Falling Papers...

I Wish To Believe

2011-04-06T23:47:00.003+08:00

I wish to believe that you are not meant for me. As how as I am not meant for you. Because, how can we be? After all this while? The open door has closed. We watched it close with our own eyes. It does not open for anyone.

I wish to believe that you are just a long, winding path that leads to nowhere; only filled with confusion and doubts. Leading me astray from the right path chosen for me. Leading me along to make me forget about my one true fate.

Fate? I wish to believe that we are not fated for each other. As how much we are fated for someone else. Because, how can we be? We are here. Always been here. Always been around, always been in touch. But always, we were never... .........

I wish to believe that I can not make you happy. And as how much I fantasize that you could, I wish to believe that you couldn't make me happy either. Because how can you? My joy has always been from made-up dreams with you. But my pain has been about wanting these dreams to be realized *by* you.

I wish to believe that I am over you. And I wonder, did you ever feel you needed to get over me? I wish to believe that you never harbored any love for me, and that may be the only thing that rings true. Although I wished for myself that I have never harbored any love for you from the start...

I wish... I wished we could have been, if not in this life, then maybe the next. Maybe in another world. Maybe in an alternate dimension.

I wish to believe we will never be, here, now, forever and always.

And I wish, one day, that finally this wish will come true.

Let Me In...

2011-02-17T03:14:00.003+08:00

I've always hid behind a door,
I've always kept it locked,
and I've always kept it guarded...
I was afraid of letting people in
because I was afraid of falling,
and I was more afraid of falling in love,
falling hurt,
and falling sick,
and falling into a hole I could not get myself of.

I wish that one day I can open my door fully,
not to just one person, or to a few,
but to the world around me...
Because now the hinges have rusted,
and the door knob has come loose...
And I have forgotten how to open that door again.

I can only wish that maybe someone can help me unlock this door I'm trapped behind.

Opposite the Parlour

2010-04-14T00:35:00.001+08:00

Opposite the Parlour
written by Hikari Reika

I saw an old man outside a funeral parlour today. He wore a heavy black coat, with a large black hat. He wore heavy black boots. His hands were in his coat pockets. He was looking to one side, oblivious to my presence.

He stood there outside the funeral parlor while it rained heavily. Everyone else seemed to have left a while ago. His eyes were distant, wandering, not fixated on anything or looking at anyone. He was alone.

I could help but wonder, whose funeral did he just attend? His wife? His brother or sister? His son or daughter?

And I could not help but notice that look in his eyes. It was looking away from me, it was half-closed. But it was eyes of sorrow, of regret. Of remorse, of guilt. He did not say a word, nor did he notice me watching him, yet just by looking at him he is already telling me many words.

Should I go and talk to him? Should I say hello or say I am sorry for his loss? Should I lend him a shoulder to cry on, or should I tell him that things will be okay?

But I stood rooted to the ground. Who am I to feel his pain of this man standing before me? He is far much older than me, far more experienced in life than me, yet death seems to be able to render a man like him to be still and silent as he is now.

It was then I realized, death really is inevitable, isn't it? Even if you live to see your 80th birthday, you will still learn that love really doesn't last forever.. Even when you thought they would. Even if you think you'll live forever, you will soon realize that other people won't..

I wondered, what keeps this man going then? After experiencing so many heartaches, bottling up so much guilt, controlling feelings of remorse..

Then I realized it had stopped raining, and the sun started to peek between the clouds.

The man looked out towards the sky, took in a deep breath and.. smiled. He held the tip of his hat briefly, as if to give thanks, his eyes now filled with gratitude, he walked out of the funeral parlour and into the sun.

He noticed me as he walked by me, held the tip of his hat again and said "Good day to you." with a smile. His eyes twinkled with acceptance, and life itself.

"Good day to you too, sir." I replied, smiling too. I watched him as he walked away from me, until I could not see him anymore.

Suddenly, I started to smile. As if I suddenly knew the answers to my questions.

And still smiling, with new-found hope in my heart, I turned my heels and walked away.

Last In Line

2010-04-10T23:22:00.000+08:00

Last In Line
Written by Sara de Souza

Why am I always last in line in a queue to you? While everyone else seems to be cutting queue ahead of me.

But I don't care if it rain or shines, it snows or it hails. I don't care if people say I have been waiting in line for too long.

I don't care if other guys walk by me while I am standing there, looking rejected. I don't care what's out there, outside of the queue, if it things could have been better or worse.

I'm staying put, lining up where I want to be, in hopes I can finally reach you in the end.

Because if it means risking my youth years waiting for some miracle to happen,
Risking "better" opportunities for luck to fall into my lap..
If it means that I could have even a miniscule amount of chance to be with you,
then I will risk my all; my patience, my love, my weak heart, evidently my life.

I no longer want to settle for anything. I no longer want to settle for just anyone.
I no longer want to believe that fairytales cease to exist,
I no longer want to believe that the prince will not come with his noble steed for me,
and I no longer want to believe that I don't deserve to be happy, with someone I've chosen.

I want to believe that I can be someone you deserve.
And I want you to believe that I am someone that deserves to have you.

So here I am, with my all, waiting in line,
Hoping that I will reach you one day,
Hoping that by the time you've exhausted all the girls waiting in line ahead of me,
You're ready to give away a ring by the time it's my turn..

Until you decide you want to close your doors, and give that ring to someone else..

And Just Like That.

2010-03-07T05:04:00.004+08:00

"And Just Like That"
Written by Hikari Reika

And just like that, she was not a part of my life anymore.

I had her, even though I never had her, and she never had me,
but I had her,
within my arm's reach. within a call away.
I didn't have her the way that I wanted, but nevertheless I still had her.
I had her beside me, I had her next to me.
I had her as my friend, my confidant. My companion, my safety blanket.

But just like that, she was not a part of my life anymore.

It was then I realized, maybe I did not have her,
but I had her, even if everyone else said I didn't.
I had her there for me when I needed her,
I had her next to me when I was feeling lonely.
I had her, as a friend,
and she had me, as a companion.
we had each other, we had one another.

And just like that, just when we had each other,
we were not a part of each other's lives anymore.
we now had other people, and other people had us.
so we had to let go of each other to let other people be there for us.

I had her, she had me,
Even though I did not have her the way I wanted,
It was enough for me.

Because I had her, she had me,
and that was all that mattered.

Face Her.

2009-12-21T23:15:00.002+08:00

I am sad, because she is so beautiful.
I am sad that I could not hold her.
Maybe if I could, I will ask her one day.
Maybe one day I could.
Maybe...

Inspired by Newton Faulkner's purely-instrumental song, "Face (Her)". (the first 41 seconds)

Lucky Stars by Hikari Reika

2009-09-24T02:51:00.001+08:00

Ever believed if stars can control fate?

Or at least, change them?

It was the last week of school. In fact, it was a Friday. The last day of school entirely for me. The November winds blew softly within the school compound, and the gleaming sun seemed dim and pale. Everything looked like life itself had been sucked out dry from the frail trees and unkept shrubs around the school. I felt like my stay here wouldn’t last for long.

Because it was the last week of school and exams have been done and over with, most of the students have stopped attending for the year. The ones who came to school were the ones who either wanted to hang out with their school friends or, frankly, complained that there was nothing to do at home anyway.

And then, there was him. Sitting at a table not far from mine. His back facing me as I was sitting behind him, doing something furiously that I couldn’t see.

I was a close friend of him, though we rarely spoke to each other in class, which was quite odd because outside of school, we acted as if we were the only two people in the world. We would laugh as loud as possible, plan crazy schemes together, see places, do things that friends always do – just being together. And a day with him had always been the best in my life.

My train of thought stopped when a friend tapped me on the shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re leaving?” asked my friend with a sad, cute face.

I pouted. “I’ll come back-lah. I will! Or you can come and visit me! How about that?”

“You sponsor me flight tickets there-lah! Do you honestly think I’m rich?”

I laughed. But a part of me wanted to cry because I knew that this was the last year here for me, and I would never live this kind of memory again.

“At least I’m not going to a place where flight-time is 10 hours! Right?” I said, trying to cheer her up.

It was her turn to pout. “But it’s Australia. It’s still far.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s the outskirts of Perth.”

“Still.”

Silence.

My eyes trailed him again. He still hasn’t moved from his seat, still furiously doing something that I couldn’t see.

Turn around and face me! What are you doing??

It took me some time to realize that my friend had been sitting there all the while, watching me watch him. When I caught myself, it was too late.

“You still haven’t told him?” She asked solemnly.

“About the move? Yes I told him.”

“No.” she said firmly. “Not that.”

She still looked at me, eyes big but not widened; more like the sorrow-wistful look. She looked like she could feel whatever sadness I was dwelling in at that time.

After feeling defeat of trying to hide my feelings, I dropped my head. “No, not yet.”

She tilted her head to the side in a reassuring manner. “You have to tell him how you feel soon, you know. Or else you’ll regret it for quite some time.” She said softly.

I just nodded.

Yes, I did like him. The reason I held back was because it didn’t appear he felt the same way. Maybe because despite how close we were, I’m not exactly be the type of person he’d tell who had stolen his heart and run away with it. In fact, we had never talked about things like this. We never knew what we each want in a partner, what we like about the opposite gender, what are our turn-ons, etc. We never knew who we each liked or fancied in school.

Come to think of it, we never really did talk about anything that has to do with relationships and that sort. Which I find really odd.

Maybe that’s why there was never any progress?

Maybe that’s why we never had a chance to drop hints?

Or maybe he’s just not interested to be in a relationship with me?

…What the hell is he doing at his seat anyway??

My curiosity got the best of me and I got up from my place and walked over to where he sat. Before I can look over his shoulder, he had stopped whatever he was doing and hid whatever it was underneath the table.

You sly, sneaky fellow!!

I sat in front of him, gave him a big smile and asked him how is he.

His reaction was priceless.

“Huh?”

I laughed. I tried so hard to break the barrier in school. In class he’d act like he never knew me. Outside school hours, he’d treat me like I was his world.

Today, my efforts proved to be ineffective as usual. He still kept silent and avoided my gaze like he always did in class.

But unlike the rest of the days, today his gaze had set on a sorrowful look. The sun had lowered in the sky and the orange bars of light broke through the glass windows. The class had turned a warm colour, and it felt like there was only the two of us in that room.

It was a gaze that failed to dissipate from my memory until now...

I was at the airport, leaving my country to do my O levels overseas. I would be leaving my family, friends and acquaintances in pursuit of a better life. But is better really is better? Can’t I find ‘better’ here in the comfort of my own country?

I was walking around with a few friends in the airport, waiting for my flight to be called over the P.A system. He had not come to see me off. In fact I haven’t heard from him since that Friday.

I perfectly understood if he didn’t come. Though I don’t understand why he has to be so cold about it.

But he did come after a while. Unexpectedly. He stood at the corner of the building, the strong sunlight coming in from the high glass walls that he was standing in front of. It took me some time to notice that he was there.

Before I knew it, my friends had ‘abandoned’ me to be alone with him.

Oh no. Where did they all go to??

Before I could react to my wonderful friends’ disappearance, he walked towards me, holding a small smile on his face, and holding something moderately small in his hand.

We talked briefly, though it took me some time to get over the shock. He had given me that said parcel, and I opened it in front of him.

“Ah.” I simply said, holding it in my hands.

“We used to make this a lot. Remember?” he asked softly after a short silence between us.

“Of course I do.” I smiled, tears starting to glimmer in my eyes. “I don’t think I would forget.”

“Keep it safe?” He asked in a small voice.

“I will.” I replied, bowing my head down slightly in thanks with the bottle between the palms of my hands.

It was origami ‘lucky stars’, strips of paper that had been shaped to take a form of a star. He had made quite a lot and put them in a beautiful clear, glass bottle with a cork for a stopper.

As I said my thanks, I couldn’t help but look into his eyes, looking for any trace of feeling. Any trace of sorrow of my departure, or anger, or anything.

He avoided my gaze again, and that frustrated me. A lot.

Fine, I thought irritably. I can take a hint, idiot. Be it, then. I’ll find someone new and move on.

I heard my flight being called out over the P.A system finally. Without saying goodbye to him, and with a suddenly tear-stained face, I turned my heels and strode away, resolving for a better life, a better future and a better chance at finding someone for myself.

He never did chase after me that day. Even as I wishfully wanted him to. But he didn’t.

But I only understood today why he didn’t come after me.

Two years after my departure, I had lost all contact with him. It angered me even more when I found out that he never asked my friends for my new number or my new address, for that matter. It was so heart-breaking to see a friendship disappear like that. Maybe he was angry at me? Why would he, anyway? I’m the one who should be angry! Argh!

In all my anger, I had knocked over the bottle of origami ‘lucky stars’ that he had given to me. I had carelessly placed it on the table next to me. It fell to the marble floor below, and it shattered into a hundred pieces. The stars lay strewn across the floor.

I dropped to my knees carefully to pick up the stars when I sensed something different about the stars…

Why do they look dirty? I have never opened the bottle before, so it must have happened before he closed it with a cork.

But I don’t recall it being this dirty…

I stopped. The dirt on the stars looked like… Words.

Sentences.

Lines.

I opened a star carefully… And it was a line. It was a message. Written on the white side of the paper. It probably took some time for the ink to be more visible through the paper.

‘I really wish I can tell you exactly how I feel about you.’ It was written in his scruffy handwriting.

My heart raced. I picked up a few of the other stars and each of them had different messages.

‘I’m sorry if you’ve been reading me all wrong before this. I try to hide my feelings so much that it looks like I’m being cold to you.’

‘I really hope that you won’t forget me even as seasons and scenes changes.’

‘I will miss our time together; I hope you’ll feel the same way.’

After quite some time I had finished unraveling all the stars. With each star I read it brought a bigger smile to my face, but at the same time my heart dropped even lower. I can’t stop reminding myself that two years had already passed since he had written it. Was it already too late for me? Had he already forgotten the words he wrote for me? Did he still feel the same way?

I held the last star in my hand, which was actually the biggest, and with shaky hands I slowly opened it..

“Chase after your dream, I won’t chase after you because I might be holding you back. But I’ll be waiting, until you’re ready to give a reply.. Because then I know it’s not forced because you would answer in your own time and based on your own feelings. I’ll wait for you. I’ll promise you that much.”

I could feel a tear leak and fall past my cheek after I had read it. In a swift motion I picked up my hand phone that was lying on the floor beside me and dialed a familiar number I had not dialed in a long time.

One ring, two rings, three…

A familiar voice answered.

“It’s me…” I said softly, smiling, tears in my eyes welling up slowly.

Even though he didn’t say anything immediately, I could somehow hear him smiling from the other side.

Yes, stars can control fate. Or change them if it wasn’t on the right course.

I’m glad that my own lucky stars changed mine as well, regardless of the amount of time that has gone by.

Time

2009-08-16T15:54:00.000+08:00

This was my submission for a writing competition that MPH had organized years ago. Which... Regretfully so, I did not manage to submit. I've lost the ability, at least for now, to write like this.

The theme was "Time", and we were encouraged to interpret it and write about it. So this was my interpretation and my thoughts on this topic.

I posted just to share with anyone who would be interested in reading it. Any kind of constructive criticism is welcomed =)

Enjoy.

-----------

They say that Time is mysterious, and that it can bend, twist, stretch and shorten itself at any given heartbeat. It’s like the unpredictable attribute of water, it flows, stays ever so still, and rushes. But why does time seem so, to us?

Why exactly?

Even Time itself is not a thing or an object if you put a little thought into it. It’s intangible, and yet it is not part of our vivid imagination. Because how can it be? We talk about it every day. We find time for ourselves, we waste it, and we rush for it. Because of Time, schedules are organized, dates are planned, deadlines are finalized and history is made. Even more so, it can also bring inevitable change, death and new life. Time makes the flowers grow in spring, makes the sun seem hotter in summer, and makes the leaves fall in autumn. It even brings snow in the cold months of winter.

Time, as unknown to us, is all that important. And yet, even if Time can be recorded and ‘displayed’ by the two hands of a clock, we feel as if time has the ability to shape around us based on what we feel. Like during the glimpse if your firstborn child within the hospital’s white walls. The world seems to stop and slowly rotate beneath your feet. And suddenly the wind gushes past your small frame and you stand, lo and behold, to see your firstborn child exchanging his or her vows in marriage.
Or when a whole day at the beach feels like only a few quick minutes, and dreadfully so, the 5 minutes of waiting for that important job interview feels like 5 agonizing lifetimes, and the second hand on the wall across the room seems to move slower at every tick.

But even if we are aware of this ‘shapely’ property of time, we can’t really define it in black and white. Perhaps it’s all in the mind? Perhaps it’s just the law of Physics playing a nasty trick on us? The rule of the Balance of the Universe? No-one can be sure.

Even more so, we can’t control time. But knowing that time has given us so much, but can easily take everything away in an instant, it is best to leave this age-old question about time unanswered and enjoy every second of life that Time has gifted to us.

The Old Lady

2009-05-20T02:37:00.000+08:00

The Old Lady
by Hikari Reika

I saw an old lady on the bus today. The bus I was on stopped at a bus stop and she slowly got on, pressing her card against the card reader until it beeped and properly thanked the bus driver as she slowly got to her seat.

She turned her head to look out the window and I could see how blue they were. I wondered, what did those blue eyes witness back when she was young? She must've witnessed happiness, sadness, heartache and joy in her prime years.

I studied her face, full of wrinkles. Her skin slightly spotty and freckled, her skin no longer taut and firm. Her hair was grey, thinning and flat. I imagined how she would have looked like when she was only a girl, much quite like me. I imagined her young, naive, innocent and carefree, indulging in her youthful years that now she no longer holds onto anymore.

Who was she back then? Did she go through the same hardships that I did? Did she fall in love, fall out of love, and finally meet someone she can call hers?

Did she make horrible mistakes she can never take back? Did she ever do something wild and crazy? Did she bite her lip and sacrificed something she thought she never would have?

I wondered how did she feel when she realized one day that her youthfulness was slipping away as she grew older. How did she react when suddenly she knew that her glory days are over? And how does she feel that after a lifetime of experience, it amounts to her today as I saw her - taking a bus ride alone, old, wrinkly and gray. What did she do in her life that keeps her going till this day, when most of her life has slipped away? I saw a satisfying smile creep across her face, as if to give me an answer, but it only raised more questions in my mind. I wondered, what did she do in her life that made her smile so contently, even though she is nothing but an old woman now?

She pushed the stop button and the bus slowly pulled over to the next stop. She carefully got out of her seat, pressed her card against the card reader until it beeped, turned to thank the bus driver properly, still smiling, and slowly got off the bus.

And waiting at the bus stop I saw, a family was standing there, at least 9 or 10 of them. Little kids were running in circles around them. I saw a few teenagers chatting amongst themselves, and the adults were in the midst of laughing at a joke. When the old lady walked up to them, all of them called out to her and gave her a hug and kisses, each one of them embracing her tightly.

And amongst that gathering, I saw the same smile grow wider to form a big grin, and there I saw was the same face I had in mind, youthful, happy, content... Satisfied.

The bus pulled away slowly from the bus stop and continued on its journey. I saw her walk away with her family, hand-in-hand, surrounded by the people she loved, not a word being spoken.

I looked out of the window in the same manner that she did long after she had gone, and knowing that I got my answer and more, couldn't help but smile to myself as well.

All The Same

2008-04-08T19:13:00.005+08:00

All The Same by Hikari Reika

I rushed out to work early in the morning and started my old but still sustainable car and drove off in a hurry, careful not to strain the poor girl. I was very late so I got caught in the morning jam.

Sigh... My boss is gonna screw me for the 6th time this month.

Slowly I reached the traffic light before the turn to my office, and just when I was about to cross, the traffic light turned red on me. Great. I stopped. As if things couldn't get any worse...

I looked across to see a billboard, plastered with a familiar face.

It was her..

I see her everywhere nowadays, on posters, on newspapers, on print ads and on billboards.. When I’m at work I'm always hearing people talk about her, when I'm out to buy lunch people lining up in the queue talk about her sometimes. Sometimes talking about how she'll put our nation on the world map, sometimes gossiping about her attitude and untrue stories about her. I know they're not true..

And it makes my heart ache every time I'm reminded of her..

She's a model, yes, a rising star in the most toughest industry in the world.

But to me, more importantly she's one thing..
She was my girlfriend.

. . . .

Her name is Marion. Marion Tan.

We met on the first day of primary school, and I remembered first seeing her at the back of the class because she had no friends. The class was noisy, and everyone seemed to mix with each other, but I guess she tried but couldn't get anyone to talk to her. She stayed in the corner of the classroom unnoticed.

I went up to her and gave half of my ice cream in the tube to her.

"Hi, what's your name?" I asked her. And she gladly took the ice cream from my hand.
"Marion..." she replied sheepishly.

We grew up together. We were the best of friends, and I cared for her a lot. We were almost always in the same class throughout primary, and even in secondary school too. I used to help her with her homework, go to her house and play games together with her siblings, I even fended off bullies back in primary 3 for her. I always looked out for her, and she blessed me with her rare but cute smiles everyday. I was the only one she smiled to, other than that she'd look so gloomy and unfriendly. I guess that's why everyone thought she was a little oddball.

Lucky enough in secondary she started to open up a little, thanks to my help. I got her to mix around with my friends, who were a rowdy bunch, and she adapted quickly. She started to be more outgoing, and her number of friends grew. A lot of guys started to like her, and the girls thinks she's really friendly.

And as secondary school life goes, so does love. When she told me she fell for a boy in her class in Form 2, I couldn't help but feel jealous. I mean, who is this guy to capture her heart if I’m practically the only one who knows her best? But that's how it was anyway.

She confessed to the boy one day and he practically shattered her, as how most first-loves end. I remembered she called me up from my front gate, sobbing, and I had to deal with the yells of my mom who thought I was the one who did something bad to her when I was on the way down to see Marion!

"Boy! What did you do to that girl ah! If I find out what u did to her I'll tell her parents and..."

I finally reached the front gate...

"Marion, are you okay?" I asked breathlessly.
"...I'm such an idiot." she said bravely before unexpectedly burying her head into the nook of my shoulder. My heart stopped.

It's true what i said that we spent almost everyday together, but i was never this close to her. To feel her skin pressing against mine, to feel her sobs and her breathing so close, I felt what you call "butterflies in the stomach" for the first time that day.

All the drama concerning that passed eventually, and in Form 4 the urgency to tell her how I actually felt about her was getting worse. Because by now she was a real beauty. I guess she was one of those "ugly ducklings" or "late bloomers" as you call them. She had beautiful fine, ivory skin and big brown eyes. Her jet-black hair was so fine and soft, it was like silk. The way it danced in the wind is mesmerizing. She was tall, taller than all of the girls in her class at least.

But don't get me wrong, the only reason I felt pressured to tell her how I feel was because the amount of admirers that she had. She always had some boy asking her out almost everyday, and she always received anonymous letters telling her how they felt. I've always wondered why she never said yes to any of them, but to be honest I was so glad she wasn't even seeing anyone right now.

I remembered it was a Friday, we were walking back from school together like we always did. There was an awkward silence between us, I don't know if it was because I liked her so much i started to act differently towards her, or was it because she had a lot on her mind. I guess I'll never really know.

Suddenly it started to rain, heavily too, and she started to dart for the nearest tree when I hastily but softly grabbed her with one hand as the other tried to clumsily take the umbrella out of my bag. She took a quick look at me, then she saw i was fumbling for my umbrella and helped me take it out, when finally she got it open and we both rushed underneath it, albeit a bit wet.

"Haaah, it's so cold!" she broke the awkward silence, shivering, rubbing her arms.
"Huh? Uh hold on..." I said as with one hand I grabbed my sweater from my school bag and tried to wrap it onto her - with only one hand, as the other was holding the umbrella.
She laughed and fixed the sweater herself, me red from embarrassment.

It rained even heavier, and visibility was really poor. We walked from off the street and onto the sidewalk, out of safety reasons - a car can never see you until it was too late in a condition like that.

When we got onto the sidewalk, there was that awkward silence again. Marion was standing in front of me, looking at me awkwardly, hands holding onto my sweater. Due to my small umbrella, we had to stand very close to each other. So close that...

I don't know how it happened, maybe it was instinct, but I slowly leaned in towards her and kissed her on the lips.

I swear to God, i felt like everything just fell away from us and we were in our own dimension when our lips touched.

When I realized what I just did, I hastily pulled back.

"M... Marion... S... Sorry I..." I stuttered, attempting to explain myself. She only looked at me, blushing hard, her fingers to her lips.

I stopped, trying to straighten myself out, when I found myself blurting out "Marion, I really like you."

Nice move, idiot. One after another.

Her brown eyes grew wider in astonishment, and her blush grew even more prominent. I could see her lips curl into a smile, and she started to cry.

"Eeeeiihhh I'm so sorry Marion! Please don't cry!"
"You idiot!" she said, wiping the tears away from the back of her hand. "don't you know I like you too??"

Huh??

She was still wiping away the tears from her eyes, not looking at me in the eyes. I stood there stunned a while at her statement.

"I... *sob* I thought you didn't like me coz *sob* you started to act really weird towards me *sob* you didn't talk as much anymore *sob* sometimes you wouldn't even look at me *sob* I really thought you didn't like me, you know *sob* I was so scared that you were gonna leave me one day *sob*..." she sobbed, still wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.

"No lah, Marion! Why would I leave you..." I said, holding her arm to comfort her.
"I dunno..." she said softly. Then she buried her head into my chest.
"I'll never leave you, okay Marion?" I kissed her on the head and I softly wrapped my arm around her.
She was still sobbing while leaning on my chest.

And when the rain finally cleared, so did her tears. And so did mine out of worrying that she would leave for someone else.

Marion and I were finally an item.

Fast forward to after SPM, she was looking for a job and so was I to keep ourselves occupied while waiting for our results.

Me, I went off to work at my uncle's company and helped with his accounts - yeah I was an accounting student. Marion was an arts student, and she painted beautifully. She tried her hand at painting on canvases and tried to sell them off, but no avail.

Finally, out of the blue a manager of a modeling agency came up to her and handed her his card and invited her to come on over. This happened while she was shopping with her mother at the grocery store - of all places?

"You're what the industry is looking for," he said "I would really appreciate it if you'd come and join us."

She just took the card and smiled.

When she told me about it, I was skeptical about it at first. But I guess it is alright for a short while, she could just quit when she got her results and she'd be off to university. She could use the exposure anyway.

So she went off with her modeling job, posing for simple shoots for magazines in the fashion wear section - and I must say she's pretty good. She's a quick-learner, and she slowly moved from small magazines to well-known magazines.

Her big break was when a French designer wanted to launch his collection here, and hired her as one of the models to model one of his outfits on the runway.

I couldn't catch her because I was at work, but it came out the newspapers the next day and they highlighted her. Over the course of the next few weeks, she was being casted to model for various advertisements. Soon the name Marion Tan was famous, everyone had heard about her before.

I was happy for her, and I shared her success with her, but I gotta be honest I wasn't always around for her - and so was she, both of us started to lead different lives. But we always tried to get together whenever we can. Slowly the distance was killing me, and I knew it was killing her.. But we couldn't do anything. Both of us was tied to our jobs.

Soon, our results were out. With my results I got to enroll in a private local university and apply for a scholarship as well, doing accountancy. She got fairly good results as well, and she told me she always wanted to do psychology or something along that line. I was certain she'd get to do that.

"I can't pull away from my job..." she told me one day. "There's too much to lose."
"What? But this is your future!" I told her.
"This is my future!" she snapped back, catching herself.
Silence.
"W... What are you saying Marion?" i asked softly
"...I'm sorry, I decided... Modeling will be my career." she said, a finality in her tone.

We fought really hard about this issue, and she accused me of not understanding her needs.

After a long time of fighting, I slowly let go of the issue - but I really didn't like her being in modeling. Her hectic schedule kept her away from me. Suddenly it felt like I was living my life being single. Like how people would say, "like not being in a relationship at all"... But I don't care; I still loved her with all my heart. I promised her I'll never leave her...

Even though now I see her everywhere, everyday, I haven't seen her face in person for more than a month. We even rarely talk on the phone, she's that busy. At least I had my assignments keeping me company... But it's not the same. Every time I see her face printed anywhere or hear her name from someone's mouth, my heart aches even more.

I've met her friends before, and they were total snobs! No kidding! They were pretty and all but they didn't have much up there, you know? And I knew Marion was better than that. I was angry that she'd put herself down to that level.

But... Slowly I began to realize. Who was I? She was a real somebody. Everyone loved her, and everyone knows who she is. Was she worthy of being with someone like me?

When I told my colleagues that I was going out with Marion, they just laughed and never believed me.

"Hahahaha, in your dreams-lah you're her boyfriend! Nah, photocopy this for me please, this is your penalty for bluffing me. Hahahaha..."

I first got thinking about this when I was brought to a dinner with her recently with the other models... All the models had boyfriends, and all of them were models too! All of them were recognized, and I was a nobody at that table. It made me feel like I'm only holding her back...

This was where I was at the crossroad, thinking about what I should do next..

...

"Marion." I said over the phone.
"Mmm?" she responded, probably fumbling with her manicure set like she always does every time we talked on the phone.
"...I think this is not gonna work out." I finally said after a long silence.
I heard her set fall onto the floor.
"Hear me out first," I said. "I think I'm just holding you back. You're destined for bigger things, and I'm always pulling you back.. And you deserve better.. A lot better.. You deserve someone better as well, someone with the same social standards as you. I'm sure you'll be a lot happier then.."
It was still silence over at her side.
"...so I wish you all the best, Marion. "
and I hung up the phone before she could even respond.

I turned off my phone and spent the whole night crying my sorrows away.

I finally made it to work. Half an hour late. My boss is really going to grill my sorry backside for this.

I rushed to park my car and flew up the stairs to the entrance, when I saw a familiar figure - in fact i almost knocked into it.

"M... Marion?"
She only smiled. I could see tears welling up in her eyes.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
She didn't say anything, but flung her arms around me tightly and sobbed hard, her head resting against the familiar spot on my chest.
"I *sob* quit *sob* my job *sob*" I could hear her between sobs.
"What??" I asked in disbelief "Why?"
"I *sob* didn't wanna leave you *sob* so *sob* I quit-lah *sob*" she said, trying to sound brave, and she ended with a forced laugh.
"Who are you to say *sob* that you're not right for me? *sob* only I know who's the best for me *sob* and you've always been my number one *sob*" she continued sobbing, her grip tightening around me, refusing to let me go.
"Always." she finally said, wiping her tears on my shirt accidentally.

I could only wrap my arms around her, tightly, sobbing together with her while my colleagues watch with their mouth agape – witnessing the Marion Tan sobbing and hugging me.

I still felt quite bad that she quit her job because of me. Well, life goes on I guess after that. She still does freelance modeling, I don’t mind it anymore, and her not being tied to an agency enables her to study at the same time. Psychology. I always knew she was a bright girl.

Well, I learned a really valuable lesson out of all this. And it was worth the heartaches, the times when I’d wait for her to call, the sleepless nights and all the time alone.

I guess in this world you can be put on different levels, but when it comes to loving someone, I guess we’re all the same.

Untitled

2007-12-01T09:37:00.000+08:00

Untitled by Hikari Reika

Perhaps it's your face that looms beneath my gaze whenever I look at myself in the mirror?
Perhaps it is really your whisper when the wind blows between the oak trees?
Or perhaps... Maybe... My memory of you had always been a dream...?

Am I dreaming..? Am I falling?
Or am I just hallucinating?
Why do I distinctly remember raven-coloured hair?
A shy smile?
Or a warm touch of the hand...?
Why do I remember all this, when I don't even know if it was real?

Well, I remember a time in autumn when I had played a song on the piano in a cafe.
I played it with no emotion. Robotic. Insipid. Lifeless.
Yet there was so much life going on outside of that window,
The leaves falling; and the wind dancing within the sweet and musky air.
Joyous laughter resounded from couples, groups of friends, and little children running along home before dark outside that window.
But inside me, it was like a night in December, longing for the gaze of the harvest moon in the black eclipse, one that I have missed the most.

But a touch of a key by someone else struck me. It was a G7.
I averted my eyes from the music sheet in front of me to see who it was.

Dressed in white. A shy smile. Dimples on both sides of her cheeks. A twinkle in her eyes.

She said nothing.

"...excuse me, miss." I croaked.
She looked at me quizzically.
"You are not allowed to sit here. I'm performing."
She frowned, slowly got up, her dress flowing like liquid off the chair, and silently left.

My cheeks felt hot for some reason or other after she had left. I continued playing, now with a bit more feeling, but I could only focus on her.

Who is she?
Where did she come from?

Suddenly a tap on my shoulder. I turned around with anticipation, expecting to see her graceful form again.

"Eh..." I said quietly. "Mister Hong.."
"Boy." Mister Hong, the manager of the cafe said, his tired face looking slightly unhappy. "Why did you suddenly play a different song?"

...Oops.

After that day, I had expected to see her in that cafe. I would look around during my performance to try to spot a familiar face. And for days, I didn't see her. I almost gave up on looking for her, thinking that she might be a foreigner and had left for her country already.

Days later, I had a big fight with one of my best friends and we ended our friendship abruptly. And as expected, that afternoon, my performance was once again bare and without conviction. I could already see my co-worker, a waiter there, giving me the 'dude you're screwed' look on his face while busy attending customers that day.

Suddenly, a familiar note rung in my ears. A G7.
I turned around and there she was again. She sat next to me and came out of nowhere.

She knew I was startled as she reacted with a gentle laugh, the back of her hand pressed lightly on her cherry-coloured lips. I was too stunned to ask her to walk away.

She didn't say a word. Instead, she took my hand into hers, gave it a little squeezed and whispered, "Jia You." into my ear.
Jia you meant 'good luck' in Mandarin and I was startled that she spoke it so well. She hardly looked Asian. Or any other race I knew.
I began to wonder even more about her.

Before I can even begin to worry of my manager catching me with someone else on stage, she began to play a song on the piano.

The thought of asking her to leave quickly slipped my mind. The song that she played was so... Celestial. It sounded hollow yet full. It sounded like falling diamonds or the pitter-patter of light rain. It sounded like the most beautiful piano performance I have ever heard.
By some luck, I had managed to pull little parts of myself together and recall that this was a song that can be played duet.

Fingers trembling but steady, I started to play with her.

I felt life seeping into my fingers when I played with her. I felt an emotion I thought I had lost. Happiness. Joy. The ivory keys below my fingers felt cool and soft under my touch. With every note I played brought fourth a happy memory I had long forgotten. Every chord brought more of my life into perspective. For the first time in my life, I felt content with myself.

I swayed as I played, letting the array of notes and arrangements fill me. And I had not noticed the other half of the duet became softer and softer, until it was only me playing it.

By the time I had realized she had stopped completely, I had already finished the song.

Rounds of loud applauses filled the small cafe and everyone was giving me a standing ovation. And in normal circumstances I would have been grinning from ear to ear, overjoyed with my achievement.
But when I found out that she was not by my side anymore, I was taken aback.
With customers still applauding, I got up and asked them several times, "Where is she."
With every time I asked, the room fell even more silent. Everyone exchanged looks. I felt like something was wrong here.

Mr. Hong squeezed through the crowd. "Who?"
"That girl. The one sitting next to me."
Mr. Hong looked at me, his face showing puzzlement.
"That girl, she was playing with me. Where did she go?"
"I don't know what you are talking about." he said. "You were playing alone."
"What?" I responded. "No I wasn't. Ha ha ha... Not funny, uncle... Where is she?"
"Boy, I told you, I don't know. You were playing the piano by yourself."
I refused to believe until he managed to borrow a customer's camera and show me a picture he had taken of me during the performance.

I was alone. Sitting right there, leaving just enough space to fit another person on the chair.
My world turned, I gave him back the camera.
"Thanks, Mr Hong... I think I need to take a walk..." I said weakly, trying to regain focus.
"Okay. But nice performance. Keep it up and I'll pay you more."
I didn't respond and walked out the door.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew into me, sending my jacket flapping in the wind. I shielded my eyes with my arms in response to the wind's fierce nature, and when it died, I lowered my hand to see her on the other end of the walkway.

She had her back towards me, but she looked over her shoulder and despite her being so far away from me, I could hear her voice ringing in my head.
"Xie xie..." She said softly, continued walking down the road, and disappeared into thin air.

I couldn't explain what I had felt or what I was thinking of in that moment in time. I was blank, still trying to process what had happened. The rest of the day seemed like a blur to me...

After a few days I came to think that maybe what I had been through was a phase. My mind messing with my memory and making me hallucinate of a girl I had never seen before.

But... I don't buy it at all. She's... my angel.
Yes... My angel of music.

I don't see her when I play my music, but I can feel her presence. Her smile. Her soft touch on mine whenever I perform.
And whenever I finish performing, I would respectively bow my head a little low, still seated, and say "Xie xie" under my breath.
And I could feel her responding every time I did so...
Smiling. Saying ‘Jia You.’

…

Xie xie ni.
Wo hui jia you.
(Thank you)
(I will do my best)

Would You

2007-09-25T16:19:00.002+08:00

Would you by Hikari Reika

Would you love me still,
even after I could no longer made your heart skip a beat,
or fill your heart with pure laughter and joy?

Would you love me still,
even when I am no longer youthful and full of life,
gray and old, weak and pitiful;
would you love me then, as much as you do now?

Would you love me still, even after the p a s s i o n has died down?
The stolen moments together,
our little secrets, that only we know,
seconds when we can't tear away from each other;
Would you love me still, even if the thrill of it all had disappeared?

Would you still want to hold me in your arms, stare into my eyes and watch the afternoon slip by in each other's company?
Would you still want to hold my hand, tightly, and never let me go?
Would you still want to be by my side every chance you get, look into my eyes and try to get me to smile if I'm feeling a tad blue?

Would you still want to be with me, regardless of the time of day and place, and when the distance between us grows, and would you, really, want to still spend the rest of your life with me, to share our experiences, our ups and downs, through turbulence and smooth sailing? Would you still want to intertwine my life with yours, and live the rest of our days together?

Would you, still?

...and would you love me still, even when you feel that deep inside your heart, you no longer have a reason to love me back...?

Day By Day, Night By Night

2007-07-27T23:36:00.000+08:00

Notes: I feel like not enough of my emotions was poured into this... There was so many things I wanted to say, but I feel like if i work on it too much I might ruin the whole thing.
I'll give a shot at 'completing' this, and I will update if there is any changes.
____________________________

Day By Day, Night By Night by Hikari Reika

Day by day, I watch the same dry leaves fall onto my porch.
Day by day, I watch the same sun go down in the same direction in the horizon.
Day by day, I watch the same vehicles drive by outside my car window,
and the faint pitter-patter of the sweet, afternoon rain.

Day by day, I sit in the same spot in my bed, looking out of my window,
seeing the same thing every day.
Night by night, I sit in the same seat in the next room, looking into my computer screen,
looking up the same thing every night.

Day by day, I look at the same fallen leaves on my porch,
always thinking about our conversations together.
The words you said,
the advices you gave me,
the days when you put your arm around me and told me things are alright,
while drying my tears in precious solitude.

Night by night, I toss and turn in my bed, looking at the stars outside my window,
always thinking about our memories we built together.
The touch of your hand on mine,
your sweet, precious whispers,
the days that we sat side by side in each other's company
watching the afternoon age before us outside that window.

So today, tonight, tomorrow and days that will come after,
Day by day,
Night by night,
I will wait here in a world that once used to be ours.
Waiting day by day, waiting night by night...

...Until one day you f i n a l l y come back home to me.

Don't Cry

2007-07-08T18:32:00.000+08:00

Don't Cry by Hikari Reika

Hello there,
and good night...
how are you today?
don't cry.

Listen to me,
I'm the voice in your head
I hear you when no one will listen
I understand you when everyone doesn't
and I'm always here when you've been shut out...
how are you feeling today?
don't cry.

Trust me,
I'm the one inside your mind
I know who you are when no one else does
I feel your pain when others can't
and I'll never leave you when many already had...
what's wrong?
don't cry.

Believe me,
I'm the only one who never leaves
who never sleeps;
but only dreams;
and I'm the only one who would never hurt you
or make you sad...
so why are you upset?
don't cry.

Listen to me,
leave the world of treachery
and forget those who had abandoned you
because I am the voice in your head
and I'll never leave you when many already had.
so don't cry; bid a silent goodbye...

And a final goodnight.

______________________________________

Notes: I believe that when the world turns their back to you, you only have yourself.
And for me, that's good enough.
Because it's you who can't leave you,
and it's you who understands the most.
And in believing this, we are never truly alone
now isn't that a happy thought? :)

The Old Dream-Maker

2007-07-06T21:51:00.000+08:00

Notes: I was inspired to do this after listening to Utada Hikaru sing 'Moon River'. It was less than 30 seconds but a million voices at once started talking in my head after I heard it.
Somehow or other I'm a bit disappointed with how it ended. I'll try to fix that another day.

I'm also dreaming of coming up with an illustration for this. But until I do, enjoy the story :)
___________________________________

The Old Dream-Maker by Hikari Reika

A long, long time ago, far away and tucked in between warm meadows and the intoxicating smell of night dew, there is a place where it was forever night, never day. It never rained or snowed, never too cold or too humid. But the surprisingly large moon never went away.

Always on a slab of rock on the rolling hillside sits an old man. He never got up, he never spoke. He never averted his eyes from the dark heavens above him.

The old man was a dream-maker, and he made dreams out of stars that fell from the skies. He would stretch his arms and a star would fall into his hands, and he would begin weaving it into dreams with the dewy grass around him. When he was done, he the star would have turned into blue mist and it would slip away from his hands, the wind bringing it away into the valley where someone would catch it in their sleep.

The dreams he created was always misty, always calm and sweet. Never a nightmare, never bad or never upsetting. The old dream-maker was a good soul, and he never wanted to make anyone lose their sleep.

But the old dream-maker himself never slept.

Instead, he had been sitting on that rock for ages, letting his youthful days slip past by him. Even happiness itself started to be a distant memory to him. He just sat in darkness, accompanied only by the brilliant full moon as he made dreams out of fallen stars.

He had never asked for anything in return.

Everything he had and everything he owned had gone away in his youthful years. He had a life, he had a love, he had memories everyone was entitled to have. He was as normal as everyone else around him.

But ever since his childhood love ran away from home, he was never the same again. Everything he ate tasted plain, every dream he had made him wake up with a cold sweat. Every sunset and sunrise seemed the same to him.

It was also around this time that he found out that he had a gift. He could weave straw into silk cloth and he could turn water into slabs of metal. Half of the townspeople regarded him as the devil's child, the other half regarded him as God's helper. He hated being called both.

One night, he ran away. And he had never returned home since.

Sometimes, sitting on that slab of rock, he would vaguely remember soft laughter ringing in his ears, the glimpse of straw-coloured curls, a flawless smile, and blue eyes that looked like it changed colours in the sun. But who is she? He couldn't remember.

One night, a little girl at the age of nine in a white dress had ended up on the slope where the old dream-maker sat. She was lost, hungry and homeless, and she had nowhere to go.

"Excuse me," she said politely, approaching the old dream-maker.

He didn't respond.

She looked glum. "Do you have anything to eat? I'm hungry." she said, clutching her stomach as it growled.

He turned to her, still not saying anything, but a kind gleam in his eyes said he was more than welcome. She sat by him on that slab of rock as he weaved bread out of the dried grass around him and pressed it into her tiny hands. She ate happily, feeling life seep back into her limbs.

When she was done, she sighed happily and thanked the old man. He only managed a small smile.

She quite understood that he might be mute, so she kept quiet as she watched him with rapt attention as he weaved fallen stars into blue mist and disappear between his fingers. Somehow or other, she knew the blue mist was dreams. She had heard about the old dream-maker, but only thought of it as a myth until now. She was in awe.

"You know," she began saying, feeling that the absence of crickets that night seemed odd. "I ran away from home. Just like my mother. She left me and my two brothers when we were very young."

He didn't respond, but she continued anyway.

"Mother ran away, and dad couldn't support us, so he left us with my grandmother. And she is a beautiful soul. She loved us a lot. But I ran away because my grandma is sick, and my grandpa couldn't support all of us. It's sad, I know, but the real reason why I ran away because I don't like looking at grandma when she's awfully sick. She said that even her dreams were all the same. She's in pain. I hate seeing her like that."

He listened silently, showing concern for the little girl.

"She keeps saying that she wants to see her childhood friend. She never told him what she felt about him before she ran away from the village in the valley. He sounds very special to her.” She said, fingers twisting amongst the grass, her straw-coloured curls dancing in the wind. The colour of her eyes seemed to change in the moonlight.

The old dream-maker stared at her, jaw almost gaping at the startling resemblance of the little girl to his childhood love.

The little girl looked at him.

“Little girl, go home.” He heard himself say. He himself was startled to hear how deep his voice was. “I’ll try to fill your grandmother’s wish, and hope that she will have a peaceful passing.”

The girl’s eyes brightened. “Really? Thank you, old dream-maker!” she said happily before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and waved at him before disappearing amongst the tall grass on the rolling hills. The wind seemed crisper when she left.

The old dream-maker could feel that his days are almost over. He could feel for the first time some shortness of breath, the weakening of his muscles and the blur of his vision. And making a dream each time took a lot of strength from him. But he made a promise...

The last star he could see in the sky because of his deteriorating eyesight fell into the palm of his hands. His heart rate quickened passively.

He made a promise to her.

He sighed. He knew that he would be making the biggest sacrifice he had ever made.

He sighed deep once more, working his hands between the star and grass, modeling it into a dream. His fingers were deft and quick, and it never stopped. But tonight, it did.

The girl came back long after that night. She wanted to thank the old dream-maker. She wanted to tell him that her grandmother said that her childhood friend appeared in her dream, and she was contented with what she saw. And then she passed away peacefully. She wanted to thank the old dream-maker for helping her to fulfill her wish.

But all she saw was the old dream-maker lying still on the slab of rock. The stars that had fallen from the sky were surrounding him on the rock and on the dewy grass. Everything was quiet. Only the moon was fencing his delicate frame, hanging dangerously low in the sky. The old dream-maker had died fulfilling her grandmother’s wish.

With tears in her eyes but gratitude in her heart, she sat beside him on the slab of rock and looked towards the heavens. She clasped her hands together and to offer a silent prayer, and wished upon a falling star that this wouldn’t be the last time she would see the old dream-maker again.

The stars heard her, and granted, it wouldn’t be the last time she will see him.

She lay motionlessly on that slab of rock beside the old dream-maker, when finally, the sun started to rise in the horizon.

I'm Afraid To Love You

2007-07-05T15:47:00.000+08:00

Notes: Inspired by the song "I Don't Know How To Love Him" from Jesus Christ Superstar. If you've never heard that song before, you should download it and give it a listen. A beautiful song!
_________________________________________

I'm Afraid To Love You by Hikari Reika

I'm afraid to love you,
because I'm afraid I'd lie.
It's would be lie to have said I loved you,
and when if I do fall out love,
you would call me a liar.
That's why I'm afraid to say I love you.

I'm afraid to love you,
because I'm afraid I'd break you;
Shatter you beyond repair,
and mangle your spirit with my ignorance.
You would turn around and call me a bad person.
That's why I'm afraid to confess to you.

I'm afraid to love you
because I'm afraid you will hate me.
You will call me useless and such
when if you do fall out of love.
You will say that I'm not the one.
That's why I'm afraid to show it to you.

I'm afraid to love you
because we might become bored with one another,
everyday asking each other the same things:
"Hello," "How are you" and "How was your day?"
We would both question if we're really meant to be together.
That's why I'm afraid to admit I love you.

I'm afraid to love you
because we might play with promises
It would be wrong to play with it
or stretch it, or accidentally break it.
In the end, you might say I never keep those promises.
That's why I'm afraid to make a promise to you.

I'm very afraid of so many things.

And I'm afraid to love you
because actually,

I do.

Nevermore

2007-07-04T18:06:00.000+08:00

Notes: This one was more of a drabble than a finished work. I'll let the reader's imagination run wild with the beginning, and the middle, as I deliver only the crucial moment - the end :)
Wrote this in present tense (though I think there's some mistakes somewhere), wanted to give it a more vivid and current feel.
Have fun reading!

________________________________________________

Nevermore by Hikari Reika

My back slams against the stone, cold wall behind me. Hands gripping aggressively but reluctantly at my shoulders, driving me and forcing every last breath I had away from my lungs. Deafening sounds. Racing heartbeats. I hang my head low, too weak to fight. Unable to think. Unable to plead or even say sorry.

I feel eyes filled with heartbreak stare me down. A sob. A mournful gasp escaped my attacker’s lips. Hands on my shoulders gripping tighter. Much tighter.

Another low, raspy scream escapes my attacker’s lips. Another sharp intake of air. Another hard slam into the wall.

‘How could you.’ he said slowly, anguish swallowing his words. Every quiver of his voice makes my heart sink lower; every cry and every tear colliding with cobblestone walkway beneath us makes my knees want to give way. Every passing moment with him makes me want to turn away and cry it all out.

Fingers relaxed but still holding onto my shoulder. Heads hanging low, touching each other’s foreheads. Breathing regulated. Small sobs escaping from his lips.

‘I thought…’ he said. A sob. His tear drops onto my cheek. ‘I thought… You were real.’

I hold my breath.

‘I actually believed… All the things you said to me.’ He said. A forced laugh echoed. Another sob followed.

‘I actually believed…. You were on my King’s side.’

I closed my eyes painfully. Tears start falling down freely. My feet crossing and uncrossing uncomfortably.

‘I actually believed… That you came to my Kingdom. To help me. To help my King.’

I start to sob. My throat starts to tighten; my chest starts to feel caved in. I start to weep, silently, unrefrained.

‘I thought you were some kind of miracle.’ He said. ‘To the Kingdom…’

A pause.

‘…to me.’

He pulls away. ‘And this happened.’

He looks down to my bloodied hands and sword. Blood of his saviour. Blood of his friend. Blood of the King.

‘Are you from the Other Side?’ he asks, his voice more shallow than it is demanding.

I keep silent. Eyes averting each other. Fingers gripping at my shoulder once more.

‘Answer me.’

I tilt my head to one side, eyes closed shut painfully.

Hands grab at my shoulder and slam me into the stone wall again, but softer, a little. My head hit against the wall, chin up, choking badly on my own tears.

‘Yes.’ I shouted with force, louder than I had intended.

Silent. Sounds of ragged breaths and sniffing can only be heard. My attacker still weeping, his head resuming hanging low from his shoulders. Not saying a word. Nothing at all.

Leaning my head against the wall again. Fingering the small dagger I have at my waist. Encircling. Deciding. Forced by my own thoughts and bound loyalty to those in command of me. Going against my heart and my free will. Throwing away what I could have for something I don’t want.

Suddenly I feel the lingering taste of his lips across mine. So close, so near. I slowly close my eyes.. Just lingering, never touching, and never feeling. Just teasing, never wanting, and never needing. Reluctantly. Delicately. But never touching. Reeling, but wanting more, restraining but continuing. Torturous. Cruel. Aching.

Betraying.

Another hard slam into the wall. My shoulders feel hot from scarring.

A curse word escaped harshly from his lips. And another. To himself.

Still, I delicately feel the dagger hanging at my waist. Waiting to act. Waiting to attack.
Throwing it all away for something I don’t want.
Stabbing the person that finally made me happy.

I awake. I snap. Feeling metal steel brush against my abdomen. Feeling his sword stab and plunge into me. Feeling my chain mail break, feeling the fabric tear. Feeling my blood flow rapidly.

Slowly. But surely. Feeling death.

‘I’m sorry’ I’m hearing him say. Regretfully. Hatefully. Grievingly for my demise soon.

Foreheads touching. Tears dwelling. My back arching against the wall. The tip of his sword scraping against the wall as my body is still shaking.

A cry escaped my lips.

My hand grabs at his shoulder. Reluctantly. Softly. Grasping for support. Holding on for pity. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth very dry. Body feels very cold and falling slowly onto the ground.

Lay there. On the side. Breathing. Never thinking.

Fingers intertwined slowly. Holding. Squeezing. Not letting go. Not wanting to let go.

‘I’m sorry.’ I hear him gasp. Holding onto my hand tighter.

Heartbeat racing. Sounds deafening. Sobs echoing. Feelings falling…

Senses fading, breathing less rapid. Touch numbed. Vision blurred, hearing softened...

‘Goodbye’ I hear at last. Voice regretting. Stumbling. But clear. ‘And forevermore.’

Fairy Tale

2007-07-01T00:36:00.000+08:00

Fairy Tale by Hikari Reika

There are some fairy tales left in this world still.
Open your eyes and you might find them in the most unexpected places.

There's always someone in need of rescuing everyday, and the saviour would save them from crisis.

There's always magic somewhere in that kitchen of yours, and only your mother knows the secret of it.

And there's always a little lingering feeling inside of you that leaves you smiling to yourself the whole day - as if you were put under a spell by someone.

And you love the people who surround you - as if letting them be majesties, kings and queens that rule your open heart.

The world you live in is a fairytale in itself, and you are here living from the very first chapter till the ending of the book.
You live life as if a protagonist in a story, going through ups and downs - inner turmoil - happiness - heartbreak - weaving through uncharted terrains and unknown gray areas - an adventure in life everyone will go through one day.

Every fairytale will always be written the same - the one who makes his's different is the writer who stops a while and takes notice of every fine things - the hues and colour of a meadow - the faint sound of the water rippling - and the sweet, sweet musky smell of the summer evening - descriptions that makes a scene more vivid yet surreal in the mind's eye.

So I ask you now, dear traveler, to take that road you seem so unfamiliar with - and live life as if it were a dream...
...and write yourself the best fairytale you'll ever experience in your entire life.

Space To Write...

2007-06-27T16:00:00.000+08:00

...and live my dreams!

I'm allocating this site for my written work only - so not much of personal stuff. My personal blog can be found here.

My writing itch has come back again, so I decided I wanted a site specially for my written work (and also because I didn't feel like updating my fictionpress account... ngeh so troublesome!)... So I guess it would be appropriate in my first post here to write about, well, writing in my life! :)

Well, I can say I've always loved writing. In school, I've always felt excited when the teacher hands me the question paper for the English essay. Well, starting in form 4 anyways. That was when I began to really explore writing.

Come to think of it, I started out by writing fanfiction because I couldn't get enough of my Japanese Anime (at that time I was hooked on Slam Dunk) ...so I wrote new chapters for that particular anime - a new scene - a new story - the way I interpreted it.

After that, I started writing my own stories with my own characters. I began to read more books. I began to explore the wonderful world of writing.

(Oh yes! I did write since I was form 1 - but poems - and cheesy ones at that :p... I'm not going to share it here!)

So I began to write - and slowly my likeness for it turned to love and passion. I began to love what I write. I guess I even got too personal with a few of my writings at one point. But hey, why wouldn't I? Writing became a part of who I am. It became a part of me. It became my confidant, my friend, and who I am.

Around this time when I was in form 5 that I wondered, what was my future going to be like? I was pretty bad in my science classes (except for chemistry... I loved that subject!) and I felt lost. I couldn't do science. Arts? It felt different for me. My mindset at that moment was Arts was, well, bad. Science was the way to go. But I had no passion, no real interest and love for science in school. I loved writing more. But creativity is so abstract! So subjective! I was stuck.

So I went through form 5 in a daze, and ended up with fairly okay SPM results.

I landed myself in Graphic Design because of it. And after getting used to the creative world, my love for writing re-ignited. And flourished.

Sometimes I look back and think, damn, I wished I had gotten better grades in school. I could have done a major in Chemistry.
But then again I catch myself and look at where I am today. And I smile. I'm happy the way things are now. I have space to explore my creativity - and I am living in an environment that encourages growth. Both my parents like the fact that I am doing something that I love and productive at the same time. And that's enough for me :)

I would rather choose writing for a living than becoming a Chemistry lecturer in a university anyways :P

So what can writing take me to? Well, I'd love to be a copywriter... And also my biggest dream is to publish my own book. A novel. A collection of short stories. Anything that was produced from my own sweat and tears. Anything that can enable me to leave my mark in the world~

I'd love that someday. I'll do whatever it takes to get there!

Eheheheh. Now, back to writing... :p will be posting my works soon! Keep your eyes peeled!