Saturday, 8 May 2010

Paul Lau Chun-Man

9 years.

9 years is a lifetime for a 15-16-year-old. I have never thought- seriously about what life would be like when Paul left. I just somehow always assumed Paul would always be there, and I would always be there.

Now Paul's leaving us all behind to go build his dream. 10k by 10k, he outpaces us...

I'm happy for him, don't get me wrong. But at this moment, it doesn't feel like I could ever move on.

I was never happy with being second best. That's why I didn't keep with debating in year 7. If I could go back, I would willingly be second in everything if I could just be second after Paul. If I could follow Paul to his dream. But it's too late; I'm 5 years too late. I've learned this lesson about pride in the hardest way possible.

Monday, 19 April 2010

Please help defend P&E


http://pred-ed.com/

"A guide to publishers and writing services for serious writers!"
    "

About Preditors and Editors

Headquartered in Petersburg, Virginia, USA since July 1997, this resource is intended as a simple compendium for the serious writer, composer, game designer, or artist to consult for information, regardless of genre. Even readers will find Preditors & Editors useful in locating reading material. As well, the listings may be freely copied and distributed without charge. After all, our aim is to assist. 
"
Their request for help: 
"Unfortunately, there are those who do not like P&E or its editor because we give out information that they would prefer remain hidden from writers. Usually, they slink away, but not this time. P&E is being sued and we are asking for donations to mount a legal defense in court. Please click on the link below and give if you can to help protect P&E so it can continue to defend writers as it has for the past eleven years."


Thank you.


Sunday, 18 April 2010

…a cursory exploration of Halloween from Jack's point of view:

 A/N: Written for October 2009 issue of the school magazine, the "Piggybank", before the magazine failed spectacularly.

-----

I swim in black and muffled sensation…

Bump. Dull soreness. Dull, but being manhandled is never pleasant.

A grinding, likewise muffled, tugs around my crown. Releases. Biting air floods into me from the aperture.

Scrape. Dig.
Sharp gnawing, tugging. Pulling out my jewels.

A fiery flare bursts on my front. Then more grinding, more green tugging.

Wiggle-

-Light…

I can see the weedy creature withdrawing, and a hint of dark orange being chucked aside.

Song of forgetting

I hadn't seen her in six years. Six long years in which I had completed my degree, gotten a job, and gambled my inheritance away. Time had not changed her much besides magnifying her beauty ever the more; she was still the same lively, pure spirit. I could see as much even from a distance.

I remember her brilliant smile and bright eyes when we first met, which pulled me into an inescapable vortex. I remember her light voice and her laughter, her witty intellect and girlish innocence.

Nature's Call

The leaves rustle as the wind waves past.
The bees buzz busily.
The hawk screams far away,
The horses flick their tails in the meadows,
The swans inspire "the ugly duckling"...
The sheep bleat in tune as
The snakes hiss.
The grasshopper chirps.
The elephants trumpet somewhere in Africa,
While the foxes yelp, the chickens cluck, the cicadas sing, the...
Dinosaurs- wait, what?
and I...
pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh........................
Ah... relief...

0:52

Flash- black; boom, red.
Flash black boom red.
What?
But the coat flaps in the no-wind
and ride over the water,
white feathers diving downup...
but here are they pupils.

Matricide


Summary: Mankind's destruction of the Earth. This one-shot was shortlisted in the WIPS/Culture-HK imprint competition for November 2009.


Splash as I burst out, desperate. Light again. Light. Great heaving coughs- deep rasping gasps- great heaving coughs. Struggling. Hair plastered to my skull like a slimy cap, skin pasty. Drip… Splashdripdripdripdrip- Drip- A vice grabs my neck, forces my head down again-

Dunk! A blur. Flailing… but heavy, compressing. Loudly dull crashing. Thrashing, churning. Pressure in my head, pressure in my chest. Rising. RISING. Stabbing pressure. …Need air! Every instinct fighting. No, there’s no air. My mouth opens involuntarily, and frigid, filthy water rushes in. It fills me horribly, the chill crushing my lungs, my stomach.