The golden words emblazoned on the wall of the building read: 'S.M.K. Chung Hua Miri'. Memories that carved into my mind reminded me of the secondary school life I have been through for the 6 years of my life.There would be thousands of pages to be crammed with my hoarded feelings and reminiscence towards my school. My school means more than just nurturing me to become an educated person, it has been a friend accompanying my teenage life.
Squinting through my school from a bird's-eye view now, once again I am awestruck by the majesty of our school's large green field. Little did I know it is a place where talented athletes realise their inner potential and strength. My friends and I were used to running on the tracks, shifting all our internal gears into full blast such that at the end, we smiled wearily yet satisfyingly, despite the sheen of sweat and dirty trousers caked with dirt and pebbles.
Then, I trot my way to the classrooms where some scholarly looking people chatter and laugh at the top of their voices. The scene has accentuated a familiar academic atmosphere. It reminded me of the last year of my secondary school life. My classroom had always been highly charged especially when big examination approached. Besides waging a war with weariness and drowsiness, my fellow friends had to strain all their efforts on tonnes of books. My friends and I would always talk ourselves through our dreams and the reasons we put our best foot forward in the pursuit of our dreams. We vouched unanimously that we would be on guard with every difficulty that might wall up against us. My school was once a place where dreams began their journey after we had thrown off the bowlines and sailed away from the safe harbours. The so-called 'Chung Hua spirit' gave us powerful strength and persistent determination to catch the trade winds in our sails, to explore, to dream and to discover.
Canteen is, and always will be the hotspot to every student, particularly to skive the boring lessons. The wondrous time with my friends flashed through my head, took me aback by the silly things we had done. Once in a lifetime did we sow the oats and conjure crazy stuff out of our frenetic passion. Besides joking around and laughing serious matters off, we would bury our heads on their offered shoulders, snug as a bug in a rug, in order to chase the vehement emotions and blues away.
The first time I sang my school anthem, God, it was a really funny song. Singing it several times would actually bore you. However, the school anthem may conjure up the memories and the spirit of a Chung Hua student. It would be a great difference singing at the time you are in school and by the time you are not in school anymore. I think the greatest difference is the feeling because it may well up tears in your glassy eyes and whirl emotions like vortexes in your belly.
Time passed, people change; yet, memories remained.
Probing deeper into my secondary school life, I am struck by the pang of stupefaction and realisation that I spared most of the time on my study. It would be stupid to always be in the class from the absolute day one until my graduation. What if I tried once in a lifetime bunking off exhaustively boring classes? What if I sneak out of class to eye the back of my school hall where the popular fallacy of ghost stories spread amongst the students? What if I have been the school prefect and experienced the new things I have never been before?
The what-if session will not change the past and the fact that I had been graduated.
Along the way out of my school, I could not help glancing back at the building of whitewashed wall before I mouthed a silent 'goodbye' to my school.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Write a story which contains the following words, 'despite her pleas, they simply refused to release her'.
They lay, the stuff contracted due to the heat that had spiked the temperature to range between forty and fifty degree Celsius and it willed to ratchet up continuously. Her eyes rimmed red, and she had never felt more than swiping the waterfall of sweat trailing down her nape in long streams.
The bang intimidating words were like a geriatric tape recorder, old and very broken, hitting her nerves ferociously and the jitters inside her belly seemed no attempt of calming. She was panting like an old woman, prior to enlightening any sensible idea to take herself off the entanglement of the rope around her wrists and ankles.
She kneed the wooden table which could have crumpled at any time, and as the leg angled and ran down their way to earth, then with a roll of chink and clink, the glass bottle on the table displaced and jumped off, reaching the forest ground, before a clash breaking it into shreds and shards. Besides fighting off the dregs of anxiety that crawled up her nerves like an irritating beetle, she endured the pain of the glass splinters digging into her flesh. Her trembling fingers traced down for a larger piece of any sharp splinters before she could start to cut off the ropes.
The image carved into her mind from the bolt of blue. Her lover she had once taken all in, all including the words he had said she believed that they were true. She had never realised that herself could fall so deep into someone, zeroing in on him implicitly with her very lost heart. Her trust told her that he would reciprocate in an equal fervour by the time she hooked up with him. She liked the way herself loved and being loved. The true sensation flooded through her as if she had drowned in his coddling and indulging fondness.
Her heart sank and gave way to searing ache and pain to tear her senses when she remembered the time when he started to become a drug addict. He materialised on hefty money and it was like an endless yen soared in him to use the tremendous amount of money to be dealt with a long-lasting supply of drugs. Regret, she thought, her bankrolling of money that had once given to him failed to top up his deep pit of the strong desire of abusing drugs.
The courage speared through the itch of annoyance after the long period of her 'money-giving charity'. She stood up on him with her very firm decision by making it crystal clear that her attempt at breaking their relationship, ending it at her will.Refusing to give any money to him, she insisted on her leaving.
He got so worked up and without any wit nor sense, a blow whooshed through expelled air inflicted on the back of her head before she flopped back. As her consciousness faltered and clouds of darkness reigned over her mind, she heard him bellowing and a commotion of unfamiliar voices.
By the time her mind floated back through a struggling battle of giddiness, she gauged the area with alerted instinct and atavistic horror striking through her. Apart from the whining of insects and the hooting sound of an owl, everything seemed to be so tranquil. As her hands struggled in a pious hope of getting herself released from the ropes tangled around her limbs, her eyes gaped to take in whatever came to her sight. 'A camp in a forest', she thought of her first view when the faint moonlight slanted through the chinks of overhead brushes and cast diamonds on her crown of hair.
"We'd have to burn this place before the police get to us," one of the unacquainted voice broke the brooding silence.
"How about that bimbo, Peter?" Peter, she thought, the name ached in her mind that reminded her of betrayal and hatred.
"Let her burn in hell. She's just so much a burden to me. She's nothing, she got nothing, nothing any good for us."
The tears brimmed in her eyes rolled down along her fair cheeks in thin streams. She could not believe he could be so ruthless and cruel in such a way that he neither consider nor reminisce the joyous moments together with her. She felt stupid by the earliest thought of begging him. She knew very well of the fact that despite her pleas, they simply refused to release her.
"Let's go before the police catch up with us. All the evidence would soon be charred and devastated." The statement was followed by a wicked chortle and she glared at them. She watched, a click of the lighter steadily tossed onto a pool of flammable liquid.
Soon after she broke free from the ropes, she geared out all her effort to charge her way down to a safe place but sadly, she doubted the probability of her success when she was in a circumstance whereby she was walled up by burning bushfire. The fire climbed the way up to the trees that seemed to be like black skeletons, and it spewed out menacing smoke blurring her way. The fire got frisky and intended to chow down everything on earth.
She ran through the orange-red background and the missiles of pinecone hurled by the blasting wind of a blowup. The fire danced deadly as she ran over a charred log before tipping onto the ground. The heat washed through her sinew and carried smoke pushing into her lungs to have a hard, breathless labour for air. She felt so hopeless by the thought that her life would soon be after. She plopped down in a limp heap across the land.
She lay and obliged to await the instruction of the cruel fate and death to take her away.
Suddenly, a silhouette in a pickup to her direction rushed through the blasting red flames. Seeing the ray of hope, she was glad that the recruits and crew were on their way to put out the fire. She heard the crackling sound radioed from the base, " Is she safe?"
"Yes, sir" one of the recruits answered.
"It's alright. We'd found you." She felt lifted by two strong arms before she closed her eyes in relief.
The bang intimidating words were like a geriatric tape recorder, old and very broken, hitting her nerves ferociously and the jitters inside her belly seemed no attempt of calming. She was panting like an old woman, prior to enlightening any sensible idea to take herself off the entanglement of the rope around her wrists and ankles.
She kneed the wooden table which could have crumpled at any time, and as the leg angled and ran down their way to earth, then with a roll of chink and clink, the glass bottle on the table displaced and jumped off, reaching the forest ground, before a clash breaking it into shreds and shards. Besides fighting off the dregs of anxiety that crawled up her nerves like an irritating beetle, she endured the pain of the glass splinters digging into her flesh. Her trembling fingers traced down for a larger piece of any sharp splinters before she could start to cut off the ropes.
The image carved into her mind from the bolt of blue. Her lover she had once taken all in, all including the words he had said she believed that they were true. She had never realised that herself could fall so deep into someone, zeroing in on him implicitly with her very lost heart. Her trust told her that he would reciprocate in an equal fervour by the time she hooked up with him. She liked the way herself loved and being loved. The true sensation flooded through her as if she had drowned in his coddling and indulging fondness.
Her heart sank and gave way to searing ache and pain to tear her senses when she remembered the time when he started to become a drug addict. He materialised on hefty money and it was like an endless yen soared in him to use the tremendous amount of money to be dealt with a long-lasting supply of drugs. Regret, she thought, her bankrolling of money that had once given to him failed to top up his deep pit of the strong desire of abusing drugs.
The courage speared through the itch of annoyance after the long period of her 'money-giving charity'. She stood up on him with her very firm decision by making it crystal clear that her attempt at breaking their relationship, ending it at her will.Refusing to give any money to him, she insisted on her leaving.
He got so worked up and without any wit nor sense, a blow whooshed through expelled air inflicted on the back of her head before she flopped back. As her consciousness faltered and clouds of darkness reigned over her mind, she heard him bellowing and a commotion of unfamiliar voices.
By the time her mind floated back through a struggling battle of giddiness, she gauged the area with alerted instinct and atavistic horror striking through her. Apart from the whining of insects and the hooting sound of an owl, everything seemed to be so tranquil. As her hands struggled in a pious hope of getting herself released from the ropes tangled around her limbs, her eyes gaped to take in whatever came to her sight. 'A camp in a forest', she thought of her first view when the faint moonlight slanted through the chinks of overhead brushes and cast diamonds on her crown of hair.
"We'd have to burn this place before the police get to us," one of the unacquainted voice broke the brooding silence.
"How about that bimbo, Peter?" Peter, she thought, the name ached in her mind that reminded her of betrayal and hatred.
"Let her burn in hell. She's just so much a burden to me. She's nothing, she got nothing, nothing any good for us."
The tears brimmed in her eyes rolled down along her fair cheeks in thin streams. She could not believe he could be so ruthless and cruel in such a way that he neither consider nor reminisce the joyous moments together with her. She felt stupid by the earliest thought of begging him. She knew very well of the fact that despite her pleas, they simply refused to release her.
"Let's go before the police catch up with us. All the evidence would soon be charred and devastated." The statement was followed by a wicked chortle and she glared at them. She watched, a click of the lighter steadily tossed onto a pool of flammable liquid.
Soon after she broke free from the ropes, she geared out all her effort to charge her way down to a safe place but sadly, she doubted the probability of her success when she was in a circumstance whereby she was walled up by burning bushfire. The fire climbed the way up to the trees that seemed to be like black skeletons, and it spewed out menacing smoke blurring her way. The fire got frisky and intended to chow down everything on earth.
She ran through the orange-red background and the missiles of pinecone hurled by the blasting wind of a blowup. The fire danced deadly as she ran over a charred log before tipping onto the ground. The heat washed through her sinew and carried smoke pushing into her lungs to have a hard, breathless labour for air. She felt so hopeless by the thought that her life would soon be after. She plopped down in a limp heap across the land.
She lay and obliged to await the instruction of the cruel fate and death to take her away.
Suddenly, a silhouette in a pickup to her direction rushed through the blasting red flames. Seeing the ray of hope, she was glad that the recruits and crew were on their way to put out the fire. She heard the crackling sound radioed from the base, " Is she safe?"
"Yes, sir" one of the recruits answered.
"It's alright. We'd found you." She felt lifted by two strong arms before she closed her eyes in relief.
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