The Apology : Sadness

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To be honest, I don’t really know where or when it all again. I used to be a happy-go-lucky person once, I really was but one day, I woke up and the smile is gone from my face. I remember that day well. I didn’t have the strength and courage to even get out of my bed, let alone going to school. I remember looking in the mirror, looking pale and lifeless. “Do I have to go through this crap again?” I asked myself as I got ready for school in the dead hours of the morning.

“What’s wrong with you today?” someone asked me but I didn’t reply as I sat quietly in class, wishing that the day would be over soon so that I could get home and resume my sleep in order for me to be in the world of wonders, where I can do as I wish without people telling me that it’s wrong even though it’s none of their goddam business. Sure, most people will only start dreaming as soon as they close their eyes but the same couldn’t be said for me. You see, whenever I go to sleep I always experience lucid dreaming which means I’m aware that I’m asleep and I have the capability to manipulate it.

There are times where I would just let it be even when it’s a horrible nightmare. If there’s something that I like in life, it would be suspense. Suspense gives me a sense of satisfaction whenever things start to unfold especially when I guessed the plot right. “It’s your dream, of course, you guessed the plot right,” you might say but that simply isn’t true. Sure, it’s my dream and sure I’m aware that I’m dreaming but if I didn’t start to interfere with it, it would go on as if nothing happened.

That day, the school felt longer than usual as I waited desperately for the day to be over and after it did end, I quickly finish my homework while waiting for my parents to come and pick me up. As soon as I got home, I took a shower and went to bed. People think that I’m just moody so they left me alone. The next day, I woke up feeling a whole lot better but my energy was quickly reduced to nothingness by afternoon and by the time I reached home, I lied flat on my bed, not moving a single muscle until it was time for dinner.

Nobody asked how I was and I never bothered to tell them because why should I when they don’t even care enough to ask me about my day. From that day onwards, I had what I call severe mood swings where I would be happy for a second and completely miserable the next. Of course, I soon understood that it has got to do the whole process of growing up but after it lasted for a few years, I discovered that maybe I doomed to eternal sadness. Despite feeling down most of the time, the thought of committing suicide only occurred to me eight years later when I was around 17 years old.

Maybe it was because back then, I was a very religious person, the type of person who always has God in their mind 24/7, and prays to God every day. Then, it hit me one day, God is cruel. I pray every day and still got nothing. “You should be grateful to be alive, to enjoy the wonders of the world,” someone told me once and I wanted to reply with, “I didn’t choose to be created, why should I be grateful when my life is just full of misery and constant failures?” but I stayed quiet and from that day, I distanced myself from this deity that I once admired and pray to. I must say, people, call atheists immoral human beings who only want to destroy religion but I saw them as someone tolerant and accepting. People tell me that religion is very tolerant but ironically, I became a much tolerant person the day I distanced myself from God.

The first time I actually attempted to take my own life was when nobody was home and there happen to me sharp knives lying around the kitchen. I took it and went to my room with no intention to kill myself at first but as I stared at it, I see it as a solution to my problems. For the first time in my life, I got a sign from God and it came through the knife that I was holding. “If you slit your wrist, that will kill you and you will be in your happy place forever,” something in my head told me. The thing will always be with me for the rest of my life.

I lied on my bed, speculating whether or not I should just end my life. “You will go to hell if you do that,” someone told me when I was younger. “Well,” I said to myself that day. “Even if I go to hell, what’s the difference? I’m just a human being who didn’t choose to be created, who never did anything evil, not even once and I still suffer. What difference does it make even if I go to hell?” I asked myself and I would have done it if it wasn’t for the cat meowing at my front door.

“We will arrive in another three hours,” I read the text message that my parents sent me and opened the front door of my house and let the cat in. “You know,” the voice in my head said. “It’s not fair that the cat is happy and excited to be alive while you are miserable,” it said. That day, I didn’t kill myself, not because I was scared but because of the cat. I picked up the cat, gave it a kiss and stabbed it with the knife that I was holding. I was sure that the cat couldn’t process what just happen but it didn’t matter. I snapped its neck and it died instantly.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I buried somewhere deep in the nearby woods. “Life is just unfair. One minute you are happy and the next you’re dead. The fault is yours for being so happy,” I said to the buried cat as I walked away. That day, I understood why some people love to kill. It gives them the satisfaction, the happiness that they waited for a very long time.

(To be continued)

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Doomsday : Flash Fiction

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I wasn’t sure what was happening that morning, except for the fact that the earthquake lasted for more than an hour as I hanged to life, lying flat underneath the table. Being in a country that has never experienced an earthquake before, nobody in the neighbourhood knew what on earth they should do and when it will stop. Even though everything was literally shaking violently, my house was still mostly intact, which allowed me to easily find myself out of all the rubble and towards safety.

Dead bodies were everywhere of course as houses in the area aren’t built to withstand huge earthquakes but then again, nobody saw it coming. Some speculated that more earthquakes will follow but after three days of nothing happening, everyone thought that that was the end of it. However, just as the sun was about to set, fire whirls were reported everywhere around the country, causing a nationwide panic. By this time, religious groups started to pray to God for forgiveness, for the “sins” that were committed by people.

Of course, as someone doesn’t believe in God, I try to find a scientific explanation but I got nothing since the internet went down and everyone I know was dead, that is except for my grandma who somehow has an underground bunker that’s fully stocked with canned food, enough to keep us alive for months. We stayed there for about three weeks as we heard screams and people begging for mercy.

We would never know what had happened because after we got out of the underground bunker what’s left of the outside world are international “peacekeeper” finding for survivors. It turned out that everything that was happening was a war. A new kind of war that manipulates the climate to kill as many people as possible in a worldwide conspiracy to combat overpopulation and being alive was merely a blessing from the new “Gods”.

A Little Rant

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Hello, humans. I wanted to write something else today but I’m just tired from I don’t know what. Maybe it’s because I started my “vegetarian diet” which mean I didn’t have meat for a day today for the first time in years. Plus, my partly disappointing exam results might contribute to my tiredness too but since I passed every exam for the first time since I entered University (I was expelled before if you didn’t already know), I’m a little proud of myself.

Actually, I didn’t plan to write a blog post at all until I saw something that annoyed me beyond my normal “level of annoyance” and I think I need to say something even though I think I’m not allowed to. Just as I was about to sleep, I saw a news article about an artist who was sentenced to a month in prison and ordered to pay a hefty amount of fine for “insulting” someone of a high level. Let’s just get to the point, it’s completely ridiculous, stupid and idiotic.

Just because you are the prime minister, the president, the king, the queen or whatever, it doesn’t mean that you should be immune to “criticism”. I mean, why bother telling everyone, promoting everywhere that you believe “progressivism” and promoting “moderation” when you can’t even take a single tiny bit of criticism. Being a representative, a Prime Minister or a President doesn’t mean that you’re special. It just means that people believe and trust you to do your work properly.

They believe in you to make their life better, not to make it worse and then blame it on something else. If you think someone wrongly accused you of something, it’s your responsibility to tell them that they’re wrong. There’s also this nonsense about “there’s a better way to voice out your opinion” or “you should have done it the right way”. Well then, let me ask you this, if writing or drawing to expression disapproval is not the right way to voice out opinions, then what is? Crying? Setting ourselves on fire?

Perhaps you prefer people writing you formal letters which I doubt you even read and if you happen to be a representatives who reads letters or emails from your constituents, then I apologise. Lastly, I just want to say, if you can’t accept criticism or a little bit of harmless “insult” then maybe you should just resign and don’t bother to run for any office ever again.

Every where you go, whatever you do, there will always be someone who criticise or insults you. So what? If you are a great leader, you shouldn’t be bothered about people criticising you. Just because you have the power, it doesn’t make you superior to everyone else in your country. Remember, if it wasn’t for the people, you wouldn’t be in charge. In fact, you would be powerless and probably unemployed.

 

The Path : Flash Fiction

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Everyone wanted to know where the path leads to but nobody was brave enough to find out. Legend says that once, a young man and woman took on a journey to find out the truth but they never did return. When people first told me about the path, I wasn’t at all interested to investigate, let alone walking along it by myself, especially when it seemingly leads to nowhere. However, after a few months, I decided that a visit could do me no harm.

“Are you sure you want to go down the path?” my best friend who followed me asked. “Yes,” I replied bravely. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m following you,” he said and so I agreed. Although I was reluctant to bring anyone else with me, I know that preventing them was useless, simply because I couldn’t care less with what people want to do with their own life and their own body. Besides, it’s always good to have someone around just in case I’m injured or killed, not that there’s anyone special in my life who needs to know that I’m dead.

“You have life insurance right?” my best friend asked me suddenly. Thinking that it was a joke, seeing that we have been walking non stop for the past hour, I laughed while saying, “Yeah and you will get all the money since I don’t have any other living family members or friends,” I replied. “Good,” he said. “Why did you asked,” I questioned him but I never did received an answer because the next thing I knew, he shot me in the head and pushed my dead body down the cliff. It turns out that there was nothing special about the path. The whole legend and stories were created by him as a plot to lure me towards my dead. It turns out that my life insurance was really useless after all.

My best friend may get away will all my insurance money but I remained at the woods, waiting for someone to come. From that day onwards, the path really became haunted, not by some random ghosts but by me. Some may disagree with me killing all the hikers that pass-by but surely even a lonely ghost like me deserve to have some friends.

The Apology : Birthday

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Most people that I know would say that one of the happiest day of their life is their birthday but as I said before, it’s not for me. I hate birthdays, let alone celebrating them. I guess even if I hate it, it doesn’t mean that I don’t have to walk about it at all. Birthdays are important whether you like it or not. Most people, they regard birthdays as milestones and a calculation of how far they’ve gone in life. For me, I see my birthdays as a nuisance and a curse. Every time I became a year older, I would wish that it would be the last year that I’m alive but as each year pass, I became more and more disappointed.

As if it’s not enough that none of my wishes for the year came true, it’s more devastating when I start to realise that maybe even death doesn’t want me. People would tell me, “Be grateful that you’re alive and that you have enough money to survive. Some people in the world don’t even have enough money to eat and some died when they are just babies,”. While I am grateful that I have enough money to get by, sometimes I wonder, is it really a blessing to be alive? What is there in life if all you get is misery, working day and night just to get some money so that you can live for another day, just to repeat everything the next day?

All these talks about life reminded me of the time that I ruined a birthday celebration. It was a fine day, even for me when somehow I found myself in the middle of a birthday party. The circumstances were always the same. There was someone who annoyed me and immediately, the voices in my head to me to kill him and so I did. Except for this time, I did it as fast and as painless as possible. “He’s annoying but not that annoying,” the voices said. “Maybe you can spare him the misery of living and end his life in the least painful away as possible,” they ordered me and so I followed the orders.

Of course, finding a way to kill someone without really hurting them is hard until I found an axe that was lying around for no reason. I found out later on that the axe was intended to be used later on for the one who is being celebrated to chop open pieces of wood that would somehow reveal her presents. Of course, it never happened because it took people less than five minutes to notice the father of the birthday boy missing and another five minutes for them to find his head. If I was being honest, I would say that it was the easiest yet the most enjoyable task that I was ever given by the voices in my head.

The old man didn’t suspect a thing when I ‘accidentally’ pushed him to the ground but when he saw me holding the axe, he wanted to scream but couldn’t because I was faster. That would help to explain the shocked and confused expression on his face. Of course, I hated the party and didn’t want it to be dragged on any longer. I bought the head with me to the back of the stage, where nobody could see me. Just as the organiser whisked out the birthday cake, and the wife searching frantically for her husband, thinking that he was probably cheating on her, I throw the head and it landed on the cake.

Some people laughed, thinking it was a joke but when the laughter turns into screamings, I must confess that I was beyond happy. The birthday was ruined and one thing for sure is that the boy would never look forward towards his birthday ever again. Sure, I killed someone but it turns out that the person I killed had women tied up in his basement and he abuses his older children. So, tell me, did I do something wrong? It wasn’t two years later that I found out the boy would never have another birthday party. Not because he’s traumatised but it’s because he killed himself. Instead of feeling guilty, I felt happy because I killed a psychopath and prevented someone from suffering his whole life. Surely, I deserve a medal for that.

From that day onwards, I did celebrate a birthday. It isn’t mine but the boy’s. That day, I found out that for the first time in my life, I did something good, something useful for the society and I hope that some day, they would do the same for me.

(To be continued)

The Apology (Part 1)

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“Do you have any other thing to say?” the police officer asked me. “No,” I said. “I already told you everything,” I replied. “You may leave now,” I was told and so I did after more than five hours of being detained at the police station. I know was expected to tell the truth but I couldn’t simply because doing so was suicidal. You see, everything that happened wasn’t my fault. They told me to do it and so I did because they say if I didn’t, they would kill me and my loved ones, which is something that I would never allow anyone to do.

It wasn’t the first time that I followed what the voices in my head told me to. The first time, they told me to kill a cat. “We hate how it walks and stare at you,” they said. “We want it dead. NOW,” they commanded and being the powerless guy that I was, I had no way of objecting. It was hard at first. After all, I always have a thing for cats. However, as I saw the first pool of blood pouring out the cat, something clicked inside of me. It made me happy. I wanted to see more. I wanted to feel more blood flowing onto my hands.

Sure, I tried many times to tell people that they are others living in my head by I never got the chance to. “Tell them and we’ll kill you,” they said. I was never afraid of being dead. In fact, I always look forward to the day that I’ll die. That day will be the best day of my life but it would also be the most devastating day of my life, simply because I’m claustrophobic and when you’re claustrophobic, the idea of being buried 6 ft under the ground doesn’t seem that appealing.

I still remember the first time I killed another human being. It was around midnight when it happened and I was innocent too. “That person is so rude,” the voices told me. “I want you to kill her slowly and mercilessly,” they demanded and I agreed. One of the benefits of having an innocent look is that people trust you not to harm them and that they automatically feel safe around you. The person wasn’t suspecting anything even when I was obviously following her. Every time she turned around, I gave an innocent smile and looked down.

The third time she looked behind, I was holding a knife and she was too slow as I stabbed her in the stomach, just enough to hurt her but not too much. “A quick kill is never worth it,” the voices told me once. “Shh,” I said at the person who looked at me in fear and disbelief. I pushed her onto the ground and stabbed her right eye with the same knife. “I bet you have always wanted to see what your right eye look like,” I told her. Having said that, I took out the right eye with the knife and waved it in front of her, so that her left eye would see.

“You know what?” I asked her. “Your tongue is too long,” I said. “Maybe I ought to shorten it up a little. You know. Just to give you a little makeover,” I continued. Seeing how worried she was, I reassured her by saying the words “Don’t worry. It’s completely free,” with a huge smile. Then, I forced open her mouth and pulled out her tongue before cutting it in half. She screamed of course but when you lost half of your tongue, your scream sounds more like voices animals would make.

Fortunately for her, before I could do anything else, I heard someone approaching and so, I slit her throat before shoving the knife into her throat, killing her instantly. I heard the screams that followed once passerby saw the dead body. I know what I did was wrong and I sometimes felt guilty about it. However, most of the time, my hunger for blood and the fear of losing those who are close to me overcome my guilt. Sometimes in life, not everything that happened is your choice. Everyone is a puppet that is controlled by someone or something and people like me have stories of their own. Different people have their own regrets and what you are reading is my regret.

This is my apology.

(To be continued)

The Anger : Short Story

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“I’ll be there in a minute,” I impatiently said to the person who was on the phone. “I would go faster but I couldn’t!” I shouted, angrily and the person hung up. I wasn’t the type of person to get angry easily as I’m always calm and reasonable but when someone just couldn’t understand something, it really annoys me. “Everyone’s born smart but some choose to be retarded,” I explained to someone once. Of course that someone stopped being friends with me but it’s not my fault. In fact, nothing is ever my fault.

It’s less than a minute later that the person called me again. “I told you I will be there in a minute!” I shouted. “I don’t have a minute. I need you to be here now!” the person shouted back. “Listen here you bloody idiot. I will be there as soon as this traffic clears up!” I yelled and hung up. “Bloody idiot ruined my day,” I mumbled to myself. It took me half an hour to reach my destination but it felt like hours. I got out off the door and saw something fell in front of me, causing me to jump away, up and down like an idiot. At first, I thought the person who was so eager to meet me started to throw rubbish at my direction but when I heard the screams, I finally realised that she had killed herself.

“I really don’t know why she wanted to meet me,” I told the police officer that was questioning me for the last hour. “You must know something,” I was told to which I reply with a question, “Look here you smartasses, rather than keeping me here why don’t you solve real murder cases?” and I walked out. I was strolling aimlessly, trying to get the ridiculuosly horrifying picture out of my mind when someone called my name not once but twice. Turning around, I saw that it was my boss. “I’m so sorry for your lost,” he said before walking away. Stopping at his tracks, he said, “Don’t blame it on yourself. The traffic wasn’t your fault,”

“Die you idiot,” I said under my breath. I was sure that he was still able to listen to what I said but it didn’t matter. Seconds later, a car lost control and ran over him, killing him instantly. Everyone became hysterical, of course but I remained speechless. As people started to gather around me, I could feel my vision getting smaller and smaller, darker and darker and finally, I passed out. I woke up at the hospital, my best friend sitting beside me. “Where am I?” I asked. “Hospital,” he replied. “You fainted at the crash scene,” he explained. I was discharged an hour later after forcing the doctor to let me go. My best friend offered to stay at my place for the night but I refused, saying that I will be fine after a long sleep.

I was sure I was in the middle of a sweet dream when I heard someone knocking on my door. “Don’t open it,” my inner voice said. “It’s the ghosts of those two people,” it said. “They want you dead,” it continued and so I lied on my bed, trying not to move a muscle. The knocking became scratching and later banging. “Open this door you idiot!” someone screamed at the other end of the door. I recognised the voice and I would have opened the door if I haven’t rememebered that the person died a long time ago. “It’s time for you to die too,” the person said in a happy tone.

“No you freak,” I replied. “I didn’t survive thing long in the world just to be killed by some stupid, idiot ghost,” I said and went back to sleep. It was seconds later that I heard something or someone creeping onto the bed. I opened my eyes and saw a rotting corpse smiling at me. I let out the loudest scream that I could and tried to push the thing away. “Don’t worry,” it said. “It will be quick and painless,” it said, laughing happily. “Then you can join the rest of us and we could be friends again, just like the good old times,” it explained. I didn’t get the chance to ask about what the hell the thing was talking about because the next thing I knew, the thing was holding my neck and I heard a crack. Then, I was flying down the appartment building and towards the ground.