“Wow!,” whispered Malee to herself as she squeezed her body through the wooden door. It was so thick and heavy that she doubted she could push it open herself.
Fiction
Writers’ Journal #117 – Fried Potato – 2
“Bring her to the staff kitchen and give her someone to wear.” said the housekeeper to another lady. “I will see to young master and someone clean up here.”
Writers’ Journal #116 – Fried Potato
Malee, which meant “flower” in Thai language , shouted at the top of her voice as she pushed the cart in the heavy downpour. The rain, which started early morning, had not subsided, and she knew in her heart everyone would sleep in their homes with their families. Her arms were aching from having to push the cart in the wet roads overran by the muddy water, and she felt her throat swelling from having to shout to be heard over the rain. Her clothes, handed down from her mother with hand stitches all over, were flipping against her skin in the wind. Her brother on her back was still sleeping, or perhaps he was too tired from crying from hunger.
Writers’ Journal #115 – Midnight Office
Jimmy dragged his foot on the steps as he boarded the last bus from the bus-stop towards the city. The driver’s face reminded him of like a ghoul from the movie he watched with Jamie, his girlfriend, the night before. Oh, those were the times to enjoy, he reminisced. The night was bright with the moonlight, but streets were bared of any souls. He cursed his manager under his breath for the return to the office. He must deliver the report, he was told.
Writers’ Journal #113 – Upstair
“Ah..” Jimmy exhaled an entire breath out of relief. Finally, he had reached his destination, an out-of-place cabin near the edge of the town. Being a backpacker through the Asia’s remote locations meant Jimmy had to find exotic places to stay overnights. The cabin where he would be a sleepover was recommended by a fellow backpacker a few days ago, based on the night market nearby. Immediately, Jimmy could see and smell the remains of the night markets from the night before.
Writers’ Journal #112 – Scorched Earth – Complete & Edited
It has been 32 years since humanity had escaped the planet Earth for good. Centuries of civilisation depending on the natural resources meant that by 23rd century, surface of the Earth resembled the cities after World War 3. Mighty Jungles and raging rivers had disappeared from the face of the earth, only to remain as display sets in the art museums. Winds blowing at near Cat 5 hurricanes swept everything on the surface with relentless energy.
Writers’ Journal #109 – Scorched Earth – 22
“Let’s prepare for the trip, shall we?” Dio broke the silence with a cheerful tone. It was a one-way trip and he knew it. But he, like the rest, knew there was no other options but to risk it all. We weren’t sure if the instruction from ages long would still work. Perhaps, the machinery had been upgraded, the owners evolved into more advanced forms and had abandoned their project. We would never know, but we had to risk it all. Would Dio even know what to do at the other end, if he ever got there? Questions without answers echoed in our minds as Dio packed for the journey into the unknown.
Writers’ Journal #107 – Scorched Earth – 20
“So we are looking for the manual, huh? Let’s spread around and look for it. What does it look like?” I asked Neva while trying to make sense of both the alien and ancient terrestrial language on the wall. I silently cursed myself for not paying attention to the linguistic course in the Academy and relied on the Universal Translator (AKA UT) for my communication needs. And my communication officer on the ship, Hari Krishnan, was not in the party that landed. It too was my call to exclude her, and I was feeling much regret for that decision. She would have been the perfect person for that task as one of the last remaining Sanskrit speakers from the Academy. But we had much more urgent issues to resolve than regretting over the past decisions, although I must admit all of them were mine.
Writers’ Journal #103 – Scorched Earth – 16
But I was the Captain and I must make a decision and fast. Not just the ship and the million of lives but also our own lives. Our food rations were for no more than a few days and we won’t be able to think without starving ourselves. The situation was dire no matter which direction I looked at and it depressed me. The rest of the team also must have noticed my mood as we all sat under the tree. I had to do something.
Writers’ Journal #99 – Scorched Earth – 13
“What happened to the ship?” asked Neva while retaking his scanner for the umpteenth times. He looked up into the spot where the ship was and then looked down on the screen in front of him. He couldn’t believe the screen or his eyes. The ship the size of a small city, carrying over a million people disappeared within a blink of an eye. Even after what they had seen, the technology to perform such a feat was still far beyond what they could imagine. Ability to transform such a large chunk of matter to energy was unthinkable. In theory, yes, but not in practice.