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Written on: Wednesday, October 22, 2008
once upon a time i considered changing the address of my blog. then a few hours ago i discovered tumblrTime: 9:06 PM (oh shit deja vu now, WHAT!?) (exclamation mark first THEN question mark. whole new meaning) tumblr looks promosing. amma gonna try it outta for awhile. then i'll see. and now, repulsive, narcissistic, you-wouldn't-wanna-hear observations about myself. i've indented the paragraph, so you know when to stop scrolling down LOL. i was running a fever for the past two days (probably cos of a consistent, unfailing dedication to a lack of sleep for the past few MONTHS). and i noticed the veins on my arms were thinner than usual. AND, that my limbs got numb very easily. ok now let's try... i'll put my arm up. OOH i feel it already. the second i put it up i feel the heat flowing away. and if i keep it there longer... ok it doesn't get that numb, but when i put it back down it feels loike SHOITE. (eh alamak someone's watching high school musical 2 outside, LOWER THE VOLUME LAH). AND i SWEAR my arms have shrunk, SHEEEEEEEEEEET. in fact i think i've shrunk as a whole, but i think i've gained some definition. wow maybe you've gotta fall sick to gain definition. but i'm guessing my strength consperm ZWEEOWCH. i panted after climbing FOUR. PATHETIC. FLOORS. up to my classroom this morning. ah ok... right now, it seems that everything's just not going the way i want. and is it me, or are a lot more people getting unbearably irritating? and why am i still sleepy... man i really REALLY need to catch up on sleep then. and by the way, i'm fine, in case you're getting concerned. these thoughts don't really bother me i guess. well maybe sometimes they do, but i guess i'm just not my problems' favourite person, get what i mean? they just... just... whoosh over my head sometimes. or maybe i've gotten so good at pretending everything's fine that i'm beginning to fool myself. hmm, interesting... and about fullstops: '.' to end a sentence. '..' looks like a typo '...' to leave a sentence hanging '....' that's just damn extra anything more than that is an acceptable and unique form of self expression HAH. i've got lotsa stuff to accomplish during the holidays and in the next year. no wait, we've all got stuff to do. i pray that Allah gives us the strength, discipline, ability and guidance, that we may succeed in what we set out to do. Ameen. ah yes, the story thing i wanted to write the other day. well i guess i can force it out now. Horatio (haha got this name from the Sims 2, only cos i had to watch Fauzan play as i ate. cos the tv is right smack terpampang in front of the dining table), a strapping young man of 20, had been abroad for awhile, in the dense jungles of Matura, studying their indigenous (did i use the word right? i'll look up the meaning later...) people. THey were rumoured to practice and ancient form of Jamar, a dark art commonly associated with the feared shamans of the West Sands. Horatio's expedition was only to the extend of photographing the people as they went about their seemingly mysterious lives, and to glean whatever he could about their practices. he was, in no way, accustomed to such magick, and had no intentions whatsoever in active participation. he was scheduled to return home on the 18th, after a long 4 months away from home. the following conversation takes place between him and his father, at the airport. Horatio: Pa! (runs to father and hugs his ass off) dad: SON! God, am i glad to see you. look at me. oh God, you've... grown! i can't believe it but you seem taller! and, wow! what a nice body you've got! you've been working out?! Horatio: (the excitement and joy in his eyes were starting to fade) No Pa, i guess its just their lifestyle. uh, listen, i've got a lot to tell you, but i'm really, REALLY tired now. could we go home first? dad: yes, yes, right away. in the car, horatio was silent; his eyes were closed throughout the journey, and although his chair was reclined, he did not look restful. the glow of an adventurer who has just returned from an enthralling adventure was missing from his face. in fact, if his father had observed closely, he would have noticed that his fists were clenched, while his breathing was unnaturally slow but irregular. when they got home, horatio did not hesitate to drag his father to the sofa where they both sat down, and he started blurting out his story. pa, i really have to tell you something very important. i'm not the person that left you four months ago. haha well of course not. i expected it from the start. my boy has grown up quickly, and i'm proud of him. 4 months is short, but look at you! (his father failed to sense the desperation in his voice) no its not like that! i'm... i'm not like normal people anymore. i dunno pa, i've changed! i haven't been able to sleep for the past nights yet i'm wide awake now! look at me! whoa, son. stop, take it easy. what do you mean? i... i dunno pa, they- i DON'T KNOW! (and as abruptly as he had started the conversation, he flared with anger as he roared at his shocked father. and as he stood, breathing hard, he seemed to loom over his father, who now seemed like a pathetic, frail man, looking up uncertainly at what he thought was his son.) i... i'm sorry. it-it- must be jet lag or some sort of- i dunno, i think i need to sleep. good night pa. (and with that he left his father alone in the living room, to ponder over the strangeness in his son's character. alas, there was no explanation he could come up with. who could?) and then, at 4 am in the morning, when the lights were out and everyone was asleep (horatio lived with his father and deaf younger sister who was 15 years old. she was asleep the whole night, for she was exhausted from her day at school), the silence was interrupted by a loud yell. it was unnerving to imagine that the voice of a healthy, fit young man, could carry such fear and unnatural bewilderment. PA! PA! PA I NEED YOU! his father, who was asleep in the room beside his own, was woken up. and even in his confusion he managed to stumble into his son's room. horatio? what's the matter! PA! PA FEEL MY CHEST! I HAVE NO HEARTBEAT! what?! wha-? PA JUST COME! (confused and afraid, his father stumbled forward to his son, and nervously placed a palm across his chest which was heaving.) and as soon as he had felt his son's chest, adrenalin started to surge through his body; there really was no heartbeat. he grabbed his son's arm and felt the area below the thumb... no pulse. the neck? no pulse. and he stood back and gaped, at his son who was alive despite not having any pulse. i..i i... (his father stammered, expectedly at a loss of words) and suddenly, out-of-place calmness. oh God... Pa... i'm so sorry. i- oh God... i forgot all about it... oh God, pa... it was this tonic i was given... yes some herbal tonic. its to mask the pulse so that the hunters are not easily spotted by the animals. they don't really use weapon so they need- sigh, i'm sorry pa, there's nothing to worry about, i- i guess i'm really tired and i forgot- sigh, sorry pa, i'm fine. good night, i'll see you in the morning. and his father just stood there, not knowing what to say, to think. and after awhile of trying to piece everything together, fatigue started to creep back in, and his mind told him to believe his son. everything was normal... and so he went back to bed. but in the darkness, he could not see the blackness in his son's eyes. that the white had almost completely disappeared. and that not once did he blink them. and later, again, at some odd hour of the night, the foundations of the house were shaken by a cry. it had the traces of a young male voice, yet it pierced the ear. and however vague it was, it seemed that there was more than one voice screaming. and the house shook, twice, as though shaken brutally by an invisible hand as big as itself. all the electronic appliances went on at the same time: lights, television, everything. then as suddenly as the cry had started, it was reduced to a low moaning. and this time, it could be heard; another voice, screaming out, again and again. the voice of someone who had stared Terror in the eye, whose very soul was threatening to be pulled away. God knows how, but the old man jumped out of his bed and ran right to his daughter's room, where the sounds were coming from. bless his soul, the poor old man was trembling when he saw what i am about to describe to you next. perched on the ceiling of his daughter's room was the most hideous thing he had seen. it had a pale, slimy body that resembled that of a person. except that it was more curved, and out of proportion: its feet were twice as long as that of an ordinary person, and its many fingers spread out like a large web across the ceiling. its hair was wet and hanging down from the pull of gravity, and its eyes... large, black orbs that hissed with evil and sadness. and below the eyes, its gaping mouth- and i'll continue the story tomorrow, my eyes are getting tired and i haven't exercised. its 10 o clock oh God time flies. |
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