Bane

This is what I wrote for my SPM. Wanted to sort of 'immortalise' what I wrote while it's still fresh in my mind. When I saw the prompts for this year's Continuous Writing, I legit let out a loud 'URGH'. Seriously.

1. Describe an important family celebration and how you felt about it. (weddings are really boring)

2. There is a lack of freedom given to teenagers today. Do you agree?(i dont wanna write about oppression for my spm)

3. Why are animals important to human beings? (er. meat?? and cute cat pictures online to coo at when you're depressed)

4. Write a story about a fisherman beginning with: "The wind blew strongly. Out at sea..."(huh, i can make a plot twist out of this)

5. 'A friend in need is a friend indeed.' Describe how a friend helped you in a difficult time. (once, elysa  told me to calm the fuck down???)

They bloody left out the one-word essay and didn't compensate for it in terms of excitement. But I guess, it was a test to our imagination. I wrote number 4. Here it goes: 

                                                               Bane 

               The wind blew strongly. Out at sea, there was no such thing as stagnant air. The sound of the wind would sometimes be deafening to ears that were not used to it. Bane stood at the bow of his small, old, motorised fishing boat with its anchors down. He balanced himself on the rocking vessel as his mind buzzed with hopes that the catch today would be abundant. Due to safety reasons, he usually did not go fishing alone but his partner, and bestfriend, Felix, was down with the cold. His family depended on the income he would get from the market when he sells his catch, so he couldn't afford to miss that one day of fishing. 

             Bane was 40 years of age, had specks of silver in his hair, and calloused hands. For a man his age, Bane was still very fit and healthy, as his quotidian rituals involved physical strength. He thought that being poor was a gift. Most of the rich in the cities weren't as healthy as he was. Exposed to smoke from the industrial sites and motored vehicles, as well to fast and processed food. He couldn't afford any of those, but he didn't mind. He heard that the chemicals in their food made them sick with cancer. The rich were also too caught up in the materialistic world, that they didn't have time to sit back and enjoy nature, whereas he saw the picturesque vista of the big blue every day. He appreciated the sound of gulls and the smell of salt in the air. He heard that the rich were so busy, that sometimes they couldn't see their families for months on end. 

            Caught in his own reality, he jumped at the unexpected flash of blinding white light followed by the vociferous sound of thunder from above. He looked up and witness the heavens opened. Quickly, he raised the anchor and made way to steer the boat back to shore. He tried to steer the boat starboard but the currents were already taking control of the vehicle and pulled it away from the shore, further into the perilous storm. The boat was rocking violently, spinning. He saw, further up, a colossal whirlpool, a maelstrom about 10 kilometres in diameter. He knew that he was going to get swallowed by the vortex. He prayed one last time, to any higher sentient being listening in. He has accepted his fate as the boat approached the abyss. He was not going to close his eyes. Bane expected darkness soon as he felt the vessel turn, and threw him about, but au contraire! He saw a plethora of effulgent colours almost blinding his vision. And soon, he realised that the world was not spinning anymore, and that the sea was calm, and he was breathing. He rubbed his eyes and looked up.

             He was looking at the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen. The cerulean sky was tinted with dancing warm colours that radiated a kind of subtle heat that he felt on his skin. The light made the ocean sparkle like gems reflected in firelight. He witnessed the sun set with eyes sequestered behind pools of tears. As the last ray disappeared on the horizon, again he expected the night to fall like a black sheet, and again, he was wrong. As the sky was now exhibiting a light show by the milky way. The stars illuminated the world around him so brightly, it was as though the sun was still in the sky. The most accurate description of the night sky was an animated version of Vincent Van Gogh's piece, 'Starry Night'. He sobbed as he basked in the arcadian atmosphere. I must be dead, he thought, as no living man would have been able to witness such beauty and not boast of it for decades on end. There would have been paintings and stories, although I know that none of that would do this creation justice. 

               After what seemed like hours of staring at the heavens above, he finally brought his eyes down to the ocean, and fell back in surprise after seeing the thousands of bodies floating in the water. No, not bodies. They were all incorporeal, like ghosts, wafting in the ocean, dissolving in the salt water. Men, women, and children were all present. They weren't holding hands with each other but seemed to all be clutching to things. Some were toys, cellphones, briefcases, money, and jewels. They were more concerned to not let go of their possessions rather than the fact that they were disappearing into foam by the semblance of harmless water. Their faces were pale and at unrest. Bane had no choice but to continue sailing on, until sunrise came and he cried once again at the disappearance of the sky above him and the ghosts beneath him. He sailed on until midday, where he found that he was back at his familiar waters, and stopped at the shore. As soon as he wanted to dock his boat, it started sinking into the water, bubbling away into the sea. He didn't care, for he was back at his small village beaconing to him in welcome.

            Except, it wasn't his village, his home. It was, but it wasn't. His village hard turned into an industrialised city, where there were tar roads and skyscrapers. People weren't wearing the simple, tattered clothes anymore, but fancy, tailored suits. He couldn't find his home, nor his family. He couldn't find Felix, and he found it difficult to breathe in the air. 

            After dealing with the confusion and fear of losing his family, he discovered that he had traveled a century into the future, with no means of going back. 

   

Stressor

Becoming accustomed to that pain,
The centre of your chest,
Your self-esteem slain,
Why, you ask,
Why.
It's for the best.

Self-hatred,
Only cuts can make you feel better,
An escape, a punishment,
For failures of the past,
And the future,
Why, you ask, why.
To make yourself better.

You break your bones,
Laughter at inattention,
Colours and doodles on the cast.
You break your heart,
No pens nor glitter can fix,
Only tears and time.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, they say,
They don't know about disorder,
The malevolence that comes after,
A loathing state of mind,
With no rapturous subconscious,
All towards yourself,
For the past you can't put aside,
For the beast within you try your best to hide.

Get a grip, they say,
Buck up,
Stop it,
You're being emotional,
Keep your priorities straight.

They do not understand.

They do not
Understand

You Should Have Kept Your Hood On

I found that I had boarded the wrong bus. I realised after it took a different turning, driving too off tangent from the route it was supposed to take in order for me to get to the bus stop near my home. I suppressed a groan and looked around. Besides the sound of the retiring engine and other cars passing by, it was an eery silence. The usual chatter of women gossiping and arguments from businessmen on the phone were entirely absent. Everyone was quiet and still, aside from the on and off shuffling of legs and craning of heads. Dafuq, I thought as I leaned back into the tattered leather seat, eyebrows knitting together. I'll get off the next stop, then. Shouldn't take more than ten minutes. Why does shit like this always happen to me?

Almost twenty minutes passed and the bus still hasn't stopped. It was around 7.30 pm when I first boarded it, now that the sun has set, it was already dark outside. The bus had taken me to a part of the town I never knew existed. The road was unfamiliar to me, and the buildings looked old, probably designed based on the colonial era. Even so, most of them looked run down and abandoned. The street lamps were dim, and weren't much help with illumination. For the past twenty minutes I never heard a sound coming from any of the passengers. I looked at the woman sitting next to me. She was dressed in a black robe, almost like a nun's habit. Her dark hair curtained her pale poker face. She was staring into space, eyes zoned out.

'Excuse me', I broke the silence with a mere whisper.

All 30 plus people on the bus snapped their heads at me, glaring at me through unnaturally wide eyes. I ignored them and directed my question to the woman. 'Sorry, but, er, where is this bus heading? I think I got on the wrong one', I said sheepishly. She looked at me and blinked once, twice, and then turned her head back in front and continued to stare at the parallel passenger's head.

Wow. Thanks for the helpful information. Someone give this bitch a Nobel prize, I thought while rolling my eyes. I was becoming uneasy. Another ten minutes passed without the bus giving any indication of stopping. It was completely dark outside, too dark for the naked eye to see anything but trees that appeared and disappeared from the light emitting from the bus. I concluded that we had already left the city, for there were no buildings to be seen.

I was very exhausted. That was partly the reason why I didn't do anything sooner. I checked my phone, which battery I was preserving. No signal. My mind started racing. This is a public bus. Have I been kidnapped? It didn't make sense for 30 people to kidnap me. I didn't know any of these mofos, too. Was this some sort of cult?

Only then I realised that everyone on the bus was wearing the same black robes the woman next to me wore. They all had the same blank expression, and there were no children at all. I started panicking. 'Is this a kidnap?' I asked aloud in a strained voice that was leaking with fear. I expected them to snap their heads at me again, but to my pleasant surprise, they ignored me. I stood up from my seat, almost falling backwards. I cleared my throat and gathered what little confidence I had left. 'If this is a kidnapping, I'll have you know that my father is chief inspector!' I shouted.

Ignored.

'Fuck ya'll, I've had enough of this', I muttered to myself and began to walk to the driver seat, trying my best to ignore the silence that was painfully deafening. While balancing myself on the rocking vehicle, I reached to the front of the bus, and in a few steps, to the bus driver only to find out...

... There wasn't one. The bus was driving itself. I sat on the seat and tried to hit the brake pedal. It wouldn't budge. I reached out for the steering wheel and tried to divert it off the road. It wouldn't turn. I took out my phone again. 'Please, please, please', I said again and again as I started to sob. I dialled 911 eventhough I knew I couldn't get a reception. I thought of breaking the window and jumping off, wondering whether I could survive the fall. At this speed, I would have a better chance fighting off these fuckers with my hands tied up. As I was about to give up and slump on the seat, the steering wheel turned anti-clockwise and changed its course. The bus started slowing down. It reached its destination. I planned to make a run for it as soon as the bus opened its doors, but before I could even move, a pair of strong, stone cold hands grabbed my arms painfully and held me in place. I struggled, and without notice, was knocked out by an unknown blunt force.

I woke up in the middle of a clearing. The field stretched out as far as my eyes could see in the dark. The only light was from the fire torches flickering, held by robed, hooded figures. They stood in a circle and I was the centre. My hands and legs were tied to a wooden pole that was stuck to the ground. More wood surrounded me. I was wet. Doused in kerosene, my thoughts immediately went to the darkest side of my mind.

'What do you want?' I shouted at no particular figure. 'Please! If you want money, I have money! Just please don't- don't hurt me!'

With that, one of the hooded figures walked out of the circle and walked towards me. My chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. I couldn't breathe in the panic. 'Please. I have a family. Just let me go. I beg you', I pleaded once more.

The figure stopped right in front of my face, shadows casted from the torched made him look sinister. He took his hood off. I choked back vomit.

'Daddy?' I sobbed. 'Daddy, why?'

'You're my first born, baby. My sacrifice. Thank you.'

Only Human

'The fuck are ya starin' at, ya ancient piece of shit?' the youth with skull tattoos drawn like a sleeve on his muscled arm spat at me.
'Nothing', I replied quietly.
'What didtcha say? If ya have some'in t'say, why not say it to my fuckin' face?' he yelled before he slammed his fist onto the metal table, flipping over my half-finished meal. Several guards came and then started beating him up. And then turned to me and started beating me up as well.

1 week left.

Routines.
Mindless drones they made us into. We were treated less than human, because we are. Because you were only human if you had compassion and empathy, if you contributed back to society. We didn't. We harmed society and then continued to leech off the country's resources like parasites that plagued mankind. We deserved every single abuse, all the times where our basic human rights were taken away, more than what we deserved, more than what the system demanded. Because we were less than human.

The first half of my life was wonderful. My parents, my wife, my children, my career. That was why it took them so long to catch me. A happy man, why would he do such horrible things? Tailored suits, travelled only first class, the typical suburban dad who belonged to a perfect family and the demographic that the government demanded less from because they were already contributing to the nation's economic growth. But then they did catch me. I must admit, it was complacency on my side.

5 days.

'You ever got fucked before?' a voice asked me. I ignored it and turned over to the other side of my hard mattress.
'You're so fucking old, I'm sure you have', it continued. 'What was it like? Was it the same if you did it with little girls? See, I thought all of 'em cried when they get fucked. Didn't know the bigger ones enjoyed it. I tried to make 'em quiet, see? Thought if I kept 'em in a room full of pretty toys and dolls, they wouldn't cry, see? But, no. They still fucking cried', I heard a bang in the room next to me before I fell asleep.

3 days.

My wife left me, even though I was the one who physically went away, she took away our children and engineered them into hating me. She thought I wasn't human, because of the 'lack of love'. It wasn't true. She was the love of my life and our children filled up an empty hole I never knew I had until they were gone. She was a hypocrite. Throughout the 15 years we built, she kept on preaching about respect and open-mindedness, how just because other people think differently, it didn't mean that they were wrong. When she found out about my actual hobby and interests, when I opened up to her thinking she would love me more, she broke down and cried. That was my downfall, and like I said, complacency on my side.

The other half of my life I spent in what I could describe as being sucked into a black hole of pain. Physical, emotional, there wasn't any difference between the two anymore. I learnt to live with it, to accept it as a part of my life and soon enough, I was resilient to the pain they purposely inflicted upon me. The beatings, the memories they brought up again and again.

1 day.

Pancakes and blueberry syrup. I wrote on the paper. I used to wake up early on Sundays and cook them with my children. They would put them on a big serving plate and take them to the room while my wife pretended to sleep. They wanted her to wake up with a surprise. She always acted the part for them, and they would buy it, even if it was a routine.

2 hours.

Here I am sitting in a darkly lit room, to be with my thoughts. In two hours, I would be put down for something I did nearly 3 decades ago. It didn't matter that I repented. That I would take it all back with a blink of an eye, that I would kill myself just to prove it. I suffered with the guilt and now it was time to suffer no more.

54 minutes.

As I walked towards the chair in shackles, every step was a clang produced by metal against metal. There was no dread. Only excitement leading up to relief. I didn't belong in this world.

'Any last words?' they asked. I shook my head. Last words were for humans. I was not human. I could never be human.

Wouldn't you rather live in an illusion?
Though what a lie an illusion is,
Wouldn't you rather be happy with a lie
Rather than suffer with the truth?

.

The Empty Child

She sighed,
And she let go of her worries and her strife.
She sighed,
And she let go of her loss and her anguish.
She sighed,
And she let go of love and happiness.
She sighed,
And she let go of her emotions.

For what is heartbreak, and anguish,
and love, and pain, and envy,
without emotions manipulating her thoughts.

She sighed,
For the last time,
and let go of her life.

Untitled.

And he looked at me with pity. Melancholy I saw through his long, thick lashes. In a sombre voice, he whispered.

"You're not her."