The Perfect Day

Today, the sky was blue.
There was no cloud in the sky,
Only birds were flying up high,
Cheerfully, freely, without worries.
The sky was picturesque
Like a painting that tells a thousand stories.
But something was missing, something was amiss
But I couldn’t find that missing piece.

Today, the wind blew freely.
Brushing against my cheek softly.
It rings the wind chimes, creating a sense of peace.
Is this the reality? Or is this a dream?
It feels like I’m in paradise, in a bliss.
Transporting me into another place, another realm.
But again, something was not here, not present.
And I wonder what is the reason of this occurrence?

Today, the sun was shining brightly.
As it rose, the sky was golden yellow.
It shone bravely as if saying a loud hello.
As it set, the sky was a beautiful orange and purple.
It is something simple but yet the view is indescribable.
The day moves, like the changing of seasons.
But why is that something still missing?
Even though the day had come to a close?

Today seemed like a perfect day.
The sun, the sky and the wind.
But I am still finding that missing something.
And alas, I have finally found it.
It is the imperfectness of the world that is missing.
To make today such a perfect day.
Even though there may not be a perfect day in life.
I’m still waiting for that perfect day to arrive.

The War - Chapter 5

My mum sat on the opposite of me. In front of us laid a cup of coffee each, served with a couple of biscuits prepared by aunt Lucy. There was an awkward silence, and an ominous feeling that I was going to discover a grotesque truth. And indeed I was.

So my mum began to speak.

"So how was your life in the village?"
"It was fun. But I missed you so much,"

There was a minute of silence.

"Well dear, seems like my feet is useless now eh?"

I did not dare to reply.

"Honestly speaking, I was tortured"
"What do you mean?"

My mum paused, then continued.

"You see dear, while you were away in the village, I was working, helping the military. I, or rather, we were forced there. Tortured, abused, or anything of some sorts you cay say"

"We were given only two meals per day. There was no lunch. Only breakfast and dinner. Life was horrible, it was dirty and unimaginable"

"Then one day, I was supposed to carry bombs into a plane. The commander was unhappy with my speed so he pushed me. I fell down and the bomb hit my knee."

"Can you imagine? A 30 kilo bomb, landing on my knee?"

"And he even said 'You work too slow! Hurry!' and he kicked me"

"The pain was unbearable and I could not work anymore, so they sent me to the hospital."

"And that was when I know the truth. I could no longer walk anymore"

My mum stopped talking. And I was shocked. My heart filled with despair and anger. Hatred burning inside me. My fists were clenched, and I wanted to kill those commanders. But then my mum continued again.

"But dear, let it go. I have forgotten about everything. All I wanted to do is for the war to stop and for all of us to return home safely again. As long as I can serve the country and..."

I interrupted.

"No mum, you are wrong. How could you say such words when they even tortu.."

My mum put her finger on my lips.

"No more. It's over dear. The war is over, everything is over."

I sat down and kept quiet. My eyes were drenched with tears of hatred and sadness. I sobbed softly and my mum came over by my side to hug me. I continued to cry, somehow it was unstoppable.

Then I realised. My mum was not a victim of the war. She was a victim of a human's pride and selfishness. A victim of a human's wish to take over the world. Yet, she did not relinquish. She never give up and she never points a finger at anyone.

Now I wonder. If my mum is wiser than the commanders. If the commanders have ever thought of who pays the price of war. If they even know how many people suffered from it.

And all these victims can do. Is to wept in silence.

-THE END-

The War - Chapter 4

I hugged my mother. Her flimsy white hair brushing against my right ear. Her face feels cold despite of the summer's heat. Perhaps it was her age, or maybe the breeze. Then, she softly whispered onto my ear.

"Welcome home, dear"

Her voice. I had not heard her voice for five, long years. Hearing her voice welled my eyes with tears. I softly sobbed and I hugged her even tighter. She was tapping my back, signaling to me that I hugged her too hard. I wiped my tears off and began pushing her wheelchair home.

The way home was both a touching and eerie moment. It was touching in a sense that it reminisced me of my town, after I left it for five years. The buildings, the sights and sounds, the people and the sceneries. I thought to myself, reminding myself that I had left this village for five years. And yet not much had changed.

It was however, also, eerie in a sense that much of the buildings were then destroyed. Some of the buildings were even gone, flat on on the ground. One of them was my friend's house, Errick. What's left on the spot were rubble and debris. It was horrifying. It was also eerie in a sense that I could still feel the fear and worries of the people living here during the war. The atmosphere was different. There was an ominous feeling there, as we walked.

And another thing as well. The silence of my mother. She did not speak a word at all on our wat back home. Aunt Lucy told me she was most probably tired. Tired from what? I wondered to myself. With her wheelchair, I was shrouded with fear that she was not the usual her five years ago. I was wondering if something was wrong with her throat, thus her silence.

As we reached home. I was happy. I was happy to see my house, still in one piece, not even damaged by a scratch - except for its colour's change. I thank God for everything. My mother, my house, and my life.

I opened the door of my house and pushed my mother's wheelchair slowly beside out dining table. Aunt Lucy was preparing tea and I offered to help her. But my mother called me up and asked me to sit beside her.

"Talk with me, I have lots of things to tell you" she said.

And that was when I had the biggest shock of my life.

The War - Chapter 3

The bus was filled with noise. But this time, it was filled with the noise of excitement. The noise of happiness and joy. The noise of pride for the country. We were all happy that we were returning back to our village.

Coincidentally I was sitting with the same two boys that I sat with five years ago. Now they were both eleven and ten. They looked more matured and built-up as compared to how they look five years ago. And so I asked them.

"So are you happy to return to our village again?"

"More than happy, we are ecstatic and overjoyed!" they replied with a cheery voice.

I gave them a smile and a nod.

The bus began to move with a jerk. Everyone clapped and cheered. Somehow everyone turned into children again. It reminded me of our first bus trip in my elementary school into a nearby farmstead. Everyone cheered the same way when our bus moved.

During my way back home, I was wondering how the village looked like after five years of farewell. How was my mother? Is she alright? I thought to myself. Five years seemed like an eternity with the war going on. A part of my heart is excited to return home while another part of my heart is reluctant to see the village.

Fear is imminent I thought.

The bus reached the village and stopped in the same spot in which we left the village five years ago. The mothers, looking slightly older, waited happily for the bus to come to a halt and for its passengers to appear from the bus. As the bus' doors opened, everyone rushed out. It was chaotic and touching at the same time.

When they saw their children, the mothers hugged them tightly, as if not wanting to lose their children. Sadly, some children cried when they saw their relatives instead. A sign that their parents were gone. Forever.

I stepped out of the bus and was greeted by aunt Lucy, who was my mother's older sister. My heart beat faster and faster. She's gone too? I thought. Then aunt Lucy grabbed my arm and walked towards one side of the crowd.

There, I saw a figure of a woman on a wheelchair. She was wearing a red dress with a gray sweater. Her hair flimsy and white, dancing in the summer's breeze. Is that mum?

And yes, she is my mother. But no, she is not the victim of the war.

The War - Chapter 2

The war lasted for 5 years. Five agonising and painful years. Even though I was out from the capital city, I could feel the pain and suffering that the people experienced just by listening to the radio or reading the newspaper. The headline of one newspaper once read

"589 killed by a bomb in the capital city"

Five hundred and eighty nine people. Died. Instantly by one bomb. Sometimes I wonder where are the sanity of these bombers? Or even, where are their hearts? Couldn't they just think of the consequence and put their feet into the victims' shoes?

For five years, we were placed in a village faraway from the capital city. It was a small quiet village, filled with farmsteads and gardens. The boys worked in the fields to grow plants and rear the animals while the girls helped in the house chores. Sometimes the girls would work in the field as well, doing light work like watering.

We were all excited to hear the announcement in the radio. "We are free at last". And we knew deeply in our hearts that the war had ended. We cheered and hugged each other. Sang and danced along. We even held a celebration feast. The crops we grew, which was meant for the soldiers, were used in this feast. Turkeys, Chicken and Pig were roasted. Salads and side dishes were made.

Our hearts leaped in joy even further when we heard the news that we were all going back to our village again. Home at last I thought. But happiness was not all of us accepted. We also received the news that part of our village was destroyed by bombs. Some of us even received letters during the war, saying that their parents or relatives were killed by a bomb.

I was lucky enough not to be one of them. I could still vividly remember my mother standing and waving her white handkerchief as our bus left five years ago. Now, I could not imagine the lives of those affected by the bomb. Perhaps they would not be welcomed by anyone once they reached the village.

Perhaps, they would just be welcomed by their memories.

The War - Chapter 1

Everyone was crying. The bus was filled with chaos and uncertainty. I sat quietly beside two 5 years old boys who were crying very loudly. The bus was filled with children, aged between 1 to 12 years old. There were even infants inside the bus, carried by some girls.

Everyone was screaming and shouting. Outside the bus, the mothers of these children cried and sobbed, waving their woven handkerchiefs. Their cheeks were wet, their face desolate. My mother was standing between the other mothers - wearing a red shirt with a black skirt. Unlike the other mothers, she was not crying. She just simply waved her handkerchief. A white one.

Then the bus jolted as the engine started. It moved slowly towards the road while the mothers followed the bus. The screaming in the bus grew louder. Then a woman appeared. She was my neighbor, Mrs Johnson.

"Children please sit still, we don't want you to get injured"

Then two other women appeared from the back, asking the children to sit still. One of them was one of my teachers in school, Mrs Edward. But I didn't recognise the other one.

Disobeying them, I jumped out of my seat and moved towards the back of the bus. I looked over the window and saw my mum standing on the exact spot where she was standing just now. She did not chase the bus. She simply stood still on the same spot, still waving the handkerchief.

That was when I parted with my mother.

The night

Under the dark sky, I dream.
I dream of dreams that I hope could come true.
I am waiting and waiting for the day,
Where my dreams turn into a reality.

Under the starry sky, I seek.
I seek a shooting star that never falls.
Even though my attempts may be in vain.
I still wait to seek a star, to heal my pain.

Under the moonlit sky, I lay.
I lay on the grassy field, enjoying the breeze.
I wish one day I could be free.
As free as the evening breeze, blowing against me.

Under the evening sky I wonder.
I wonder who am I in this little world?
I may be insignificant in many ways.
But I still have dreams and hopes,
That I wish could come true.

Now, will it?

Life

When I look at the sky, I envy the birds.
Flying freely up high, above the clouds.
Having no fear, having no worries.
Wandering around the world, flying above the seven seas.

When I look into the ocean, I envy the fishes.
Swimming happily, inside an underwater paradise.
Discovering new places, overcoming challenges.
Living a life, where everything always seems nice.

When I look at the grassy field, I envy the horses.
Running freely and bravely, venturing new landscapes.
Feeling the warmth of the sun, the freedom of the wind.
Searching for places they have never been.

When the wind blows on me, I envy the wind.
Flowing aimlessly into places they have never been.
Letting destiny to lead them into new places.
Without feeling any fear, without shedding any tear.

When I look into myself, I simply kept quiet.
Realising how unfair this world is.
But no, I’m not angry nor am I sad.
It’s the way the world behaves, it’s the way the world acts.

I just realise, how unfair and how imperfect the world is.
But who am I to go against it?
I am just a little insignificant creature
That lives in the place, we are living in.

Life's Do's

Do love yourself, and do love others.
For love is the key to your life’s happiness.
Treat them like sisters and brothers.
And you shall enjoy life with gratefulness

Do live your life to the fullest.
For you only live once, and once is forever.
Love your life to your dearest.
And leave it without having regrets, once it’s over.

Do dream of a million dreams.
For dream is the key to reality.
Even though your dreams may be filled with impossibility
There’s no stopping your ambition to set free.

Do listen to what your hearts says.
For your heart is the voice of your soul.
Follow all your heart’s pathways.
And your life will seem like a bliss.

Do live your life in your own perspective.
For it is your one and only life, and not others’
You are the one that is carrying out your life’s objective
So why bother listening to others?

Do cherish the freedom you get.
For freedom is priceless and precious.
Treasure the memories you shall never forget.
For memories will remain as memories

Do enjoy your life more than anything else.
For your life is the most expensive thing in the world.
Cherish every moment you have.
And live your life to the fullest.

Death Story

The morning was unusually normal. First, it was the rain. Second, it was the freezing temperature. Never in his life he had ever felt so cold before in his little town. Nevertheless, he had to do his job, his daily job. A job that no one loves or even dares to do. It was something unusual and weird, that this job is almost gone, forever.

In the little town of Rondetta, Shoran had a job. It is known as a story teller. Not just an ordinary story teller, but someone who tells story to dead people. Or to put it in a clearer term. To tell stories to dead bodies. It had been a ritual in his town that dead people were told stories, usually a story that they requested to the story teller before he or she died.

And this job was almost gone, because the job was known to be something terrifying. But Shoran took this job. Because his parents were both a story teller.

That morning, Shoran was heading for a story telling session in his friend's funeral. So he grabbed his story book and coat, then head off to his friend's home where the funeral was held.

His friend was Jorean. In the country, the name means a constellation, which leads lost travelers in the desert. She died of an unknown disease, mysteriously while he was sleeping.

Upon reaching his house, Shoran sent his condolences to Jorean's parents, who were sobbing quite heavily. Then, they lead him to Jorean's room, in which her body was laid on her bed.

"Jorean hoped you could tell her a story about lost travelers" said Jorean's mother.

So, Shoran started the story. The room was filled with the smell of flowers, and it was rather pungent. He opened his story book and started reading a story.

The story was about a group of travelers who were lost in a desert. When they were about to give up, they saw the Jorean constellation and were then saved. It was a bedtime story, usually told by parents to their children.

After reading the story, Shoran closed the book and gave Jorean a kiss on the forehead.

"I will miss you Jorean"

And that's how Shoran lost his only star, who could lead him out of misery of his life.