, he was handsome enough to be a model.
In his hand was a King leather briefcase; with its golden crown logo in the middle. Important documents were inside, given as a task suitable to his status – he was a high-ranking director in a computer technology research company.
Was that it?
I looked deeper, into the windows of his soul – his emotionless eyes.
I saw more.
Greed, temptation, evil had shrouded his once good morals, taught from a good background he came from. The darkness was overwhelming.
Life is unfair, they say. Too unfair for him, though. Why bother, when everything you once had, suddenly stepped aside when dangers lurked? He had been cheated by his company, played scapegoat for something he had not done. He tried to shout out, but money silenced everyone. A friend backstabbed him, others left him. Why bother, being all upright and just, when life is unfair?
Vengeance got the better of him, he was just being fair to himself, he thought, as a mixture of blood and tears left him a permanent scar in his confused heart.
With his sins chasing, tearing at his legs, he ran.
To where? He had nothing left.
To who? He had nobody.
Desperation highlighted the door for him – the only door left, amidst his darkness.
He opened it.
To a life of cold-blooded murder, to a life of running away ; to a life of stealing, plundering, to a life of pain. He joined the mafia – he made a lot of money, went high on drugs and enjoyed the sinful vices.
Slowly, without realizing it, he was turning to the very people that had cheated him at first.
I want to stop. I want to restart, he thought.
But it was too late; life did not have a rewind button.
There was no turning back.
I looked at him.
He looked back at me.
I gazed at the mirror for a last time, then shattered it with the briefcase.
Millions of tiny crystals exploded onto the floor.
It would be unable to fix the mirror, just like how his broken life couldn’t be pieced together.
It was time to rest.
It was time to repent.
It was time to let go.
He picked up a shard of glass.
And I ended my life.
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my commonwealth essay.
title : the mad scientist
Miles away from town, secluded, isolated, lay a dilapidated, rusty, house. Nobody ventured near it, nobody bothered to. Probably just some abandoned old hut, they said.
But it was just the perfect hideout for him.
Behind the wooden doors and creaky hinges, was more; there was something disguised inside the time-tortured place. So ancient it was that wrinkles folded over its bony frame, scratched wood barely supporting its thin roof. An eerie smell flooded the place – some funny stench was within the house, and yet, he didn’t care.
He was a mess – his hair was disheveled, and full of oil and grime, he wore the same lab coat in which he wore for the past few weeks. He had not shaved nor bathed, nor brushed his teeth in days, perhaps weeks? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter.
He quickly scribbled out barely readable equations, scientific terms, and then swiftly poured a chemical into another. Every measurement he took made him excited and thrilled – he was bound for discovery.
He didn’t notice the house was scrawling with pests, spiders, cobwebs, he didn’t bother about how flimsy the things were, what mattered was that it was far away from human sight, where his ideas would be kept secret.
He rubbed his sweaty palms with glee and smiled. Repeating the experiment again and again to confirm his theory, the smile on his filthy face became wider, and wider. He poured his sample onto a solid block of steel, and it melted quickly, withering into nothing.
Punching his numb fists into the air, he yelled with voice, hoarse, but full of victory. He had achieved his dream! Cackling like a maniac, he made another sample of his newfound discovery and poured it on the table. A hole, clear-cut appeared as if it just disappeared. Laughing again, his bloodshot eyes were full of thoughts – he could do anything with this revolutionary formula! Money was his! Wealth, fortune, fame – Everything was worth the immense effort he had put in to create it. He had created an acid that would melt anything but paper.
He began producing more, and more of it- till he had a whole pot of it. This acid was cheap to make, effective- it was the best there ever was, and it would fetch a good price.
Scrhh scrhh, scrhh scrhh.
“who’s that there?” He turned around, freaked out by the sudden sound of life which he had never noticed while creating and experimenting his formula. He quickly grabbed his dear formula and held it firm to his chest.
“Are you going to steal my formula?”
Scrhh scrhh.
“No..”
Scrhh scrh schrch.
“Nobody. Nobody will take my formula away from me. I made it. I will keep it. I will keep it!” He yelled desperately, pulling his hair out.
The scratching continued. “Get out of here now! I have a gun, and I ain’t afraid to use it you..” He slowly picked up his pistol from his belt. Even if he had it, his trembling hands couldn’t possibly aim. The scratching continued.
Scrhh. Scrhh. Scrhh. Scrhh scrhh.
Slowly, he stepped back. “who are you? Get away from me!” He dropped his gun, and started to run, only to be faced with a wall. Monstrous and enormous, it towered over him, pushing him back with great force.
“Aaargh..” he stumbled on the table, causing it to tip over. He knocked his head on the ground heavily. His world convulsed into a spinning whirl of colours – his lack of sleep had finally taken its toll.
The pot tumbled and splashed the acid on the unconscious scientist. Slowly, he melted, into a liquid, then into nothing.
A spider scuttled across the old wooden floor, over the piece of paper which was all there was left of the scientist.
