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
Writers’ Journal
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 #114 – Nowhere Man
Space and time are the same, or so that was what they said to me then. I am the proof that it is so. But you can’t see me because I no longer exists from your point-of-view. I have traveled in time, but, traveled in space. Let me begin my story at the beginning. It…
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 #111 – Scorched Earth – 24 – The End
I should stop here because I can think of several twists, but it will not end and will go everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Let’s end the story here as mission succeeded. There was a sacrifice, Dio could come back, but the ship and the people on it returned safely. I will post the entire story tomorrow, after going through self-editing, and call it a day with Neva and Dio. Thank you for sticking through the story with me and hopefully my next story would be much better than this.
Writers’ Journal #110 – Scorched Earth – 23
Then the whole show halted just as it started without warning. Colors merged into the green light as it was before. We stood firmly on the ground like statues with our mouths opened wide enough for the ship itself to be emerged from them. I had to force a slap myself to make my body move from the events that just taken place right in front of me. Something had happened since Dio went into the light. Could he had brought back the ship like we intended? The static noise from the scanner suddenly echoed through the silence.
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 #108 – Scorched Earth – 21
Once all of us took the implication in, silence fell on us like a giant boulder crushing the ants. Stopping the transmission would mean that one of us would have to be a sacrificial lamb, if successful. But whether the mission was successful, he would be stuck on the other side of the signal and could never come back.
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.