A tale

There once was a little boy who lived in a village. He drew a painting and felt very nice about it. It was precious to him. Then, he went to his parents to ask what do they think?
His mother was busy tending the garden, and told him, "You need to help me out more, dear".
His father, casting his net to fish, told him,"Make sure you study hard also son. You need education."
Both of them didn't even glance at his painting.

He went away a bit sad, but knowing how hard his parents provided for him, he just went his way.
He continued on and went to school to meet with his friends. "That's not a nice pic!","Draw about toys and cartoons!","That's ugly!".

Sadden further, he dragged his feet along the pavement. Right in the distance, there was a little girl sitting on a bench. He sat next to her, putting the painting beside him. She turned her head and smiled. It was the new girl in the village. She pointed to the paper and he showed her the painting.

She smiled even more, and opened her bag. Taking out a roll of paper, she showed the content to her. It was the same painting. They both smiled.

But the moment did not last long. The sky turned dark and he had to go back home. Same with her. Both of them separated.

The next day, the boy drew another painting and rushed to meet the girl. He sat on the park bench from the morning until the sun came down. She never came.

He was sad, really sad. No one was able to cheer him up. No one wanted to look at his paintings.

It would be a long time before he regained his cheer.

He was walking along the pavement one day, still thinking about the girl. Then it struck him.
He will draw paintings until he can find ppl who appreciate it.
Who knows?
The girl might just be around the corner, watching him ;-)

Waiting

I am waiting for it...
For it to pass through the shark-infested Seas of Wanderers,
Frigid peaks on the Mountain of Giants,
high towering Cliffs of Illumination,
dark deep Valleys of Void,
muddy zombie-filled Swamps of Suffering,
Scorching Desert of Lost Souls,
and
reach
the hands of this lonely wordsmith.

A companion for the Chronicler.

A tool for the Wordsmith.

An art for the Journalist.

*waiting like a little kid outside the toy store*

Of First Importance

“Christ is much more powerful to save than Adam was to destroy.”

- John Calvin, Commentary on Romans, Collected Works

Writing Partner

It seems wasteful to not employ the technology in hand, especially the Internet as much as possible. In a ordinary conversation with my friend, Lynnette, we found out that both of us havnt been writing much.

Therefore, we try to encourage each other by being...."Writing Partners"!

It would be hard nonetheless, with both of us in different continents and timezone, but would that stop us as writers?! Of course not ;-)

So, to start our inaugural posts, I have suggested we write in www.oneword.com and post it in our blog. However, I do hope that when we have time, we can write longer on our post.

Anyways, here is today's keyword 'alert',

'The amber light came up. The coffee machine blips. It was morning, and the sun shone upon the lying soul. He awakes, not just from his deep slumber, but also from his tiring journey. And so, he is alerted to his surroundings and life was restored to him."

Rountines

"Routines were meant to be broken, just like rules", I once heard it. But some routines are habits and systems that you have made to support yourself. To identify you. To define you. Sadly at times, these routines will fade away. Nothing last forever, and so are routines.

Currently, I am going through a phase of change. There is a major shift in my routines now, and I end up on the bad end. Trying to juggle everything at once, does take a toll on your body and mind.

And yet, change is of course inevitable. But what can you do in the midst of change?

For one, we can learn about who were are, and why we make such routines?

I found out, I was looking at the short direction, and missing out at God. It's the big pic that we miss, just because of the ones near us.

Do have routines, but do also embrace change. It may or may not be for the better, but acceptance of it, is half the battle won. It takes time to adapt, but it also takes the heart to follow...

Dedicated to Lynnette Woo

For those who do not know me, I have something that I am really proud of...wakaka

I have THE COMPLETE COLLECTION of Hercule Poirot by Agatha Christie!!

All 39 copies, from the start to the end.

I was chatting with a friend, Lynnette and boasted about this collection. She wanted to see it to ooohhhh and aaahhh...;-)

So Lynnette, this post is for you to marvel at my collection.

For the uninitiated, the Hercule Poirot series is about this little Belgian detective who uses his mind and skillful understanding of criminal psychology to catch the crook.

So, that's all 39 of it. er...actually I missed one, it's with Matthew (lol...)


This is how it looks like on my table. Ignore the mess...;-)

The Return

The quiet still night was engulfed in darkness. It beckons evil to draw near. To rise. A full moon brings forth a bad omen, one that harbors a distinctive sense of hate and vengeance. The stillness was barely broken with a thin fog. As the night progresses, the fog thickens, and so is the deathly silence.

A swirl of mass suddenly appears. A figure looms in the background, draped in darkness.

Two bloodshot eyes stares into the open space.

Razor-sharp fangs were bared. A piercing death glare was apparent.

*evil laugh* I HAVE RETURNED!!

p/s: anyways, I am back in penang :-p