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A grain of sand
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Image credits to H-SWilliams

I know my type of world is different from what was half a century ago. Funny thing is, I did not know what the world was like back then, but I know it was not what it is now.

My world is a world where everyone is overshadowed by melancholy, where happiness are frowned upon. People are livid all the time.

The lack of water beget artificial water compound sold in bags. The lack of food beget man-made meat grown in labs and packaged into plastic containers.

Plastic - everyone's favourite. Plastic handbags, plastic groceries bag, plastic apparel, plastic furniture.

You see, the soil we have on Earth is long dead. All biodegradable items are deemed impractical as it spoils easily and there are nowhere to dispose it.

I move around the streets as quietly as I can while carrying a bag of miniature glass bottles.

"Look down and walk on. No looking at anyone!". A flash of memory of my educator shot across my mind. We were taught that there are no such things as speaking or chatting with one another. I agreed though. Why should we, anyway? Mother said it is tiring to exhaust our energy to entertain people. I never understood this until now - that I just started to work.

Ah, my first job at the age of 25 - finally. Delivering glass bottles to one of the run-down estates in the city. It is fun to see how these people - the saddest of the saddest huddled together.

"Worthless beings, they are!", Father would shout in anguish from time to time when we touched on the topic of the scums of the city.

"Honey, shut it! Wasting your breath with your pointless curses at those space-wasters!"

I developed a habit to always keep my head down whenever Mother shrieked. She does not like too much noise braising in our house. No one speaks as much as five sentences per day - that is her limit. It is fine by me. I learnt that people tend to get used to things if it was constantly imposed on them.

As I trot down the steps to the slums, the kids, at Mdm Graoh house, ran off. They are taught to shun themselves away from outsiders. Good for me too, I suppose. Never will I want to associate myself with them. They are different. They smile and play in the dirt.

I hope Shawn Cheong's campaign will work this time. His campaign for our country is to further segregate the norms and the "weirdos" - the scums, I'd say. Once in a while, the educational ministry would march into this slum to teach the weird kids that they are not allowed to make too much noise or handle any sort of "toys", they'd call it.

There are regular practice sessions for the kids to get used to not looking at one another for too long.

"EYES DOWN!" I once noticed an educator screaming his head off across the muddy field. These educators are the privileged ones. They are given the rights to be able to speak more than the commoners.

Stretching my arms up, I knock onto the thin crumbled wooden door. At Mdm Graoh's, I have to wait for a little while for her to get to the door. Mdm Graoh is different. Even though she is one of the oldest people I have ever known, she shares stories from the past. The past I will never get to know. Mdm Graoh's stories are illegal of course. She could get killed for sharing her stories with me. It is our little secret.

Strange. Voices. Adult voices. She have visitors.

No visitors to any houses are allowed without permit - that is the law. I dare not step in.

I decided to wait a little more.

The sound of footsteps heading towards Mdm Graoh's door. A young man stepped out, followed by an older man. Suits. Both of them are dressed in suits. My mind ran.

There are supposedly a few families whom are allowed to wear prim and proper attire.

Excitement is springing through my heart. These families do not appear much anywhere in the city and they tend to keep to themselves. They are the absolute elites. I have never seen a real-life person in suits before. We just see these people through the board panels in class when our educator was teaching the country's law and order.

I must sneak a peek at them. I cannot keep my head down. No way - not this time. It is going to be my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! I like this feeling - the feeling of my heart punching against my rib cage. This feeling is odd. It seems like a decade that I experienced this emotion. I have to mask my excitement.

Putting a straight face and mustering as much courage I can find, I look up at the younger man. His eyes are brown, so brown that it resembles the dull sunset. His nose is sharp - oh not too bad. His lips slowly curled up. My world stopped.

This cannot be happening.

My eyes drag up again into his. His looks soften. He is... smiling.

What is he doing?

It is against the law. I am fighting so hard not to react further. This is not normal.

I want to smile back, it is insane!

-----

A huge hand blocked my view. My head jerked aside and my jaws hurt. "Girl, next time, it will not be a slap, it will be something worse."

My head was spinning. Carelessly, I turned to look at the older man, to implore for mercy. My mistake - I should not have done that. I was breaking the code.

My glass bottles clanged onto the ground, shattered. My job, I just wanted to do my job. I do not want any trouble. Mother will be torn apart. I kicked, I struggled. I wanted them to put me down. I screamed.

The older man lugged me across his back and walked away from Mdm Graoh's door. I peered in and saw her looking at me, smiling. There were people placing her onto a thin metal frame with her beloved blanket. They were taking her away.

Where are they taking her to?

"PLEASE, PUT ME DOWN!"
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Image credits to: Miamelly

It was just another day. Another day of human beings trotting around like specks of dust on the face of Earth - minding our own business.

That one phone call completely changed my life. That call from my mother.

Her voice, calm yet worried. Relaxed, yet afraid.

She slowly explained that she knew something was wrong with her. With her body, her health.

That, she may die. "It's time," she so very calmly related.

With a fit of disbelief, I jerked my head aside and snorted.

You see, she was fine and healthy. I could not phantom why would she say such things about herself dying. Is it things that elderly people do? They want their loved ones to fuss around for them, to care for them and to feel loved by our attention. Do they do that? Do they feel the little strings of loneliness creeping into their hearts, plunging into their souls and twining around their minds?

Mother said she could feel her death was coming. We did not want to be trapped into her worrisome world she may have had built around herself. Well, we - my husband and I, assured her that we would go over to her house to visit her. It was a mundane, dull and peaceful Saturday afternoon. We took our time to prepare to head out as quickly as we could - or rather, a sloth's pace.

----------

Mother's house was small but cozy. She lived alone. I stepped into the house and oh-my-goodness. It was a mess. Had I not known, I thought it was a burglary! The television was switched on, yakking away like a french horn mixed with a couple of high-pitched ladies yapping so much that made my blood boil with annoyance.

You may have guessed it, yes, it did not feel right. Mother do not mess things up like this. There were clothes thrown around, plastic bags and containers all over, as though there had been a crazy party the night before.

I turned to look at my husband at the doorway. His face went white. "WHAT?"

I scanned around the living room's floor and saw Mother on the floor - motionless. My voice reacted first before I knew it, "MUM?!"

Scrambling through the rubbish to reach my mum, I tripped, but still frantically crawled towards Mother like an insane worm. She was not moving. I tried to hear her heartbeat. No pulse, no breathing. Nothing. She's dead, just like that.

WHAT IN THE WORLD? I knew then, I took things for granted. My husband and I embraced in a hug, both of us weeping.

Train of thoughts hammering onto me, "What happened to her? How did she die just like that? I could have be here earlier. It's my fault. My fault. I hate myself."

With a shivering voice, I asked my husband, "What's next? What shall we do?" My husband still needed some time to get back his mind. He was thinking.

I let him be. I turned to Mother and saw her body slowly stirring to get up. She opened her eyes and seemed to have woken up from a deep sleep. Her eyes caught sight of me and stared at me softly, smiling.

Oh JESUS, MARY, DAVID. I was relieved. She was not dead. What were we thinking?

I laughed and looked at my husband. We were so foolish. Oh my goodness, the embarrassment.

"Look darling, she's fine!"

My husband stared at me in disbelief, with the most grievous look I've ever seen. "What are you talking about?"

Is my husband blind or something? "Look! She is taking my hand!"

Mother smiled and assured me, "it's okay."

My husband still looked confused, "Darling, she is not moving. What do you mean?"

This got me more confused. Was I hallucinating? Mother kept talking to me, "I have to tell you, certain things in this house. I have to teach you what to do!" She sounded delighted to teach me the house chores.

Her hands felt cold. No, she is just feeling cold. I wanted my husband to stop scaring me, "DARLING! LOOK! She is speaking to me! What is going on with you?"

He freaked out. "Stop it. She is still laying there. She is DEAD!"

I knew I was not insane. "What? Am I hallucinating or what? Help!" I shook my mum's unusually cold hand off and covered my face with my hands. I turned to peek at my dear mother.

She looked confused, sad, dejected. "Don't worry, it's okay."

"Darling! What's wrong? What's going on? Your mother is not moving. You're scaring me!"

I cowered and screamed. Impossible. I'm not losing my mind. I wanted all to go back to normal. I love her, I love my mother. I needed to straightened my mind up.

Am I really hallucinating or is she here, speaking to me, as a real spirit?

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Photo credits to the actual owner. Do you know who the owner is? Email me.

We were brought into a dark, old room smelled of decrepit pine and stale moist air.

I was with a group of five others. No one knew one another. We did not dare to speak or ask any questions. There were two girls, including myself and three other men - one of them was the senior. The senior guy, muscular but lean, was assigned to mentor us. Naturally, we were meek. Everything we were experiencing were new to us. I was in a confused state of daze and fatigue.

It was known to us that we were to complete a mission. Never would I have thought I could be petrified to the bones of the vast mystification that awaited before us. What mission? My throat tightened. I had to suppress my overwhelming desire to ask the senior. A safe choice would be to keep my mouth sealed.

What was revealed to us earlier, was that we had to fight a war. Before we could start doing that, we had to first proceed to our base camp.

My skin crawled as we cautiously strolled into the room. Nervousness pricked across my veins. The entourage closed in.

Together with the group, we awkwardly stood in a circle. In the middle, a black cylinder floated calmly at our shoulder level. The cylinder had two smooth handles. From the looks of it, it seemed heavy and had a smooth gleaming surface. The sides of the handles had a gradual curve. The cylinder was the only object which gave a dim glow within the room.

All of us were in awe. I had never seen a cylinder being able to float peacefully without any support or wings. Not knowing what it could do, but I knew it was a great weapon of advanced technology.

"We gotta grab the handles" instructed the senior. His voice was musky and mildly hoarse. Curiosity surged through my head - what was his name, at least?

We knew we had to hold the cylinder as it booted itself up, so we held our arms out. My head peeked downward to look at my attire. We were empty handed. Black-licorice coloured suits were on us. Suits that were skin-tight but stretchable. I felt light - as though I was a secret agent.

Then again, I had no combat experience. How was I going to fight this war? Initially, I had no clue why I enlisted myself to this Order. Are they the government? I was not too certain yet. With my mind being muddled up, I just went along with this enlistment. I guess this was how it felt like, unable to remember where your family were or whether were they even still alive.

"Hey, you wanna try to take the lead?" The senior asked me. Startled at the sudden snap to reality, I hesitated for a bit.

"Okay, I'll try." I shrugged. No big deal, I guessed. My lips pursed while trying to build some confidence. I convinced myself that I was just going to take the cylinder, power it up with my energy and lead my team to our base camp. No sweat.

Fingers curled onto the handle, I held the cylinder up. It immediately woke to my touch. The invisible line of electronic link from the cylinder, hooked onto my mind. No one could see the link but I was the only one who could feel it.

Once the cylinder was certain that it was invisibly linked up to my mind to feed on to my energy, I released my grip. The weapon floated up towards the ceiling and our eyes followed. The other team mates were in awe. Everyone had their eyes on this amazing creation. A light swirl of warm wind began to pick its speed up around us.

Warm wind - what a grievous reminder of the ghastly howls I had to endure from the streets before I enlisted. The bawls of survivors captured in a mix between disorientation about their lost family members and obscure euphoria that they, well, survived in this urban chaos. The wind, puffing through the streets - cool with the rain, warm with anguish-filled atmosphere.

Soon after, our bodies ascended languidly while the cylinder was still in the middle. It was incredible - this feeling of floating in the air. Our limbs were spread wide. We were doubtful of our balance. A couple of us tensed up - afraid that our bodies would fall. I was positive that the strength emitted from the cylinder was robust enough to levitate us steadily.

Thin white smoke spiraled boisterously from the apparatus. I deduced that it was some sort of a compression the cylinder had to do.
Once we were all afloat, our bodies spun in a circle at a slow pace around the cylinder. The purring sound from the engine boosted a note higher. We knew it was now or never. Instinctively, I grabbed the handle to lead my team mates. My arms jerked ahead of me as the cylinder advanced diagonally upward. I glanced at the side of it to read "95% ready".

At once, my team mates floated behind me in a jagged line. The unexplained wind surged stronger. It was blowing against us. After struggling for a while, we were exhausted. As the cylinder readies itself, I had to let go. My arms ached terribly and I found myself panting as though my energy have been sapped dry. I could see our bodies descended a little downward.
"I am too tired. Can you please take over?"

The senior of the group understood. It was my first time after all. Without hesitation, he swiftly grabbed the cylinder. I could not help but noticed his muscles bulging from his sleeves. It seemed assuring that he was strong enough to control the cylinder.

"The cylinder absorbs energy from a human body to power itself up. You got to train yourself to be strong enough for this." The senior filled us in.

The cylinder speedily powered up again as he held onto it. We ascended a little more. It was leading us up into a swirling atmosphere even though I remembered that the room had a low ceiling. The room seemed to be fading away as we swirled into the newly created atmosphere. We air-swam our way to the cylinder. We had to hold onto the cylinder tight because it was too strong as it bumped forward further. I was having great difficulties holding onto the cylinder. I could not find a good grip. My grasp slowly worsened.

"I can't! I'm going to lose grip!"

My fingers slowly slid off the cylinder. The cylinder moved upwards and forward, potentially leaving me behind.

"Grab the handle! Now" Shouted the senior.

With a boost of strength, I frantically pushed myself forward and finally able to grab the handle. My panic-stricken reflexes decreased. This time, we were slowly floating into the bright swirling of what seemed to be a vast nothingness.

Stealing a last look back down to the dark small room, my eyes caught sight of a human figure in the corner of the room. It was as though the person had somehow witnessed us floating away as he or she was standing next to the door.

I had no idea who this mysterious person was. I did not have a good feeling about this person and at the same time, I did not have a bad feeling about him or her either. 

The next thing I knew, we were pulled into a world of whiteness as we traveled through time.
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Photo credits to the actual owner. Do you know who the owner is? Email me.


Crouching down against the brick wall which separated myself from the lurking bodies in the shadows outside the front yard, I moved in a slow motion towards the grand French door. The bright moon light reflected itself off from the door's glass pane and I could see the polished dark brown paint where part of it was scratched and some parts dented. I had to close it before they stroll in.

The night air was damp and cold. They must not sense that I was there.

My life was at risk. I needed to keep everyone safe in the dormitory. As I leopard-crawled on the rough cemented ground, my pores widened as my skin touched and allowed the gravel on the unkempt floor to sink into my skin. It was uncomfortable. I started to fidget and swiped the sand off myself. In the midst of swatting, my hand knocked onto something which I felt was cold and hard. With my heart in my mouth, whatever I knocked onto, emitted a sharp clanking sound.

Too loud. Too loud and too late. They heard it.

I looked down at the object - I saw a glimmer within the item I dropped. It was a shard of glass, stained with something dark and in maroon colour. It had to be dried blood.

Shuffling noises could be heard from the outside.

It was too late. They were coming. I stood up.

I needed to run towards the door. I needed to close it. They could not come in!

My knees burnt to counter-attack the cold air. My calf shivered as the adrenaline started to pump through my blood. I ran towards the door and I could already see them.

Their eyes were white with enlarged dark pupils. Their eyes had a hole in the center of their pupils. Are they blind? Could they even see?

I could not care to think too much as the crowd of the human bodies headed towards the door - towards me. Their hands stretched out - does it have to be this typical?

Struggling to skip towards the door, I flew my arms forward to reach the frame and gave it a push but was instantaneously jerked aside.

They grabbed my finger, their hands engulfed around my arm. I screeched in frantic horror. The terrifying moans they produced seemed to sap my emotions away. I tried to shake their filthy, wriggly arms off me. I just needed one kick to close the heavy door. They were not strong yet as the night was still young. I could easily fight them off.

I turned my head side to side to find any item to act as a weapon. There it was, a medium length wooden plank which may have once been a part of the broken grandfather's clock in the living hall.

Using my leg power, I bent my legs and used my knees to hold the worthless beings off. One man tried to squeeze his head through the gap. Cackling moans and groans - the horror. These people were crazy! Finally, able to crouch down, I grabbed the plank with my left hand and instantaneously shot my upper body up again.

Without hesitating, I hit the stubborn arms that were prying through the door. Still with my feet pressing against the cold, hard wood - holding myself in place. My arms started to ache, my tears filled my eyes and my head was dizzy. Like a crackhead, I aimlessly attacked them to get them off the door. Every hit from the plank to their arms, there were screams, a screech and some insane goofy laughter.

What were these people thinking? They are not people. They do not have any feelings. They know no human emotions!

Finally, just one more skinny wretched arm. My veins were burning. I hit that gruesome arm and the gap got smaller. My legs pushed against the ground and the door creaked like it was tired of staying stuck. It finally closed with a thud.

Some of them knocked onto the door like as though a post man was here to deliver letters. My bottom hit the ground. I sat there and held my head with my bloodied hands. The dizziness was fading as my adrenaline lowered.

I cannot believe it.

Some of them were my friends during the day but I had to hide away from them when the sun dipped.

In this chilly night, my warm tears trickled down my cheeks - a mild burning sensation. Why I had to go through this horrid, horrid time in human history? Where were the usual late night supper with friends? The bar hopping?

It was gone. Gone before I knew it.
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