Journals
Wednesday,Apr 12 2006, 10:15:20 PMDreams Are Forever
This is a portfolio of what i've done in Creative Writing. hope you will like it.
Smudged,
in the truths.
Blinded,
with the lies.
We all dream,
We…
in the truths.
Blinded,
with the lies.
We all dream,
We…
Driving on a dark desert highway, you feel the breeze in your hair. The sweet smell of Colitas is rising up through the air. Your head grew heavy and your sight grew dim. You pulled over, and called it a night.
Walking passed the entrance, you saw her standing there. Suddenly, the Mission Bell rang, and you thought to yourself if this could be Heaven of could it be Hell.
Lighting her candle, she sways her hand to show you the way. You hear voices as you walk down the corridor, and they are saying.
Lighting her candle, she sways her hand to show you the way. You hear voices as you walk down the corridor, and they are saying.
“Welcome to the Hotel California. It is such a lovely place and you have such a lovely face. There is plenty of room at the Hotel California. You could visit any time, and you could find it here…”
Walking into the Courtyard, you see a girl. She wears a lot of diamonds, and drives a Mercedes Benz. She also has a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends. Tiffany twisted, is what you call her. The people dance in the courtyard, and you see their sweet summer sweat. Some of these people dance to remember their good times, and some dance to forget their bad. You called the Captain to ask him for some wine. He said, “we haven’t had that spirit here since 1969”.
While you sleep, you still hear those voices calling from far away. You wake up in the middle of the night with those voices, and you hear them say.
“Welcome to the Hotel California. It is such a lovely place and you have such a lovely face. They’re living it up at the Hotel California. What a nice surprise, and remember to bring your alibis…”
In the Dining Hall you see mirrors on the ceiling and pink champagne on ice. The Hostess turn towards you and say, “we are all just prisoners here of our own device”. You wonder why and realize they are here because they overdosed, never found the faith to live by all eventually faded away into the backdrop of life.
They all gathered for the feast, and they stabbed it with their steely knives, but in the end they couldn’t kill the beast.
The last thing you remembered was running towards the door. You wanted to find the passage back to the place you were before. The Night-man stopped you and said, “we are programmed to receive people. You could check in anytime you like, but you can never leave”.
Around the bend you reached the doors. But those voices echoes as you walk out, “Welcome to the Hotel California. It is such a lovely place and you have such a lovely face. There is plenty of room at the Hotel California. You could visit any time, and you could find it here…”
I see
You see
We don’t see
You see
We don’t see
Dad, I Love You
She walks downstairs and sees him sitting there.
He looks at her and asks, “What do you think of her?”
She keeps silent, not saying a word.
He raises his voice and says, “Tell me the truth. What do you think of her?”
She hesitates and asks, “Are you sure?”
He replies, “Yes. But you have to tell me the truth.”
“Honestly dad, I think she is a bitch” she answered.
They stare at each other. His eye’s starts to burn with fire, and she knows.
She runs up stairs. She runs to a corner; near the plant and sofa. He follows her up the stairs.
He finds her hiding in the corner.
He runs up to her yelling, “You will never call her a bitch. Do you understand? Do you know how to respect people? I bet you don’t.”
He takes hold of her neck and strangles her.
Her eyes widen. He throws her to the floor and starts to kick.
He kicks her in the stomach. Pain rushes filling her brain, and her tears start to fall.
She does not cry for help. She does not say a word.
He keeps on kicking her. His kicks her for the third time, and she spits blood.
He asks, “Do you know how to respect people?”
She tries to breathe. He kicks her under the chin.
She feels the blood, but keeps it in.
He asks her again, “do you know how to respect people?”
She says painfully, “Yes dad, I know.”
He pulls her off the floor, and shakes her.
“I hate it when all you say is that you know” he says.
She cries. She loses all her strength, and withers.
He throws her down the floor. He kicks her again.
He says, “I will let you think about what you’ve done wrong.”
He walks away.
She lays there hoping to die. She faints.
She walks downstairs and sees him sitting there.
He looks at her and asks, “What do you think of her?”
She keeps silent, not saying a word.
He raises his voice and says, “Tell me the truth. What do you think of her?”
She hesitates and asks, “Are you sure?”
He replies, “Yes. But you have to tell me the truth.”
“Honestly dad, I think she is a bitch” she answered.
They stare at each other. His eye’s starts to burn with fire, and she knows.
She runs up stairs. She runs to a corner; near the plant and sofa. He follows her up the stairs.
He finds her hiding in the corner.
He runs up to her yelling, “You will never call her a bitch. Do you understand? Do you know how to respect people? I bet you don’t.”
He takes hold of her neck and strangles her.
Her eyes widen. He throws her to the floor and starts to kick.
He kicks her in the stomach. Pain rushes filling her brain, and her tears start to fall.
She does not cry for help. She does not say a word.
He keeps on kicking her. His kicks her for the third time, and she spits blood.
He asks, “Do you know how to respect people?”
She tries to breathe. He kicks her under the chin.
She feels the blood, but keeps it in.
He asks her again, “do you know how to respect people?”
She says painfully, “Yes dad, I know.”
He pulls her off the floor, and shakes her.
“I hate it when all you say is that you know” he says.
She cries. She loses all her strength, and withers.
He throws her down the floor. He kicks her again.
He says, “I will let you think about what you’ve done wrong.”
He walks away.
She lays there hoping to die. She faints.
I look, I die.
I speak, I die.
I eat, I die.
I sleep, I die.
I live, I die.
Death is you.
I speak, I die.
I eat, I die.
I sleep, I die.
I live, I die.
Death is you.
‘I’ is for “I’m”
‘ ‘ ’ is for the silence
‘M’ is for “Me”
‘S’ is for “Sorrow”
‘O’ is for “Object”
‘R’ is for “Review”’
‘R’ is for “Re-write”
‘Y’ is for “Yield”
‘ ‘ ’ is for the silence
‘M’ is for “Me”
‘S’ is for “Sorrow”
‘O’ is for “Object”
‘R’ is for “Review”’
‘R’ is for “Re-write”
‘Y’ is for “Yield”
Burning flames
Learn to tame
Heart of stone
Melts by phone
Learn to tame
Heart of stone
Melts by phone
I spend my nights mourning over the lost.
I mourn for myself.
I mourn for myself.
They are walking towards the plane. She’s holding his hand tightly, to feel connected to the safety he provides. While they are walking, she sways his hand to and fro. Passing the people, and hearing their footsteps clicking on the pavement brings a certain security for her. Seeing him smiling at her, she triumphantly strives forward. Left, right, left, right, onwards she walks. But before reaching the plane, the little girl stops. An odd breeze flies by her, spinning up her back, giving her chills. She turns around, and a shadow appears. The shadow isn’t clear. But after blinking her eyes, she sees a woman standing there. The little girl stares at the lady, and shows her a look of familiarity.
The woman smiles deviously at Rachel, the little girl. But Rachel keeps on staring at her. Rachel recognizes the flower blouse, beige shorts, and white sneakers with a butterfly knot. The woman is her mother. The woman opens her arms, praising for her daughter to come over. Rachel looks unsure. She looks at her father, and he nods. Then she looks at her cheerful mother, smiling. Looking back to her father, and again he nods in approval. She lets go, and walks towards her mother, slowly and sheepishly. Rachel keeps on staring at her mother as she walks, but the more she stares the more uneasy she gets. Left, right, left, right, onward she goes. About one-third of the way, Rachel starts to skip towards he mother.
Reaching one-fourth of the way, Rachel feels as if she is betraying her father. She turns back to look at him, but it is just a pitch black background that appears before her eyes. The little girl turns back to look at her mother, but the odd breeze appears again. This time the breeze gives Rachel terror. Dragging her head slowly to the left, her eyes slowly opens.
The woman smiles deviously at Rachel, the little girl. But Rachel keeps on staring at her. Rachel recognizes the flower blouse, beige shorts, and white sneakers with a butterfly knot. The woman is her mother. The woman opens her arms, praising for her daughter to come over. Rachel looks unsure. She looks at her father, and he nods. Then she looks at her cheerful mother, smiling. Looking back to her father, and again he nods in approval. She lets go, and walks towards her mother, slowly and sheepishly. Rachel keeps on staring at her mother as she walks, but the more she stares the more uneasy she gets. Left, right, left, right, onward she goes. About one-third of the way, Rachel starts to skip towards he mother.
Reaching one-fourth of the way, Rachel feels as if she is betraying her father. She turns back to look at him, but it is just a pitch black background that appears before her eyes. The little girl turns back to look at her mother, but the odd breeze appears again. This time the breeze gives Rachel terror. Dragging her head slowly to the left, her eyes slowly opens.
Her eyes are now wide open, but what faces her now is the black background she fears. Rachel closes her eyes again, and slowly lifts her eyelids. But the only thing appears is the blackness and pastel outlines of her mother, smiling at her. She blinks her eyes again, and again. Faster and faster she blinks, but the outlines are still there. She stands there, unable to move.
Still smiling, her mother transforms herself into a blob of pastel colours. Neon oranges, bright greens, and then light purples. It all fades away, leaving a pair of ash grey eyes. The eyes are small and evil. Rachel stands there, staring at those eyes. Those grey eyes are scaring her, because what is behind those eyes is a smiling spirit. The spirit is waiting for the right moment to devour Rachel, whole.
Rachel turns around and looks, but nothing is there. She starts running into the blackness. She plunges herself into the dark, and carries on running. Suddenly, she stops and speaks out loud.
“What am I running on? There is no floor for me to run on. How is it possible?”
Like magic, a single white pastel line appears on the canvas, showing her a road. Rachel follows the pastel road not knowing where it will take her.
She continues running, and her breathing is hard. Hard enough for her to hear her heart pounding, thump, thump, thump, thump. She slows down because she feels a little dizzy. She tells herself, “No, I have to run. I can not have those eyes coming after me”. The eyes are following her. Rachel continues to run, and unexpectedly a mesh of greens, browns, greys, whites and yellows spring from the ground. She stops and stares at the transformation. A forest is growing from the colours, and Rachel is in the middle of it.
The trees are in shades of light and dark greens. The floor is white with grey stones. Rachel trips on one of the stones because of the sudden breeze. She quickly gets back on her foot, and gains control of herself. Rachel looks at the floor, but she did not see her foot. She raises her hands but, too, she didn’t see them.
“Where are my hands? Where is my white T-shirt? Where are my dirty runners? Why can’t I see them? I think I am not here, but I still feel as if I am. Where am I?” she asks.
Rachel is now a part of the darkness. This brings comfort to her. She is invisible, and no one can find her.
Standing there looking at the pastel trees, Rachel recognizes them to be Evergreens. Slowly, she walks towards the tree to take a closer look. She reaches out and puts her hand on it. The tree feels like a pastel drawing on her hands. She takes her hand off of the tree, and infront of her is her handprint. She quickly uses her hand to wipe off the imprint. The mark disappears, but the tree is smudged.
“No. This can’t be right. I need to hide this mistake. How can I hide it?” she asks herself.
Rachel walks up to the tree, and stood infront of it. She tries to hide her mistake. She feels better hiding infront of the tree.
“All the running is tiring. I think I should bend down and take a rest.” She says to herself.
She regains herself by bending down; this helps her breathe easier.
“I miss my father. Where is he? Where is my mother? Why did she change into something so scary? Why is she after me? She was smiling at me.” She thought to herself.
Rachel suddenly hears a hoot or howling from a distance tree, and the breeze flies by her again. She looks around, and then upwards. Her eyes and mouth opens wide, the Eyes are staring at her.
Rachel pounces out of the hiding place, and runs for her life. She passes the pastel tress, and they start to burn. She turns back to take a look, and the forest shines with neon reds, greens, purples, oranges, and yellows. She runs across a pastel stone bridge. It turns into a puddle of water after her footsteps. The puddle grows bigger and bigger with each step she takes, and then grows beyond her. Splishing and splashing, she runs forward. She looks down and sees a mucky brown goldfish swimming inside. Rachel tries to avoid the fish, but slips and falls. Bam, she falls down with an ounce of pain. Jumping back up, she dashes forward. Turning her head to look back, she sees those eyes following her. The little girl closes her eyes and runs faster then before. Rachel hears a noise and she stops.
She opens her eyes, and sees a waterfall. The roaring sound of death hits upon rocks she couldn’t see. The little girl has to decide, either she stays or she jumps. She looks down, and white is all that is visible. She looks back, makes up her mind. Counting one, two, three, she jumps, as extreme bright whites and blue blinds her. She closes her eyes as she’s falling, she feels the thunder wrap around her.
“This is really scary. I am falling. Why is this air pushing on my face? Why is the air not pushing on my face, now? Am I close to the end? I am going to die.” She tells herself.
Rachel realizes she is going to die. She tries to grasp onto something, but there isn’t anything to grasp onto. She opens her eyes and sees the end. She closes her eyes again.
---
Rachel wakes up, and finds herself lying on the floor in sweat. She jumps up, and heads towards her grandfather’s room. Before her eyes’ is her sleeping grandfather, relaxing. She stands there, and pauses. Then silently she creeps away, unaware that the Eyes are still glaring behind her.
Rachel turns around and looks, but nothing is there. She starts running into the blackness. She plunges herself into the dark, and carries on running. Suddenly, she stops and speaks out loud.
“What am I running on? There is no floor for me to run on. How is it possible?”
Like magic, a single white pastel line appears on the canvas, showing her a road. Rachel follows the pastel road not knowing where it will take her.
She continues running, and her breathing is hard. Hard enough for her to hear her heart pounding, thump, thump, thump, thump. She slows down because she feels a little dizzy. She tells herself, “No, I have to run. I can not have those eyes coming after me”. The eyes are following her. Rachel continues to run, and unexpectedly a mesh of greens, browns, greys, whites and yellows spring from the ground. She stops and stares at the transformation. A forest is growing from the colours, and Rachel is in the middle of it.
The trees are in shades of light and dark greens. The floor is white with grey stones. Rachel trips on one of the stones because of the sudden breeze. She quickly gets back on her foot, and gains control of herself. Rachel looks at the floor, but she did not see her foot. She raises her hands but, too, she didn’t see them.
“Where are my hands? Where is my white T-shirt? Where are my dirty runners? Why can’t I see them? I think I am not here, but I still feel as if I am. Where am I?” she asks.
Rachel is now a part of the darkness. This brings comfort to her. She is invisible, and no one can find her.
Standing there looking at the pastel trees, Rachel recognizes them to be Evergreens. Slowly, she walks towards the tree to take a closer look. She reaches out and puts her hand on it. The tree feels like a pastel drawing on her hands. She takes her hand off of the tree, and infront of her is her handprint. She quickly uses her hand to wipe off the imprint. The mark disappears, but the tree is smudged.
“No. This can’t be right. I need to hide this mistake. How can I hide it?” she asks herself.
Rachel walks up to the tree, and stood infront of it. She tries to hide her mistake. She feels better hiding infront of the tree.
“All the running is tiring. I think I should bend down and take a rest.” She says to herself.
She regains herself by bending down; this helps her breathe easier.
“I miss my father. Where is he? Where is my mother? Why did she change into something so scary? Why is she after me? She was smiling at me.” She thought to herself.
Rachel suddenly hears a hoot or howling from a distance tree, and the breeze flies by her again. She looks around, and then upwards. Her eyes and mouth opens wide, the Eyes are staring at her.
Rachel pounces out of the hiding place, and runs for her life. She passes the pastel tress, and they start to burn. She turns back to take a look, and the forest shines with neon reds, greens, purples, oranges, and yellows. She runs across a pastel stone bridge. It turns into a puddle of water after her footsteps. The puddle grows bigger and bigger with each step she takes, and then grows beyond her. Splishing and splashing, she runs forward. She looks down and sees a mucky brown goldfish swimming inside. Rachel tries to avoid the fish, but slips and falls. Bam, she falls down with an ounce of pain. Jumping back up, she dashes forward. Turning her head to look back, she sees those eyes following her. The little girl closes her eyes and runs faster then before. Rachel hears a noise and she stops.
She opens her eyes, and sees a waterfall. The roaring sound of death hits upon rocks she couldn’t see. The little girl has to decide, either she stays or she jumps. She looks down, and white is all that is visible. She looks back, makes up her mind. Counting one, two, three, she jumps, as extreme bright whites and blue blinds her. She closes her eyes as she’s falling, she feels the thunder wrap around her.
“This is really scary. I am falling. Why is this air pushing on my face? Why is the air not pushing on my face, now? Am I close to the end? I am going to die.” She tells herself.
Rachel realizes she is going to die. She tries to grasp onto something, but there isn’t anything to grasp onto. She opens her eyes and sees the end. She closes her eyes again.
---
Rachel wakes up, and finds herself lying on the floor in sweat. She jumps up, and heads towards her grandfather’s room. Before her eyes’ is her sleeping grandfather, relaxing. She stands there, and pauses. Then silently she creeps away, unaware that the Eyes are still glaring behind her.
The Night’s Elegance Still Needs Her Sun
“A family is a booklet full of artwork. Once, you complete your artwork it will go into the book. Generations after Generations, your family will be able to copy what they like out of it.”
My grandfather once told me, “Elegance is what’s needed in our book. Elegance is what you’re going to produce.”
In front of me is a clean 11 by 8.5 page. As time passed, I have learnt to draw. I add people, mountains, water, and rain. But all of it is erased, as it is filled with two mountains, and a lake in the middle. Later, I drew a navy blue sky to make the mountains marvelous, and the lake lovely. But the sky was missing something, and that something was a moon. I reverted back to my drawing desk for my trusted eraser. The sky left a faint grey on my page, and my moon became bluish-grey.
I have once heard of a story. It is about a man shooting eight sums from the sky. The story dates back to the Chinese Mythology. The story was told to me when I was fairly young.
A long time ago, the people of China suffered bad crops, droughts, and extreme heat. One day a man named Great Yu found twelve elegant and mystical arrows. God then told him that the arrows are given to him because he is the one to shot down the eight suns. Great Yu quickly grabbed the arrows and shot down the eight suns, and was crowned King of China after. He married a girl called Pandora, and told her not to open the box. I heard many versions of Pandora. But all sorties have one thing in common; Pandora opened the box, and that was when Man became crafty.
There are certain rules in the drawing game, and they are:
1. You can’t buy a new sheet of paper
2. You can join your paper with another person to make it longer
3. When you join the pictures you must save up for tape
4. When you have tape, you use it to connect the artworks together
I have realized many people want to join together, but don’t want to save up for the more expensive tape. A lot of the artwork falls apart, and leaves them with damaged edges and strange pictures.
I had many people who’ve asked me to join. I agreed the first three times. But those times have left my artwork distorted. It took a long time to erase off the nonsense. One of the three people has blamed me of his deliberate mistakes.
All the pollution caused me to stop connecting. I wanted to be left alone. Eight months after my mournful optimism, another person came to me. I rejected him, but he didn’t give up. Each day he would hold out a part of his unfinished picture, and asked for my opinions. I found out he has nine suns on his picture.
The guy wrote me a note on my picture, bottom left. The words went:
你的图画太黑了
你法生什么事情
我一定会办你
你不要怕
我的名字叫旭华
我可以令你的图画光很多
“Your picture is too dark. No matter what happens, I will always help you. You don’t need to be afraid because my name is ‘Nine Suns of China’. I will brighten up your picture.”
I cried, and I smiled. I felt a deafening silence in my ear. It stopped and I lose.
I wrote him a note on the bottom right. The words went:
对，我的图画很黑
我不会怕
因为你有九个太阳
你可以令我的图画很光
不过我要好像高于
我要拿走八个太阳
因为九个太阳不雅丽
“A family is a booklet full of artwork. Once, you complete your artwork it will go into the book. Generations after Generations, your family will be able to copy what they like out of it.”
My grandfather once told me, “Elegance is what’s needed in our book. Elegance is what you’re going to produce.”
In front of me is a clean 11 by 8.5 page. As time passed, I have learnt to draw. I add people, mountains, water, and rain. But all of it is erased, as it is filled with two mountains, and a lake in the middle. Later, I drew a navy blue sky to make the mountains marvelous, and the lake lovely. But the sky was missing something, and that something was a moon. I reverted back to my drawing desk for my trusted eraser. The sky left a faint grey on my page, and my moon became bluish-grey.
I have once heard of a story. It is about a man shooting eight sums from the sky. The story dates back to the Chinese Mythology. The story was told to me when I was fairly young.
A long time ago, the people of China suffered bad crops, droughts, and extreme heat. One day a man named Great Yu found twelve elegant and mystical arrows. God then told him that the arrows are given to him because he is the one to shot down the eight suns. Great Yu quickly grabbed the arrows and shot down the eight suns, and was crowned King of China after. He married a girl called Pandora, and told her not to open the box. I heard many versions of Pandora. But all sorties have one thing in common; Pandora opened the box, and that was when Man became crafty.
There are certain rules in the drawing game, and they are:
1. You can’t buy a new sheet of paper
2. You can join your paper with another person to make it longer
3. When you join the pictures you must save up for tape
4. When you have tape, you use it to connect the artworks together
I have realized many people want to join together, but don’t want to save up for the more expensive tape. A lot of the artwork falls apart, and leaves them with damaged edges and strange pictures.
I had many people who’ve asked me to join. I agreed the first three times. But those times have left my artwork distorted. It took a long time to erase off the nonsense. One of the three people has blamed me of his deliberate mistakes.
All the pollution caused me to stop connecting. I wanted to be left alone. Eight months after my mournful optimism, another person came to me. I rejected him, but he didn’t give up. Each day he would hold out a part of his unfinished picture, and asked for my opinions. I found out he has nine suns on his picture.
The guy wrote me a note on my picture, bottom left. The words went:
你的图画太黑了
你法生什么事情
我一定会办你
你不要怕
我的名字叫旭华
我可以令你的图画光很多
“Your picture is too dark. No matter what happens, I will always help you. You don’t need to be afraid because my name is ‘Nine Suns of China’. I will brighten up your picture.”
I cried, and I smiled. I felt a deafening silence in my ear. It stopped and I lose.
I wrote him a note on the bottom right. The words went:
对，我的图画很黑
我不会怕
因为你有九个太阳
你可以令我的图画很光
不过我要好像高于
我要拿走八个太阳
因为九个太阳不雅丽
He was filled with emotions. He read what I’ve wrote out loud, “Yes, my picture is dark. But I won’t be afraid because you have nine suns. You can brighten up my picture, but I also want to be Great Yu. I want to remove your eight suns because it’s not elegant.”
My Elegance killed eight of his suns. I made his picture coherent to mine.
One is of the day, and one is of the night.
Elegant night.
He was filled with emotions. He read what I’ve wrote out loud, “Yes, my picture is dark. But I won’t be afraid because you have nine suns. You can brighten up my picture, but I also want to be Great Yu. I want to remove your eight suns because it’s not elegant.”My Elegance killed eight of his suns. I made his picture coherent to mine.
One is of the day, and one is of the night.
Elegant night.
My Elegance killed eight of his suns. I made his picture coherent to mine.
One is of the day, and one is of the night.
Elegant night.