Where I Am Now

I'm still struggling. What else is new? I give up - I really do. Shit job, shit pay, weekends spent doing nothing. If I had the energy, I'd really go through with killing myself. It's not fair that I have to put up with this while it just gets worse and worse for me. My feet are burning, my whole body aches, I stress even in my sleep - I'm exhausted. And these strangers, they're drilling and hammering away in this house while I'm writing this. I don't even get a quiet weekend to myself. My life is a fucking joke.

-

My cat has brain damage. I can't bear to look at him now. I wish they would've put him down. It's no way to live.

On Studies

It looks like I'm stuck with this place. I can't afford to go anywhere decent. A semester at LaSalle in Singapore costs as much as my entire three year degree.

Honestly, if I knew it was going to be this bad, I would've done something else: accounting, business - anything other than art.

A brief summary of Limkokwing so far:

- Severe staff shortage
- Disgusting people
- Terrible facilities
- Poor organization

You just don't feel like you're getting your money's worth. You constantly feel like all of this is tailored to someone with brain damage. All my classes are basically, "OK, here, go do this," and you just bring your progress over the semester. Barely any tutorials whatsoever. It's just so stupid that I - a novice - can score a 4.0 every semester and the only thing I do are the assignments. I just don't feel like I'm learning anything.

The people are trash. They go on about multiculturalism but they neglect to mention that most of the people that come here are from all these failed states. They're rude, they're loud and and they vandalize campus property. Last semester, we waited around until 11 for class to start because the lecturer had to go bail out a student who thought it was a good idea to go clubbing on a Wednesday night without his student card. And as you can expect, the assignments they turn in are always shit.

And of course, the university keeps passing them. It doesn't matter if they've never once turned up for class; it doesn't matter if they're selling drugs on campus; it doesn't matter if they never submitted any of their assignments. As long as they have the cash.

Honestly, I'm just so tired of all of this. I'm struggling so hard to achieve and it's always for nothing. It's looking like it'll be another fucked up year for me again. And now they're trying to shove that Global Classroom shit down our throats. I don't even know if it's compulsory or not. They won't tell me for sure.

It's been so long since I've been happy.   

2017

How did my life go so wrong?

Everything's just turned out so terrible.

I've lost all my friends and I'm stuck doing this worthless degree that I don't even like anymore. It's like everything I touch turns to shit.

I can't talk to anyone; not even my family - they don't understand, and I don't see a point in trying. I feel like I'm slowly losing my mind, cooped up in this house every day. I have nowhere to go and nowhere to be. I'm reminded of this every time I wake up in the morning.    

It's like it gets worse with every passing year. I'm somehow expected to carve out a life in this busy world full of awful people - wade through all the garbage so that I don't drown - that's my reward at the end of the day. You do all these things that you don't want to do, because you need to do more things that you don't want to do. That's how it works; that's supposed to be aspirational. 

Why is everything so difficult?

I've tried to be neutral about all of this but I just can't anymore. I feel like I might just kill myself this year. It would be so easy. I'd just have to bring a stool to the roof of OneCity and climb over the railing. I don't have a purpose in life. I've even cleaned up my room so they won't have to.

I need to go salvage what's left of my degree now. I told them I wanted out. I'm hoping I can get a credit transfer somewhere better. Or I don't know - maybe I'll stay.

I don't know what to do. 

Just a Quick Update.

It's literally been a year since I last wrote anything for the blog. And logging into my blogger to write made me remember I was supposed to write a piece for Seafield.FM's blog (oops). Well, I guess I'll get to that later if I can.

Anyway, the mid-term holidays have just started. Yippie, right? I'm a little uneasy not because of homework (there's none for once) but because I hardly ever get anything done during holidays. I dunno, it's just my mind craves the internet all the time. But when I go on Facebook, I just have nothing to do; no notifications to respond to, nobody on chat. I guess it's the reason why some people hate Facebook so much. It's like a drug and Mark Zuckerberg's probably doing voodoo or something along with Apple.

I've tried to restart writing again and I've got some form of success. I managed to finish a chapter from Junkyard City (still can't believe I haven't finished any concept art for the book yet. Oh, and in case you don't know, I like to do little scene pictures from the books and stuff I'm writing; helps the ideas to flow.), and I just realized, that while I've got a basic framework for Druscall (this pirate thing I'm working on), I don't have an antagonistic force or a real direction for it. Everything's just adventure and epic pirate stuff like sword fights and battleship-esque canon battles in the middle of the ocean. On a related note, I'm glad I've finished a piece for Druscall, the good ol' Captain brooding at the bow of the Caravus, in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle (The Three Walls, in the book).

So, I want to catch up on writing for the holidays as well as do some art. I got this excellent acrylic paint set from Sunway. I've never used acrylics before, EVER but I hear you're supposed to use a canvas (which I don't have). Pfft, doesn't matter. I'll be practicing my painting and digital art skills during these two weeks. My Intuos has been in its bag for far too long.

Lastly, I also want to do some serious studying. The mid terms were an epic fail. I can't believe it. I realize I didn't try that hard but I still don't believe that instead of people worrying about getting As or Bs, people are actually worrying about passing or not. So far, I've failed my Add Maths :/. I think I failed my Chemistry too but I haven't checked; it's too depressing. I just barely passed my Math and I'm pretty sure I did horribly on my Bio. Only English can save me now. Of course, I didn't tell my parents. It's like one of those infinite loop flow chart things: Get good marks? - NO - nag* - study harder/ Get  good marks? - YES - nag* - study harder. Doesn't really mean much, especially to me. Anyway, I'm trying to keep looking ahead, so I'm planning on finishing most of the workbooks I have stacked in my drawers. I guess that's all for now so wish me luck!

A Day Late Friend

He was running... Where? He didn't know. Wrecked cars were strewn about as if they were the playthings of giants. Shops and businesses were on fire and he choked as some of the smoke blew into his face. His feet hurt and they were bleeding, he noticed as exhaustion doubled him over. He started to slow down to a clumsy shuffle. He needed to run but his broken body just couldn't do it any more.

Amid the buzz of adrenaline, fatigue and shock, memories started to flow. Memories of his family: mom, dad, Jill and also Ryan. Was this his life flashing in front of his eyes? He was going to die, though he knew it deep down in his gut a long time ago. He staggered over to sit in the back seat of a wrecked compact that had its doors wide open. He legs gave way, however, bringing his entire weight down on the rough asphalt littered with bits of car. He cried out in pain as sharp bits of gravel and car bit into his flesh. He dragged his frame onward and settled for the rear quarter panel and the wheel to rest his weight against.

Slumped against the car, he looked up at the sky. Cinders danced amid the thick smoke that spewed out of the burning e-Mart two shops down. Sunset was upon the city. He reveled in the thought that he would be getting his will to die seeing a sunset. His breathing started getting ragged and he laid his cut-up, bruised and blood-caked hands by his side, not bothering to have a look at them or worry about treating them. This truly was the end.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but he could hear them. They were closing in. Part of him recoiled in fear but the majority remained unfazed. This was him accepting his fate. Glass crunched a distance away. The metal on cars groaned and crunched, and the familiar sound of glass shattering could be heard. They were taking forever and his insides were practically screaming for it all to be over with.

There was a long pause when suddenly, something yanked him back and before his mind could process what had happened, he felt the teeth sink into the nook between his neck and shoulder. Warm liquid rushed down his chest and back. He was staring at the sky, transfixed at the sheer nothingness in them. The thing made another chomp and bit down harder, sending a jolt through him. Even as he was bleeding profusely and feeling his life ebb away, he couldn't help but like how nice the fur of the creature felt against his exposed skin.

Finally, the thing let go and he landed once more like a rag doll on the rough road strewn with broken glass, garbage and bits of cars. He looked up at the thing that took his life and now left him dying: a tall dog-like creature with golden fur. The suit he wore was ripped and covered in his blood and filth. His tie fluttered slightly in the breeze as the thing looked down upon her with its scarlet eyes. Others were around him too: a white-furred something dressed in a track suit and a wolf in the remnants of a police uniform. All of them stared down at him, not making a sound.

Then, as suddenly as the gold-furred creature had yanked her up and sank its teeth in her, they left; dashing out of her field of vision in a heartbeat. Speaking of heartbeats, hers was quickening and dare she say it, pumping harder against the inner walls of her chest. It gradually gained oomph and in the space of mere seconds, the beating had grown to a point that they hurt. His own heart pounded against his insides like a sledge hammer. It was agony! Just when he thought it would burst through his rib cage, the rest of his body suddenly ignited in pain. He thrashed and screamed. His senses were a blur of color, sound and agony.

Things snapped within him, parts of him stretched, things like wires went through his skin.

The one thing that stood out from the mess of pain, however, was his eyes. They felt as if they were being forced back into his skull. He tried feeling for them against the protests of his arms that felt as if they were broken and on fire. He'd rip them out of their sockets just to stop the pain.

His insides tossed and turned like the churning sea in a storm. He could feel his senses die. He could feel his feelings and emotions shift. It didn't take him long to discover his own body was going against him! He could feel his body smothering him. It was as if it had a mind of its own and now, it decided he wasn't needed anymore. He tried to scream and it came out as a high howl.

He tried to reach for something to hold on to as this poison engulfed him. The world turned dark, his senses all but dead. He thought he'd died but no, he still breathed. His eyes snapped open to find that the world had gone red.

Cecil fell off the stool and shot off in the dark to where he collided painfully with the wall of small apartment he was in. Cold sweat soaked through his T-shirt. His skin crawled. He checked his surroundings: the rifle was still perched half out of the window and to his right, his trusty old backpack was in a heap where he had dumped it before going on sniping duty.

It was one of those dreams again, the ones that were just too real to feel like dreams. His breathing was ragged like the girl in his dream. It didn't make sense in the slightest but somehow, he knew everything about her.

She was Diana Newman, born on the fourteenth of April, 1988. Cecil tried to control his breathing. She was the daughter of Frank and Anne Newman, and she had a sister named Jill. She was also dating someone by the name of Ryan Lake. More and more of her memories started to surface. Everything about her was in his head: high school crushes, best friends, her job, likes and dislikes...

Cecil sat down in the corner and gripped his head in a futile attempt at getting himself together. It felt as if his skull was being crushed from all directions. Just what was happening to him? Diana wasn't the first person's memory he'd "gained". Scott Grenniger, the lawyer; Franchesca Seinfeld, the school teacher; Ben Robbins, the college footballer... He was sure they were memories. They all had the same ending; dying and then getting that suffocating feeling as their bodies took over - that sudden realization that you couldn't do anything about it and then crying out in horror before crushing darkness engulfed them fully. He shuddered.

Cecil stood up and fumbled around for the light switch. Finding it and flicking it on, went to the bathroom to wash his face, not even flinching at the sudden burst of light that hurt his eyes. He did however shake his head as the feeling reminded him of the eye episodes every one of the victims encountered.

A few cupped splashes of cold water and a little rub-down later, he stared at himself in the mirror. His steely reflection stared back. Cecil leaned in closer to look in his eyes. There in the glass, the red halo around his pupils that followed every "incident" could be seen.

Benton had said that he was special; that he would lead the others and rise up as champion in the struggle for survival. In his own words, he'd said that Cecil would learn in time, and come to accept his new responsibilities.

As much as he'd like to deny it, Cecil knew he was different. Everything from saving the entire Community twice, getting shot at point blank multiple times, to this memory gaining thing set him apart from the rest. But all that was secondary compared to what else Benton said he would accomplish. According to him, he'd be able to "take the world for his own and shape it in his image".

Why him? he asked himself for the umpteenth time. Out of over six billion people, it just had to be him. He never slept well since Jim died and he used that free time to mull things over. Along with the stuff he could do so far, he'd discovered he had super-human strength by lifting and throwing a small car off the top of a multi-storey car park just the other day.

It was accidental and he did it purely out of rage at everything that was going on. Thankfully, nobody was around to witness him picking up a half tonne car and hurling it into the next building like it was a trash can. What would they say? More importantly, what would they do?

He shared so much in common with the severely infected - the savage red-eyes. Could he be one of them? A case of on the edge but not quite over? But those eyes looking back at him in the mirror were almost smiling at him, as if saying "Soon"

He checked his battered watch and found he was overclocking again. Cecil went over to the orange heap of fabric that was his backpack and rifled the pockets for his cellphone. It was difficult trying to keep track of things these days. He was losing things far more often than he used to. Pretty soon, he'd be losing his mind as well, he thought.

He called Hutch, the man who never seemed to go home to call it a day.

'I was beginning to think you were gonna to go 'til you dropped. Get some rest. You're useless if you're gonna yawn behind that sniper scope.'

With the rifle and supplies in check safely in his now bulging backpack, he gingerly crossed the huge hole in the hallway to get to the stairs. As the jagged floorboards creaked threateningly beneath him, he couldn't help but think that he would survive the drop anyway now that he had these crazy super powers.

Outside, Kitt roared to life and purred. His xenon headlamps blinded him as he made his way towards his trusty robotic companion.

'So, you shoot any?' he asked hopefully he climbed in and tossed the bag into the passenger seat. The top of his "X" brow jumped hopefully.

'No.'

'Wow, you really suck.'

'Well you're full of shit. Just take me home, will you?' Cecil said, pinching the top of his beak where his nose once was.

'Seriously, why do you keep doing this? It's not like you and Laura are starving or anything.' he felt the car jerk backwards out of the alley into the street.

'I just need some alone time,' Cecil said, not looking at Kitt's "X" face in the display.

'Well sure, everyone does. But come on, you need friends too, right?' and his voice was filled with genuine concern for him.

'You think I'm not spending enough time with my friends?'

'Yeah. Look here.' The windshield came alive with the scene of a the computer lab where he knew Mort would be working late. Huddled together around the little otter were all his friends: Laura, Kyle, Nora and Hutch. The sound was muted but they appeared to be having a good time; having meaningful conversation with each other while Mort worked on the computer. He watched as Kyle sprayed bits of bagel all over everyone from laughing too hard.

In the smaller dash display, Kitt still eyed him. The proof was there, he'd just shown it to Cecil.

'It's just that I'm in a bit of a dilemma over here.' Cecil said, watching the girls wear a disgusted look on their faces while Kyle and Mort laughed along to something Hutch said.

'Whatever it is, you better work it out fast. Life expectancy here isn't all that high, you know. One day you're alive and the next thing you know, BOOM!' Kitt made a deafening exploding sound effect that made the cabin shudder and make Cecil jump.

'Thanks,' Cecil simply said before assuming manual control. Kitt gave the car to him as soon as his gloved hand touched the gearstick. He smiled and pondered over some more things as he made his way home.

He would make sure that they never knew what he was hiding from them. It was the safer thing to do. As they say, what you don't know can't hurt you, right? Or was it phrased a little differently? He couldn't quite remember.

As he drove on into the darkness, a sudden thought occurred to him.

'Wait, how did you get the video feed from the complex?'

'Secrets, my friend.' Cecil rolled his eyes as Kitt started to laugh in mock evil.

Chanced Away

COWARD!!!... traitors... I'm different! iDen killed my family... I'm going to die here.

Ed stared at the mural, if it could be called one at all. It took up almost the entire wall. It depicted the infected - clothed, humanoid animals - reaching out for help but being gunned down by uniformed men instead. Notable iDen machinery hovered around the scene like the ZHAR fighter and some of those metal skeleton robot things. Behind the uniforms stood a group of normal people a distance away. One of them had his arms crossed as if to say "get it over with."

Every word stung. Most of them were hateful in nature, condemning iDen and humanity for "leaving them behind." There were final words too: My name is Kieth Marshall and I'm going to die here... I love you Grace... David Reis, if you're reading this, I don't think I'll make it. I love you - Sara

It chilled him to the bone. It seemed like the wall was speaking. Adding to the effect of it all was the blood; smeared in places and he noticed some of the writing was made with the stuff too. He felt sick. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. His eyes scanned some more - I love you, Cassie... HUMANITY BETRAYED US... God is dead...They took my son... I still love you, Lauren Davids... They killed my family... We miss you, Frank Uley... Traitors... Traitors... TRAITORS!!!

Edward doubled over, clutching his abdomen over the painful knot that had suddenly formed in gut with one hand, and covering his mouth with the other for fear of vomiting. All the warmth and love had truly gone from this world, he thought. He never realized this until now but he, Edward Fletcher, was all alone. He was here, in the ruins of San Francisco - his old home - with people he never quite connected with. They were in danger... The red-eyed things, the robots and whatever else that could do harm were nothing compared with what the sound-minded infected would do to them if they found out they were here. Yesterday, he overheard Daniel say something about lynching. But after what humanity has done, maybe they deserved that.

The five of them - Elizabeth, Daniel, Megan, Rachel and Ed - were in a safe house for the time being; one of the mansions on Lombard Street. It was far enough from where their base was but was close enough that Cecil or someone else could keep an eye on them all. It had come as quite a shock that he'd lived. In the copter, when they both found out each other was alive, Cecil went ballistic. The whole thing almost went down. Ed shuddered at the thought of his expression - he was beyond livid. It would be forever inked in his mind; curiosity, then the gaping of his beak in realization before his face contorted in rage as he pinned Ed to the wall of cabin.

Cecil had every right to get mad; Ed made his life here hell. Ed bullied him in school before the outbreak and based on the intelligible bits of outburst in between the cursing, his whole family had died and he'd lost close friends. He was also a bird-like creature now, bearing the curse of science, like Elizabeth's fiance, Marcus, that Kyle fellow and Nora. Ed was paying for his misdeeds now. But just how much did he have to pay? He lost his family too, and his friends, the rest of the world... He changed at the facility after he was rescued... He learned to love more and the moment he took that woman's child to safety on the bridge, he made a pact to himself that he would change, and he did. He focused on finding a cure for the virus with Rachel and the others. He made it a point to show only the good side of him and to lock up the bad deep down inside him where it wouldn't have a hope of surfacing ever again. He'd changed, damn it! Didn't he deserve a second chance? Was it really too late to make amends? The knot in his gut threatened to break his composure and send him breaking down in tears or something along those lines. He honestly didn't know how he felt except that it didn't feel good in the slightest.

Something nested on his shoulder, setting his nerves alight with warmth and comfort. He turned to find Rachel standing next to him on the cold, damp sidewalk. Without saying anything, she hugged him tightly and he returned the hug without question. It was just the thing he needed.

'It gets better...' she said.

'Doesn't feel like it,' he choked.

She didn't say anything and the two of them were locked in the embrace until Ed pulled away. He always thought Rachel was one of the more caring scientists. There was a long pause where neither of them made eye-contact.

'I guess we should get back inside,' he said.

Rachel nodded. Ed hoped Elizabeth had calmed down by now. She loved Marcus deeply, but asking him to bite her and change her was just out of question. They had quite a standoff afterwards until Marcus simply left in fury. As he drove off, tires squealing over the slick roads, he watched the bossy, no-nonsense, blond-haired former secretary to Noah Benton break down and cry. It was just so unlike her... Then again, he'd seen another side of people he never knew existed. Megan was a prime example. At first, he thought Megan Skye was going to be one of those broken people who had just given up hope on life after the outbreak. Having her as a roommate would've been hell, or so he thought. One moment she was crying her eyes out on her bunk and the next, she became the first person he saw smile in days as they both got acquainted. She hid her pain quickly enough and the two warmed up to each other quickly. Ed often caught himself mulling over his feeling for her. He'd known her for over two years and both good and bad memories were shared between them.

Megan was up on the roof with Nora and Kyle - both huskies. The clock on the wall indicated that it was two in the morning but Ed doubted its accuracy considering that nobody'd lived here in two years. Rachel disappeared into the living room where Daniel was kneeling next to Elizabeth who was sniffing as she sat on the carpet in front of the big, luxurious leather sofa.

Ed basked in solitude as only the sound of his footsteps and the slight rustle of his clothing could be heard in the halls as he mounted step after step to the roof access. Nearing the top, he heard laughter. Deep, rumbling laughter - Kyle.

'And he was like I'm going to kill you so hard you'll- Oh, hey, Ed.' Megan stopped the joke abrutly at his presence.

'Hey,' Kyle and Nora said at the same time. Ed noticed their eyes glinted slightly in the dark. The two of them were considerably taller then Megan and Ed. They two of them were strong, with Kyle leading considerably in muscle mass. Even in the low light, it was hard not to notice the amount of muscle wrapped around their calves, thighs and arms. He'd seen one of them run before and truth be told, their speed and agility were frightening. Kyle was black and white while Nora had sable fur, allowing them both to dress lightly in the cold, unlike the rest of the human refugees.

'Hey. Anything going on?' Ed asked as an ice-breaker.

'No, don't worry, we're safe here,' Nora said.

'Yup, none of the red-eyes for blocks, here,' Kyle added.

'Great,' Ed fixed his eyes on Megan.

'Meg, can I talk to you alone just for a moment?'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Sure, I guess.'

Ed beckoned her to follow her down to the deserted floor below them while Kyle and Nora resumed watch. Kyle eyed him with mild curiosity as he walked pass. He noted his eyes were a baby blue. Nora was hunched over the railing, surveying the wreck of a helicopter that had crashed into the opposite mansion. She had something that looked like a small harp slung over her back along with a sheaf of arrows nestled in a tube.

Downstairs, Ed closed the door behind them and flicked the light switch on. They were greeted by the sight of a rather spacious office that was tastefully furnished. A large desk dominated the space.

'What's this about?' Megan asked softly.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Um, sure. Shoot.'

Ed took a breath before asking the question.

'Do people deserve second chances?'

'What?'

'Do people deserve second chances?' he repeated.

'Well, it depends. What for?'

'It's sort of universal.'

She paused to mull the answer over.

'Well, I mean, if it's for good, then yes.'

'Do I deserve a second chance?'

'What are you talking about?'

'I did some terrible things to people, Megan - Cecil included. I want to make amends.'

'What sort of things are we talking about here?'

'Bullying.'

Megan stared at him. It was the same look she gives test results and complicated-looking data sheets - the look of deep thought. Then her lips parted in an answer.

'Edward Fletcher... I don't think you're capable of bullying,' she said tenderly.

'But I did. I ruined people's lives and many of those people died without any closure or resolve or whatever.'

She inhaled deeply.

'Ed, whoever that person you say ruined lives doesn't exist anymore. I don't see him in you. You're a whole different person - you're a good person. You remember that. Do you think I'd make friends with scumbags? You want to make things right, and that's proof of who you really are. My mom once told me that it's not what you've done that matters but what you will do next.'

She placed a hand over Ed's chest, just over where his heart was.

'And I'm telling you that yes, you do deserve a second chance.'

Ed pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tight.

'I love you, Meg,' he whispered into her ear before he realized what he'd done.

'I love you too, Ed,' she replied.

Later that night, when everyone was asleep in their respective beds, sofas or sleeping bags, Ed climbed out of the bed he shared with Megan and put his shoes back on. He tip-toed through the house until he was outside and facing the wall with the mural again.

Again, the words played over in his head like disembodied voices were whispering into his ear. He couldn't stop it. This time, however, he didn't feel sick. Absentmindedly, he put his hands in his pockets and halted abrutly just as his right hand entered the slit. It was like deja vu all over again. He was in the helicopter and looking into the steely grey eyes of Cecil Reinhart, feeling the sudden realization hit him at who he was. It was as if the universe was playing a trick on him that only seemed to stretch his mind more and more. Pretty soon, he would have to put his sanity to question.

From the depths of his jean pocket, he withdrew the whiteboard marker he had meant to return to the board room. Uncapping it, he smiled ever so slightly as he wrote in capitals under the rifle of the masked man, where it would be clearly seen to anyone who chanced upon the mural.

"MY NAME IS EDWARD FLETCHER. I SURVIVED."

And survive, he did. He will make things right one way or another, and he'll take anything the universe can throw at him. He will earn the forgiveness of Cecil Reinhart if it's the last thing he did.

The Gryphon, The Piano and The Love - Part Two.

The months passed in a blur, it seemed. September, along with its icy winds finally settled upon San Francisco, but deep within the confides of the iDen Biotech Research Facility, the weather did little to affect the progress science was making. Valentine was nearing adulthood, according to Rachel and Cordell. Long gone were the days of simple door-unlocking tests and picture puzzles. Nadia watched from observation deck seven of the enormous chamber twenty-six where Valentine was making his way through an aerial obstacle course designed for the testing of ZHAR fighters and other flight-enabled machinery.

He swooped, dived, banked and did a little barrel-roll with ease as he dodged moving walls and went through hoops. Truly, he lion DNA along with its cat-like reflexes had given him an edge over being pure eagle, as Noah had wanted in the beginning. Today, he wore only a pair of sweatpants for aerodynamics, leaving his upper body bare. From the monitor on the wall to her right, Nadia could make out every slight change in his expression and every ripple of muscle beneath his golden fur. He's stronger now, she thought. He was smiling now, and Nadia couldn't help but think that he belonged in the sky. He just seemed happier in the air. It must be an exhilarating experience, flying. Valentine had a head-mounted camera for a first-person view but Nadia didn't dare look in the direction of that monitor for fear of dizziness.

Valentine was near completing of the course. All that was left to do now was to grab the red football on the highest podium in the center of the room. Like the climax of every action movie, the hero had to defeat some sort of villain before the happy ending could come, and this villain just happened to be a ZHAR fighter.

Nadia gasped. This wasn't part of the test! She almost ripped the phone off the wall in her haste to contact Costanzo. She mashed the number three, the observation deck he was in. He picked up in a heartbeat.

'WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?!' Nadia screamed into the mouthpiece, just as the gunfire began.

It took Brock a few seconds to answer; likely afraid that Nadia would scream into the phone again.

'What are you talking about?'

'The fighter! Why is it there!? Get it to stop!' she pleaded. She was afraid to look, but in her peripheral vision, she could make out two very large shapes rocketing all over the room.

'It's a test element, you-'

'STOP IT NOW!'

'I can't. Look, just watch-' Nadia slammed the phone down and prayed as she went to within an inch of the glass. She gaped at the sight before her: Valentine was all over the place, his wings working the hardest than they've ever worked before to survive. The boomerang-shaped fighter was hot on his toes, its advanced on-board computer locked-on and poised for the kill as it expelled round after round at him.

She'd seen one of these things in action before; designed exclusively to hunt down and likely kill, they have never once failed at their jobs. Valentine was doing a sort of zig-zag to throw if off but that only lessened the gap between predator and prey. She gasped as one of the rounds his his wing and he cried out in pain. It looked like he was done for but it all happened in the blink of an eye - slowing down, then doing a sort of backward somersault before latching himself onto the body of the craft. The whole thing then started to buck and careen wildly, trying to throw him off.

Valentine was digging at something at the top of its triangular body. Then, he let go and stomped down on the whole thing hard, so that it crashed nose-first into the floor and exploded. Bits of the high-tech craft flew in all directions and several even struck the window Nadia was looking out of.

Nadia stared at the blackened spot in the white flooring. The impact created a small crater in the floor and bits of broken tiles were everywhere. Crumpled beyond recognition, several employees were trying to extinguish the remains of the high-tech killing machine which was now on fire. Realization hitting her, she scanned the room for Valentine and found him perched on the high podium with the red ball in hand. He was positively exhausted: doubling over and coughing, and clutching at his side which was running red.

Nadia dashed out of the observation deck and into the corridor, where she was met with the sight of Dr. Brock Costanzo, who was talking with several other employees.

'Yeah, get the report to Cordell and Noah ASAP, they'll - Ah, Nadia, you see? He made it. You-' she didn't get to hear what else he had to say for she had struck him across the face with her hand.

'YOU FUCKING JERK, BROCK! You had no right to put him in danger like that! You-you...' she swore and several of the guys he was with looked at each other uneasily. She hated this: getting so angry that words simply failed. Even worse was the fact that she was crying. Luckily, Brock didn't have any witty retorts that would make her even more mad. She turned her back to him and headed towards the chamber entrance, where she pushed the doors open and jogged over to Valentine who had landed and was lying on his back. A medic was kneeling over him.

'Nadia!' It surprised her almost all the time at how adult-like he sounded. And he had a slight British accent now after the many hundreds of hours spent in Nadia's company.

'Shh, don't talk.' Nadia knelt down to check on the wound.

'He'll be fine, ma'am. The round just grazed him.' said the medic through her face mask. 'Is everything alright, ma'am?'

'Sorry, what was that?'

'You're crying.'

'Oh, it's nothing, really,' the nurse continued to stare at her in concern until Nadia asked about whether Valentine would be okay.

'I'm a trained professional, Doctor,' she said cheerily and Nadia was glad she dropped the whole crying thing. She thought she sounded Southern. 'Don't you worry yourself. I'll just patch him up and he'll be up and running in no time - or flying,' she added, nothing his wings.

'Thank you so much.'

'No problem, Doctor. Just doing my job.' she stood up and waved in several people with a stretcher.

'Nadia, I finished,' Valentine said weakly before grunting in pain.

'Oh, Valentine...' Nadia moved closer to his head to look into his eyes. 'I'm so sorry, I didn't know what they were going to do.'

'It's alright,' he said with a lopsided smile. He handed her the red football.

She would've went with Valentine and the doctors to wherever it was they were taking him (various parts of the facility changed functions like a person changed clothes) but Nadia had work to do and as the doctor had said, Valentine would be fine. They'd likely sedate him and let him rest, she thought.

She didn't quite know how she felt at that moment, but it didn't feel very good. There was just this lingering doubt and uncertainty that scared her. Also mixed in were the emotions of happiness at Valentine's accomplishments and also dread at where he was headed. As she headed back up to the research labs and her office, she couldn't help but wonder what he was for. Why invest almost a billion dollars into making a talking gryphon? Noah risked going against the Geneva Convention for this and yet, it didn't seem to have a purpose. iDen invested heavily in the RED project; more than weaponry, transportation and everything else and Professor Noah Benton was no fool.

She pondered over this some more in the elevator after leaving the football in one of the observation rooms. Whatever he was for, his relevance seemed to have lessened recently. Rachel didn't visit him as often anymore. Her visits were courtesy calls at best and had little to do with science. She seemed to enjoy Valentine's company more than the others. Rachel was busy today with "something big" and she even invited Nadia to tag along but she kindly turned her down. Valentine's tests were more important.

The familiar "ding" the elevator made chimed and she made a dash to get out. She needed some time to clear her head. Then, as the doors slid open, she almost collided with the man before her.

'Oh, hey, sorry,' he said with a small smile. He was tall and well-built. She would have thought he was a GUARD except that he lacked the black and red uniform they were always seen in. His T-shirt also had the word "USMC" on it, proving her suspicion.

'Would you mind helping me out? I kind of lost,' he said, scratching at he back of his head. She thought he looked rather charming.

'Well, I'm free now, I guess. What sort of help would you be needing?'

'Directions.'

'New here, are we?' she smiled.

'Yeah, I'm here for the Knight Program.'

'Knight Program?' Did he say that correctly?

He whistled. 'Wow, that under-wraps, huh?'

'Well, iDen does keep secrets from everyone. I didn't even know there was a library here until this morning. So where to, soldier?'

He looked down at his shirt and smiled. 'It's captain, actually.'

'Captain?'

'Captain Jacob Turner,' he smiled, extending a hand which she shook.

'Doctor Nadia Simone. Nice meeting you, Captain Turner. I always thought captains were white-haired drill sergeant-types. You look a little young to be a captain.'

On the contrary, he looked rather handsome: brown hair, amber eyes and a friendly face. Nadia noted that he had nice teeth too.

He smiled. 'I guess so - people tell me that all the time. Would you mind directing me to the briefing rooms? That's near the Alpha Labs, I think. I keep forgetting which floor it's on.'

'Wow, you're really lost then. That's on the other side of the facility.'

'Aw, damn,' he laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

'Don't worry, I'll escort you there if you want me to.'

'Really? You'd do that for me?'

'What are friends for?'

'So we're friends now?'

'Well, I imagine you military lot don't really get along in places like this - places where competition is the name of the game, and seeing as you're this lost, it's likely you've consulted nobody on directions because either a) you're fiercely independent, or b) you have no friends here.'

'Wow, that last bit's a little harsh, but yeah, you're almost right. What are you? A psychologist?' he said, climbing into the elevator. Nadia pushed the right floor button for him.

'Correct.'

'Ah,' he nodded. 'British?'

'Correct again.'

'Your accent's really hot,' he teased.

Nadia giggled for the first time that day. 'Oh, you tease... I like your shirt.'

'Yeah, I like it too - highlights my frame well,' he said, and he was right.

The rest of their journey to the briefing rooms near the Alpha Labs were spent with getting to know each other and then finally, exchanging phone numbers. As she bid goodbye to Captain Jacob Turner, she couldn't help but feel yet another emotion that day. It felt good; better than just plain happiness. Dare she call it love? She smiled at the thought as she made her way to Rachel who had conveniently materialized at the end of the corridor.

'Evening, Nadia, you seem overly smug about something.'

'What? Oh, it's nothing.' she said, her smile vanishing.

'I heard about Valentine. He's in Beta thirteen - resting now.'

'That's great. Thanks.'

'Listen, Nadia. Sorry to interrupt your break, but I've got a new project for you.'

'A new project?' Nadia's only responsibility these past few months was Valentine. Apart from helping someone do the occasional lab tests, she really didn't have any other function in the clockwork that made up iDen.

'Yes, it's nothing too big and you're welcome to pull out if it's too taxing. Project Knight'

'Project Knight?'

'Yes, I need someone to tend to the mental health of our new test subjects - army guys and such. I'm heading to the briefing room right now, you coming?'

'Oh, uh, sure. Sure thing.'

The room was dark with a powerpoint presentation going on. Nadia found Jacob among the sea of uniforms and serious-looking faces. He smiled at her and she returned a wave.

'I see you've met Captain Turner,' Rachel whispered into her ear.

'Yes, we've gotten acquainted.'

'Did you get his number?' Rachel said quite audibly.

'Rachel!' she said under her breath.

'What? He seems like a nice guy. I'm just recommending that you consider reeling in this fish. He's different.'

'Great, so he's a fish now,' Nadia rolled her eyes and the two of them kept silent throughout the duration of presentation on the history of iDen and the Knight Program. Nadia didn't really pay attention for she was for too busy mulling over Captain Jacob Turner and what the future had in store for the two of them.

The Gryphon, The Piano and The Love.

'He simply doesn't want speak...'

Nadia stared at Cordell. 'What do you mean? He comprehends speech. You just said it yourself, he's exceptionally bright.'

Professor Alexander Cordell didn't immediately reply. His eyes were fixed on the small child-like creature beyond the glass who was proving his exceptional aptitude at piano. Valder Fields was a nice simple song that anyone could learn with enough practice, but playing it all perfectly after just one listen was extraordinary. Even more extraordinary was the fact that RED-1137 had never come across a piano in his life until about half an hour ago. Previous tests yielded the same result: an all-rounder that very effortlessly out-striped a human being. The professor was far away, his mind pondering, no doubt, over the boy and what else he may be capable of.

'1137 is truly something, isn't he...' he said finally, eyes still fixed on the boy.

'Valentine is more than just something. He's a gift.'

'You seem to have a fondness towards the boy...' he stated, looking sideways at her.

'Well, I mean, yes, yes, I do... There's just something about him that...' Nadia let her words trail off into nothingness. Alexander nodded for he understood.

'How would you like to extend you stay here at iDen?'

'What?'

'Full-time employment. You will be charged with the upkeep and welfare of young Valentine here. After all, the test results showed that he responds better to you than anyone else.' He finished the last part with a hint of bitterness.

'Well, maybe if you all would cut down on the needles and screening and maybe treat him more like a person-'

'So what do you say?' he said before she could finish. He didn't sound angry or annoyed, rather more eager for results than an argument.

'I... I don't know,' Nadia said finally, and it was the truth.

'You're a very sensitive person, Nadia-'

'Yes, and you're all as cold as stone!' she burst out.

'No, you misunderstood me, I wasn't accusing you of being weak. You have a heart of gold, Nadia... Not many people are like you. It doesn't take a degree in anthropology to see that. You're just better with these things than others. After all, science can only do so much...' Nadia stared at him. The look in his eyes said it all and more.

'You may ask for anything here. You will have full access to the facility and the pay will be generous. There will-' he stopped talking for Nadia raised a hand.

'I'll do it... I don't want a fancy company car or money.' she turned to look at Valentine who had finished the song and was now cocking his head low on keys and sampling the sound every one made. 'You just make sure your people don't hurt him,' she said with unconcealed anger and determination.

'It will be looked into...' Cordell muttered.

'You better...' she said, before entering the room.

It was a spacious chamber with white panels covering the walls. Near the high ceiling were frosted windows where Rachel or some other scientist was busy with a clipboard. It took quite a while to reach Valentine who had stopped his key-pushing and had turned long ago to fix his eyes on her. On approach, he sinked a little on the high stool and his beak gaped a fraction. It was textbook fear, but again, according to Cordell, he responded better to her than the others. She shuddered at the thought of what the others did to make him comply to blood tests, body screening and everything else they made him do.

She stopped a distance away, not wanting to distress him further. Valentine was a timid little thing, she thought. The tan feathers and fur had all grown out, making him more real than the first time she saw him. He was deadlier now... The combination of two top-notch predators made anyone think twice about coming near him. Nadia could picture literally a hundred ways Valentine could harm her and the number kept growing. Even so, it was he who was scared of everyone else. His amber eyes with blood-red pupils were wide with fear.

'May I come sit with you?' Nadia said softly, not breaking eye-contact.

He nodded and made to get off the stool entirely but Nadia held him down gently with her hand as she approached. 'No, please... Sit and play for me.'

He nodded, and Nadia couldn't help buy stare in awe at their sharpness and their intensity. They looked like they could see through her. He blinked and tilted his head a little as if to say "Is everything all right?" She kneeled down beside the stool.

'Could you play that song again? It was beautiful... I've honestly never heard anyone play it as well as you did.' she said. Valentine stared at her.

'You're special, Valentine... Don't forget that...,' she said. He didn't immediately respond. He made a sound and from his beak, the words came.

'T-Thank you,' he croaked clumsily and she stared at him in disbelief. 'You spoke!'

'Is is alright?' he sounded so small, young and innocent, like a little boy who's just confessed to breaking something.

'It-It's better than alright. I-I understand you better.' She smiled and watched as he mirrored her expression with mild difficulty.

'Haven't smiled before, have you?'

'No' he said, starting the song again, his talon-ended fingers dancing over the ivory and ebony gracefully. The song he generated was just so beautiful...

'Well, I think you'll be smiling a lot more often from now on...'

'I hope so...'

'I know so.' she said, wrapping an around him and noting the curious feeling of the feathers beneath the fabric.

Valentine smiled in response and played a little more enthusiastically. Nadia smiled and scooted a little closer to watch his little digits dance over the keys and she mulled over the future and what other gifts the child possessed; gifts that fate had kept hidden from them all.

What Do You Think?

I've been thinking that since I hardly post anything about my life on here, I should post stuff on my books instead. Really, I have nothing of any significance to post here about my life but I have several book-related things I'd like to post here.

Manuscripts, plots, short stories, etc. You get the picture, right? Alternatively, I was thinking about getting a new blog - something just for writing instead. Well, I don't know.

...

Wow, I really have nothing to blog about... Oh! I'm making button badges! Basically, I'm borrowing the idea from JoEe and making new button badges out of old ones. You draw whatever you want on a piece of paper, color it and cut it out, and then you stick in onto the old bad you want to use and then laminate it with book wrapper or something.

I have several designs in the sketchbook I'm using but I haven't colored any of them yet. Expect to see me finished in forever.

Oh, yeah! I've submitted an article to the Minda magazine! And also a picture. The article's below:

The Legend by Brandon Choo, 4 Budi

1966, Somewhere in Oregon

‘Yeah? Get dad to move back to Arizona then I’ll play ball with you!’ he said before slamming the trailer door behind him.

Malcolm stared at the door from his spot on the hood of the station wagon. Malcolm was your average seven-year old kid. He was skinny with black hair and amber eyes, and a passion for baseball. He wore thick glasses and a set of hand-me-down clothes that were slightly soiled with earth. Sliding off onto the earthy ground, he tossed the ball and the mitt he had been playing with into the back seat and went to walk aimlessly around the campsite. It was a huge clearing lined with humungous pine trees, just outside of the skeleton of a town choked with RVs and mobile trailers. At the moment, it was largely vacant as many of the future residents of Nest Hollow were attending a meeting in town. The town hall had only just been finished a few days ago and the roads would be ready in a week. Malcolm’s dad had mentioned that they’d be able to get a look at their new house in a week’s time.

Malcolm’s dad had instructed his older brother, Reiss to take care of Malcolm while they were out, which Reiss apparently interpreted as leaving him alone and ignoring him, just as he had always done. Malcolm and Reiss were like oil and water; the two just didn’t go together. It seemed impossible for someone to be mad and grumpy all the time but Reiss was apparently an exception. Moving to Nest Hollow had only made him worse and every little thing seemed to bug him: the poor TV reception, the endless amounts of rain, the cold, the wildlife – the list seemed to go on forever.

Sure, it was hard for Malcolm too; leaving his friends behind, but he quickly made new ones here on the campsite. He couldn’t help but wonder – was it so difficult for Reiss to do the same? He was nearing one of the picnic tables, paying attention to nothing but the sounds of the forest and the gravel crunching beneath his shoes when he heard the trailer door open behind him. It was Reiss. He had a smile plastered on his face and Malcolm caught the jacket he threw at him.

‘Come on, we’re going for a walk,’ he said cheerfully.

‘Don’t you hate it here?’ Malcolm asked.

‘I think we should go check out that lake near the main road,’ he said, ignoring Malcolm.

‘Dad said we shouldn’t leave the camp grounds.’

‘You want to do something or not?! It’ll be fun! Maybe we’ll see a fox or something.’

Half an hour later, the two of them were leaping over puddles and pushing low-hanging branches out of their faces. It was almost seven and the sky above them was a brilliant orange colour but it wasn’t the time or place to admire a sunset. Night would soon be upon them and the lake was nowhere in sight. The camp grounds were far, far behind them – disturbingly so. Even more disturbing was Reiss’s tuneless whistling mixed in with the sounds of the forest. Even in the low light, Malcolm could see that his smile hadn’t faltered one bit.

‘Do you know where we’re going?’ Malcolm finally said.

‘We’re almost there,’ he said, and something about his tone worried Malcolm.

Malcolm rubbed his hands together and exhaled into them. He made to zip up his jacket for the umpteenth time but the zip was already up. He wished he had thought about bringing along another jacket or at least a pair of gloves. Ahead, Reiss stopped abruptly and Malcolm realized they had emerged in another clearing, but this wasn’t the campgrounds. It was huge; almost the size of two stadiums, but he couldn’t tell exactly how big it was because it was night already.

‘Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around… or not.’

‘What?’

‘I’m leaving you here,’ Reiss said, looking into Malcolm’s eyes this time. The smile and cheerfulness was gone, replaced instead with a piercing scowl and a crazed look in his eyes.

Malcolm blinked at him. Was he serious? Leaving his own brother in the middle of the forest? It was madness! He couldn’t honestly be serious!

‘Since you love it here so much, I thought it’d be fitting to –‘

He didn’t finish for Malcolm was now attacking him with everything he had.

‘TAKE ME BACK, YOU JERK!’ he yelled. He scratched, clawed, kicked and punched at his brother. Never before had he pushed him this far. Reiss, being more than double his age and size overpowered him easily before he could do any real damage. Malcolm landed on his back, the force of the landing knocking his glasses askew. Reiss’ neck was bleeding.

He opened his mouth to say something but he was cut short by a deep rumbling growl from behind Malcolm. He knew only one animal that made that sound. Malcolm shut his eyes. Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, their force felt in the ground beneath him. When the wolves didn’t immediately began to rip them to shreds, Malcolm opened his eyes a fraction just in time to see the horrified look on Reiss’ face before he turned around and bolted into the darkness. Then, as the wild rustle of leaves and cracking branches died down, only the whisper of the trees and the sound of the animals behind him could be heard. Slowly, he turned to find a pack of seven. The jet black one seemed to be the alpha as he was the biggest and he advanced towards him first.

He didn’t know what to do as the creature slinked around him, scrutinizing him. He could smell him; hear his heavy breathing and he could almost make out the slow rhythmic heart beats from within its chest. He noted his paws: huge with equally huge claws. Malcolm gulped. Suddenly, the creature nudged him onto his back with a forepaw. The beast was on top of him, dwarfing his small frame. The creature was looking into his eyes and Malcolm mirrored him, their noses almost touching. The wolf’s eyes glowed ever so slightly. They were amber, just like his. Then the glow vanished as the creature shut them and did a sort of howl.

It was no ordinary howl. The world around him erupted in a brilliant glow of gold. He could hear what sounded like the wind and music. Shadows and shapes danced around him. Then, from out of the beast’s muzzle came a small orb. It looked like a miniature sun as it inched closer to him and then entered his mouth, sending strange sensations throughout his body. Warmth shot through him, effectively thawing him. Heat seemed to twine itself around his limbs. Surely he would catch fire! The heat was just so intense. Then, the light disappeared and Malcolm blacked out just as the black wolf collapsed dead next to him.

The fawn wolf who had been watching intently just feet away nudged its fallen leader in respect before fetching the boy to take him to the town. Malcolm rested on the back of the creature beneath him as it loped towards the nearest search party of humans, not knowing he was special, not knowing he would be the stuff of legends, not knowing that Reiss would never be found, nor that strange people would start paying his family a visit. He couldn’t know at that moment that Nest Hollow was a town for people who were gifted with his newfound ability and that the mayor was at that precise moment looking through a book for an old fable entitled “The Two Brothers”.

I'd upload the picture but it's in .png format so it'll take quite a while to upload. You can see it on my DeviantArt page here:

http://veneracio.deviantart.com/#/d3q4icc

Thanks for nothing!

Nest Hollow - "The Lycan Book" (The Big Bad Book)

I don't know where exactly to place Nest Hollow in Oregon, but it definitely has a great view of Mt. Hood and its pristine lake



The view out of Ellie's bedroom window. (Well, it's what I imagine it might look like)

Extract from the "Lycan Book" (Haven't thought of a proper title yet) aka. The Big Bad Book. Something of the Nest Hollow universe.

Lycanthropes aka. werewolves have existed in secret since the beginning of time. Therefore, it is your responsibility, you, the reader, to ensure that the safety and secrecy of our kind is continued. Under no circumstances should you leave this copy of lycan-related material lying around anywhere.

Chapter One : A Brief History of the Werewolf.

As you know, werewolves have existed since the beginning of time, although their exact origin is yet to be determined. Countless legends and myths have arisen from the many sightings and creative thinking of early humans. In earlier times, humans believed that werewolves, or part-beasts were the works of witchcraft and dark magic (In certain cases, it is such) and were therefore feared as evil creatures of the night, walking the earth to do the bidding of Satan himself.

Among the more popular beliefs of lycanthropy is that a subject would change into a wolfish creature for one to several days during the course of a full moon. Werewolves are also said to be immune towards everything except silver bullets.

Most of those so called "myths" are almost completely untrue and are often ridiculed upon by the more modern werewolves. Although some research has been done in recent years, scientists have yet to decipher what it truly means to be a werewolf.

Natural-born werewolves (meaning one or both parents carry lycanthropy) hit what is fondly known as "wolf puberty" around the age of sixteen. Like humans, females mature earlier than boys by several years. During this delicate period, a carrier of lycanthropy, be it a boy or a girl, will be subject to erratic and often violent physical and emotional changes. A parent should be fully aware of what to expect before even thinking of conceiving. The physical changes include the positive growth of muscles and bones, almost complete immunity towards disease or illness, speedy regeneration of damaged cells; all the bells and whistles you'd normally expect in werewolves.

While this may be positive, one must remember that an individual is still a wolf at heart and must be handled with extreme caution, particularly in the case of adolescents as they are the most prone to anxiety and stress and have yet to master complete control of the wolf within them.

The mental changes go downhill from there: An adolescent is subject to "concentrated" stimuli due to the newly hightened senses. Emotions, anger in particular, are among the most difficult to control, especially in males. Control over one's emotions are vital for survival in today's modern cities and urban areas as forests are scarce and the concrete jungles of today hardly offer nearly enough protection from unruly eyes should one suddenly phase in a fit of anger. Emotion management is simple enough to master but one should consider taking emotion management classes, whether by humans or fellow lycans. Sexual urges in both males and females have arisen problems in the past and continue to do so today. Scientists believe that the 24th chromosome is largely to blame for this. Uncontrollable lust and desire in both parties are among the more notable negative side-effects of lycanthrope. This can be treated with the administration of hormone counter-reactive medication.

Out of all the rules and decrees laid down by the Federation, the lycan hierarchy system is perhaps the most important. An Alpha male and female is to lead their packs and protect their respective communities. The Alpha pair is assisted by a Beta and Co-Beta, along with their mates. (See Chapter 15 - Wolf Laws)

As magical creatures, werewolves are also granted a certain extent of magic to their magical properties. Wolves of the past were grandmasters of lycan magic, being able to bend the elements of this world to their favor. The most notable practitioners of this magic is the celebrated Chief Darcus Grayback, Chief and Alpha of the Aux Tribe of Nevada. Grayback, or more fondly known by his nickname, "Sun Wolf" was a master of the flame and could make his wolf appear as a blazing inferno of an animal; likely prompting the "Fire Demon" myths in the area.

Being a werewolf is a gift granted to only the few of us. Appreciating and accepting who we are is vital in the upbringing of a young lycan in preparation for the great adventure that is life itself.



Somewhere here... is the most awesome almost-city in the US of A

The Hunger Games Trilogy (Review - Kinda)

The Hunger Games! =D The most awesome book series I've read since Harry Potter. If you haven't read it, go buy a copy RIGHT NOW!! (Or I could just lend you, but really, the book will be worth every cent, promise!)



Book 1 : The Hunger Games.

Basically, it's like this: There's an apocalypse in the near-future in North America. The entire continent is divided into 13 Districts under the power of The Capitol. (Twelve, now that District 13 is supposably reduced to bits of charcoal and pebbles during The Dark Days, when all the Districts united to rebel against The Capitol)

In the present day, (In the early 22nd century or late 21st, by my estimate) Katniss Everdeen's (Pronounced: Cat - nis) sister, Primrose Everdeen (Prim), is selected as the District 12 tribute for the 74th annual Hunger Games (Each District has to send in a contestant, also known as a tribute to compete in the yearly Hunger Games, a reality TV show in which the 24 contestants - one boy, one girl from each District - has to fight to death in order to win. Winning means you never have to worry about starving or working ever again, losing means death)

The book is really colorful, with lots and lots of characters and background info on things to bolster the realness and likeliness of it actually happening, which is really cool when you think about it. (Just imagine Malaysia doing that) For example, each District has their own principal industry, like District 1 - Luxury items. District 3 - Electronics and auto mobiles. District 4 - Fishing. District 7 - Paper and lumber. District 11 - Agriculture. District 12 - Coal. The contestants fighting styles lean heavily on whatever knowledge they've obtained in their Districts, like District 4, fishing - trident throwing and net weaving.

Won't be telling you anymore because then I'd be spoiling the entire book for you.



Book 2 : Catching Fire

*Some stuff happens... (Again, don't want to spoil the book.)



Book 3 : Mockingjay

D8< I STILL don't have it!! It only comes out on August 24th 2010, which is AFTER the trials... == Why is it that the waiting game never ends?... I just hope it's worth the wait... Because:


Twilighters read the book... And because they're just SO retarded...


>

...... yeah. I swear, if they turn The Hunger Games into the next Twilight Saga, I'm burning the whole set. Oh, crap! I totally forgot!



IT'S OFFICIAL!! They're making a film adaptation of the novel!! =P But... it only comes out in August 2011... ):

The "supposed" cast of the movie:



1) Katniss Everdeen.



2) Peeta Mellark, son of the District 12 baker and also the boy tribute for The Hunger Games.



3) Haymitch Abernathy, the only Hunger Games champion from District 12 and mentor to Katniss and Peeta.

Couldn't find Gale Hawthorne, Effie Trinket, Katniss' family or President Snow anywhere. Btw, according to (Suzanne) Collins, the author, Snow looks a little like this:



(*Puffy lips and the smell of blood and roses lingering)

Oh, and some of the fan photos are pretty cool:



Book 1 : The Cornucopia standoff.



Book 2 : The uh... something...

Anyways, that's all and good luck for the (real) Trials =D

Junkyard City

Writing a different book this time. =) Inspired from a card I made for English last year and Yee Hsuen's key-chain of a "voodoo doll" with nails in its head. Tell me whether it's good or now, kay? =P

This won the vote of the freakiest place I’d visited hands down; kind of like Alice’s Wonderland, but darker, yet still hauntingly beautiful. Propped on an old wooden crate, was an inverted KFC bucket with rulers and ice-cream sticks sticking out near the top like helicopter blades. A windmill?
The smell of rot was strong as I slid down the side of a fat garbage bag and landed with a deafening crackle of plastic on another one. Who knew garbage bags could create such a racket when you hear them as an ant? Or squirrel as I compared my height against a porcelain one lying upright, next to some ginormous coke bottles. Weird. The lights I saw were closer now. I could make out “buildings” made from cereal boxes and other things that you’d normally throw away like biscuit tins and chocolate boxes. There were streets too, with hundreds of weirdly dressed people and salvaged RC cars. Most of the city was in a sort of valley, nestled in between mountains of garbage and some old cars, where the city was still seemed to go on endlessly. Bridges -made of everything from pencils to Lego pieces- seemed to link every part of the city. There was even a dirty model of the Golden Gate Bridge that led up to the engine compartment of an old gray Mercedes where I guessed was where the king’s palace was or whoever than ran this crazy place. It looked considerably grander than any other part of the city. Maybe, just maybe, he or she or it or whatever could help get me out of here. I set off in a brisk walk in the direction of the palace, jogging occasionally. Besides the faint noises from the city, and the gentle thudding and occasional splat on -God knows what I stepped on-, the night was silent. The moon loomed overhead, full and ivory white, yet, failing to light my path. It seemed to take hours, days maybe, but I was there; at the outskirts of this majestic and mysterious place.
A shriek pierced the calm of the night and I had the breath knocked out of me. The thing knocked me down onto the damp (and smelly) earth. I screamed in surprise and the thing screamed bloody murder. I screamed even louder at its eyes: a pair of mismatched buttons sewn into its huge head. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Hi, I’m Sammie Madeinchina” It had a manic voice that I was sure only complete loonies had. It cocked its head when I didn’t answer. It appeared to have the head the size of a baseball for a rag-doll. What made Sammie truly sinister was his “hair” : rusty nails... hammered into his skull, and his “mouth” : a huge ear-to-ear grin sewn shut with X’s, but somehow being able to move. Sammie smiled even wider and somehow, his button eyes seemed to brighten. “You must be the Chosen One!!” he said in his squeaky lunatic voice. “What?”
I breathed. I realized I was staring at Sammie with eyes so wide, they might just pop out of their sockets onto the disgusting, damp ground. (That would be a big inconvenience) Sammie wrenched me up onto my feet and began whacking me all over with his round, fingerless hands. “Ow! What?!” “Mr. Chosen One must be all clean for Lord Voldermort” he said cheerfully. I choked as Sammie sent a huge dust cloud at my face. “Ouch, Sammie, cut it out!! Who?! What?! Voldermort??!!” “Yes, stupid. Chosen One’s friends are already there waiting for you. Lord Voldermort won’t be happy if Chosen One is late.” Sammie pointed at the gray Mercedes where a great deal of city-folk had gathered, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of something inside. I gulped. Sure, Esther, Paul and Kate were irritating, but they far from deserve to die at the hands of Lord Voldermort. I shuddered as I remembered images of Voldermort from past Harry Potter films; the cruel, cold blooded half-man, half-snake, with red pupils and no nose on his flat face.

No time to continue, sorry =x @Christine: It's not really much yet. Nothing interesting yet. I'm trying to finish by the end of June. =)

My Camera!!! The 1979 Pentax ME Super

100 Year old Alarm Clock