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HELLO I WILL UPDATE THIS THING SOON (:
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Sunday, December 27, 2009
haha okay! a post about my church today, to flood over the few recent posts. heh.
So it was raining today! Quite heavy. Chaos over in church, cause keys couldn't be found and AV equipment was all over the place and there wasn't enough people who knew how to set it right going around.
Played pretty badly, but that's not the point. Hah.
Was raining today, like i said, so Ruth told me to save Joanne (sp?) from the bus stop. Heng ah, cause she was, wearing white, yaknow.
I just wish that the person holding my arm while under the tiny umbrella in the pouring rain was..
Well, you know who.
Yeah.
But it kinda reminded me of us, yaknow? I hope the next time, in such a rain, we would be the ones stuck with a hundred meters and a tiny umbrella, heh.
It'll be nice. (:
(Ohcrap, sounds like i'm stalking joanne or something. *hopes she doesn't read my blog* )
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EDIT
haha i just remembed something else!
So i was at the Children's service right? they were playing the Musical-Chairs-based game, yaknow, passing the ball in a circle, who had the ball when the music stopped would forfeit..?
I had the kids pass the ball to the tune of DJ ACE.
I feel so awesome.
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And i suddenly realised i may have nigerian long-dist runner genes in me. ._.
IT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING! The curly hair, the inability to get sunburnt, the skinny-no-matter-what frame.
Just doesn't explain why i start panting after running 30seconds.
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A lot of good movies now, but..
Sigh. Not much people to go with. Cause they either watch alr or don't want to watch.
Or maybe i'm just lazy to ask people heh.
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KAY GUYS, STORY TIME! DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO.
BUT EH.
IT'S JUST THE START OF THE STORY
SO WHOEVER LIKES WRITING, HERE'S A CHALLENGE. (:
CONTINUE AND FINISH MY STORY AND POST IT ON YOUR BLOG AND LET ME READ!
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It's the story i lost in China. Here's what was saved on the comp, around half the length of the one that was progressing. Basically, it's about three random characters and a plot, chosen independently of each other, and i tried to fix them together.
Here goes! Whoever's interested in the story can continue writing it, but i've given up on it. heh.
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SHORT DRABBLE!
Char 1: greedy, blind middle aged taxi driver (Alvin)
Char 2: a refugee who aspires to be an entertainer (siti)
Char 3: Rich tycoon wannabe actor. (dad!)
Plot: invention and subsequent theft of super super super pro ice cream recipe. (Deborah)
Chua, with a half-scowl, peered into the dim haze of the Hong Kong streets with his left eye. His right eye, made of glass, were bright and unfocused. The disease which had claimed his right eye had begun the unstoppable, excruciating path to the left. It would eventually stop at his brain.
Not like Chua was worried about dying. The disease was painful, incurable, and very very expensive. The ex-combat pilot had stepped down from a comfortable maisonette to an ageing three-room flat beside an industrial park. He had stepped down from fighter jets to a grungy yellow taxi. The boys over at his former base had gave him the half-smile and measured tones usually reserved for reasoning things with old or retarded people. Sorry, but that’s the way it is, huh? You can’t fly with your…condition.
And that was the end of his former life, and a start of a trickling stream of disability checks, never enough to get by on.
Trying not to think about that, trying not to think about the fact that his pay supported his wife and two children, trying not to think about anything, Chua horned and swore, like everybody else did on the congested, polluted Hong Kong freeways.
Just across a street, Chua was being watched by a woman in jeans and a slightly unwashed shirt. The woman carrying a large backpack stared at the middle aged man drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of the gaudy yellow taxi, and considered the possibilities of flirting a ride to where she would be safe.
“He looks like a dirty old man, all right...” Siti mumbled to herself.
But of course, it had complications. What if the man demanded money? She didn’t have anything on her except her backpack, which contained nothing but clothes, most dirty, and all soggy with the brackish Repluse Bay water. What happened if he brought her to the authorities? They would quickly find out that she had been dead in Malaysia for the past 18 months. Or rather, the person in her ID card who had bore a striking resemblance to her. Siti had managed to escape Azahadin’s terror camps, and subsequently Malaysia with her old friend’s passport, but the Hong Kong police were much more meticulous.
The small card with the scribbled Chinese address was her key to survival. Her fiancé Noor had mailed it to her from Hong Kong, just days before she was arrested for “political treason”. Hrmph. The letter that came with the card had been burnt, of course. Every letter from the resistance was dutifully read and burnt each time. Only the card remained, the address to the safe house in Hong Kong where money and a new identity had been prepared for her.
It was good thinking to bury that card under a brick around twenty meters from her house. The thugs came a few days later, and her house was a ripped-up mess by the time she returned, months later. Floorboards gone, walls broken, bed slashed, and the like. If the card was in the house, she and the hundred or so resistance fighters abroad would be dead by now.
Fighting these memories off, she gave herself a mental shake and weaved purposefully through the crawling traffic to the yellow vehicle, just another backpacking tourist entering a dingy yellow cab.
She slid in the front seat, something which surprised Chua. Backpacker, or people in general, do not sit at the front seats of a cab. People who did that were policemen or driving instructors. He studied her warily with his good eye, thankful that the right-hand drive of Hong Kong cars still allowed him to scrutinize his passengers with his left eye.
And then the pretty, brown-skinned woman placed a hand on his thigh and smiled.
“Take me to this place?” She spoke with hesitant, fumbling Chinese, but made up for it with a coy smile.
Chua glanced at the address, a fifteen-minute drive away. He would take a longer detour then. Forty minutes-or more, in the company of an exotic, beautiful girl, he thought with a smile. The day had already become better.
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A huge screen in an expansive room on the forty-seventh floor of a towering skyscraper was displaying real- time stock prices and property values to an empty sofa. The man who had been in it a minute ago was now in the adjoining room, speaking in rapid, baritone Cantonese on a telephone.
The man with the full-length glass-walled office on the forty-seventh floor of Teck Holdings was the founder and owner of this multibillion real-estate conglomerate. This genial and portly man, once a hawklike predator in the commercial world, was now a booming man with an almost legendary appetite for ice cream and fine wines.
Today, Teck Shing Wang was a mainstay in business gatherings, frequently flitting through crowds with a commanding ease. Despite seeming to spend more time in parties than in his office, he still managed to make enough to finance his steadily growing number of summer homes.
And today, Teck Shing Wang gave a wide smile as he hung up on the phone. He was happy for a variety of reasons, and not all financial. He buzzed the intercom through to his aide.
“Hey, I’m heading out for the rest of the day. Could you get my Volvo downstairs in ten minutes? The black one.”
“Of course, Mr Teck.”
“Oh. And make sure there’s my spoon on board.”
“… Yes, sir.” The aide replied and hung up, slightly puzzled. ‘Ah well, bosses,’ he thought, and got to work.
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Siti, surprisingly, was having a great time. She had tried to engage in conversation with the taxi driver, figuring that he’ll be more inclined to let her get off without paying if she chatted. Her clumsy Chinese was a real pain though, and she let slip an “Aww, fuck!” when the joke she was trying to say fell flat.
To which, ex-combat pilot who had spent his early years in the military monitoring American radio chatter piqued up, surprised, “You speak English?”
And that was a start of a proper conversation, thank God.
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DONE!
Yup guys, continue if you want. it'll be fun! Haha.
And if you read this far, just spend a little more time and tag! Tell me how it is. I personally think the story's too ambitious...
And just to add some colour to the post, here's some waterfall during my holiday! Not grand (not like the others i'll post next time) but a nice color and a lot of steps. (:
5:29 PM
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