Category Archives: Creations

A Different Place

The world was a different place.

Salty, wet, cold. This was the world we lived in. There was little land, yet, the water felt more like land than land itself. Our boats were like extensions of our bodies, extensions of our legs. Without them, we wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, we wouldn’t be able to survive. This is all most of us; and those that have gone before, have known.

Images of the world that existed before enthralled me. It started the first time I dived into the warm salty ocean the summer I turned 6 and found a little “trinket” – as mom calls the things I find and collect. I can still see the glint of metal at the bottom of the shallows surrounding the scarce land when I close my eyes and the non-organic feel of a man-made shape when I close my palm.

Perhaps that is why I feel a little different from those around me. I wondered what would it be like to live mostly on land; to explore mostly on foot instead of by kayak; to eat species that dwelt on land instead of in the water. To hear the chirping of birds instead of the constant whirring of the ocean. What would my skin feel like if it was mostly dry instead of constantly being drenched in salt water or salt crystals?

I wonder.

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The Stubborn Fighter

Irrational, Unkempt

Full of non-conformance

Actions and emotions

Hurled from the dark depths

Stemming from the most ill

Parts of ourselves

We never acknowledged

 

Not sexy, not ruffled

Just a fully blown kerfuffle

A brawl like no other

Where thoughts manifest

Through our sword made of flesh

Slicing loudly through

The frail innocent air

 

Crack, Clomp, Thump

Unnatural sounds

Of anger and rage

Avoiding, Clashing, Retreating, Advancing

We give our worst

And receive in turn

The stench of a wound inflicted

 

The walls close in

It’s hard to breathe

Mind and feet shuffle around

The cloggy space

What was dealt before

What stroke should be returned

It’s not over yet

 

Not when I know

I did no wrong

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Life

Image

Hope and delight

Giggles, bottles and love

Baby’s bottom

 

Desires and needs

Learning, yearning and stomps

Schoolyard stories

 

Work and family

Advancement, building and trying

The search

 

Rest and relax

Empty nests, grandchildren and exercise

The golden years

 

Light and dark

Nature, release and the unknown

The last breath

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Just a Memory

It’s been days since we last spoke
Perhaps even years
A trickery of the senses
My eyes, my ears

We must have been happy
But in an instant it changed
What happened those last few seconds
The shouting and the pain

What was it like when we first met
How did we feel, what did we say?
Did it even happen?
Perhaps there was something written

Maybe I saved it
Somewhere somehow
Maybe they were
just dreams said out loud
Like wisps of a breeze
Floating around

If only I could turn back time
But that does us no good
I know, we’ve tried
Instead we need
To look ahead
And put aside
What is already
Behind

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Chased

The wind felt cool against my warm skin, whipping my hair back while some of it got trapped and formed bubbles of air in the folds of my clothes. It made me feel a little ridiculous, just for a second, before my attention returned to the situation at hand.

I could barely hear anything above the rush of the wind in my ears but I didn’t slow down. I didn’t dare to. A brief glance at my side mirrors showed only empty streets sparsely sprinkled with pedestrians. Maybe I lost them?

Better be safe than sorry. Every time a similar scene played out on screen, I’d always scream and tell the characters to keep running. I should do the same.

Better be safe than sorry.

I sped up along the straight road before turning up a familiar corner. I got off the Panthon – the latest motorcycle combined with hovercraft technology and took the keys. Even though it wasn’t technically mine, I felt I had the responsibility to return it to the odd Parking attendant who passed me the keys to my escape vehicle in the first place. Which in turn raises a host of questions, who was this Parking Attendant and why was he helping me?

The world was a different place now, 10 years ago the Panthon belonged only in science fiction movies, 8 years ago a prototype was piloted in the secret labs of the government by their undercover personnel that took it on who-knows-what missions. The only reason I knew that was ironically also the reason I was being chased.

Until 2 years ago I lived in blissful oblivion, like most of us, and never imagined meeting anyone from these hidden sectors, then Larson came along. We met in an online chat room and were engaged 6 months later. At that time he was working with Professor Denier from Darkin University in South Asia on machinery recycling technology.

Within 10 months I realized how much of science fiction was actually real and left my boring desk job to join Larson in Professor Denier’s workshop running logistics. 4 months after that, the first prototype of Liz was created.

For decades we had been focusing on recycling plastic and paper, but as computers and machines became commonplace in both the household and workplace with new products released every few months, we needed a breakthrough technology to deal with the subsequent refuse generated. Liz was the solution Denier thought of, a black box that could take apart machine parts and reconstruct them into items that used similar materials, just the right mix of simplicity and mystery.

Last 6 months, we received several visits from people who claimed they were from a similar corporation known as Nue and wanted to discuss an acquisition. Denier refused.

I felt like I was living a science fiction movie, except, this was definitely not fiction.

Heck, 2 months ago, I never would have imagined being at the receiving end of a chase.

I walked into the obscure embrace of a smoky pub with the odd feeling that I’d been here before. Beneath the frown creasing my brow, the adventure seeker in me smiled a little.

Right now, a cold beer would be perfect.

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(I think) I’m Trying

It’s not that I’m not trying
I’m trying to understand what I did
What I said that was wrong

I check our chat logs
I check my memory
They are flawed

But I still don’t see it
Maybe in the same way
You don’t see what you did wrong

You put me in a box
You labelled me
With things other people said
With things I told you in confidence
With things that happened just once
You don’t see me for who I am
It hurts
Because I thought you did

My feeble mind
Is filled with
How quick you are to anger
How quickly you jump to conclusions
How you judge me all the time
I guess I don’t know you too
I’m sorry
I thought I did

I’m not playing games
I just can’t get my mind
Around everything

We live in a world
Framed
By our own narratives
Subjected
To our own analysis
Influenced
By our fluctuating emotions
Limited
By the way we communicate
Filled
With the feelings that may be
Too difficult to grasp

I don’t understand
How can things be worked out
When we can never fully understand
What someone else is feeling
No matter how hard we try

But I’m trying

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Waking Up

Old school reunions have never been so fun nor have they ever been so troubling.

I flitted in and out of the conversation around me, subconsciously rolling the ring in my pocket between my thumb and forefinger. They were laughing and I smiled. Jean’s chatty personality hasn’t changed and Julia, her 5 year old girl, was a splitting image of her.

The crowd around Julia grew and the ladies giggled at everything Julia was saying while the men were entranced by her guile. I withdrew from the crowd and found a seat at a nearby table. The room was a little too cold, as usual. Shivering a little, I took the ring out and placed it on my finger. The silver band with a unique rectangular diamond embellishment, looking more like glass than diamond, felt warm against my cold skin.

I admired the contrast of silver and blue against my pale skin. The diamond was skillfully placed in a way I had never seen before which gave the illusion that the diamond and band were one. Matt likened it to the both of us. I liked the design, but more than that I liked the man who gave this to me. Would I like to spend the rest of my life with him was ironically the question that I also asked myself.

We were friends since college but after we started dating two years ago, it felt like there was a big part of Matt that I never knew. His temper, his ambition, his expectations. Small things yet big factors affecting our interactions with each other and even more so, our plans for the future. I fingered the ring and let out a soft sigh. Why did things have to be so complicated.

“Hey can you watch my stuff, I have to take Julia to the toilet” Jean chucked her bag on the seat beside me.
That jarred me from my thoughts and I hurriedly placed the ring back in my pocket “Yeah sure.”
“Mommy hurry…” Julia was already running ahead of Jean.
I returned my gaze to the table and my heart skipped a beat. There sitting right across from me, was Jeremy.

An unspoken bubble of words formed in my chest. Words I had kept inside since the first time I saw him, words that I didn’t have the courage to say the last time I saw him, during our graduation, 5 years ago. He hadn’t changed much from the charming man I remembered, except there were now signs of a receeding hairline at the front and just a little extra weight. He looked up and smiled before turning back to the conversation.

I smiled back, a little shy, a little indignant, that after all those years of high school, it was still the same now. My heart sank. He still didn’t notice me.

What did I expect? What was I waiting for? I realized then, that some things are best left in the past in order for us to move on with our lives, especially when it never existed to begin with.

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A Zombie in my Head

I’m not a fan of horror shows. That’s right, I definitely haven’t watched those famous horror shows you’re probably thinking about right now.

So when I got dragged into watching the television series “The Walking Dead“, I was definitely not a happy chappy.

Apart from grabbing the nearest cushion or shoulder to hide behind so I can avoid watching the whole scene, sometimes accompanied with my fingers in my ears, I would also rambling things like “oh my god someone’s going to die”, which almost always happens, saying random things I notice in the scene like “I hate his hair” and making random zombie noises when the “hoard” comes out like “Rawgh”or “Chomp chomp chomp”.

I know, it’s annoying. But hey, if they want to drag me into this, I’m not going down without a fight! (Partly also because I really can’t help it) Even looking for a zombie picture to go with this post, I couldn’t stand seeing the non-animated versions.

But last night, the Zombies got to me…

Zombie eating Brains

What zombies should look like

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We were living among them. Surrounded yet surviving on our limited resources. It had been months since our last attack but we knew they were out there, watching us, just waiting for a single slip-up.

John stepped out onto the porch, checking for movements past the steel fences erected 800m away. His eyes saw nothing but his gut was making a fuss. He scanned his surroundings again, nothing. Perhaps it was just too quiet, but then again, it had been a long time since he heard birds call or leaves rustling in the breeze.

Terrence and Mark joined him, eyes watchful before turning to the task at hand. A sound startled them, another thump, their screams muffled by the shuffling of feet against the porch deck and the deep rustle of cloth and flesh being ripped apart.

Our defense had been compromised.

Contrary to our common knowledge of zombies, they had evolved. They split into 2 factions. Most of them, “The Walkers”, had become accustomed to eating rodents and animals which made them less hostile to humans; but there were some who preferred the texture of human flesh and started hunting us. We called them “The Pack”. We realized that they were working together, had the ability to use tools and even seemed to have a strategy for attack.

In order to survive, we had to stay ahead of them. All of our people above the age of 10 were trained for combat, we set up surveillance cameras, had constant patrols, and reinforced our fences. It was difficult with the limited resources we had to do anything more. With the telephone lines destroyed, we tried all means of short-range communications but there was no response.

Thankfully Terrence was able to use scraps to build upon the existing solar power in the house so we could try longer range communications using the internet. We had a plan that should ensure our survival, all 30 of us; if not for this attack.

Our evacuation plan proved futile, the Pack came in from the main door and there were Zombies everywhere we turned. We shot through doors and zombies alike, trying to fight our way through. Bryan and I held hands and ran to the cars and drove off just as the Zombies reached the car. We hoped the others made it out.

I grabbed my belly. They baby didn’t like all this chaos. The car was low on fuel and we had to stop at the train station. It was risky, but it was the only way we could get to the pickup point 3 stops away. All the trains had stopped when the power went down so we had to get to the control station to start the backup generators to start the automatic train operation first. John had said it would only last a few minutes, so it was integral we got on the right line.

Bryan ran to the controls while I stood watch with the gun tightly clasped. The station was empty, at least this level was. He got the backup generator started and we ran past the gantries and down the escalator to the platform but there were two trains on opposite sides of the platform. Which one was it?

We evaded the few walkers wandering on the platform and ran into the one closest to us. “It’s not this one” Bryan panted, shortly after entering, grabbing my hand as we made our way out of the train. We dashed up the escalators to get to the opposite platform which should then take us to the eastern side where the pickup was.

It was a 5 carriage train filled with walkers, staring into space. We stepped in just as the door closed and found a seat at the far end of the train. As we tempered our panting and movements, a walker turned its head towards us.

That was odd, they usually kept their eyes to the ground, looking for smaller creatures. We stared at the unblinking eyes. A few more heads turned and then a slow shuffle of feet. The train beeped the 2nd stop. I held in a scream from a deep pain in my belly, it was as if the baby knew what was happening.

We slowly checked our guns, praying that we could reach the third stop before the walkers reached us. They inched closer every minute. The platform of the third stop was now visible. My hand gripped the rail as I felt another convulsion and I prayed the backup generators would last just a little more.

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Bound and Gagged

Passing shadows
Have no care
Caught
Like a helpless hare
Ensnared

I want to fly
But the sky
Refuses
My want to soar
And more

Speaking but
Not heard
Muted
By life’s
Demands

Creating nothing
Apart from emptiness
Left
Alone
In the dark

Trying again
And again
Afraid
Yet not wanting
To lose hope

Wanting to focus
To drown out the world
Bound
By the paradigm
I live in

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