The blinding shadow

Marion was a little child who live down the road. One day Marion went to pick the cherries in the bushes, where the blueberries scattered among the leaves like freckles on a lovely smiling face. As the basket was getting full and the picking began to tire her, Marion sat beside the little spring nearby. A rabbit passed by, looked with its dolly eyes, and went away. A refreshing breeze blew but with it the clouds were dragged along, exposing the ground to the open sky. Marion edged herself to a nearby tree, when she noticed a man standing close by. He was sweating under the direct sun, that Marion asked him whether he would like to come under the shade.

The man declined. "Oh how I wish I have a shadow, so I can sit with you in the shade," he lamented.
"What happened to it," Marion asked. The man sat cross-legged and began to unfold his story.

"It began a long time ago, when I was only a boy, slightly older than you. I was like any other boy of that age. Our life consisted of playing in the day, sleeping in the night, and eating in the lapse of time in between. My life was simple and if anyone asked me then and there, what would I want to be when I grow up, I would straightly answer a policeman. The uniform held its magic to me like any boy and to add to that, we always played hide-and-seek, pretending one was a policeman catching robbers. And on one of this games when I was the one who had to seek the others that my world changed. In the excitement of the moment, I had already caught two of the robbers and I saw another one running into the crowd at the market. I took a route between the stalls and jumped onto my friend, rolling ourselves on the ground. I stood up laughing when my voice suddenly stopped as I noticed the person lying on the ground was not my friend. What's more it was not alive. Only a black shape lying on the ground."

"My body began to shake with fear and I began to run away. I heard a voice cried, shouting after me. I looked back and I saw an angry man with a very large nose and eyes burning furiously, cursing at me. He chased after me but I was faster. I was losing him and was just about to cross the bridge when something tugged me sharply. I looked back and saw the man holding a crumpled black cloth in his hand. My body felt cold at a sudden, knees trembling that I had to grab the bridge to prevent myself from falling. The man pulled the cloth sharply which caused my body to jerk backwards. Only then I realized the man was holding my shadow by its neck and pulling me to him bit by bit. "Come to me, boy!" the man's voice echoed hoarsely. He continued pulling the shadow, tugging hardly. I clawed hardly at the ground, frantically pulling myself away.

""Come to me booooyyy!" he shouted again. His eyes was blazing and foams are coming out of his nose and mouth, dripping all over his beard. I do not know what would happen if I didn't run, but I ran. I stood and with all my might I took a step over the bridge. And another. And another. Suddenly the force pulling me back snapped, sending me stumbling over the bridge. I didn't look back as I heard the man shouted and for that few days I walked without stopping. That was 14 years ago but I still remember it clearly like it was yesterday." There was a short silence as he finished his story.

"You don't have a shadow now, do you?" Marion asked.
"Yes, I lost my shadow to that man. I wish I have it back. Now I can't stand under the shade, fearing my shadow cannot find me when it escapes, or worse, if a wild shadow comes to me."
"That is so sad," Marion said, "can't anyone help you find it back?"
"Well yes. You can help me, if you want."
"Really?!" Marion dusted herself and stood up.

"Yes. It is quite simple. I just need you to stand over there. There. There, not under the shade. Come away from the shade. A bit further so your shadow will appear. Right there, brilliant! Now, walk to me. Come to me now, closer. Closer. Come to me now, girl...

thy or thee -Part 1

Apathy empathy sympathy,
I can't ever discern one from the other.
All I know is what they've told me
They said I have neither of the three
I'm inhuman, heartless
A human without sympathy.



.. .

"If you had not...."

There was once a time, when Humpty Dumpty was running around. Faster and faster he went with his laughter filling the air. He was very happy running around.

Humpty however forgot that when one ran too fast, he was bound to fall. Thus Humpty fell and hurt himself. There was a small crack on him which ran just above his chest. Fortunately Potsy Potter came along and had with her a patch of bandage, which she applied while saying how clumsy Humpty was. “I’ve told you before not to run around,” she said.

After that they went to the park, for Miss Potter had some errands to do. Along the way they spotted a dandelion, alone by itself as the others were already blown away by the North Wind.

“How lovely that dandelion is. It is dancing happily, that one can hardly stop oneself from swinging along to its rhythm. How I would be so glad to plant one,” said Miss Potter.

Therefore Humpty went to pick the dandelion when suddenly a gush of wind blew it away.

“Run for it Mr Dumpty, run!” Humpty ran but he was too slow. The dandelion was already far away, a tiny speck. “If only I had not fallen and cracked myself,” said Dumpty as he pointed to his chest, “I am sure I would have caught it.”

“If you had not run stupidly around, then you would not have fallen in the first place,” said Miss Potter as she stomped off angrily. Suddenly Humpty saw another dandelion and quickly pointed to Miss Potter. She however coldly replied, “I dislike dandelion. There are always so flimsy and waving around, one can only wonder when they are going to be blown and fly away.” So they continued walking for a while in silent.

The road came to a bridge and below this bridge flow a pristine stream. As they crossed over, Miss Potter looked down into the river and saw a water-lily, with its blossoming flower in pink. “How lovely that flower is with its petals poised at the verge of blossom. Its colour reflected on the river, like the cheek on a young girl. I would so very happy to have one.”

Upon hearing those words Humpty eagerly reached towards the flower. He kneeled on the bridge and stretched his hands but it was a grasp to short when suddenly the root of the water-lily snapped. The flower and its pad were taken away by the flow, followed by Humpty’s disappointed eyes. “If only I had not fallen and cracked myself,” he said, “I could have lie on the bridge and reached for the flower.”
“If you had not run around, you would not have fallen,” Miss Potter said, as she walked away with Humpty following sadly behind.

Shortly afterward they finally arrived at the park. Around the park ran a wall and on that wall grew vines and vines intertwined. Miss Potter eyes’ happen to rest on a morning glory which was full-bloom on the wall. “It is almost afternoon yet the flower is still in bloom. It is said that a morning glory plucked full bloom at noon, will bring such good fortune,” she said. Thus Humpty quickly climbed the wall towards the flower, plucked the flower and showed to her. Suddenly the crack on his chest began to widen and Humpty lost his grip and fell. He broke to a thousand pieces and even all the bandages in the world couldn’t put him together again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the king's horses and all the king's men

Couldn't put Humpty together again.

Poor Humpty. If only he had not ran around. It doesn't matter what you do afterward Humpty, it's the fact that you ran in the first place.



.

It all began with a tick

  It all began with a sound, a soft tick that came somewhere near him. He was looking around when her wife asked her what it was.  “Do you hear any sound, a tick like a clock, or maybe a bomb?” he asked. Her wife said no and living in a time when terrorism was not yet a word, she dismissed the question without a second thought. However the ticking did not stop, so he decided to go and see the doctor.

    “Your ears are fine and there are no injuries whatsoever,” the doctor said as he stowed away his tools, “and you are quite young to be experiencing any hearing loss. There is probably nothing wrong so I suggest you get some rest and a good sleep tonight and soon you will no longer hear the sounds again.” The doctor sent him off with a cheerful smile on his face, bidding him to come back if anything happens. He went home and followed the doctor’s advice with a bit of doubt, doubting whether the ticking would go away. The doctor’s words happened to be true; the ticking was no more by the next day. It was instead replaced by voices.

    At first these voices were like mumbling and no coherent thoughts could be heard from them, but after a few days they began to take shape. It was as if the speakers were talking in a ballroom and only now that they noticed a newcomer and began to address him. However the voices were in some foreign language, some were guttural while others hissed and not to mention the few that shouts unexpectedly in random intervals. The man was able to identify only a few languages from the lots of speeches and surprisingly the number began to dwindle as if the speakers were fed up speaking to the man, who didn’t understand a word they say, minus the few. This few consisted of two men’s voice, one with a sonorous voice, the other was slow and becalming, and another voice was a woman’s, laced with a French accent. The woman’s voice however disappeared as soon as he told his wife about them. “Maybe they are people in your head?” her wife replied.

    It was not a comforting thought, having peoples in your head, so the man soon began to feel agitated and restless. He began to pace to and fro in his study room, when one of the voice spoke. It was the one with the becalming voice. The voice asked him to sit down and began to talk, though the second voice quickly began to facilitate the dialogue more often. Soon enough only the second voice could be heard, though the man knew the one who initiated it was still there. The man knew but he did not actually see them. He was once asked how he could manage to talk to people without seeing them, he answered, “It is like hearing voices from a friend of yours who is sitting on an armchair near you, while you are writing a letter to your aunt. It is not exactly difficult, since a letter to an aunt contains much the same every time but you need to look at it anyway in order to write it.” It was understandable then that soon enough, there was a whole lot of papers documenting his dialogues as he had taken to writing while they took place and as he quickly ran of aunts to write to, he began to write the conversations on paper.

    The story of how it came to published was never certain but it was said through various mistakes- the wife taking the wrong letters and posting it, the aunt leaving it on the wrong place, the maid mistaking it to be posted again- that the letter arrived to the editors of a newspaper company who decided to published it, which received great interest from the public. They demanded more.

   The writer was seek out and upon discovery of his abundance of notes, they were all pressed for the public to read. The man soon became a household name and the name Sir Richard Bradsworth was stamped in history as a famous writer, with his Tales of Lost Voices. Although  no one ever knew if the Sir Bradsworth actually sent the letters themselves to the editor or not, but when asked about how he came to write it in the first place, he always started by saying, “It all began with a sound, a soft tick.”

Clearly style of writing influenced by Susanna Clarke in her book Jonathan Strange&Mr Norrell.
Thanks for reading..

Lambung ombak

"Ku kayuh ke kanan, teroleng-oleng,

di biar diam, terambing-ambing.

Arusnya pusar, kocaknya tiada.

Gunung di dasar, puncaknya tiada."

"Laut mana, wahai nakhoda?"

"Bukan laut tetapi lubuk."

"Lubuk mana, begitu rupa?

  Dalam hingga terbenam puncak."

"Lubuk di dalam manusia, lubuk hati"

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