genre is irrelevant, only content.

Chapter One ‘Hold it!’ the man dressed in the shady clothes with a hood over his head said. The little boy turned around and when he saw him stood still. The shady man walked up to the little boy. ‘Do you want a candy?’ he asked. The boy shook his head profusely. ‘Then give me back my damn disc!’ he yelled. The scared child dumped the disc onto the ground and took off. The pissed off shady man with a hood over his head decided to give chase and easily caught hold of the kid. ‘Aaah! Let me go!!!’ the poor boy yelled. With an evil laugh the man threw him over the fence and into the river. The boy shrieked in shock at the freezing water and quickly waded over to the other side. ‘That will teach you!’ he yelled across to him. The little boy quickly got out and ran away crying. ‘I suppose you’re always like that with children.’ A man behind him said.   ‘Kid got what he deserved’, he replied, turning to him and studying this stranger. ‘Well, are we going to conduct business?’

He walked past the meadow, into the woods. The birds told him to go there, although he was doubtful. The setting sun coloured the valley walls around him a bright red and he counted one, two, sixty waterfalls. Why this place? He wondered. A swallow flew past and told him to keep going. Walking on he deftly stepped past the broken branches and a few footsteps later, he supposed he reached the place. It was a small burrow in the ground, underneath a huge tree root. Dead leaves covered more than half the entrance and he wondered if he had come to the right place. A little rabbit with dark grey fur peered out. Hello? He said hoping he was not disturbing it. Slowly the rabbit trudged out cautions yet curious. You wanted to hear a story? The rabbit whispered. He nodded his head, bent down and looked into its eyes. I do not remember much; only what my ancestors told me, said the rabbit. Go on. His name no one knows. Perhaps he never had one. But we called him the Hare, for that was what he wa

Good morning, he thought. Sparrow was staring at him through the window, ignorant of his need for privacy. He, immodest, blushed then chuckled then said and waved hi. Getting out of bed was the easy part getting ready for work not since getting ready for work required more work which required more work. Were mundane things worth noting? It depends; mundane descriptions of eating sleeping working shitting were priceless to the prying observer a thousand years in the future yet to us now they are redundant and useless. So the bus arrives early and he notes that happily but with a twinge of sadness knowing that that would not always be the case. Sometimes, Dog weeps and for no good reason. There might be one, but unless he so inclines to tell us we can safely say we don't know. Tears on Dog are odd indeed, and while the rest of us puzzle only the poets and scientists try to find an answer. Both start from different points but almost inevitably reach the same conclusion. Click click g

In a moment of randomness, our lecturer asked us to write a story about 666, Armageddon and how we're gonna get tracked by all sorts of devices (most probably a microchip). I thought that to write such a story would be nonsense and not worth my time (even if it's worth Tim Lahaye's). Hence, I wrote something just as corny, albeit more sensible. __________________________ The Acceptance of Advancement David was woken by the sound of his phone ringing. He thought he had turned it off. It was 3 am in the morning. It was work. “Yeah…” he said in a daze. “We have a situation.” The voice over the phone said. It was unprecedented, but David somehow knew this would happen. It was 2 years since the implementation of RFID chips as an alternative method of cash transaction. The chip would usually be inserted into the left arm of the person. With it, money could be stored, along with the individual’s identity, passport numbers. It also functioned as a credit card. The

Must he cry, must she cry he wondered he wandered. It was no less an incident, no less an accident that we two must end up together and gaze on each other and cry. Weariness crept in oh so slowly and oh so subtly, that she still thought he loved her, not seeing what he felt, not feeling what he saw. It was there no longer, perhaps a little of it left, but not much. Not much. “Hmm.” “What?” A big city, he thought. He was walking nonchalant self-absorbed indifferent ill at ease. Oh dear, oh my a lady said as he passed by. He turned to look at some spilt coffee; he laughed quietly. Brown liquid dripped from the table, hot liquid. Ow, ouch. Let me help you with that someone said and the waiter came flustered and cleaned it up. He walked on, forge forward not looking back. Went into a bookstore, took out his wallet peered in it. A lot of money, he smiled. A lot of expendable money. What shall I buy? What shall he buy someone thought who saw him with the wallet and the expend

The piece I wrote and presented at the Young Writers Camp '07, during the "Writer's Slam" session. No one was slammed, however. Disappointingly. Hehe. _____________________ A breeze blew. Fluttered, went the leaves. Gazing at them, I paused...then reflected. With silent, disenchanted melancholy, I thought about how easy it is to lose yourself in the abyss that is your thoughts. Hehehe. What rubbish that was, all in the name of showing off to others how "powderful" your "Engrish" is. I am, after all, not like Alvin* or Owen*. I do not use big words, as it can be telling of me- since the size of your words is proportional to that of your ego. But what am I saying? I do not like to criticize people. However, for the purpose of my story, I'll be glad to make an exception. The story begins on a cool, breezy night. Don't worry, no big words coming up. He stared into the sky, with nervousness. His hands were shaking. He had a date. Something, no,