Monologue

There were little jumps to her steps, as she skipped towards her husband after realizing she had been left behind. A few minutes before her eyes were glued to the item on display in the window of a shop in the enormously vacant shopping mall we had been circling the last two hour. Her eyes round and sure-shot at the thing, amazed, unsure, uncertain, unknowingly. As she turned to her husband wanting to ask for clarification, she turn terrified realizing he wasnt there, and then relieved as she saw him a few paces away.

There were little jumps to her steps as she skipped towards her husband after realizing she had been left behind. She grabbed his large arms and rested her cheeks gently on his arms. Smiling. And he, well he was just relishing the moment.

"What were you looking at?"

"That thing in the window....." her voice trailing uninterested with the conversation.

Interested only in the moment she is in. Sheer bliss. Her husband breath aloud, realizing the typicality of the situation. It was often that her thirst for an explanation were to be satisfied, and his well, left to be figured out like little puzzles. Which was fine with him. He loved puzzles. The little guesses and signals that most people miss, well he uses them like little pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Making the big picture clear to him way before anyone even has a clue. The husband, the big giant, walked slowly, not wanting to pace that extra step his wife might not be able to catch up to. She was in La-la land. It was him and it was always him. And now she had him entirely.

"Lunch?" he said smiling

"Awak nak makan aper?" she said

"Ntah, makan aper pun takper kot."

"Ok, jom."

"Jom pegi maner?"

"Makanlah, tadi kata nak makan."

"Yer lah tapi nak makan aper."

"Ntah, makan aper pun takper kot."

The husband face frowned as she repeated his exact words. She smiled almost laughing.

As they sat at the 1901 hotdog vendor she began telling him stories from work. On and on and on she went as he from time to time asked question to figure out more. As she was finished with her story, like always, she would ask:-

"paham tak, paham tak?"

Always, like he had a hard time understanding her. He laughed at the idea. She was treating him like he was 6 and he was fine with that. Her face frowned as she repeated:-

"Awak paham tak ni?"

"Yer paham sayang... adoiyai."

She smiled. Satisfied she got her husband to listen. After lunch they walked towards the cinema to catch their third movie of the day. Yes, third. Thats not a typo, it was their third movie of the day.

As she stood at the confection stand, he slid his hand to his mobile phone, 16 missed calls, he pressed on it to see the numbers that had call him, mostly unknown numbers, and some of his friends and his brother. He ignored it and turned of his phone, he has very little time with his wife and he wasnt going to spend it answering the phone.

They walked into the cinema, and as usual, without fail, somehow the husband turns into a, well for lack of better terms "kaunter pertanyaan".

Thus began the barrage of questions.

"why macam tu?"

"Kenapa orang baik tu buat macam tu? ke dia orang jahat?"

"Lepas ni apa jadi ek?" <---- her favorite question.

"Eeii kenapa the face like that?" frowning

On and on she went as he held her tight, answered every question while occasionally saying to her:-

"Saya rasa kita start tengok movie ni sama-sama kot, kalau awak taktau, saya pun taktau kot."

"Yer lah tapi awak kan pandai teka, awak selalu teka betul." She said insisting she was right.

When the movie ends. They walk towards the car as she stops to pay the parking ticket, and walks to car to pick her up. In the car, there was silence or the occasional "follow up questions" to the movie. Such as:-

"Tak paham la citer tu, kenapa pulak hero dia kena mati?"

"Why color kena pelik pelik macam tu, takleh bagi colorful ke?"

while he answered ranging from the literary details of the story to answers like:-

"Memang lah movie director tu memang macam awak suka benda colorful so citer hantu pun jadi colorful jugak." he said laughing.

As they got home. She changes, he changes. She has the long bath, he does his prayers, sit on his bed and picks up a comic book. As she changes and prays and cuddles right under his armpit.

"Eiii tak busuk ke?"

"Busuk, tapi saya suka hehehe."

He laughs, puts down the comic book and turns off the light. He turns to his wife, kisses her on the forehead and says:-

"I love you budak kecik"

she blinks a few times and says:-

"Does that mean i have to call you budak besar?"

"Hehe I love you too."

Then, with a deep breath, he falls asleep. Tomorrow though, he will be 300km away. And everything will seem like a dream. Sometimes though, he thinks to himself, he prefers it that way, so it will always remain perfect, like a dream.

Short Story Part 10 - The Beginning of Something New

I sat on the solid rock finally, sweaty and breathing hard. I lit a cigarette and opened the the can of drink I brought with me. I sitting at the end of a formation of rocks stretching out into the ocean which stopped half way as if the rocks were scared of being submerged. The warm wind caressed my face, touching me gently, as if singing a lullaby for me to sleep. I leaned back, rested my elbows on other rocks behind me. Looking out at the ocean. Clear, beautiful, so far ahead of me that in the horizon i saw the sky and the ocean finally becoming one.

It had been 3 weeks now since I quit my job, and came to work here. This shabby-old-family-run chalet with 4 rooms. It appealed to me. It wasnt what I have come to be familiar with. Corporate greed has a tendency to overlook homeliness. I took another sip from my drink. From the corner of my eye, I realized someone was walking towards me. I turned left to get a better view. Then I saw him. Tall, esteemed, proud, Hamdan. I smiled as I saw him walk towards me. Hand in his pocket, sandals, black spectacles, long cargo pants and white collared shirt. I smiled again this time ironically. It was funny for me to look at Hamdan, the corporate boss, conforming to the cliche of how a tourist on vacation was supposed to look.

He sat beside me as I turned my attention back to the sea.

"You're a difficult person to find..." he said with his voice trailing.

"You were supposed to give up.." I replied and sipped my drink.

"You werent THAT difficult to find.." he said pulling out a box of cigarettes from his pocket.

The waves crashed gently on the rocks in front of us, just enough to cool the warm rocks but not strong enough to get us. I gazed ahead, focused on the horizon.

"How long do you plan to stay here?" He finally asked.

"What makes you think I have a plan?"

"If you dont, we might need someone to take over your job for awhile."

"I quit remember? Im sure they already have someone else working on it."

"We've had some who have tried, none have done it as well as you have."

I remained quiet. The silence was scary. My head flashed back to the moment when it all happened. The phone call, the rushing to the 23rd floor. The gasping look on my bosses face. Hamdan beside me head held high, but you could see it in his face, his ego had been scratched. The screaming, paper thrown in our faces. We had lost, information was leaked and before we could start with damage control, we were to be reprimanded. From the corner of my eye, I saw the highlighted figures that wrote "ESTIMATED LOST 1.2Billion"

Thus began the longest 4 months of our lives. Me and Hamdan. Everyday working to control the damage which had been done. Slowly gaining public support again and finally after 4 months of longer than usual office hours, sleeping in the office, eating take out food, having a pair of clean clothes in the office for tomorrow, heads resting on piles and piles of reports after report after report. We succeeded. We had regained the trust of the company. Not only were we able to avoid the 1.2 Billion lost, we had actually generated half a million in profit. After that, we both came here.

This very same place we are sitting at now. Only at that time, once we got back to the office, Hamdan was promoted and I rejected my promotion and quit my job.

"I never thought, of all the places, youd come here." He said after awhile

"It was fun the last time we were here."

"Yeah but we never worked here before."

"Haha its even more fun when you do you know." I said to him laughing out loud.

He laughed with me and then stopped.

"You're really not coming back?"

"Nope" I quipped with a smile.

"Not yet at least..." I suddenly said as my smile faded.

"Youre wasting your time here Huzir... I dont mean to demean what youre doing but youre wasting your life. Do you know how many people would give their right arm to do what we do? How many people would die to have your abilities? And youre wasting it all on this?" His voice firm with disappointment.

I let the question sink in as i thought of an answer.

"You have the gift of process. Where others see objective you see the way to get there. The best way to get there. But here.... youre going nowhere." he said, disgust was evident in his voice.

"Whats bothering you Hamdan?" I finally said, he remained quiet.

"Is it the fact that Im throwing all my life away, or is there something else?" Hamdan looked in the other direction, turning his face away from my view.

"Some people spend their whole lives being able to live their lives in a way that theyre not truly happy. Its not because they want to, they just lack the courage to take a chance to be happy. Family, friendship, competition, its been so much a part of our lives, that we're afraid of what might happen if we lost all of it. If you lost all of it."

His face remained static, in silence he cried, tears streaming down his face, trying hard to suppress the sounds.

"I think you know as much as I do.... that we belong here..."

I looked at the horizon again, as I saw from the corner of my eye Hamdan wiping the tears of my face. As the sun began sinking into the water, putting the fire out, I stood up and walked with Hamdan back to the chalet. Thats when I realize he was gonna stay, and this was the beginning of something new.

Short Story Part 9

It was 9 o'clock as I sat in the conference room alone. Fidgety, I looked at my watch. 15 minutes late. I stood up walked out of the balcony. The 15th floor meeting room with a balcony. I don't know whose idea that was, but i think it was genius. I pulled out the box of cigarette from my coat pocket and placed the tip on my lips. A lot has happened in the last few weeks. I left. Lost friends. Lost enemies. I placed my elbows on the rails. Gently huffing smoke into the winds and watch it get blown away and slowly dissipating to nothingness.

"Hello sir, may I ask what youre doing here?"

I turned around to see a young man pushing his head between the doors. He was well built, fair, he looked younger than I was. There was a sense of brilliance in his eyes coupled with a bit of naivety. I threw the cigarette butt on the floor and stepped on it to make sure the fire was out.

"Im suppose to be sitting in on a development meeting. Scheduled at 9." I said as my voice trailed indicating the fact that I don't know why at 9.30 the meeting have yet to start.

"Oh you must be Huzir then." He said smiling stepping out to the balcony with me. He extended his right hand. He had a sixth finger on his right thumb. Dominant character. I remembered i read that somewhere. His handshake firm, radiating strength and personality.

"I'm Hassdy. Creative manager and marketing team leader." He said asserting authority. I smiled.

"Huzir, newbie." I said as I smiled cynically. He laughed. He took out his cigarettes and offered me one. I shook my head. Wasn't my brand. I took out my own cigarette and lit up another one.

"So where else did you work before this?" He asked out of the blue. I finished my huff and answered him.

"A few places, editorials, marketing, writing, social services." I said as nonchalantly as possible.

"Thats quite a lot of places to be working at 26."

He knew how old I was. He knew who I was. In that instant I saw flashes of him reading my profile, my CV. I smiled. Brushed away the fact that my privacy had been breached and that it annoyed me immensely.

"You plan on working here long?" he continued his interrogation.

"As long as I am needed I guess." I answered again uninterested.

Just then a young chinese girl opened the balcony door.

"The meetings about to start." Said the 23 year old Jessica. I smiled and threw my cigarette away and walked into the conference room as Hassdy followed suit. I sat at the place I had left my day planner.

"Welcome to the first Paint development meeting." Said Shamsul, the 43 year old Human Resource officer that head-hunted me.

"As you all know realizing the rapid growth the company has gone through over the duration of the first two years, we are looking to expand the the brand of Paint. The management has agreed that in order to that we will need to bring in new blood to inject some new fresh out of the box ideas." I heard Hassdy scoff at the statement. I detected a bit of arrogance. Then I saw him.

Across the table from me. A tall dark young man around my age. Quietly sitting down, his eyes lacked emotion. his long dark hair covering a small portion of his face. I analyzed his face. His body language. his hand movements and he sat leaning forward, elbows rested firmly on the table to indicate a strong interest. Then he looked at me. Our eyes met for the first time. I felt a connection. In my head the room went dark with no one else but me and him. He averted his eyes from our little staring competition and placed his attention on Mr. Shamsul.

"This is Hamdan. A new recruit highly talented and winner of the Paint Apprentice grant last year. Everyone knows Huzir, prodigal writer and head of the Persona Think Tank for the past 3 years. And everyone else, is well everyone else. Dont worry you two, you'll get to know all of them soon enough."

It wasnt a meeting. At least I wouldnt have called it one. A meeting for me is where you find solutions or ideas to implement. This was an ice-breaking. A way to announce Hamdan and I were now part of this group. This Development group. As everyone began leaving, I saw Hamdan slowly getting out of his chair and moved towards the door.

"Im looking forward to working with you Huzir..." he gently said

"Yeah me too..." I replied.

He resonated, he shone, he was different. Somehow, I thought to myself, that I was going to enjoy working with him. As I was thinking to myself, Hassdy came and patted me on the back.

"Good job for your first meet." It sounded like fake encouragement, but to me he was insignificant, I felt the fact that he was going to be an annoyance, but right now, for me, he's just not important enough. Right now, I'm more interested in Hamdan.

Short Story Part 8

I walked towards the door exiting the old construct. Passing on my left and write those old school tables made from wood. There are no metal tables with a plastic surface here. There are no plastics chairs. Every chair is made of wood. Most have been fixed using available extra wood taken from "unrestorable" chairs. I walked towards the blue painted door equipped with old shackles and locks. The smell of old wood, filling the air in the room. I like it, it makes me feel nostalgic. It makes me see in black and white or at least agfa gray. Reminds me of the smell of home. I turned myself facing the structure, locking the door behind me.

"Cikgu Huzir!" a small soft voice said from behind me.

I turned around to see Aishah standing in front of the gate with an old man. In her hand was a container wrapped in red plastic. While the old man was holding on his old bicycle. The old man, looked weary, not tired. It looks like he's been tired for quite some time now. But still, he smiled. With the white kopiah on top of his head, faded long pants folded up to just under the knees and slippers on his feet. Somehow, his hands caught my attention. Tanned hands with veins and bones of his knuckle obvious.

His hands somehow radiated in strength, silent strength. His face was clean, clear, dark skinned and yet he shone like the sun. Aishah ran towards me held my hand and pulled me towards the direction of the old man. As soon as we got closer, she stopped me and stood facing me close to the old men.

"Cikgu, ni mak bagi, lauk makan malam ni... eh silap, teacher this food my mother want to let go to you." Aishah said uncertain. In her eyes I saw the words i uttered in class. "Nak belajar Bahasa Inggeris kena guna selalu."

Moved by her, i reached down for the container, placed it on the fence together with my bag and lifted her up.

"That my student!" I said while making an excited face. To show her that what she is trying to do is a positive thing. She smiled. Broad, beautiful but most of all innocent.

"Ni saper?" i said to Aishah.

"Ni abah!" she said whispering into my ear.

I placed Aishah on the ground and shook the hand of the father of one of my brightest student. He smiled. He turned to Aishah and said;-

"Sha tolong tolakkan basikal abah ni pegi tepi pagar tu." Aishah nodded and pushed the bicycle to the edge of the fence around 10 meters away.

His father quickly turned his attention to me and pulled me close.

"Cikgu, saya nak minta maaf cikgu, saya takder duit nak bagi cikgu untuk kelas tambahan yang cikgu buat untuk anak saya ni. Boleh tak cikgu tunggu sebulan dua lagi, sekarang musim hujan, menoreh pagi, getah rosak, menoreh petang, getah rosak. Saya minta maaf sangat-sangat."

Teachers nowadays are often mistreated. I too have over time, encountered some really nasty parents. But here was a man, twice my age, asking me to forgive him. I looked into his eyes and saw in them remorse, regret, guilt and it killed me. It twisted my stomach, and crushed my heart. This old man who has seen so many things in life, would stop ask for forgiveness from a young man who was young enough to be his son. What was even worst was the more i thought about it, the more it killed me.

"Macam ni lah pakcik, takkan lah saya nak keje percuma je kan? Saya pun nak hidup jugak, so kita tukar lah..." i paused. I saw worry in his eyes.

"Kita kira lauk ni lah sebagai pembayaran saya. Sebulan satu lauk boleh pakcik?" I said.

The strength in his eyes grew weaker as I saw the tears begin flooding his senses.

"Dan kalau pakcik tak kisah, pakcik benarkan saya salam cium tangan setiap kali saya jumpa pakcik." I held out my hand to grab his and bend over to kiss his hands.

As he slowly lifted his right hand and placed it on my head and rubbed my hair. I lifted my head to look at him. "Terima kasih cikgu." he said, his voice shivering.

"Sama-sama pakcik!" I said as I watch him walk away slowly, towards Aishah.

Aishah hopped on the bicycle turned towards me and screamed. "Bye Teacher! I lob you!"

"I love you too!" I said smiling.

An in a minute, they were gone around the corner.

Living in KL people have told me that more often than not, you will have to earn your respect. You cannot demand it. Tapi di kampung, orang berbudi kita berbahasa. Biarpun cuma lauk sebagai bayarannya.

Short Story Part 7

Picture by Sqaull17 from deviantart

It was cold. The breeze flowing into the moving car right after the rain had stopped was cold. I preferred it like that actually. I prefer to drive with the windows down at night, or after the rain. So since it was 830pm and the rained had stopped an hour ago. I drove home. In the best condition. The wind in my face, messing up the right side of my hair. But I didnt care. This was the best part of my day. I looked again at the clock. Slowing my car down. I didnt want it to end. I wanted to drive for as long as I could.

Then my phone rang, waking me from my imaginary flying abilities.

"I cordially invite you to our wedding on the 5th of March 2011 at..... Hanafee and Sabrina." The main details of the text message. My eyes widened. Surprised. I havent talked to him in a very long time. Suddenly, out of the blue he tells me he's getting married? Crap!

I rushed home. Questions after questions after questions in my head. He didnt seem like the one who would want to get married so soon in life. I mean come on, we're only 26. Hanafee was not a close friend of mine. But we shared a lot of common ground. The weirdest of all was that we were both born on the same day. 17th of January 1985.

I got home, rushed into my room, ignoring my housemates in the living room, saying only "hey!" as i walked in. I got into my room, windows opened, wind rushing to the door, like cats trying to get out of a house because its been trapped all day. I put my bag down and took out my phone and dialed Hanafee's number.

"Hello, assalamualaikum. Fee?" I said

"Waalaikumsalam. Wei Zir, hahahahha."

"Dude, what happened?" I asked making it sound like something bad had happened.

"Why? what happened?" he said panicking a bit.

"Youre getting married?"

"Stop making it sound like its a bad thing hahaha."

"Hahaha well it is a bad thing, for her!" Hit! right in the forehead.

"Funny.." he stopped laughing and used his sarcastic voice.

"So whens the ceremony?"

"read the text you lazy twat!"

"Hahaha... so tell me... you still working there?"

"Yeah... But i might be moving soon. I dont want to jump into it, but I think I cant keep up the long distance relationship with Sabrina. I mean when we were dating it was fine. But shes going to be my wife and I want to be closer to her.... and at a more constant rate." Hanafee went on explaining things to me.

"So youre quitting huh? Im quitting my job too, just havent found a place to get work yet." I paused.

"I thought you like working there." I said to Hanafee.

"Yeah I do, that place is awesome."

"So you okay leaving?" I said wanting to know his answer, as i was having the same problem leaving my workstation. Hanafee had always spoken fondly of the weird ensemble of people working at his company. He had grown attached to them and it was weird for me to hear him quitting. To be honest I never saw it.

"what good enough reason do you have to leave?" i continued my question.

He took a deep breath, i could sense he had given this matter a lot of thought, or maybe he was just tired of answering the same question over and over again. Im sure someones asked him before I did. Then he said:-

"There are a lot of good reasons for me to keep working here, for me to stay here. But Sabrina, my future wife, is a better reason to leave. She alone is a better reason compared to all the good reasons to stay my friend."

At that moment, I was convinced. I was convinced he knew what he had to do and he was going to do it. I envied him. Mostly because I wasnt so sure of what to do next. We chatted for almost an hour until I told him I just got home and I needed some rest. He hung up. And i sat on my bed. The lights were off, the fan circling gently on top of my head and the breeze blowing in through the window. I closed my eyes as i allowed myself to bathe in the breeze for awhile. Somehow, I fell asleep. So deep was my sleep that night, I had no dreams. Just a large dark space and Im just falling with the wind as a bed. Tonight, ill sleep, Ill handle my mistakes tomorrow. Ill have regrets tomorrow. Ill have a bad day tomorrow. But tonight, Ill just sleep.

Short Story Part 6

picture from fakelvis at flickr

"Have a seat Huzir.... Its been awhile since I've talked to you." Said the old man behind the desk. I sat down, smiling, a bitter smile, but still, a smile.

"I've been hearing some rumors about you." He said calmly.

"Yeah well... Its bound to happen here.." I said sarcastically. He shot me a look and a smile.

He was smart, above all else experienced. The 68-year old mentor. My Mentor. When I first came to the company, our first meet and greet, he sat across the table from me as I remained glued to Obama's inaugural speech. As he sat down and said:-

"Oh he won!. The Republicans messed up." as he began to relax a bit on the sofa.

"Well written!" I declared as Obama finished his speech. He turned to me confused. Me grinning like a kid who was just handed a piece of candy turned to him and wiped my smile off as I saw his face.

"What did you say?" He asked

"err... well written?" I hesitated.

"What were you referring to?"

"Obama's speech.... I'm a fan of writing. Particularly speeches and novels, journals are fun too, fiction, non fiction, science fiction, classics, poems, haikus...." As I realized that I was rambling.

I shut up. Too much info for a stranger I assumed. The old man smiled. Warm, fuzzy, father like. I returned his smile.

"How old are you?" he asked

"I'm 24."

"Hahaha that is a very weird hobby for a 24 year old." He said laughing. His whole body shaking like a medium sized Santa.

"I have been told that many times, though I see no real reason for it though."

"What do you mean?" he asked barely stopped smiling.

"I mean, history is almost always written from a broad perspective, which is good, because it allows people to remain unbiased, but sometimes, looking at events through a smaller perspective can change how we look at times. Obama's speech for example, when I listened to it, I am transported to other speeches by Jefferson and Washington who spoke with the same eloquence about freedom, hope, dreams. The view of one person, which later became the ideals of an entire generation."

"Prof. We are ready for you." I was cut off.

Thats when I realized. He was the main man. The person heading the research committee which I was appointed to due to my experience in researching.

He turned to Mr Zarul. Head of Academic and Research Office.

"Looks like we have a talented one here." He said smiling and nodding towards me, indicating to Mr. Zarul he was referring to me.

That was it. That was how I met him. The man who would later take me under his wing, mentor me.

***************************************************

"Is it true?" He said, and yanked me out of the reminiscing.

"I dont know yet."

"Huzir, you have been in this company for quite some time now. It would be a waste to see your hard work be left behind. Starting over takes effort my young friend."

My young friend. Thats what he called me. Never son, never boy but my young friend. It made me feel positively different. He had that effect on me. I was young, bundled with pride of kings, energy of the sun, strength of an ox. But with him, with his intelligence, with his words, my pride was reduced, my sun became moonlike, and my strength remain strong only not as wild.

"I cant stay here anymore. I've lost the fire. What had happened, only happened, because i cracked under pressure. Everyone was so eager to see me fail, it came to a point, that I would gladly give them what they want. Me failing." I said as calmly as possible.

He looked into my eyes as silence ensued for the next few minutes.

"When are you quitting?" He finally asked.

"I dont know for sure yet. All i know is that I'm currently looking for a job."

He looked down. I was devastated. This old man, had taken me in, fatherless and motherless me and taught me everything I know. This man who i had looked up to, respected, admired and dare i say loved. I was devastated, because I was disappointing him.

I stood up and waited for him to stop me. He didnt, which meant, he was done. I walked towards the door and opened it. As i turned around and saw him with his face in his hand while the other hand was holding his glasses. For a moment, just for a moment, I felt the urge to walk towards him and hug him and say "thank you... in a life which i have spent a majority of it without a father, you are the closest thing I found, thank you for everything."

But I didnt, I closed the door behind me, and I walked away.

Short Story Part 5

"What are you still doing here?" a voice asked.

I looked up from my desk, a bit startled but too focused on what I was doing to be bothered too much.

"I need to finish these reports before I go back or else I'm gonna be dreaming about boss chasing me with a file or folder.." I said jokingly.

"Yeah well, make sure you lock up before you go okay?" Fairuz, the technician reminded me.

I watched him walkaway, opened the main door and kept my eyes glued to the door closing behind him. I moved my focus to the computer screen. Pages of pages of pages of words. Words which over time had lost a lot of its meaning. Argh!! This thoughts are what usually distracts me. I pinched my cheek a bit. "Snap out of it bud!" I said to myself. I began typing again, slowly gaining speed.

"Kau ada dengar cerita tak?" i heard someone say, a bit surprised. I thought I was alone in the office.

"Citer aper?"

"Aku dengar Huzir nak berhenti keje. Nak pindah katanya."

"Ehh ko biar betul, dia bukan boss's pet ke. Takkan dia nak blah, mana boleh survive dunia lain yang dia takleh nak jadik kaki bodek boss."

"Aku dengar citer, aku pun taktau betul ke tidak. Ntah-ntah sajer nak mintak naikkan gaji."

"Keje malas, gaji nak besar, tak paham betul lah aku."

I remained calm. Surprisingly. Ive realized though over the years, if there is anything about me that has changed is that I am more composed and relaxed nowadays. I don't jump up and panic every time I feel something needs to be rectified. I tried ignoring the words mentioned out of a culturally narrow person. There was no relevance nor necessity to talk about me. Huzir is quitting. Huzir is asking for this and that with this on top of that. There are moment though these situation becomes, unbearable. As you know these people surrounding you are without a moment of hesitance passing judgement on you. I removed my hands from the keyboards. Put my right hand on top of my left hand and landed my forehead on the back of my hand.

I am tired. Ive been tired for quite some time now. I realize that in my movement and my mood. Im not always in a good mood. No one is actually, but i was getting cranky. I closed my eyes as the images of all the things that could calm me flashed in my head like a bad movie. Beaches, My wife, my three year old son. Then the phone rang. Startled i answered my phone.

"Hello."

"Assalamualaikum Zir.."

"Waaalaikumsalam Zal... whats up?"

"Khairul.... Khairul just passed away...."

It struck. Like lightning. Straight to the heart. I took some time.

"What happened?"

"Apparently, he and Rose was driving back when a lorry miscalculated its turn..."

"Is Rose okay?" I asked understanding the ending of the story.

"She's in ICU, the doctors are saying she has a good chance of surviving, but nothings for sure yet."

I took a deep breath as I thought of the appropriate response.

"SMS me the hospital address, Ill get there soon." and i hung up.

I laid my face in my hands, as tears began streaming down my cheek.

I am afraid of dying. But not because Im afraid to die. I am afraid of dying because of the people Im gonna leave behind. Im afraid for their sake. Im afraid of who will take care of them. More than dying, Im afraid of living my life unfulfilled. I guess death gives a new perspective for the living. I guess death is a reminder of how to live your life.

Perdition

"And He Gripped me Tight and Raised Me From Perdition"

I woke up and watched the rotating fan on the ceiling. Like any other day, my eyes was blinded in the beginning by the ray of sunlight beaming through the open space of my curtains. Already I can hear the outside bustling world of cars and motorbikes and trains and trams. I blinked a few times. Sat up on the side of my bed, and then faced the ray of light straight in the eye. I wondered for a second, if today, I would see Him again. Like that night. The night He gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.

Perdition means hell. Perdition means eternal damnation. Forever tortured for the days spent in a way-ward manner. But there are many hells. There is the hell we've all grown up learning about. And then theres our own kind of hell. Our own brand of hell. The hell we put ourselves through due to guilt.

And I Left A Mark Burning Red On Your Right Shoulder As Images of Demons Chasing After You Shivered Your very Own Humanity.

The cold water was running down my whole body as I felt the five fingers on my right shoulder. I turned the warm water off and stood in front of the mirror. I moved my body to the side taking a long look at the hand print on my right shoulder. Red, Burning, as if to indicate how tightly He had gripped me. To raise me from the demons, to raise me from perdition.

It did to an extent.... shivered my humanity.

Earlier, I had looked at the stars. Why me? Why do I deserve to saved?

"You do not believe you deserve to be saved?"

No.... I dont think I deserve any of this....

"It is a terrible feeling... to feel like you do not deserve grace... why do you shoulder this burden? Why do you allow yourself to be crushed under the weight of the world?"

Because... I know no other way..

"You are loved my son.... If you are kept here... it is because there is task you must finish..."

--tears welled up--

What if Im not strong enough?

"Have faith my son... I did not make you weak..."

Months after that.... I walk the same path he had lain before me before perdition. Before Hell, torment and torture. Only now... I know... I am stronger. Because I have faith.. there fore.. I am stronger.

The End

Tension

Bilamana kau tengah bersemangat mahu update blog di bilik sendiri dan tetiba wireless slow nak mampus kau akan rasa macam watdehel or watdefak?? Hish

Lalu kau pun pergi ke bilik adik lelaki di sebelah bilik kau dan bertanya "Angah dapat internet?" dan dia kata "Dapat, laju jek" dan kau mula merasa macam apekes ni??? Padahal bilik kau berada di tengah dan kenapa bilik adik kau yang berada di belakang pulak dapat signal dengan jelas??

Lalu kau pun berkata kepada abah kau "Why bilik akak tak dapat internet ni??" yang mana
abah kau menjawab dengan selambe "Angah dapat tu" seperti memandang kes kau tidak serius.

Lalu dengan muka toya kau pun pergi ke komputer di ruang tamu sebab kau tahu kat ruang tamu guna P1wimax dan ia tersangatlah laju ketika bersignal hijau dan ketika kau sedang asyik berblogging tetiba abah kau datang dan berkata "Hey, pergi guna laptop sendiri"

Lalu kau menjadi emo tidak tentu hala dan bangun dengan muka ketat merajuk hanya kerana bilik kau tidak dapat internet. Arrghhhhh~!!!!!

p/s: Entri ini ditulis menggunakan komputer di ruang tamu kerana pada ketika ini abah masih sedang tidur jadi dia tak guna komputer wahahaha.

In God we trust, In Humanity we believe

I dont remember whether Ive ever post this story before, but I hope people enjoy it. I heard this story somewhere, its not mine, but since i dont remember where I read it, Im gonna re-tell it likes it mine. Again I repeat, this is not my story ok?

If you live in Kuala Lumpur, you are bound to have a split personality. In one hand, you are that mild-mannered, smiling, cheerful person that everyone loves at the office. The other is the horn honking, cursing, angry car driver stuck in a traffic jam after office hours. My dad used to say that people in KL become "samsengs" when they drive but are decent human beings if they dont have a car in KL.

Working in KL I have witnessed this "transformation". I have seen office mates turning into road devils screaming down the highway and Ive seen total strangers arguing from the window of their car. Then one day, something happened. It is a well undocumented rule that if you're crossing the road while the lights are turning green, youre bound to get a honking and an earful of curses. So one day while being the first car in front of a traffic light. Watching a blind man slowly walk across the road, i thought to myself "Uh-oh he's gonna get some.." As the lights turned green the man was still in the middle of the road and all the honking got him disoriented. he was now right in the middle of the junction halting traffic from all directions and then suddenly, as if an angel had blew into the hearts of many, a revelation, everyone went quiet.

All eyes fixed on the blind man, struggling to find his way to the other side. The honking had stopped, the cursing had stopped. It was so quiet. It was so quiet that you fear, that kind of quiet might be forever, and it scared you. Then suddenly a voice shouted.

"Pakcik, Jangan jalan, and paling kanan" He did as he was told.
"Ok Pakcik Jalan straight dalam sepuluh tapak..." A female voice this time.
"Hati hati pakcik, ada lubang tengah jalan tu.. jaga jatuh..." another said
"Sikit lagi pakcik, nak sampai dah tu.." yet another voice
"tebing tu tinggi skit pakcik, hati-hati.." and the final voice.

The Pakcik got to the other side of the road safely and the line moved.

We are living today in a society that has no moral absolutes. Everyday is colored by a gray area. Good and bad are almost always the same. And even when there are morale absolutes, these black and white days almost always come with a body count. But that day, it was white. Everyone i think that day went home from that little event feeling that in all the hustle and bustle of city life, sometimes, more often than not, humanity will triumph, chivalry will triumph. If we only stopped and consider the situations, we'll probably be more inclined to do good, then to look away.

Short Story Pt. 4

I looked around waiting for sumone who was suppose to meet me like half an hour ago. Getting anxious, the movies starting in 15 minutes and i dont see him anywhere. I turned to my phone wanting to see if there were any messages. Nada, Zip, Zilch nothing... Then suddenly out of the blue i heard the voice

"Zir?? Huzir???" I looked up to see a familiar face.
"Ain???" i said unsure.
"Yeah!!!! oh my god I have not seen you in ages!!" she said excited.
"Yeah, its been years ago right?" I said recalling a faint memory.
"Yeah, you look good.." She said as she ran her hands down my arm.

The moment she touched the skin of my hand. There was an awkward silence. Words after words from her letter screaming in incoherently making sentences that did not make sense. Like a puzzle finally being done, I remembered the words.

"Its not that I dont love you or i never loved you... its just that i love him more..."

All the warmth that we shared suddenly is reminded from a touch together with all the sorrow and the deaths of everything. I looked at her as she looked at me through those aging eyes behind a sophisticated frame-less glasses. She sensed the awkwardness that ensued our exciting re-union. Then she said -

"evidently not long enough..."

Over the years I had composed lines and lines of words as weapons when i finally see her, over the years, those lines were erased and substituted by other sentences. Words of love and care. Just then i heard a voice behind me.

"Dad? Im sorry im late. there was a long line at the barber."
"Huzaifah, come here boy, there's someone i want you to meet." I said to the spiky haired 18 year-old
"This is aunty Ain, she was a good friend of mine in college..."
"Its nice to meet you aunty.... dad we're gonna be late, ill run for the popcorn ok? Its in cinema 3 ok?" He said rushing of like he was six to play with his friends.

"thats your son?" she said
"Yeah... Huzaifah...."
"He looks like you..." I turned and smiled....
"I should go now... it was nice seeing you..."
" it was nice seeing you too..." she said as i walked towards the boy of my life, as he ushered me to walk faster. My son. And i left her there, and in no circumstances, i made it clear, that if we were to meet, it will be purely coincidental.

"So how did you know aunty Ain?" My son asked as we were seating down.
"He married your uncle Khairul...."


THE END

Short Story Part 3

The James Morrison "You Make it Real" music played on my desktop, as i watch closely at the lyrics and their meaning. The symbolism and the metaphors. Slowly i closed my eyes wishing i could finish the article that i never thought id write. The covers on my bed were ruffled as i stood at the window looking across the edge of the window over looking the lake. For a moment i stood static relishing the beauty the of the freshly cleaned air distilled by the rain.

I leaned forward against my window with my elbows on the window sill, my cigarette in one hand seems to still retain its taste. For some, it offers that security that no matter what happens, it will never change. The bitter taste will always be there, seclusion and solitude of not sharing something that taste so vivid and alive with anyone. Your own personal cigarette. I glanced over my shoulder looking at my bed again, so enticed to continue that dream i was having. I exhaled disappointed with myself. Letting myself down again for the umpteenth time.

I looked again towards the laying lake in front of me focusing the pleasant serene holy passion of a real view in front of. The sound of piano music wakes me from my serene view as i realized that my handphone was ringing.

"Hello, Huzir speaking..." I said, sundays arent really good days for me.
"Zir, this is me....." A trailing shivering voice, familiar. But not familiar enough for me to recognize.
"Who is this again?" I asked trying to be polite, not wanting to offend.
"Its me... Faizal..."
"Zal... oh my god its been ages since i heard from you..." Happy for a moment...
"Zir... we'll catch up later... i need your help... Im in trouble... big trouble.." I sway away from my estaticness for a moment to realize it was panic in his voice.

I hung up the phone and quickly ran out the house picking up my car keys on the living room table and rushed to my car. I got into my car with these visions in my head of the kinds of problems he might be facing.... My head wandered to the past.

Sitting together by the beach with a fire behind us, and two of our closest friends sleeping in the back on the mat in open air. Sipping the bottled drinks in our hands gently listening to the waves crushing against the beach. Under the moon lit beach we both sat looking out into the ocean. We were 17, it was a trip we didnt plan, eating whatever we could find and staying away from home for the next 5 days. I sat there cigarette in hand with my bottle half buried in sand. He lit up a cigarette.

"You know sometimes when i think about the four of us...." He said suddenly as i turned to listen.
"Sometimes i get scared, i get scared that one day, we might never be like this anymore, we might forget just how much we mean to each other. We might stop remembering the bloods we've spilled to protect each other, the tears we've cried for each other... the stories we stop telling people because we get old and forget... forgettting us...."
"Thats never gonna happen... you know that..." I said trying to sound sure. But in truth, i wasnt.
"How do you know?" He said huffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth.
"Coz we're too stupid to live by ourselves. We're gonna always need each other. I mean look at those idiots sleeping, i mean come on. If your gonna sleep in public in open space the least you could do is not show the world what you've got hiding in your pants" I said jokingly as we both turned and laughed at Farid's erection.

We stopped and kept smoking.

"Zir... I want you to remember something... No matter what happens... no matter how long we lose contact from each other... i want you to know that you can find me anytime... if you need my help.... you my brother... youre not just a friend... youre my brother...."

I looked at him smiled and nodded. Faizal was that kind of friend. The older brother you went to for advice. He might not have had his life together but he gave good advice and all three of us looked up to him.

"Zal... no matter how far apart we grow from each other.... i will always be this guy you had a drink and a cig with... i will always be you friend...."

It has been 5 years since i heard from him and i still remembered that promise. The promise we made again the next day after the other two idiots were awake. We took an oath at dawn to the moon and the sun that nothing would ever broke part our friendship. Im honoring it now.

You forget that often at times you are tested by the terms and rules and conditions the world and fate has set for you. But somehow, that night on that beach, the morning we all promised, we all wanted it. We all wanted to tied by the burden of an oath so true that we live it today. That we would drop everything else we were doing just because they asked us to. Just because we knew we had to. Just because we knew we wanted to. Just because we promised to do so.

This is when all that happened in the past mattered, the stories, the drinks, the laughs, the over-running feel of familiarity. Today though, together embroidered with those feelings were nerves, fear and wonder. Will we all be the same when we finally meet? Will we all be able to look at each other, and still remember that a not so long time ago, we could have died for each other. That not so long ago, we defied others so we could be, Ourselves. Forever the lords of our own fate, and the fate of three others we so solemly promised.

Short Story Part 2

The cold breeze woke me from my deep sleep. Realizing I was still on the bus without any idea where i was. Since I had no idea where i was, i decided to fall back to sleep. Then suddenly i was overwhelmed by a strong scent. I tried hard to figure out where the scent came from. Tilting my head downward a bit, I realized it came from my shirt. The smell of something familiar.

It had been years since i had smelt that scent. Slowly i whiffed my shirt again, as tears began rolling down my cheeks. I closed my eyes and flashes of it played in my head, like memories from an old movie. Frame by frame of laughing, tears of joy, the laughter, the screaming in joy and agony and defeat. The stinging feeling of defeat.

Four brothers huddled around an old carrom board, with their mother sitting on the sofa. Its odd isnt it, that smile your mother has when she sees all her children together having fun. Its, indescribable. I dont think any civilization was able to come up with a word for it. No adjectives, no pro-nouns, and you can only understand it by looking at that smile.

The four brothers. Different yet alike. Unique in their own little way and the same in that cliched manner. They were the stuff of legends filled with humility. The story that would fill the empty pages of history for tomorrow.

"Zir, what are you thinking about?" My mother startled me.
"You off dreaming about that princess of yours?" my oldest brother intervenes as always.
"Scared shes gonna run off with another guy?" Youngest brother toying with my all so familiar insecurities.
"Probably left this loser already" My witty second older brother as they all burst out laughing.

I smiled, meaningful, so true that my family detect that my thoughts were more important than jokes as they held their breath for my explanation.

"I was thinking, how this feels a lot like.... a lot like home...." They all looked at me as my mother rubbed my hair and kissed my forehead and as my brother looked at each other. Realizing the important idea i had just brought up.

Home is not where you sleep every night, its where you come home to remember the past, live in the present and hope for a better tomorrow. Home is where you are reminded just how important family is, because despite every argument and contradictions, nothing is more important than those who sits with you, and enjoys that same feeling with you. A home is where its okay to be an idiot and have people around to laugh with you about it. A home is a bunch of people eating the same food together. A home is where your mom is... well at least most of the time. More importantly, a home is only a home when you feel like its home. If the people in it and around it make it feel like home. Home is not having to understand what has changed or how are things different. Home is when you look at your brothers and mother and think... This feels like home.


p/s - Happy Eidil Adha my brothers, our time was brief but it made me remember how amazingly like home we felt finally.....

read part one here
read part two here

A short story

AS placed his slit wrist on the floor, blood began to spill forming this puddle on the floor slow building and getting bigger. As his skin slowly starts to lose color. He looks to the ceiling with tears welling in his eyes and he keeps looking.

The average person bleeds to death in less than 5 minutes. If by 5 minutes you do not get medical help there is a big possibility that death is imminent. First you slowly, you start feeling cold. Blood warms you and when they start oozing out of you you begin to lose that warmth. Then your fingers go numb. You wont be able to feel them. Theoretically, you move them still hoping you can feel them but evidently it will be useless. Then your legs go cold and numb.

Then suddenly, you feel a strong thumping sound on your chest, you think that you just realized your heart beating, when in actuality, your heart is starting to beat stronger, because your heart just realized that blood supply is getting weaker.

Your lips turn blue from red, your mouth turns bitter from the adrenaline, but not even adrenaline can save you this time, you close your eyes slowly and..... eternity ensues...

"As I lay with head against the wall,
As i lay and as i let death take me all,
i felt a feeling creeping in a crawl,
this pain is nothing compared to what you did... nothing at all"

p/s Getting things out of my system... who will care????

Short Story Part 1

I lay on the couch that was dusty an old. I remember it being in my family for centuries and it was good coming home to something familiar. I took out my phone and called her up.

"I just got home.." i said gently, she could sense the tiredness in my voice.
"I love you.." she said trailing that melancholic way it always does.
"I love you too..." intense yet a hint of tiredness in my words.

I placed the phone down on a livingroom table beside me and i lifted my right arm to cover my eyes as i thought about the drive and how close i got to meeting death. When i closed my eyes, the vision of the 3 tonne truck squeezing me against the road divider woke me up shaken. I opened my eyes and sat up and leaned against the couch. I searched my pocket and pulled out a cig and lit it on fire and huffed. My hands shaking, i was shaken yet i wasnt scared. Then my phone rang. i picked it up thinking "Its like 4 oclock in the morning, who could be calling at this hour?"

"Hello..." a familiar voice that shook me, similar to how the 3 tonne truck shook me....
"Hey..."
"I heard you were back in town, i thought i'd give you a call, your brother said you just got home."
"yeah barely half an hour ago." I said with a little indication that i was in no mood to continue the conversation.
"What can i help you with?" I asked sounding like a bell-boy in hotel.
"I was just wondering if you're happy thats all."
"I'm doing fine for the moment, but things will get better." I said
"How is she?" a question that somehow invoked anger.
"She's great." I said again sounded uninterested in the conversation.
Then hell broke lose as she uttered her next words.

"Do you love her?"

................................................................................................................................................................
All my life i have spent it trying to find something in my life that does make sense. Between all the praises on how my brain works like a rubber band (bent and yet strong) and how im a born leader, i have never ever seem to find how it all added up in my life. How did my parents convince themselves that i was their smartest son? How did they convince my brothers? Because i dont think they convinced me. I dont think im the smartest of all four. I dont think im even smart. For me all of those things were absurd. Their level of confidence was absurd. The idea was absurd. I can never be as intelligent or as capable as my father or my second older brother, it is like a fact of life. Similar to how lions kill weaker animals for food. I was the food, my father and my older brother were the lions.

The only thing that made sense to me was being in love with her, she made things so easy and i loved her for everything she has done for me.

........................................................................................................................................................................

"I dont think thats an appropriate question for you to be asking me." i said coldly.
"I want you back." she said quivering, shivering as if she was cold.
"I dont want to go back."
"I need you..."
"You needed the idea of me."
"No i needed you, i have always needed you and only you..."
"No..... you liked that idea of an amazing capable male A student. The prospect, the genius of the academic world, the capable leader, the amazing poet, the hopeless romantic... but never me... you never even knew me... what i wanted... what i needed... i was there to fulfill your needs, and you were there to ask for more and give nothing..." Angered my voice raised a bit.
"I love you, no one can ever love you like i do... no one ever will..."

I lit up another cig and huffed the dirty smoked air out of my lungs looking up, refusing to get into another debate about emotion.

"Look, i left because you wanted me to, now, whether you like or not, whether you need me or not, im no longer yours. And i need you to accept that...."
"She cant love you like i did and i do you know..." she said trying to convince me.
"You dont know her, dont talk about her as if she's your best friend or something." Anger
"She just cant, shes too busy getting all the things she wants, she'll never realize what she has.."
"You dont know that..." for once i feared if there were truth in her words.
"I do, i know it well, i was like her.."
"shes not like you, you dont know, I KNOW!" i raised my voice slightly higher.
"You'll lose her and me...and youll regret it..."
"There are some mistakes... i would gladly make.." I said cynically.

A moment of awkward silence before she continued.

"I cant live without you.."
"You'll be fine... i gotta go... its been a long drive and im just tired..."
"You're not going to think about it?"
"No..."
"Ok then... remember i still love you... good night..."
"Good night..." I hung up.

I stared out the glass doors concealing my living room from the world. I huffed more smoke into the air.....

And i should light a fire upon the blood soaked moon....
So i can sleep better and well and wake up....
my end is coming later maybe soon....
yet ill leave it to fate to listen up.....
and then i shall light a fire upon the fangs that fall short....
So i need not see that star....
so it shall not tear this throat of mine...
even if it does....
ill choose the fangs that chooses to do so....

-the end-

p/s - i thought about writing this story when i was driving back to my hometown a few days ago heheh i just added some drama and a climax and try to write it as beautifully as possible... Summer/sayang this is not about us ok???? hehehe i love you....

secret keeper. glow giver.

 Secret- keeper. Glow-giver.

[He calls me his muse. His angel. For I am the one who stands behind him, looking over his shoulder, whispering Secrets of Happiness in his ear. That I am the one who fills him up with hope and touches his heart with light.
Me.
"Where did you come from, my sweetheart,” he asks.
And I have no answer for him. But every time those words leave his lips, I soar to the highest mountain, fly towards cloud nine where a soft Golden Glow fills me up and lifts me up inside.
Strangely Happy, is what you can call this. Strange. Because it came out of Nowhere. Fills us up with Nowhere Happiness and takes us to Nowhere Land.
It is going Nowhere.
And yet we struggle on. Clinging to each other for little snatches of Happiness. Stubbornly trying to make sense of all the feelings we have for each other. Which we never reveal. Only mentioning the Little Things. And keeping the Big Things inside.
I miss you. I wish I was there with you. I care for you.
And with all those feelings, there is an incredible sense of helplessness because no matter how much we care for each other, yearn for each other, want each other, we cannot fight Reality. We can't fight the Real World.
Where he goes, she goes. Where I am, there they are.
No escape.
But I still stand there. Behind him. Tirelessly whispering in his ear, all the Secrets that I know, just to see that smile, just to hear those words, just to feel that feeling, even if those Secrets were for her.
She. Who doesn't seem to know.
Secret- keeper. Glow-giver.
My secrets. To make her happy. Make him happy.
My secrets. Happiness. With a touch of poison. (With every taste, you'll die inside. Just a little. I promise…) He hangs on to me, for the Butterflies, as much as I live for his Glow. But there was a time, when I finally stopped whispering and told him, I needed to go.
If you want me to.
Things will be easier. For you.
Please don't… erase me. And there were tears. Disbelief. Pain.
I hardened my heart at his words. It's not that difficult to erase somebody, I told him. Life is all about erasing, forgetting. And it's not for me. It is for you. But we both know, I wouldn't erase him. And he couldn't erase me. Not yet.
Every day my heart trembles with Happy Butterflies when he calls. When I hear his voice, barely concealing his Golden Happiness.
And so we struggle on. The Secret Keeper and the Glow Giver. Blissfully happy in each other's Temporary Company. Blissfully trying to forget that one day, The Time will come.
The Time when I will run out of Secrets. And Happiness with a Touch of Poison. (With every taste, you'll die inside. Just a little. I promise...) The Time when he will run out of Glow. And we will forget all about the Butterflies and the Golden Glow and how much we fought the Real World.
Until The Time came.
And Temporary, is what it always was, what it always has been.
Just… temporary. ]

-tq and credit to the witchinghour-