Short Story #2.

Note: The following story is based on the video game Slender. Images courtesy of deviantART user Jailboticus.

It was dark, very dark. It made no difference to Josh whether his eyes were opened or not, as he could see nothing. He had no idea where he was, or how he had gotten there. He knew even less about why he seemed to be lying on his back.

Josh tried to make sense of his surroundings. He felt a slight breeze on his skin.  His fingers touched grass and earth. The scent of chlorophyll crept into his nostrils. Then, the moon came out from behind a cloud and illuminated the area, confirming his suspicions that he was in some kind of forest. One he had never seen before.

The moon then vanished just as suddenly as it had first appeared. It was then that Josh first noticed that he had some sort of flashlight in his pocket. He took it out and turned it on. It was long, black and thin – somewhat resembling the ones used by police officers. If only it were as bright.

In its dim light, Josh noticed a piece of paper attached to the side of the flashlight by some transparent tape. He removed and unfolded it to reveal instructions crudely written in black ink: Find all eight pages.

He had no idea what this meant, but he had a hunch that following the instructions would somehow provide him with answers. Josh started walking and prayed that the batteries in his flashlight wouldn’t go out.

As he walked along the forest path, Josh noticed how quiet the forest was. He could hear nothing but his own footsteps trudging along the grass and dirt. Where was all the wildlife? The frogs, the crickets, the birds – they were strangely quiet. That is, if they were even there. The silence was unnerving, and Josh felt a tingle up his spine. Even a wolf’s howl would have been welcome at this point.

Josh soon came across a clearing, and in its middle was an old, rust-colored silo. It looked as if it had been abandoned for years. As baffling as it was that there was an old, abandoned silo in the middle of a forest that did not appear to have any inhabitants, Josh found the strangest part of all to be that there weren’t any creeper plants growing all over it. Perhaps it wasn't as old and abandoned as he'd thought?

He went over to take a closer look at the unusually smooth surface. Perhaps there was some sort of chemical on the walls that prevented new life from forming on them? He walked around the cylindrical structure, occasionally swiping its surface with his finger to check for foreign substances.

His finger found nothing but rust. However, his eyes spotted something else in the faint light – a piece of paper stuck to the silo wall, which upon closer inspection appeared to be some form of Sticky Note. It was one of the eight pages, Josh realized. He shone his flashlight over it to make out what was written on it. To his horror, written in black ink and in the same crude fashion as the note on his flashlight were the words, “HELP ME”.

Josh nearly dropped the page in shock. His heart pounded against his chest, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There was something out there. And someone had been running from it.

He quickened his pace now. He needed to find those pages, and fast. He kept looking over his shoulder, as he now had the dreadful feeling that he was being followed.

Josh came across more clearings with strange landmarks - large rocks the size of houses, an old truck, and an abandoned shack among others. At each of these locations he found a single page, each containing messages like “FOLLOWS” and “LEAVE ME ALONE”. And every time he found a page, he could feel the temperature drop, as if to show that whatever was chasing him was getting closer.

Only one page remained, as Josh came to a collection of large oil tanks. His breathing was heavy now from running. He pushed himself on, and soon found the final page on the side of a tank. It read “DON'T LOOK...OR IT TAKES YOU”. Josh gulped.

He had finally done it. He had collected all eight pages. But now what?

Then Josh saw it – a tall, slender figure with white skin and abnormally long arms. It also appeared to be wearing a black suit – the kind people wear at funerals.

Without thinking, Josh ran. Or at least he tried to. His feet seemed to be glued to the floor. He could only stand there, horrified, as the figure moved ever closer – seemingly gliding across the forest floor. Josh realized that it had no face on its smooth, oval-shaped head.

Tentacles sprang out from the figure’s back and wrapped themselves around Josh. They pulled him towards their master, slowly, as if to amplify the terror that Josh felt at that moment. And the silence of the forest was finally broken – by a chilling, piercing scream.

Raya Musings.

Sunday, 19th August 2012 marked the first day of the month of Syawal in the Islamic calendar, namely 'Aidilfitri, or Hari Raya. Here in Malaysia, Malay Muslims take this time to journey to their respective hometowns, in a phenomenon of mass migration that is commonly known as 'balik kampung'.

This, however, does not apply to me. My grandparents on both my parents' sides live right nearby, so visiting them on Raya isn't really as meaningful as it should be. The only difference is, there are more people around. Oh, and more food.

I go on Facebook and I see people posting Raya wishes and Raya photos. Typical, I'd presume, even though I've only been on Facebook for several months. This great deluge of family photos, brightly-colored clothes and cute toddlers only happens once a year, and I think it's a refreshing change from the usual dross. People are spending time and enjoying themselves with the people who matter the most - family.

And now I'd like to take the time to rant, specifically about the Raya wishes. For those unfamiliar with these things, they usually go along the lines of:

"Selamat Hari Raya, maaf zahir batin!"

For the past few days I've received text messages with similar-sounding Raya wishes, all worded in such a way that makes it obvious that the message wasn't really personal, but had simply been one that had (presumably) been forwarded to everyone in the sender's contact list.

The last part of the above message loosely translates as "Forgive me for any wrongdoings I may or may not have committed, physically or mentally." So basically it's an apology, and yet it doesn't really feel like one.

I believe apologies should be personal, and not reduced to mere cliched catchphrases that are kept away in a metaphorical box and only taken out once a year. And in any case, why should one wait until 'Aidilfitri to say they're sorry? If you know you've done something wrong, then why not apologize straightaway? And if you haven't done anything wrong (or at least that's what you think) then why would an apology be necessary?

*****

Hari Raya pretty much overshadowed the fact that the new season of the Premier League started last weekend. Plenty of goals in that time, and I just had to be watching the one and only goalless match. Well, nothing I can do about that.

Anyway, before I end this post I'd just like to share this video, made by some Malaysian students at Vanderbilt University, Tennessee, who couldn't make it home for Raya as it coincided with the first day of classes there. Hopefully I'll be able to make one of these someday.

P.S. Look out for my friend Akmal in the video. He's the guy in the green shirt, and the pink baju Melayu at the end.

People Inspire People.

Oscar Pistorius. Image courtesy of wjla.com.

If one were to go around looking for inspiration these days, they probably wouldn't have to look much further than the Olympics. From 15-year-old Katie Ledecky winning gold, to Usain Bolt becoming the first man to retain both the 100m and 200m sprint titles, and amputee sprinter Oscar Pistorius making the 4x400m sprint final - the list goes on.

However wonderful these and many other stories from the 2012 Olympics may be, I recently found inspiration from a rather different source.

On Thursday, my Foundation in Science (FIS) April Intake class had an English class, as we usually did. However, this one was different. Our juniors, the FIS June Intake had to deliver their presentations for their own English class, so our two classes merged. We, the April Intake would serve as their audience. Of course, we had no problem with this as (a) it meant no studying and (b) they had been the audience for our own English presentation during our first semester.

As it turned out, a third class would be joining in as well, also serving as audience members - the Certificate in English (CIE) international students. These guys came from such countries as Brazil, Nigeria, Pakistan and even Myanmar.

So anyway, the presentations soon began. To be honest, not a single one of them really caught my eye. The topics were dull, the presenters had neither charisma nor confidence. Sure, there were a few exceptions – some did appear to know what they were actually doing – but even then they failed to impress me, and dare I say the watching lecturers as well.

But then one Indian kid, who appeared to be around my age, stepped up. Just like most of his classmates, he had a lot to learn about presenting. What really set him apart from the others, though, was his topic – terrorism.

He then started talking (mumbling?) about what terrorism was, what kind of activities were considered as terrorism, and of course, the various terrorist organizations. The moment I saw the words Al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden on the screen, I knew there was bound to be some controversy. His presentation went by mostly without incident, but nobody foresaw what would happen afterwards.

Right at the end, during the so-called Q & A session, the Pakistani from the CIE class stood up. He then proceeded to give a speech about how not all Muslims were terrorists and how the Western media manipulated information to fit their own agendas. He also said something about how his people (Pakistan is where Bin Laden was allegedly killed) were working hard all over the world, although I can’t remember how that was related to the main part of the speech. But still, it was a good speech. He was applauded by the whole room when he was done.

I was awestruck. That was quite frankly the best speech I’d heard all day. I was amazed by the man’s guts to stand up and defend Islam just like that, especially since I knew I couldn’t have done it myself. The whole suddenness of the speech made it seem even more amazing.

I could have cried. It seemed as if the poor kid presenting the topic might have, though. Of course he hadn’t meant to call all Muslims terrorists, and perhaps the Pakistani might have overreacted. The kid did apologize to him afterwards.

Anyway, the short speech made me think about a few things. First was that people were being cruelly killed and tortured all over the world, and a large number of people were unaware of this due to the way the media manipulates and twists the truth. Sure, a man who blows himself up in an American subway is called a terrorist, but there’s nothing wrong with certain global superpowers going to war with Middle Eastern third-world countries? Come on.

Also, I realized that it was kinda true that Pakistanis were working hard all over the world (In 2009, around 600 000 Pakistanis went to work abroad). These people leave their families to work in far-off countries and for me, this just shows their admirable work ethic. Here in Malaysia, we Malays are generally much less hardworking, as we hold ‘special rights’ in this country. Well, what happens when those special rights are abolished? What then? Hmm.

*****

When I think about it, I would probably have never seen anything like the Pakistani's speech had I gone to  KMS or UiTM. It seems to me that enrolling in a public institution, where Malays are the dominant race, would be like going to an SBP all over again - quite frankly a dream world. On the other hand, my time at Nirwana has exposed me to many facets of life - cold, hard truths, if I may - that I might never have experienced in an IPTA. As time goes on, my choice of Nirwana seems to become increasingly more justified.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with public institutions. Everything has its pros and cons. I'm just taking everything in my stride, looking on the bright side every time. God knows what's best for each of us, and I'm just going with the flow.